#Athena you are on thin fucking ice
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The way this episode shows how Echidna "a monster" has way more love for her children and more concern about their safety than Athena who is literally a "goddess" that basically signed a death warrant for her daughter because she was "embarrassed" by something that Annabeth didn't even do .
#Athena you are on thin fucking ice#annabeth chase#percy jackson casting#percy jackson and the olympians#pjo tv show
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walltalk.
summary | na jaemin has always been the bane of your existence—but he’s also been the centre of your sexual desires.
characters | villain!jaemin x hero!reader(f).
genres | smut, pwnp, bnha au, non-idol au.
warnings | profanity, brief description of blood, jaemin talks about murdering reader, slight hostage situation, sex, rough sex?, mentions of blowjob, use of ‘princess,’ giselle (and ten) lowkey cockblocking at the end.
word count | 2.2k.
so, this was actually posted on one of my old accounts before i decided to delete that and move here without anyone knowing. it did get around 400 notes, so if you recognise this, i am the original writer of it!! i don’t associate myself with that account or pseudonym anymore, but i just couldn’t let this one sit in my files so yeah :))
YOU CAN’T DIE YET.
It’s too early to bid goodbye to the world. There are many things you’ve yet to experience, and millions of people cheering you on. You still need to reach the number one spot. You still need to watch the new Disney movie releasing next week. You still need to try out the mint chocolate fusion that’s been the craze the past few days. You still need to travel to Greece and admire the Athena Parthenon. You still need to—
Bottom line is, there’s hundreds of thousands of reasons as to why your life must be prolonged. You’re a heroine, and your career has just begun.
No, you truly can’t die yet.
But Na Jaemin seems to think the opposite.
The room—prison—you’re confined to is dark, only a sliver of moonlight slipping through the barred window. In the middle of the room stands a chair, a blond man sitting with his chest against the back. His arms cross over the top rail, one foot tapping against the ground in a rather erratic rhythm. His all-too-familiar smile is terrifying, and you resist shuddering under his wicked gaze.
“Maybe I’ll slit your throat,” he muses, watching your every action. Ice forms along his hand, creating a claw-like silhouette in the dim light. You gulp, a little intimidated by his power.
“As if I’d let you,” you huff, sharpening your glower to prove his presence isn’t feared. “You’ve got nothing on me.”
That’s a huge lie. Both you and Jaemin know it. The blonde laughs at your revelation, the ice melting off of his skin. It hits the ground—drip, drip—and forms a puddle at his feet. “Your courage hasn’t changed, Y/N, but neither has the gap between you and I. You may be dubbed a strong hero, but you know better than everyone that you can’t beat me.”
He hasn’t stabbed you yet, but the harsh reality of his words burn a humiliating pain in your heart.
“What use is strength if your intelligence can’t keep up?” you sneer, referring to your high school era just like he had. “Don’t forget, you were always second to me in every theoretical exam.”
You barely flinch when an icicle crumbles against the wall beside your head. The skin over your left cheekbone breaks apart into a cut, a thin stream of blood tracing the curve of your face. Jaemin tosses the chair away, the loud bang leaving a ringing in your ears. He’s mad, and it’s because of you.
You can’t die yet, but you’re about to.
Fuck. All because you refused to follow Ten’s suicidal mission. Well, it’s not like yours isn’t life-threatening either, but there’s less lives getting claimed.
“You know, you always pissed me off,” growls Jaemin, crouching in front of you. Even though he’s left you untied, you make no move to attack him in hopes of escaping. And that’s the thing—you can’t escape, and you know. He knows. Na Jaemin is too strong for you to outrun.
You spit, “The feeling’s mutual.”
There’s no way you and Jaemin could ever get along with each other, much less develop feelings opposite to the word hate. In high school, it was always a battle between the two of you. Na Jaemin—first in practical exams, second in theoretical. And you—first in theoretical exams, second in practical. To be frank, the two of you would’ve been a formidable pair if it wasn’t for his egoistic attitude and your competitive personality. If it was doubtful then, it’s impossible now.
After all, Jaemin’s become the very villain he once wished to eradicate.
“I saw you on television, all your interviews, the blurry cuts of you fighting. Made me wanna wipe that stupid smile off of your fucking face.”
The rivalry between you and Jaemin wasn’t unnoticed by your peers during the three years of high school. But what most failed to detect was the sexual tension that brimmed beneath the surface of the enmity.
“I saw you too, on Wanted posters.” you hiss, wiping the blood on your cheek. It’s a little dried. “Looking all smug for a hero turned evil.”
Jaemin chuckles, prodding his inner cheek with his tongue. He looks to the side, then he glares straight into your eyes. “What can I say? The criminals are less corrupt than the righteous hero industry.” The blond man mimics quotation marks with his hand at the word righteous. “You, too, are a waste as a hero. Why don’t you join me? Wipe the damn system and build a new one from scratch. Doyoung doesn’t bite, you know. He likes pretty girls like you. I do, too.”
You don’t retaliate with phrases that glorify the hero industry. Jaemin’s right, albeit you refuse to outright acknowledge it. Instead, you snap, “Fuck you.”
He licks his lips. “Is that consent?”
Yes. “No.”
Your head jerks backwards as Jaemin grabs your face with force, a throb lingering from the impact against the wall. His fingers dig into your cheeks, thumb dipped in your drying blood. Your hands grip his forearm and he tugs you forwards, decreasing the proximity between his face and yours. It’s faint, but a peach scent surrounds the man.
Jaemin runs his thumb against your lips, and a metallic taste overrides your senses. “I’ll ask again, Y/N. Is”—he parts your lips with the push of his thumb—“that”—his nail grazes your tongue—“consent?”
A beat.
“Yes.”
Before you can release the entire breath, his hand wraps around your throat in a rough yet careful choke. With brute strength, Jaemin lifts you onto your feet, your knees buckling at the sudden exertion. There’s no time to adjust as his lips latch onto yours, snagging whatever oxygen you have left. He’s always been impatient, and even during foreplay, he shows no patience.
Your heavy pants fill the silence as he devours your lips, his tongue sliding against your tongue. Your lips that were chapped are now moist, saliva leaking from the corner of your lips. His empty hand situates itself on your hip, and you gasp when he runs it up under your shirt.
“Would’ve been sexier if you had your flimsy costume on,” he muttered against your lips. “Always wanted to strip you of that red abomination.”
“Sh—Shut up,” you groan, his hand grasping your breast. Your eyes flutter when he pushes aside your bra and pinches your nipple. The act leaves your core throbbing, aching for more. “Fuck, finger me.”
Jaemin kisses your chin. “If you blow me after, sure.”
You make the effort to glare at him. “I fucking hate y—oh.” Your jaw slacks as he shoves the hand on your neck into the warmth of your underwear, knuckles grazing the damp fabric.
“So wet, princess,” he jeers, using the nickname you loathed during the start of your youth. “I wonder who you’re so aroused for?”
“Jeno, obviously,” you scoff, and Jaemin pulls away from you, his touch leaving your skin. “Wh—hey!”
The blonde distances himself from you, licking his fingers clean of your essence. “Hm?” he hums, an eyebrow raised. “I’m not about to fuck a girl who’s got another man’s name on her mind.”
You lean against the wall for support. “Holy fuck, you’re so lame.”
“Run to Jeno, then.”
Fuck. You swallow his saliva from the messy kiss, and with it, your pride. “Shit. Fine, I’m sorry. Can you fuck me now? I’ll even suck your dick.”
Jaemin beams, and it has your pussy dripping. “Of course! Since my princess asked so nicely,” he sings, daintily taking your hands in his. Your heart stutters as he places gentle kisses along your knuckles, and then the pad of your fingers. It’s sweet, until he throws your hands up and restrains them against the wall with ice.
“How pretty,” he muses, trailing his pointer finger down your cheek. Jaemin bunches your shirt and bra so it sits atop your chest, revealing your bare breasts. You shiver from the chill, but are warmed right away when his hands roam your torso. A gasp rips from your throat when the man teases your pants down, sliding two long fingers into your cunt. Soft and shaky moans tumble from your lips, prompting Jaemin to move his fingers. His thumb—the blood clad one—circles your clit, fingers pulsing in and out of you with ease. He’s cruel, dragging the tip of his digits against the soft flesh of your walls.
As Jaemin fingers you, he seals your lips with his once again in a breathless kiss. Your tongue meshes with his, teeth clashing every so often. One hand returns to your neck, laying at the base in a tough hold. “Oh—” you mewl, “I’m so—”
Jaemin removes his fingers, and you fall limp, the restraints preventing you from crumpling to the floor. Your mind is hazy, but you manage to say, “You’re such a bitch.”
“Mhm, I am, princess.” he coos, unbuckling the belt looped around his jeans. Like you, he’s in casual attire, having dressed in civilian clothing when kidnapping you in the mall. He unzips the fly, head thrown back as he frees his hard dick. You whimper, biting your lower lip at the sight. “Aren’t you so honest?”
“Fuck,” you groan, touch-deprived. “It’s huge.”
“Can you make a condom?” he asks, slapping his length against your bare stomach. The precum smears all over your pretty skin. “I didn’t bring one, and I’d rather not get you pregnant.”
Jaemin’s either dumb or clever for relying on you to whip out protection. But you obey, formulating a packaged condom with whatever lipids left in your body. It pops out of your arm, and Jaemin catches it with a lopsided grin. He rips the packet open with his teeth, tossing the foil aside whilst rolling the plastic over his dick. You watch, counting down the seconds until he’s inside.
“Are you ready?” he whispers, lips grazing your ear.
“…Yes.”
Your answer is all he needs as he pushes into you, easily slipping in with the help of your lubrication. You release a shaky moan, eyes rolling back from pure pleasure. Jaemin hauls one of your legs over his bicep, and he catches your face in his hand. Your lustful gaze meets his, and you feel a thrill run down your spine at the look in his eyes.
He’s hungry—sex hungry, and you’re his doll to ruin.
Slowly, Jaemin pulls out before thrusting, the tip of his dick prodding your cervix. You cry out, hitting the ice wrapped around your wrists. Over and over and over again, Jaemin pounds into you, groaning the dirtiest words as does. Your back hits the wall every time his hips meet yours, but the pain drowns in the plethora of pleasure.
“So tight,” he rasps, speed increasing by the second. “You feel so, so fucking good.”
“Ah, oh my—god,” you whine, chasing his lips. He grants you a kiss, and you murmur, “Harder, fuck me harder.”
Challenges are a way to rile Jaemin up, and it seems he’s taken your plea as one. The villain grips your thighs as he lets out a low, guttural growl. He thrusts faster, at a speed you can’t comprehend. You’re seeing stars, tasting stars, in an absolute bliss no writer can describe. Jaemin stutters each time you clench around his dick, your pussy sending him into overdrive.
“Hey, cum for me.” he mutters, biting your lower lip.
You pant, running out of breath. “I’m close,” you chant, relishing the way his entire length fits inside of you. You beg, “Please—please don’t stop.”
“Keep asking.”
“Finish me off, Jaemin,” you moan. “I’m so close!”
Jaemin reaches for the restraints, melting them with his left hand. In one swift motion, he turns you so your cheek lays flat against the wall, ass out for him to see. He whistles, fondling the soft flesh. Your mewls don’t stop, spilling endlessly as he continues to slam into you.
“Jaemin!” you cry, clenching around his dick. “Close—close—so close—”
“Let it out, princess.”
And you do, orgasming with his dick still inside. You whimper when he keeps thrusting, chasing his high while simultaneously overstimulating you. Your mind is hazy when he draws his dick out, the condom full of his cum. Support is gone as Jaemin backs away, and you fall to the ground, recovering from the wild fuck you just had.
“Shit, maybe I should’ve come on your face,” he mutters, fixing his pants. Shirtless, he crouches so his eyes are parallel to yours. “You good?”
You spit and it lands on his chin. “I’m still trapped, asshole.”
“If you blow me—”
His words are cut short when the window explodes, the building crumbling from the impact. Both you and Jaemin glance over to the gaping hole in the wall, a confused Giselle standing atop the debris. She scans your half-naked body, then his lack of shirt, and analyzes the scene in no time.
“Ten! They fucked!”
A snicker flies from Jaemin’s lips as he tosses his shirt back on, ruffling his blond hair in amusement. The man glimpses Giselle’s preoccupied state and looks back at you. With a wink, he says, “I’ll contact you for that blowjob. Later, princess.”
You simply blink as he runs off, escaping before he’s forced to engage in a (tedious) fight. When reality hits you and your mind registers his words, a disturbed scowl settles on your face.
You can’t die yet.
And for now, Na Jaemin seems to think the same as he hints at an upcoming rendezvous.
© NABI (2023); ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
#neohub#nct u#nct dream#nct#na jaemin#jaemin smut#jaemin scenarios#jaemin oneshot#jaemin imagines#jaemin au#jaemin ff#jaemin fanfic#jaemin x reader#na jaemin x reader
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INCORRECT 9-1-1 QUOTE
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Athena: Swear words are illegal now. If you say one you'll be fined.
Buck: Heck.
Athena: You're on thin fucking ice.
Athena: Oh no-
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• fandom: 9-1-1
#911#9 1 1#911 show#9 1 1 abc#911 fox#incorrect 911 quotes#incorrect quotes#911 abc#911 on abc#evan buckley#buck buckley#athena grant nash#athena nash#athena grant#evan buck buckley
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Okay but I really think that the worst part is that this is season seven. Unless they're planning to turn 9-1-1 into the new Grey's Anatomy the chances of us being already in the final half of the show are huge. I'm not saying that there shouldn't be any drama, but the characters should've started to go forward, and yet nearly all of them feel stuck in the same place they have been for several seasons. Or should I say 2-3 seasons?
tldr: all/most S7 storylines were either useless in the long run or recycles. The only characters who had storylines on the good side of the scale (as in, they helped the characters develop and move to a new place in their lives) were Maddie and Chimney (and maybe Buck but he's on thin ice). All the characters are back to the same place they were in s4/s5. It's probably TM's fault. This shouldn't be happening in a 7th season.
(really long post under the cut but worth it imo)
Bobby and Athena had a whole seven episodes for their storylines and yet it didn't significantly change anything about them or their relationship. The doubts of how they are when they're at peace that were brought up in ep1 ended up not being addressed at all. We started the season with what was supposed to be this huge thing in their relationship and it was just never brought up again! Instead they put bathena through distress again just for the sake of being dramatic. And while I'm extremely glad we got Amir and think there were several high points in his storyline, what difference did it make in the long run? Yes, it brought up interesting things to Bobby's storyline, such as more insight into his childhood and the chance for him to explore another side of the fire he caused, but is it going to change anything? No! Bobby will be reinstated in S8 bc that's just how these things go, and I doubt they'll put any effort to continue the survivors storyline. I'd bet it'll just be ignored in the next seasons.
Hen and Karen have been trying for YEARS AND YEARS to adopt a child and they just can't let them! As a wlw, do you know how awful that is to watch? Seeing them fail time and time again and have their family broken up once again just because??? It was one thing with Nia, she got a happy ending, but that wasn't the case with Mara. The best thing for everyone involved would be for her to stay with Hen and Karen, but they blew it up. I know she's with Madney, but it's not the fucking same. Why do they have to go through this again? Why can't they finally get the family they've spent years fighting for? Why can't the drama be about anything else, why does it have to be about failed adoptions? I've seen this enough times before. Why not let them be able to adopt???? Why? I'm genuinely upset abt this btw, probably more than about anything else that went down.
Buck got to finally come out and it was great but instead of taking it as an opportunity to let him grow into himself they just threw him right back into the hamster wheel of dating people who are either not fully into him or who he's not fully into. (if you like bt probably skip the rest of this paragraph but I'd also be upset about how they're handling them if I liked the ship bc I liked the previous bt and they did something similar to them lol) Tommy's behavior could be explained away at first, but I feel like time and time again the show goes the extra mile to make him uninterested in Buck or just straight up an asshole to him? Instead of taking the small opportunities of portraying them as a healthy happy couple they just consistently screw up their relationship? They're not the couple I support but even then I wanted them to be good together bc I want Buck to be happy, and yet all we get is this?
I don't even have words about Eddie, especially considering what rg has said about him destroying his life and possibly reverting back to military no emotions mode next season. WHY CAN'T HE BE HAPPY? We already saw him break down, WE'VE ALREADY HAD A STORYLINE ABOUT HIM REBUILDING HIS LIFE, but happiness is boring so now he has to ruin his relationship with his son too right? It just pisses me off how they go about his character sometimes. I liked that they were bringing back the Shannon storyline because he was supposed to be able to finally move on, but this wasn't about that. No, it was about retraumatizing Eddie and Chris and splitting them up at a time when they should be leaning on each other and healing, because Chris has also been suffering with the Shannon stuff. We saw it in fucking ep 1. Don't even get me started on the Marisol stuff because idek why she was there at all. Literally don't get it. We had an off-screen breakup anyways. She wasn't relevant at all to anything that happened. Why was she even there? I'm genuinely asking. The only Eddie arc that has some positive potential for next season is him dealing with his relationship with religion (especially if they tie it to the military and the way he lives his life for others' expectations), but tbh I don't trust them not to fuck it up.
Finally, I don't have complaints about madney, except for why tf was Maddie so absent this season? The wedding episode was all about Chimney (who was also maybe kinda missing tbh), and although I love him and his backstory and the opportunity to see Kevin again, I really wanted it to be about their relationship, since it was their wedding, yk. Dispatch was also severely under utilized. We did get the 7x07 Maddie plotline and it might've been bc it was a shortened season but yeah, I'm still not that satisfied.
So, we have all the characters stuck in places they've been before. More specifically, in the place they were in season 4/5. Bathena relationship problems followed by a life threatening situation? Check. Henren struggling with adoption? Check. Buck getting into what was supposed to be a good relationship only for it to end up going really bad? Check. Eddie struggling with relationships and his mental health going to hell? Check. Madney in a good place with a new child and about to have an awful fucking time? Hopefully just check for the first part. And you know which question this makes me ask? It's whether Tim Minear is just reverting everyone to their s4 state out of spite for the seasons he was away. And even if it is a genuine attempt at getting the show back on the track he wanted out of good intentions, it still sucks, because it doesn't change the fact that it is just a repeat of old storylines. I actually complained at this before the show even aired, but (iirc) I ended up deleting my post because I thought that I was just overreacting. Guess what? I fucking wasn't, bc that's EXACTLY what they did.
Now, going back to the start of this post, the reason why all these storylines suck so much is not that they are bad. It's not even that they aren't original. No, it's the fact that we're doing storylines that belong in the fourth or fifth season of a show in its seventh season. Even the Gerrard plotline, which is new to 9-1-1, feels like it came too late, because the split up crew/villain captain storyline tends to happen much sooner in procedurals, and for a reason. Besides the fact that this was never really a big bad type of show and I don't get why they are making it one all of a sudden, and ignoring the fact that Gerrard being brought back as captain, especially to the 118 of all places, makes no fucking sense, that kind of plotline is one that it's obviously always temporary. No one believes he'll still be the captain by the end of 8A, much less by the end of the season. He'll hardly survive the first 3-5 episodes. That's ultimately a filler storyline. It helps the show go on for longer, it might even help in the development of a couple characters, but at the end of the day it doesn't change anything, which appears to be a recurring theme when it comes to 9-1-1 storylines.
The reason I have a problem with this is that we don't need a filler storyline, because no one knows whether the show has the luxury of taking its sweet time. Yeah, it has a huge audience and it is doing good numbers, but it is still a fucking money pit that was already cancelled once and it's unsustainable on the long run. It might not end that soon, but is it honestly going to reach season 14? Does anyone truly think that we've only seen half of it (or less) so far? Because I don't. Not many shows make it that far, and there's a reason for that. We have three huge names who are extremely important to the show. What happens if they get tired? What happens if someone gets a better offer? What happens if we're still revisiting old storylines when that happens? Do we get an incomplete story or a rushed one?
The show should be moving forward, even if there are no plans for it to end soon. We have the drama of the huge disasters 9-1-1 loves. We have the drama of the cases. We have a myriad of new possible dramatic storylines for the characters that show development without being too final. Athena could have so many different job related storylines (from moving up in her career to abandoning it), and her and Bobby's storyline from the beginning of the season about being boring together can be played in a good and dramatic line. Henren and Madney have a whole world of parenting issues that they could go through. Buck and Eddie both still need either an endgame love interest (whether it's each other or not) or to get to the point where they are fine not having one, and we have all of the relationship trouble that comes with that. This show can give us new things, storylines that are good for the characters, without losing the dramatic factor (which, if I'm being honest, would not be a deal breaker for me). Yet, it refuses to, and probably not for a good reason, because it comes down to either Tim wanting to rewrite history or just trying to drag this show for as long as possible (which apparently he only knows how to do by refusing to make the characters happy). And you know what? I'm fucking mad about it, and I think you should be too.
Btw, this is not to say the whole season sucked. We got Madney and Henren together multiple times which was great. We finally got Bi Buck. There were several amazing acting moments for both the main and recurring actors. As a standalone season, it was good. It just doesn't work when you look at the bigger picture.
#btw the “they” is bc I don't want to attribute blame solely to one person#(despite thinking it's very likely that it is actually mostly/all his fault but shhhhhh)#sorry for how long/the way it came out. i was kinda venting abt my frustrations at points but yeah#911#911 abc#eddie diaz#evan buckley#evan buck buckley#athena grant#bobby nash#maddie buckley#maddie han#hen wilson#henrietta wilson#chimney han#howard han#henrietta hen wilson#howard chimney han
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[6 a.m.]
Aphrodite, dancing around: good morning!!!!!!!!!!!
Everyone else: *groggy, recovering from the food coma*
Demeter, under her breath: oh my god, I forgot
Hermes, muttering: shit, shit, shit. it’s today isn’t it?
Poseidon, whispering: everyone, just pretend you’re asleep, and maybe she’ll spare us this time-
Aphrodite: WHO’S COMING BLACK FRIDAY SHOPPING WITH ME?! As you know from previous years, this is not a choice :) the rules are simple: either you volunteer, or I fuck up your love life for the next millennia :)
Athena: if I do your chores for a week, can I be exempt?
Aphrodite: make it a month, but yes. anyways, you shop for boring shit like books. I’m not doing that
Hephaestus: if I give you my credit card right now, can I be exempt?
Aphrodite: funny how you don’t think I’ve had it set it up in my apple wallet already, specifically for today, but because you offered, yes, you can stay home
Ares: babe, I’ll be your chauffeur!! But that’s it. Okay?
Aphrodite: that offer is on thin fucking ice, but I accept
Zeus, panicking: guys, stop hogging all the excus- uhhh, I mean perfectly good reasons to not go!! I mean c’mon Aphrodite, you don’t want to go this year. overconsumption, amiright?? *nervous chuckle*
Aphrodite:
Aphrodite: carry all my shopping bags, or have no sex with Hera or ANYONE for a century
Zeus: I wish I could die
Aphrodite: my personal bitchboy it is!! Let’s go!!
#it’s the ONE day of the year that she gets up earlier than 9 a.m.#she can shop for hours#it’s really bad for whoever’s with her#aphrodite#greek gods#incorrect greek mythology#greek mythology#incorrect greek gods#incorrect quotes
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Continued from x - @shouxryuuxha
𝗕𝗘 𝗡𝗜𝗖𝗘. 𝗕𝗘 𝗡𝗜𝗖𝗘. 𝗕𝗘 𝗡𝗜𝗖𝗘. 𝗕𝗘 𝗡𝗜𝗖𝗘. A constant line that was being repeated in his head. Just how did anyone expect him to act? Uncivil?To go for the neck? HE HAD HIS RIGHT TO DO SO BUT THAT'S BESIDES THE POINT. Besides, This is was a new DM. Shiryu was not sure how much he believed that. But, the cloth of cancer had not rejected its master anymore & that should count for something. Maybe that why he was the one TASKED to make the saint feel WELCOMED at the Kido estate. Yes. Have him be showed around by the one saint DM was on THIN ICE with.
This had to be test. Or some collisal joke. It had better be a test, for he wasNOT. LAUGHING. ❛ Nothing is off. I am being civil with you as I would be with anyone else. We are not the same people we were when we first met. Everyone should be allowed a second chance. Think of it as do over for the FIRST IMPRESSION. ❜ People can change. Look at Ikki. Saga. If they can be forgiven. So can Deathmak.
❛ So, if you do not mind. We will start over. ❜ His hand extended itself out. This will indeed be the ULTIMATE test to if people can change. ❛ I'm Shiryu. ❜
Athena's ultimate blessing came in the form of entirely new lives, to the brave saints that sacrificed themselves in the most crucial moment of the war against Hades.
Although his cloth no longer rejected him, it still didn't mean he had fully re-gained its trust. As evident by how heavy his cloth weighted on his back. This brief exchange between them was more than enough, to make it gain a few extra pounds, in response to the aggressiveness that came from his end.
At some point, Deathmask was forced to set his gold pandora box on the floor beside his feet, while Shiryu spoke to him. His shoulders ached, which served as a reminder for him to keep the animosity towards the other, at bay. Even though he was the one responsible, for ending the past life to begin with.
It was still a very tough pill to swallow. But it was a necessary one. Despite everything, Deathmask had no intentions of disrespecting their Goddess, in any shape or form.
Turn the fucking page already.
The Cancer saint thought to himself, as he finally locked eyes with Shiryu and noticed the extended hand at him. "Now, we don't need to get that far, already." Deathmask commented in a rare calm tone that lacked its usual taunting, as he refused to shake it. He proceeded to stretch his arms, and roll his sore shoulders. "This new life has just begun, I've been on the road for a month or so." He broke the eye contact, in order to peer over the beautiful scenery of the property.
"I didn't know this was Athena's property. Or, whatever name she goes by outside of the Sanctuary." There was a brief pause. "She isn't really here, is she?"
#if it weren't for the laws of this land he'd be dead for the 3rd time KBDKDF]#« cancer deathmask : ic »#shouxryuuxha#« cancer deathmask : thread »
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Thoughts while reading “The Mark of Athena” with my nephew-
1. Rick you are on some thin ice pal! Leave my sweet boy Leo alone!
2. “I try not to think, it interferes with being nuts.” Words to live by.
3. Echo is adorable and I would love it if she came back.
4. I’m not saying that percabeth has to be your OTP- however I am saying if you don’t ship them I don’t trust you. They are just the cutest.
5. My poor sweet Nico.
6. I love this rotating group of the demigods going on quests- gives a good opportunity to have each character do something without it feeling unnecessary and you get to spend time with each of them.
7. Oh sweet Frank. You are too precious and I want you and Annabeth to be besties. That Chinese finger trap scene *chefs kiss*
8. UGH Octavian can fuck all the way off, seriously, he’s the worst.
9. Once again coach hedge is my favorite psycho- the revamped Pokémon theme song is wonderful, you strange aggressive goat-man.
10. Sam being Leo’s great grandfather, I can dig it.
11. I want to learn everything about Aphros
12. I feel like all Piper does in this book is think about her relationship. There is so much more she could do.
13. My poor Percy doubting himself.
14. We love a worried but supportive boyfriend, you go Percy!
15. Now my girl Annabeth is doubting herself?
16. We love a smart queen, Annabeth killing the game!
17. I just know I would get along with Coach Hedge so well, I feel it in my soul.
18. I know Percy and Annabeth will be okay but also- they better saved them very quick.
#leo valdez#frank zhang#hazel lavesque#percy jackson#annabeth chase#jason grace#piper mclean#coach hedge#the mark of athena#heroes of olympus
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We are in Podonk Florida
Don’t you have a friend with the same last name of that doctor? (Yes I do...now hush)
Lady, he isn’t waking up
That sod looks like trash
Neighbour’s hot
You can see him lifting the level to shift the bubble
Oh fuck I thought he was naked with that rat poison
She’s banging the hot neighbour
I would. What. He’s hot!
Ugmo the Husband has figured it out.
Boom boom
I mean. The sod was bad but really?
Uh. Lordy.
I bet you wouldn’t mind the zip ties. Minus the criminal charges.
I forgot how much of a bitch her (Athena) Mom is.
“Big strong fireman.” Fuck that’s funny.
Buck and an AA book. That might explain the Taylor of it all.
Noah is creepy.
Hen is burning out at an incredible rate.
She don’t got this.
Where the hell did that Dalmatian thing come from.
What the hell is that Dalmatian thing...
She’s gonna literally crash at this rate.
Eddie’s ass is…I can see why you like it.
Didn’t you fall asleep driving once? Like. Almost?
Karen’s pretty. This mead tastes amazing. Why don’t you have pretty skin like that. (You are on thin ice for a fat man right now.)
Karen is not happy with Hen
Athena. Introduce your husband. (Hmmm. Pretty judgey for someone who does the same.)
Beatrice. Remove head from ass.
Well. Act like a child…
Parenting our parents. Fuck. We’re already getting there aren’t we.
Awww. Three sweet bickering old guys. One of them is going to die.
Don’t tell me it’s gonna be the middle one. (Oh boy this’ll be fun.)
Julie looks like she probably has a thing for pretty ladies.
Is he impaled on him?!?
I mean. If it was Buck and Eddie I’m sure you wouldn’t be complaining. But. That doesn’t look fun.
Buck is having an existential crisis. Eddie needs to toss his salad about it. Man this mead is strong.
Hey! Noah learned something.
Julie’s nose looks like my older sister’s
Triage sucks ass.
Lev…oh man. He’s just so…at peace with everything.
Poor Buck. And Hen. Fuck.
Those balloons almost make that scene look obscene. So much happy with all that tragedy.
I forgot Athena was going to be a lawyer.
Do we know if any of Bobby’s family is still alive? Parents or whatever?
What is Buck wearing.
Buck looks like a lost little kid.
Hen needs to make choices.
That box wasn’t there when Bobby walked into the room.
Oh shit Hen didn’t tell Karen about the driving did she.
Oh shitfuck. Hen you…Karen is gonna strangle you with her braids.
Hmm. What is Hen gonna choose.
Aww. The letters are so sweet.
Why do I have a feeling you’d cope a lot better if I had a stroke and was hospitalized than I would if you were. (Great way to end the night sweetheart. Thanks for that.)
Oh shit. I kinda remember that bit about the kid.
#Better late than never#Matt Reacts To...#911 spoilers#are the really spoilers if the episode is a week old by now?
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I dont know if you've been asked this but what are some changes you would like to make to HOO?
The plot as a whole, gone. New better plot, book two can stay but it’s on thin ice. I’ll do the rest as something generally keeping to the plot though :(
The Gods, actually not present instead of “not in contact but oh here’s a dozen Gods playing with our quests”.
Frank: has an actual character arc that explores his family history and how he comes to terms with his powers and learns about them. It does not have him getting magically buff and Ares/Mars is not involved beyond him coming to terms with the fact that Mars is his dad when it doesn’t fit how he thought his dad was.
Hazel: continues her arc about being in a new time and having been brought back to life and explores her connection to her mom and Gaea.
Leo: nothing about Hazel as his arc, learns that he doesn’t need a girlfriend to be complete. Comes to accept his place in the world and realize that he is not the odd man out just cause he’s not in a relationship. Bonds with his friends platonically and excels at his specialty (building things). Doesn’t fuck off to Calypso without telling anyone his alive
Piper: has an arc about coming to terms with her femininity and internalized misogyny and stops shaming girls for being girly. Starts trying to figure out how to reconnect to her native heritage after being apart for so long.
Jason: none of that bs about “being actually Greek” that’s not how it WORKS. He comes to terms with his lost memories and the fact that he has to make a new life and identity OR he gets his memories back and has to come to terms with everything he left behind and how he’s changed now from what he did when he had no memories. No romance with Piper thanks.
Coach Hedge: not there, stay home with the wife and let Grover be present.
Percy: his arc idea was decent but horribly executed. He struggles with having to save the world again when he thought he was done and how the Gods have harmed him. He is a lot about loyalty similarly to Gaea but his view of it is different, he and Gaea clash in that way. He and Annabeth bond and both of them struggle with accepting how they’ve been harmed by the Gods and what’s been taken from them.
Annabeth: Is thrust into a leadership role (similarly to Percy) because she has the most experience and is head battle strategist. Has to figure out how to balance obligation to her mom and obligation to the world. Has to come to terms with the fact that she’s been harmed by the Gods a lot and she’s not getting a break.
The Titans: involved, either on Gaea’s side or not. Personally I think a mix of them choosing sides. This invites a fun conflict with the demigods having to side with once enemies because the new enemy is too dangerous otherwise.
Uranus: present and siding with the Demigods to fuck with Gaea. He don’t like her.
Hera: not the person fucking with everyone cause that’s not fair to her stop villainizing her Rick.
Nico: not horribly outed, comes out quietly to someone he trusts on the team, possibly to Percy to try and come to terms with his feelings and get the (kind and gentle) rejection he needs to move on. It is quiet and soft and supportive and accepting and not horribly traumatic. Also he show he’s badass at fighting and able to help them with the transport of the Athena Parthenos (since I’m like... keeping with the general plot in this sort of thing ugh)
Reyna: has an arc exploring herself and her feelings along with her duty to Camp Jupiter. Doesn’t have the Jason romance part cause ugh.
Octavian: not evil wtf
The final battle looks way cooler just gonna say.
Also the “aspects fighting” does not work like that, the Greek Gods have hundreds of portrayals and aspects varying from location to location and even from person to person, they would not be fighting themselves like that.
Uh... I think that covers the basics... mostly...
#anon asks#life answers#hoo#pjo#percy jackson#jason grace#piper mclean#leo valdez#pjo hera#reyna avila ramirez arellano#reyna arellano#octavian#annabeth chase#frank zhang#hazel levesque#coach hedge#grover underwood
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"sigurista" for Eddie
Edit: On ao3 here.
sigurista: Someone who makes sure that everything goes as planned; the kind of person who will not act unless he totally feels sure that the desired result would be obtained. [Okay, this is probably cheating because it only very technically fits if you squint, but this is all the result of your enabling so. If anyone wanted more White House AU Buddie, this is a follow up to this prompt fill.]
It’s a quiet day.
Now, Buck’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he can count on one hand the number of times his schedule has been so light throughout the first year of his presidency, so he can’t help checking it again and then a third time just to make sure. But it doesn’t change the longer he looks at it.
Okay. So, it’s a quiet, light day. That’s a good thing—it’s not like he can’t use the rest.
He’s just not sure why he can’t quite work the tension out of his shoulders, why he feels poised on the edge of a tightrope made of razor wire about to either fall or get sliced.
By noon, all of his scheduled meetings are finished and he’s even managed to catch up on some of the reports he’d been meaning to dig deeper into. He’s antsy and full of untethered energy and, finally, he closes the file he’s looking through and crosses the room to knock on the door connecting the Oval with the Chief of Staff’s office.
(After the last time he walked in without thinking and got an eyeful of his sister and Chim that made him want to bleach his brain, he always knocks.)
“Hey, Chim—I’m going to head back to the residence for the rest of the day—”
The main office door opens.
“I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Mr. President,” Athena says, and it’s been enough time that Buck knows when the head of the secret service shows up personally and without warning it means nothing good. Right behind her, the aide to his National Security Advisor comes skidding to a halt, out of breath.
“You’re needed in the situation room, sir.”
Buck looks back at Athena.
“Michael—?”
(It may well be a conflict of interest that the Vice President’s ex-wife is responsible for making sure Buck stays alive, but then, Buck’s pretty sure there’s no less of one than the fact that his sister is dating his Chief of Staff so...)
“He’s being moved to a secure location,” she replies. “But yes, Bobby’s waiting in the sit room. I can fill you in on the way.”
Buck swears internally and runs a hand through his hair.
“Okay. What do we have?”
“Bomb threat and possible shooter at the Pentagon,” Athena says, and Buck’s heart stops, ice freezing his insides. Because that’s—
“You know, some of us have actual work to do,” Eddie said the night before, the look in his eyes exasperated but fond in the dim light from the lamp on his desk.
“You mean entertaining the leader of the free world isn’t in your job description, Lieutenant Diaz?” Buck had teased right back, reveling in the quirk of Eddie’s lips.
“Yeah, well, you’re going to have to find someone else to entertain you tomorrow—I’ll be in meetings with the joint chiefs at the Pentagon all day. Should be thrilling stuff.”
“Maybe I’ll invent a national security emergency—get you out of it.”
Eddie laughed. “Please don’t, they’ll just reschedule. And then there will be paperwork.”
—that’s where Eddie is.
“How the fuck does that happen?” Buck croaks out, feeling like he’s swallowed glass.
“We’re working out the exact details,” Athena replies. “But it’s fairly clear it was an inside job. Whoever it is killed one of the marines on duty and called in the bomb himself, we’re looking at the security feeds and card access records to narrow down a name.”
She finishes just as they step through the door of the situation room and Bobby looks up.
“Dennis Pierce,” he fills in. “He’s been there eight years, looks like he was identified as part of the investigation to see which employees might have ties to white supremacist groups. He hasn’t been fired yet because the investigation isn’t finished, but I guess he saw the writing on the wall.”
“And thought he would tender his resignation by, what? Blowing up the joint chiefs?” Buck can hear the edge in his voice, which means Bobby definitely can as well.
(They met on the campaign trail, when Buck started getting intelligence briefings that made him feel like he was drowning, in over his head. But Bobby never treated him like an idiot who didn’t know the first thing about national security, was always patient, willing to sit with him and explain. And by now, Buck’s pretty sure he would be lost without him. Without him and—)
“We’re not going to let that happen,” Bobby replies, his own voice carefully even. Steady. “We have a bomb squad on site and every armed guard in the building looking for this guy, not to mention that most of the people he’s likely to run into are combat-trained military.”
The phone on the desk rings and Bobby picks it up as the door opens and the heads of the FBI and CIA file in.
“Copy that,” Bobby says and hangs up, tapping a few keys on his keyboard to bring up blueprints on the main screen and highlighting a room on the fifth floor.
“Someone pressed one of the hidden panic buttons in conference room J,” he explains. “Bomb squad is on its way and we should be getting camera feeds—now.”
The feed flickers into the screen and steals Buck’s breath all over again, because there, on the screen, with his hands raised and facing down an older, grizzled white man with a gun in one hand and a trigger to the bomb vest strapped to his chest in the other—is Eddie.
“There’s no audio,” Buck points out as Eddie’s lips move too quickly for him to read anything clearly.
“There aren’t any speakers or mics in the room.”
Maybe not, but—over Pierce’s shoulder, Buck notices a phone on the wall.
“I want to talk to him,” he says. “Call the room.”
Bobby’s look is sharp when he turns to look at him.
“Sir, I really wouldn’t advise—”
“Call,” Buck repeats, his tone booking no argument.
Bobby’s lips press thin, but he picks up the phone, speaking quietly into the receiver while Buck doesn’t look away from the camera feed, his stomach twisting itself into knots as Pierce shakes his head violently in response to whatever Eddie is saying. Time seems to slow the longer he watches, even as Bobby passes him the phone.
“Extension 3596,” Bobby says quietly. And Buck dials.
He can’t see the phone ring on the feed, but he sees the effect—Pierce twitches, his head whipping around in surprise, and Eddie takes advantage of the distraction to move—
The feed cuts out.
The phone keeps ringing.
“What happened?” Buck demands. “What—we have to get it back, we have to—”
The line picks up.
“This is General O’Halloran, who am I speaking with?”
Buck swallows hard.
“General, this is the President. What’s your status?”
“Lieutenant Diaz neutralized the threat, sir. Passed him off to the bomb squad waiting outside. We’re all safe and sound.”
There’s something rising up in his throat, and Buck isn’t sure if it’s just a wave of overwhelming emotion or if it’s actually bile.
“Glad to hear it, General,” he chokes out.
He passes the phone back to Bobby and shoves back his chair then, not caring whether they need him for anything, just needing—needing—
Buck rips at the knot of his tie as he steps into the hallway, and only barely makes it through the door of the bathroom at the end of it before he throws up in the sink.
The door opens again a moment later, as he’s gripping the edge of the sink trying to get his adrenaline under control.
“It’s okay, Buck,” Athena says quietly. “Everyone’s fine. Especially him.”
Buck could almost laugh at that if he was in any sort of mood. Because he hasn’t even told Eddie—not technically—hasn’t ever done anything to truly cross a line, but apparently everyone knows anyway.
“I could have lost him...and I would have had to watch,” he says.
“But you didn’t.”
Buck rinses his mouth out and spits.
“Is Bobby pissed at me for walking out?”
Athena shrugs. “I doubt it. I can take you back to the residence now if you want—tell Bobby to finish up and debrief you later.”
Buck swallows again. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
He pauses as half an idea comes into his head, then adds—
“Hey, Athena? Do you think—”
Which is how he finds himself waiting in a car outside a condo in Virginia with an extra protective detail at nine that night as his regular agents knock on the door. A woman with dark hair opens the door, and Buck can see the way her eyebrows shoot up as she exchanges quick words with the agents before they step inside to conduct their sweep. A minute passes, then the agent at his side taps her earpiece.
“Clear. Got it,” she says, and that’s all Buck needs to get out of the car.
The same dark-haired woman is standing in the entryway, arms crossed, when he walks through the door. He stops in his tracks, suddenly nervous as her calculating gaze trails over him.
“Adriana?” He guesses, and she hums.
“A little warning would have been nice,” she says, but Buck thinks he catches a hint of a smile as she turns on her heel to go down the hallway off the kitchen to what he assumes is a bedroom. “Good night, Mr. President.”
Buck opens his mouth to say something, when Eddie himself appears at the top of the stairs, hair wet and clothes sticking to his skin like he’s just jumped out of the shower.
“Adriana, what the hell—” Eddie cuts off the moment his eyes land on Buck and she just laughs before she disappears down the hall.
“Hi,” Buck says quietly.
“Hey,” Eddie replies. There’s a bruise blossoming over his cheek and Buck’s fingers itch to touch it, or really, to touch Eddie everywhere he can to remind him that he’s here, he’s alive, Buck didn’t lose—
Eddie clears his throat and makes his way the rest of the way down the stairs.
“You’re...in my house.”
Buck shifts his weight. “You almost died today.”
Eddie blows out a breath and rakes a hand through his wet hair.
“Guess you didn’t have to fake that national security emergency after all.”
“Guess not.”
Eddie’s gaze turns considering, his brow furrowing as an odd look crosses his face.
“So...I almost die...and that warrants you showing up in the middle of the night? Why?”
Buck wets his lips, feeling like he can barely hold Eddie’s eyes. His pulse is racing, blood rushing in his ears, and his voice is a mere rasp when he says—
“You know why.”
You have to know.
Eddie glances down at the floor, then over to the windows where the curtains are closed. Then he nods once.
“Maybe. But...I think I need you to say it.”
Buck nearly throws his hands up. “Fuck, Eddie, because I love—”
He doesn’t finish the sentence because Eddie closes the distance and kisses the rest away, backing Buck against the closed front door. Buck nearly chokes on relief as his hand scramble to twist into Eddie’s damp t-shirt and pull him even closer.
“I thought—” he gasps out when Eddie breaks the kiss in favor of pressing a trail of them down his neck— “I thought you were going to die and I wasn’t going to get to tell you.”
Eddie pauses his exploration, hands spasming on Buck’s hips.
“Yeah,” Eddie breathes against his skin. “Yeah, me too.”
Buck threads his fingers through Eddie’s hair and tugs him back up to kiss him again.
“Athena says she’ll kill me if I’m not back by midnight,” he admits.
Eddie’s lips quirk as he curls a finger through one of Buck’s belt loops and tugs him towards the stairs.
“Then we’re swimming in time.”
#chapel writes#buddie#buddie fic#prompt fill#shameless enablers the lot of you#letmetellyouaboutmyfeels
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fire and ice {Draco Malfoy x Reader}{pjo x hp crossover}
Words: 21k {:))))}
Summary: Wizards and demigods don’t get along. So what happens when the Malfoys are forced to stay at Camp Half-Blood?
Genre: angst - pjo crossover!!!
Notes: ask me about commissions! - masterlist - AM I SORRY? ABSOLUTELY NOT. this has been brewing in my brain for literal ages and i’ve finally snapped and just done it. might do more. who knows? certainly not me.
----
Lucius Malfoy hates demigods.
Everyone knows it. He doesn't make it a secret. He doesn't listen to the people who tell him – time and time again – that demigods and wizards aren't even meant to mingle, that him bringing their name into every press conference, every public appearance, every meeting, is doing nothing but spurring a fire that should never have been lit in the first place.
He's at it again, though, because of course he is. That man never knows when to leave well enough alone, especially concerning business that has nothing to do with him.
Today, his words are just as harsh as they were yesterday. The newspaper quotes him saying demigods are nothing but scum, mistakes upon the world. He has claimed plenty of times that not a single demigod was a planned child, that no god in their right mind would ever conceive with a Muggle.
“What the fuck is a Muggle?” Percy asks.
You shake your head, eyes narrowed at the black and white words. They jumble together, as they always have done, but you're still capable of making out the bare bones.
Lucius Malfoy really, really hates demigods.
“This guy is on drugs,” Percy continues. “Who's gonna be the one to tell him we're all literally just vibing over here in camp?”
“I think it all comes down to jealousy,” says Annabeth.
“Jealous about what? He's a fully grown wizard – he could wipe us out with one flick of his wrist if he wanted to.”
“You underestimate us.”
Percy scoffs. “I saw Will nearly fall into the fire the other day; there's absolutely nothing here Lucius Malfoy needs to be afraid of.”
And you see his point. Of course you do. Being a demigod yourself, you have the utmost confidence in the fact that Lucius Malfoy could, indeed, probably wipe you out with nothing more than a brief thought. Gods only know he's wanted to for as long as you've heard his name.
Nonetheless, this acceptance doesn't stop you from thinking about what it would be like to really stumble across the man who seems to be all talk and no action. Never once have you heard a story of wizards attacking demigods, nor vise versa. The two clans stay far apart from one another for reasons that have been made abundantly clear in the newspapers; they will just never get along. Two clashes of power like that will leave the world rumbled, and many people hurt, and it's better off to avoid that when you can.
“We should track this Malfoy bloke down.”
The words have fallen from your mouth before you've even fully registered they are what you wanted to say. Both Percy and Annabeth pause mid-argument, Annabeth nearly snapping her spine with how fast she twists in her seat to look at you. You flick your eyes up from your plate of roast beef and give a tiny, timid smile, as if shy that you even made such a suggestion.
“You're joking,” says Percy, before turning to Annabeth. “They're joking, right?”
“They're definitely joking.”
“I'm not.”
“Well, you need to start joking before I bring Will over here to make sure you're not running a fever or something-”
“I'm serious!” You gesture towards the fire, where the newspaper can still be seen curling amongst the flames. “Have you guys not been reading the amount of threats he sends us every time he gets a chance? What if he's serious?”
“I doubt he's being serious,” Annabeth says, though there's a wobble in her voice that tells you she perhaps doesn't fully believe her own assurances. “Isn't it a crime in the wizard world to – like – murder innocent things?”
“I'm pretty sure there was an entire space of time over there where people were just murdering each other,” Percy responds.
Annabeth pales.
“See what I mean?” you continue. “Besides, it's getting boring here.”
Percy blinks. “Boring?”
“I'm bored. I just want something to do, for Gods sake. Chiron's keeping such a tight leash on us-”
Percy throws his hands up. “Oh! I wonder why!”
“You two even said a few days ago that you miss being out and about, doing stuff, saving lives-”
“I never said that,” Percy argues. “In my opinion, I've had enough saving lives to last me a lifetime.”
“Weak.”
“Coming from-”
“Okay!” Annabeth snaps. “Enough. This conversation is officially over.”
You pout, folding your arms over your chest like a child having a tantrum. Percy laughs at your expression, giving your nose a playful tap that does nothing but infuriate you further. It's been like this for weeks now – short tempers, boredom, an unease that can only be put to rest when you're out and about, doing what you do best.
Maybe it's the ADHD. Maybe it's the godly blood running through your veins. Maybe you're just too curious for your own good, but you want to find Lucius Malfoy and just talk to him. You want to see if he's as tough in person as he makes himself out to be on paper. You know you're not much to look at, nothing more than a teenager with interesting parentage, but maybe that will be enough to get your questions answered – why do wizards hate demigods so much?
Annabeth cuts the conversation short any time you try bringing it to life again. She's a master at changing the subject, sometimes deciding to just talk over you about a completely different topic. Eventually, Percy's laughter and Annabeth's avoidance is enough to make you shut up, and soon you're just sitting there, listening to Annabeth talk about the recent Athena cabin shenanigans she bore witness to a few nights previous.
Dinner finishes, and the tables split back into their cabins. Annabeth gets lost amongst her sea of siblings, giving you and Percy a wave before she disappears for the night. You and Percy walk in silence for a little while, before you split off to your own respected cabins.
Alone.
Sleeping on your own has never bothered you before. It's all you've ever known. You were born an only child, your mother having lost her mind shortly after giving birth to you, your father never being around due to the complicated fact he was a god.
Is a god.
Sometimes it shakes you to think your own father will undoubtedly outlive you. Hades is sat on his throne somewhere, watching you do all these things in his honour, knowing full well he will one day have to watch you die. He might be by your bedside as your heart beat gradually comes to a halt in your sleep.
More likely, he will be sat amongst his godly brothers and sisters, watching you fight on the battle field, catching the very moment a sword pierces your chest and you bleed out with no one to help you, no one by your side, no one caring.
You shake the thought from your head as you reach your cabin, a large, black painted building with a skull and crossbones over the door. It's a lonely place, but demigods are lonely kids, so it kind of fits, and you've never seen any problem with facing the truth.
As soon as the door closes behind you, you grab your notebook and pen from beneath your pillow. It's been a long time since you wrote anything, considering you've been too tired to even properly function these days, but tonight, your thoughts are heavy, and you need to find some way to let them loose. You sit cross-legged on the uncomfortable camp bed Chiron provided you with all those years ago, and start scribbling.
Just random sentences, things that probably won't even make sense when you wake up tomorrow morning, words that don't even go together, but are just popping in your mind every few seconds. You've always called it poetry, but it's on thin ice. You let nobody read it, considering you know how bad it is, how weird it is. You can honestly imagine someone reading it and immediately expressing concerns for your mental stability.
But it distinguishes that weight in your brain. It makes you see sense for a bit, pouring these words onto paper before closing the notebook and stuffing it beneath your pillow. You won't have to read them again if you don't want to, and that's the best part; it offers a moment of bliss, but there are no strings attached. All is well. All can be ignored if you want it to be.
----
It takes weeks for the subject of Lucius Malfoy to arise at the dinner table again.
Annabeth has been fighting it off. The demigod has known you for far too long; at this point, all she needs to do is take a glimpse of your face, and immediately she knows exactly what is going through your brain. It's like a sixth sense to her, and it gives her the perfect opportunity to change the subject before you can so much as utter the word Wizard.
Percy notices the tension, and finally snaps.
“Are you still thinking about what Lucius Malfoy said?”
Annabeth groans, slapping Percy on the arm. “I told you not to bring it up!”
But your attention has already been grabbed. You straighten up in your seat, grinning from ear to ear as you say, “So can we go?”
“Give me a break,” Annabeth grumbles, dropping her head into her hand. “We're not going to visit Lucius Malfoy. We don't know the guy.”
“He doesn't know us.”
“Good.”
You lean across the table to flick Annabeth's forehead. “But he still insists on talking about us to whatever freaky wizard press he has special ties to; I just want to see him, Annabeth! I just want to – like – mess with him a little bit!”
Percy laughs, nudging Annabeth's elbow. When he speaks, it's through a mouthful of noodles. “I actually think our Y/N is on to something.”
“Thank you, Percy.”
Annabeth's head shoots up, a pale spot in the centre of her forehead where you flicked her. “No! No, this isn't even up for debate. Chiron will kill us if he knows we're even talking about it.”
“No he won't,” you reply. “Chiron trusts us. He's seen us do all sorts, and it's not like I'm asking you guys to go and risk your lives for me. We'll go and talk to him, get his side of the story, and then we'll-”
“It's honestly like you think I'm stupid.”
You freeze, fork hovering halfway to your mouth. “Come again?”
Percy laughs, failing to stifle it behind his hand. “You've only gone and woken the beast, Y/N.”
“Shut up.”
Annabeth sighs, running a hand over her ponytail. “I've known you since we were seven years old, Y/N – I know what you're up to. You'll never just talk to Lucius Malfoy. You'll get there, and you'll have to taunt him, and jeer at him, and put a stink bomb in his bathroom-”
“That's the oldest trick in the book – I'm better than that.”
“But you know what I mean!” Annabeth shakes her head. “You'll get carried away, and we know what happens when you get carried away.”
Your stomach dips. Even Percy's bright smile falls, replaced with a grimace the two of you share. It's a low blow, and Annabeth knows that, but she also knows better than to make it out like you and Percy aren't two of the most unpredictable demigods to walk on Camp Half-Blood soil.
When Annabeth next speaks, her voice is softer. “It's just too risky.”
“Since when did you start being scared of a little confrontation?”
Percy's voice startles you from your momentary reverie. Both you and Annabeth snap to attention, turning to look at your friend with raised brows; suddenly, he doesn't look like the happy-go-lucky, always bantering kid he usually is. His expression has darkened, jaw set and eyebrows lowered so his blue eyes look darker than normal. He can't even bring himself to look you both in the eye, instead choosing to keep a firm glare on the noodles and rice in front of him.
“What do you mean?” Annabeth asks. “I'm not afraid of confrontation. My scars can vouch for that.”
“Right, so why is Y/N's suggestion so scary to you?”
You blink; this was certainly not the direction you were expecting the conversation to go. Annabeth and Percy bicker like cat and dog, but there's never been any malice in it. Now, listening to Percy, you can hear the genuine hurt in his voice, and you know her previous comments about getting carried away have actually struck a chord in him.
Annabeth stares with her mouth agape, clearly unsure how to respond. She must sense the tension, too, must realise she has said the wrong thing.
Still without looking up, Percy says, “I agree with Y/N; we need out of this camp for a little while. We need to do something. So why not have a little road trip to visit the man himself, huh? Why not get our questions answered?”
“Percy....” Annabeth flicks a desperate glance in your direction, but you're not inclined to intervene when Percy is like this. As someone who has experienced the difficulty of controlling powers that you have been forced to ignore for a grand number of years, the last thing you want to do is provoke Percy any further than Annabeth has already managed to do.
“I'm bored, too,” he continues. “And, to be honest, I'm getting pretty tired of them wizards thinking they can say whatever they want about us. It's about time we let them know they're not better than anyone just 'cause they wear them stupid robes and have a council.”
“So what are you saying?” you pipe up, excitedly. “You'll go with me?”
Percy shrugs. “I don't see why not. It'll be a bit of fun, won't it?”
You cheer, throwing your hands in the air before catching a glimpse of Annabeth's angered expression. Your cheer immediately drifts away, and you let your hands fall to your sides before mumbling, “You sure? 'Cause, I mean, we don't have to.”
“No, we're going,” says Percy, staring right at Annabeth. He has a death wish. That is the only explanation you can come up with right now. “It'll be fun, as you said.”
Annabeth's nostrils flare. She says nothing else, simply sends one final glare to Percy – as if you're not even present – and stands up, marching away before dinner has finished.
Percy huffs, slumping back in his chair. “Where does she get off telling us we get carried away?”
“I mean, she isn't wrong, Percy.”
Percy scowls. “I don't think that's very fair.”
“You're in denial.” You plunge your fork into his noodles, using his distraction to steal some food for yourself. “But we're going to visit Lucius Malfoy! That'll be fun!”
“I only said that to make Annabeth angry.”
“I know, but a promise is a promise. We're going, and we're gonna have a fantastic time.”
“I highly doubt that.”
Not even two seconds later, Percy squeals and jumps from his seat. “Hey! Don't do that!”
You grin, willing the skeletons hand to let go of Percy's ankle and sink back into the dirt.
-----
You and Percy remember this so well.
It's muscle memory at this point, standing in the Hades cabin in the dark of night, Percy having tip-toed over to your domain to indulge in some illegal shenanigans. When you were younger, this used to be a nightly occurrence, which is one of the main reasons you both share such dramatic memories; neither of you are capable of staying out of trouble for very long, and maybe this is the very reason why.
It's so easy for you to go wherever you want. You could shadow travel out of Camp Half Blood without a second thought, exhaustion be damned, but you never do. You respect Chiron too much to go out of your way to disobey him, but tonight is an exception. Percy stands by your side, hands tucked into an oversized hoodie. He's pulled the hood on over his dark hair, shoving the tangled strands into his eyes, though he does little to fix this. Instead, he keeps his blue gaze on you and says, “How long do you think we'll be?”
“Not long,” you reply. “A few hours. Maybe a little longer if you fancy a stroll around London before we head back.”
Percy scowls, glancing over his shoulder at the window. Nobody is awake. Camp Half Blood has never been so quiet.
“Stop worrying.” You grab the sleeve of his hoodie, ushering his attention back to you. “I know what I'm doing, Perce – you've been with me a thousand times before. You know I can do it.”
“Last time you shadow travelled this far, you nearly died.”
“I was younger then. I've had more practise.”
“Enough to travel to London?”
You grab his hand, the motion so familiar now it's almost second nature. “Let's find out, shall we?”
You don't give life the chance to throw another distraction your way; you inhale in that way you always do before a lengthy jump, and then you let your mind empty of all rational thought. Your mind does not go blank, nor does it settle; for a brief spell, you feel insane. You feel utterly and completely unhinged as the dead cackle in your head, thrashing through your brain like dogs trying to leap a wire fence. Your thoughts are no longer your own, replaced instead by the thoughts of people who are angry at death, angry at their own fate, people who blame your father and all of his offspring for the way their lives turned out.
It hurts. You're forced to watch their faces as they twist into expressions of pure agony, begging for a help you cannot give them, because they are hundreds of years too late.
It stops once your feet hit the ground.
You try to steady yourself just to give off the illusion that you're perfectly fine, but your legs give out and you fall to your knees. Percy grabs your arm, but your body is limp as it slowly restores from the hectic ride that is shadow travel.
“Never gets any better,” Percy grumbles; even he is a little uneasy on his feet, swaying to and fro. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” you belch. “Are we in London?”
Percy looks up. You follow his gaze, warmth immediately flooding your stomach at the sight of a job well done, because the two of you are amongst the unmistakeable sights of London.
It's a bit disappointing, you won't lie. Pictures in newspapers always perceive England to be this sophisticated, well-lit place, bustling with people dressed in suits and expensive clothes. Instead, you're greeted by a dark city street, broken street lights flickering overhead, people bustling by with their heads down, wearing track suits.
In the distance, someone yells, “Come on, mate!” and it echoes off the cobbled stone walls.
You and Percy share a glance.
“Maybe we just expected too much,” he says.
“Probably.”
He hauls you to your feet, keeping a hand on your arm just in case you end up toppling over again. Through the darkness, you are just able to make out the peak of a large house in the distance. It's straight from a horror movie in your opinion, made up of dark cobbles, a golden fence adorned with spikes to keep the Muggles from entering; the word itself is nearly enough to make you laugh, though the sight of the house keeps you quiet.
You and Percy approach the gates timidly, his hand still on your arm. “Is this the Malfoy house?”
“I think so,” you whisper. “It looks like the pictures we always see. It's what I was aiming for, anyway.”
“Good job, soldier.”
“Thanks, boss.” You pause, craning your neck to get a better look at the house. “How do we actually get through the gate?”
There are lights on in at least four of the rooms, a shadow passing by a curtain that looks tall and slim, gliding more than walking. You grab Percy's arm and point, whispering urgently, “That must be him! Lucius!”
Percy ducks his head down and laughs. “Okay, okay. Let's just climb the fucking gate and get everything set up.” He glances at you. “You're sure you're up for this?”
“I've never been more prepared for anything in my life.”
Together, the two of you scale the metal gate, using the upper body strength you have gathered from years of training at Camp Half Blood. You're over and in this strangers garden in a number of seconds, sprinting through the grand garden before suspicions can be roused. Around you, white peacocks look up from their grazing, though none of them make a sound to give away the presence of two strangers.
You reach the fountain and duck beneath it; this is where Percy needs to be if he wants to succeed in his part of the plan. He crouches beside you and hovers his hands over the water, not even giving you a warning before he uses his powers to pull the water from the concrete fountain. It sprays across the garden, and that's when the peacocks start to scream.
Water splashes against their feathers, startling them. You can barely hide your laughter at the sight of them springing up from whatever peaceful graze they were involved in beforehand, now darting around the garden like someone has plucked a feather from their flesh.
Percy shoves your arm. “Stop laughing and get on with it before they come out!”
You push past the distractions and focus your energy on your own powers. Your exhaustion makes it all a little bit more difficult, but the image of the final product is enough to have you pushing the exhaustion aside just to reap the benefits of this. Inside yourself, something pulls, and it's familiar, uncomfortable, but it has the effect you want. Almost immediately, a skeletal hand darts from the ground. Just one for now, but you wait patiently before making the next one erupt.
The front door of the Malfoy house bursts open, and standing there is no other than-
“That's not Lucius,” Percy says.
“It definitely is not.”
The person standing in the doorway cannot be much older than you, with snow white hair and a sharp face. His eyes, blue and cold, are wide as they take in the sight before him, his wand clutched in a trembling hand.
“You said you saw Lucius in the window!” Percy hisses, struggling to reel the spray of water back into himself.
“I thought it was!”
“For Gods sake.” Percy grabs your arm and drags you up, no longer caring about being seen. However, you stumble as he runs, dragging you along behind him, because the sight of the boy is distracting; he looks terrified, like he was expecting something completely different, like he thought someone was finally coming to take him away.
You recognise the expression only because you've worn it yourself so many times; growing up as the child of Hades leaves a lot of scars and a lot of fear on a person, considering your father certainly isn't the most liked individual upon the Olympians.
As Percy attempts to drag you back to the gate, you glance over your shoulder. The boys blue eyes glare into your own. He has seen you.
And nothing can really prepare you for what happens next. You don't know enough about the wizarding world to expect this, but the feeling is unlike anything you have ever felt before. Someone yells in your direction, and then something is crashing into your spine, slithering along your neck, giving you not a single chance to react before the world goes still and you drop to the floor, no longer processing a single thing happening around you.
----
“Would you just wake up?”
The voice is posh and annoying. It makes you want to laugh.
The pain in your spine stops you from doing such a thing, however. Instead, you slowly rouse from sleep, met by the blinding lights of a room unfamiliar. You lay on a bed fit for a king, soft pillows engulfing your sore head, thick mattress swaddling your body like a newborn baby.
And standing above you is a boy you remember seeing only vaguely; pale skin, snow white hair, a grimace that shows he perhaps isn't too happy about having you in his home.
You stare at him a moment, willing him to make the first move. Maybe if he starts the conversation, you won't have to go into too much detail about why you're actually here, because despite the glitches in your memory, that is something you remember very, very well.
Running across his lawn, thinking you were clever because you and Percy were finally going to give Lucius Malfoy a piece of his own medicine.
And now Percy is gone, and you're trapped in a strangers house.
The boy stood above you, however, says nothing. He looks almost nervous, eyes flashing between you and the door, like he's planning the easiest way to flee if things reach that point.
Finally, you snap. “Hello.”
He jerks away, nearly stumbling over a stool by the bedside as he does. “Oh,Christ. Hello.”
“I didn't mean to scare you.”
“You didn't – I'm not scared. I just thought you were still Stunned.”
You blink. “Stunned?”
“I Stunned you.” He pauses, biting his lower lip. “It was the only way I could think to get you to stop running.”
“Is that some kind of spell?”
The boy waves a dismissive hand. “The point is, you were in my garden earlier. If my father had been the one to see you, he wouldn't have hesitated to curse you and call it self defence.”
His father.
Something rushes through your stomach, an excitement that doesn't really make sense. All has failed. You're going to go back to Camp Half Blood and be chastised, probably brutally punished, for the choices you made tonight, and yet here you are, overjoyed at the mere mention of Lucius Malfoy, because that's the only person this boy must be talking about.
“You look a lot like him,” you say.
The boy narrows his eyes. “My father?”
“Lucius,” you clarify. “He lives here, doesn't he? He's the one Percy and I came to see.”
The boy slowly leans back in his chair; it's quite cute, actually, that he dragged a chair into this room just so he could sit over your Stunned body. Maybe he was making sure you didn't die. Maybe he just didn't trust leaving you on your own.
“What business could you possibly want with my father?” he asks. “You must be my age. What year are you in at Hogwarts? What House?”
You smile. “I don't go to Hogwarts.”
He reels back. “Really? Are you from a foreign school? Beuxbatons?”
“I don't go to your fancy magic schools. I'm not a wizard.”
The boy blinks. It never ceases to baffle you the pure ignorance of these people – how they can grow up in a world completely detached from everything and everyone, and yet are still unable to fathom the idea of anybody being different.
“If you're not a wizard, how did you make the water fountain do that?”
“I didn't. Percy did that.”
“Who is this Percy bloke you keep going on about?”
“He's my friend, the one you apparently let get away.”
The boy raises a brow, glancing over at the window as if expecting to see Percy just standing there; honestly, you wouldn't even be surprised.
He turns back and says, “So your friend is a wizard? Are you a Muggle?”
He's taking an awfully long time to catch on.
“No,” you reply, exasperated. “Neither of us are wizards. We're from New York – a little place called Camp Half Blood.”
And for a second, the revelation doesn't land. The boy continues staring at you like you have three heads, mouth slightly agape, eyebrows furrowed. But then the ball drops, and he jerks back, the chair dragging in the carpet with the speed at which he jumps to his feet. He looks almost horrified.
“Alright,” you mumble. “I'm not going to bring Zeus down here personally. He's a bit busy-”
“How did you even get here?” he hisses. “Are you an assassin? Is that why you were looking for my father – so you could kill him?”
“Oh, don't be so dramatic. I'm a demigod, not a murderer.”
The boy looks at you like he doesn't think there's much difference between the two.
This angers you. Something in your stomach burns, and suddenly, the only thing you want to do is to get away from him. You want to go back home. You want to find Annabeth and hug her, tell her she was right, just as she always is. You don't like being in the company of wizards. You don't like being away from the people who understand you best.
“Look, this was fun,” you say, pushing yourself up from the bed. “But I need to get going. I'm sorry about your fountain-”
“Where are you going?” he demands.
You pause, raising a brow. “Why do you care?”
“Because – Because what if you come back to finish my father off? I can't just let you go!”
He must be completely oblivious. You have fought monsters taken directly out of storybooks, have argued and debated with Gods about things such as ice cream flavours and which way is the right direction to go on a road trip – the last person you have any interest in fighting with is some posh, uptight wizard.
“Look,” you say, “all I wanted to do was mess with the guy. He's been saying some pretty harsh things about demigods lately, and Percy and I just wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. I don't want to murder your father.”
The boy stares at you. He's powerful, too. You know he is. You can see his wand sticking out of a deep pocket in his emerald green robes. One flick of that and you're a goner, and yet he chooses to just stand over you, eyes burning holes into your head.
“What's your name, anyway?” you ask.
He tenses. “Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”
“Sounds evil.”
“It's a strong name.”
“Right.” You flick your eyes to the clock hung upon the wall. “Can I go now?”
He sighs and backs away from the bed. “My father would kill me if he found out I was letting you go.”
You stand up, knees trembling from the aftershocks of having a wizards spell slam directly into your spine, but you manage to catch yourself before crumbling completely; Draco does nothing to help stabilise you, instead watching you with a thoughtful gaze, like he's preparing to attack at any moment.
And it's weird. You know it's weird. You should not just be able to walk out of his house without a single consequence to your name. He should be holding you hostage, keeping you pinned to this bed until his grand old father gets home, and he can tell you off for trespassing, scaring the life out of his precious white peacocks.
But Draco doesn't say another word as you slip out the door and barrel downstairs, suddenly desperate to be away from a world like this. It's weird. It's unnatural. They care about blood status, and they learn spells, and it's all just a little bit too weird for your taste.
Even weirder is the fact that Draco is letting you go so easily.
---
You arrive back at Camp Half Blood when it's light outside, and you know you've been caught.
Wherever Percy may be, you do not envy the treatment he must be getting. You clamber up to the pine tree and look down at the camp you call home, not surprised to see people bustling back and forth already, Chiron included. He looks miffed, digging his front hoof into the dirt like a rabid animal ready to charge.
That's kind of what he is.
You hollow out your cheeks and stroll directly into camp, ignoring the startled gasps of the Half-Bloods. You'll deal with Chiron before you deal with them – that seems like the best way forward.
Chiron spots you seconds before you reach him. He turns, dust billowing up around him before he says, “And where do you think you've been?”
Chiron has always been a father-figure to you, Hades be damned. He saw you as a junior demigod, just growing into who you are, unable to fully process the fact that the man you always hated, the man you once believed to be a no good excuse of a father, was actually a Greek God who has spent his time watching you grow – just from the sky instead of on the ground.
He treats you and Percy differently than everybody else. You're both feared for no reason. People shy away from you like you've been on some blood-lust streak your entire life, even though that's far from the case. When you can, you avoid using your powers, purely because you know how much people dislike them. They see them as unnatural. They think it's weird, despite them having abilities, too.
“Hello, Chiron,” you mumble. “I'm very tired, so if you could just-”
“We've had word from the Ministry of Magic.”
You freeze, stomach dropping, certain you heard him wrong. The only wizard you actually made contact with was Draco, and surely he didn't go to the Ministry after letting you run free just like that?
Chiron shakes his head. His disappointed look is more than you can bare. “What were you two thinking, Y/N? What did you think would happen?”
“I – I – I don't know.” You look around desperately. “Is Percy here? Did he make it back safely?”
“Percy's resting. He wanted to go after you, but Grover wouldn't let him, and thankfully so-”
“I was fine. The boy I met – Draco -”
“Draco Malfoy?”
You falter. “Well, yeah. He spotted us and ended up Stunning me-”
“Oh my gods.” Chiron runs a hand through his hair, looking up at the sky, saying whatever prayers he thinks will help right now, like the Gods have ever listened to any of you before. “You do realise that's Lucius Malfoy's son, don't you? The son of the man who wants our kind terminated.”
“Draco wasn't like that,” you reply, even though you don't know why. “He let me go. He didn't even hurt me-”
“You've just said he Stunned you!”
“For, like, an hour! I was fine when I woke up! And look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn't do the exact same thing if you could.”
Chiron groans, turning back to the Big House. He starts walking without another word, forcing you to sprint after him.
“Don't be mad,” you say. “It was stupid. I'm sorry. Chiron, I'm sorry. We just got bored-”
“If children put their family's in danger every time they were bored, Y/N, the human race wouldn't exist.”
He really is angry, angrier than you've ever seen him. It takes you back to your childhood when he used to tell you off for staying up too late, or getting out of bed in the middle of the night.
You stumble after him, thankful that he isn't telling you to go away and leave him alone; that's one thing Chiron has always promised he will never do to you or Percy – he'll never just leave you alone.
You walk into the Big House, side-by-side, and it's a mildly unpleasant surprise for you to see Annabeth already sat by Chiron's desk, her head in her hands, blonde curls framing her face. As soon as the door shuts behind you, she jerks up, whirls around and throws a pen in your direction.
You catch it. “I am safe, thank you for asking.”
“You're so stupid!” She groans, picks up another pen and throws it. Chiron is the one to interject this time, snatching the pen from thin air and tucking it into the little pouch hooked to his side.
“Enough, Annabeth. We haven't got time to chastise them.”
“I beg to differ,” Annabeth growls, not once taking her eyes off you.
The guilt claws to the surface; she only wanted to protect you, only wanted to give you some decent advice, and neither you nor Percy had listened, both too absorbed in your own boredom to use the common sense Annabeth seems so prone to.
Chiron, however, does not give you a chance to ponder over this gruesome feeling. Instead, he pulls a seat out and gestures for you to sit down, which you do without question; at this point, you know you'd be stupid to disobey him, would only be digging yourself into a deeper hole, one you're not too sure you'll be able to crawl out of.
He takes a seat in front of you as Annabeth hovers by your shoulder, arms folded over her chest, eyes trained dead ahead. You awkwardly shift in your seat, waiting for the scolding to begin.
But instead, Chiron grabs a golden button from a drawer in his desk and presses it without saying anything at all. The room immediately brightens up in all different colours – red, green, blue, strobe lights dancing across the room, taking shape in the centre of the carpet. You have to squint to fully understand the form taking shape, but when it does, your stomach drops.
Made entirely of lights, standing in the middle of the room, is Cornelius Fudge, the jittery little minister of the wizard world.
You've only seen him a few times, and never in person; a few times, he came to meet with Chiron in regards to escaped prisoners, wizards who wanted to harm demigods who were on the run. You never thought too much of him, but he looks angry now, his grubbly little face twisted into an expression of anger and loathing. When he speaks, his voice is loud and harsh, making you flinch with each syllable.
“Chiron!” he exclaims. “I hope this message finds you well; I'm still trying to figure out the communication device you gave to me in our last meeting. It's all very confusing, and every time I press something wrong, thunder and lightening nearly wipe me out.” He coughs into a handkerchief before continuing. “Anyway, I'm here to inform you of a mishap which took place in the Malfoy Manor only a few short hours ago. I've been given word that one of your people tried breaking into Lucius's home to do God only knows what. It's only pure luck that Malfoy's son, Draco, was awake and was able to stop the wicked thing from getting through the door.”
“Wicked thing?” you burst. Chiron raises a silencing hand, still refusing to look at you.
“We as a nation are becoming very paranoid by the loose grip with which you have upon your own people; they are starting to become wild, careless, and I can truly see a murder from one of you in our future, which, as the Minister, I must put a stop to as soon as possible. Therefore, I demand the culprit be punished for his or her crimes, and I will be popping in soon with my witness to go over the details of the night to help you further understand where our fear is coming from.” Again, he coughs into a handkerchief. “Thank you. I hope the camp is well – the strawberries you sent were wonderful, as always! Good day to you, sir!”
The lights blink out. The room is doused in silence. Inside your head, a scream echoes.
You don't even know what to say. Would an apology even suffice? Would an explanation even be worth it? Years it has taken for the wizarding world and the demigod world to live in peace, and by the sounds of it, you've just annihilated all of that for the sake of a prank. You let Lucius Malfoy's hateful words burrow themselves into your head, which is probably exactly what he planned.
Chiron puts the golden button back in his desk. The soft click it makes as it hits the wood echoes off the walls, so loud and gentle, so mocking. Slowly, he lifts his eyes to meet your own and says, “Now you can understand why we're all a little bit angry.”
“A little bit?” You close your eyes, letting Annabeth's outburst ring throughout the room. “Chiron, I warned them! I warned them both! I said – what did I say Y/N? - I said-”
“You said it was stupid, and that we shouldn't do it,” you mumble. “And we didn't listen.”
“No, you didn't, and now you've given the wizard council a reason to think we're out to get them, which gives them a reason to announce open fucking warfare on us-”
“Okay, Annabeth, calm down,” Chiron says. “We're taking this one step at a time. There's no point jumping ahead to things like that.”
“Chiron, this is bad. This is so, so bad. The wizards are going to think we did this on purpose-”
“Why are you saying we?” you ask. “Percy and I did this on our own. We'll take the consequences. We've done it before.” You turn to Chiron, who stands solemnly in the corner, head bowed as if deep in thought. “What are the consequences, may I ask?”
He sighs, nostrils flaring. “We've decided that keeping you in camp for the rest of the summer will suffice for now. The Minister and his witness will be arriving in a few days and I want you to be on your best behaviour.”
You scowl; the punishment is weak. You got off lucky, and you're aware of that, but it doesn't make it any more bearable. You hate being trapped, hate sitting in the Hades cabin with nothing but your own thoughts keeping you company. That's the hardest part about being a child of one of the Big Three – you're alone. It doesn't matter how many campers surround you, you are alone.
But you take the punishment on the chin, giving Chiron a respectful nod before walking from the Big House to continue with the rest of your day. You'll find Percy and talk to him about everything, maybe apologise for dragging him into something so stupid, something so avoidable. If either of you had any flicker of common sense, none of this would have happened.
It's only when you're halfway down the hill do you question anything Chiron has just told you.
You falter, one word lingering in your mind. Witness.
The only witness you can possibly think of is Draco Malfoy.
---
He arrives in the afternoon, already looking so madly out of place.
You spot his white hair, blowing so majestically in the wind Chiron has picked out for the day. His robes billow out around him, his sharp face stuck in an expression of anxiety. His eyebrows are furrowed, eyes darting to and fro as he strolls through the centre of Camp Half-Blood with his father at his side and the stout Minister, Cornelius Fudge, strolling behind them.
He looks so out of place. It would almost be humorous if you weren't burning with misplaced anger at the mere sight of him; he told on you. He ran to his father and touted on you, even after making it seem like he was going to let you go with no consequences, and now you're stuck in camp for the rest of the summer with absolutely nothing to do and barely anyone to talk to.
“Dickhead.”
“Is that him?”
You jump at the sound of Annabeth's voice, very nearly dropping the spear you were working with before your distraction walked through the barriers.
“That's him,” you reply. “Draco Malfoy.”
“I meant the other guy. The one you went after.”
“Oh, Lucius. Yeah. He's there, too.”
Annabeth narrows her grey eyes, following the movements of the Malfoy boys. “You know, I can kind of understand why you wanted to put them in their place.”
You open your mouth to respond, but the words collapse when Draco's head snaps in your direction, like he somehow sensed your presence. His eyes find yours, his face draining of what little colour it has; something inside you stirs, fingers curling impossibly tighter around the spear.
You remember those eyes so well, shockingly well, strangely well. Waking up to them burning holes into your skull was an experience you don't think you'll forget, considering the shock that coursed through you at the mere sight of him. He was so calm, so curious, not even yelling the slurs his father seems so keen on.
And you might have made it up. You might have just been imagining it, but you're almost certain he flicks his head in the direction of the bandstand set up on the far side of camp, nearly hidden beneath the canopy of trees. You continue to stare at him, too bewildered by the miniscule movement to respond before he disappears over the hill.
“Come on,” Annabeth urges, nudging your arm. “Let's get back to training.”
But you're too distracted now. Knowing that Lucius Malfoy and his son – Draco – are walking around Camp Half-Blood makes your moves sloppy. And then there's the matter of Draco's little signal, like he wants you to meet him somewhere, like he wants to talk to you.
You have nothing to say to him, but that doesn't stop you being curious about what he wants to tell you.
Annabeth swings her sword, very nearly clipping the side of your ear. You yelp, stumbling back. Your foot catches on a rock sticking up from the ground, and before you can react, you're sprawled across the grass with your spear laying in a heap at your side.
Annabeth sighs, kicking the weapon away from your outstretched fingers. “What the hell was that, L/N?”
You prop yourself up on an elbow. “You could have given me some warning.”
“Oh yes, because the monsters will be so generous as to give you some warning.”
You scowl, shoving up from the ground. “Look, I'm just gonna get some water before the next round, okay?”
Annabeth falters, narrowing her eyes. “Just some water?”
“Just some water.” You give her a dazzling smile, hoping to the gods that this is enough to convince her you are telling the truth. You know it's a long shot – Annabeth knows you better than anybody else, but she's learned from her mistakes. Trying to boss you around and tell you what to do will only ever end in disaster, and so she says nothing else as you set your gear back on the rack and head up the hill towards the bandstand, out of sight of Annabeth's suspicious glare.
Draco isn't there when you arrive. The bandstand is deserted, the only sign of life being the tree nymphs poking their heads out of the canopy to see who has arrived on their territory. You shoo them away before slumping down on the bench set in the middle of the stand, gazing around with your heart beating wildly in your chest, and for no reason at all.
He probably won't even show up. He probably hates you. He's probably too scared to face you after what he did, and honestly, you wouldn't even blame him.
After ten minutes, you start losing hope. Chiron will be looking for you shortly, most likely tipped off by Annabeth that you disappeared for no reason instead of finishing your training session. It won't be long for them to add two and two together and realise exactly what you have gone to do-
“I didn't think you'd actually show up. Thought you might have been banned from seeing me.”
Your head snaps up. “Jesus, Draco. You scared the shit out of me!”
There he is, all tall and lanky, white hair blowing away from his forehead, his weird robes billowing out around him. It's weird how a person can make such odd attire look nice, almost like an outfit you'd wear yourself.
“Sorry,” he says, though he doesn't sound apologetic in the slightest; he sounds tired. “I thought you demigods were meant to have superhuman senses or something.”
You raise a brow. “Our parents are gods, not superheroes.”
“Same difference.”
“I'm flattered.”
He sits down beside you, shoulder bumping yours. “Don't be. It wasn't a compliment.”
You fall into silence then, unsure of what to say, how to start the conversation you both know needs to be had. You had so much anger built up inside you only moments before, but the second you looked up and saw his face, it dispelled. You were reminded of them blue eyes gazing down at you when you awoke from your Stunning spell, how soft and worried they were for a complete stranger.
Finally, he inhales deeply and says, “I didn't mean for this to get as big as it did.”
“Everyone's mad at Percy and I. Me especially.”
He tilts his head back, glaring up at the sky. “How badly did they punish you?”
“I can't leave this place for the rest of the summer.”
“Not too bad, then.”
You glare at him. He cracks open an eye, catches your expression and raises a brow.
“It is bad?” Lifting his head, he gestures towards the open stretch of grass in front of you. “This place looks amazing, Y/N. You've got everything you could possibly need, plus you're safe from all those crazy monsters we always get word about.”
“The monsters don't bother me. I'm meant to go out and fight them; that's my purpose.”
Draco glances at you. You feel his blue eyes burning holes into the side of your head, can feel the judgement radiating off him as he takes in what you've just said. You never realise just how strange other people must find statements like that, how backwards it truly is to crave the feel of battle.
“You know, I'd kill to have a place like this.”
You look at him. “Really? Is your mansion not enough?”
He scowls, barrelling on like you haven't said anything. “A place where you feel like you belong.” He glances over. “You may hate being here sometimes, but look me in the eyes and tell me you don't feel like this place is home.”
You can't do that. Despite your desire to be free sometimes, your desire to head out on the streets where you don't belong, you know Camp Half Blood will always be home. It will always be the place you turn to when you need comfort, because it is the only place in the world that has ever accepted you and your weird abilities with open arms.
Draco hums. “Exactly. I don't have that. I don't fit in anywhere; I'm not evil enough for my family, not good enough for everyone else. I'm on my own.”
The silence that follows is a heavy one; you're not used to this kind of talk. You relate so strongly to his feelings, but you very rarely express them in quite the same way. At Camp Half-Blood, everyone is in the same boat. It's rude to think you have it worse than somebody else. Every single person here was abandoned by a parent, maybe even both.
But Draco isn't a demigod, so maybe he won't mind.
“I get that.”
He narrows his eyes. “Really?”
“Yeah.” You tug at your sleeve, pulling the material over your curled fingers. “I don't exactly come from the most well-loved bloodline in this place. Even other Half-Bloods take one look at me and cower.”
“That blonde girl I saw you with-”
You wave a dismissive hand. “That's Annabeth; she's more like a sister to me, but even she's wary of my powers.”
Draco pauses. “What powers?”
You open your mouth to respond, to go through the long list of the terrifying things you are capable of, but your words are cut short by the sound of a bark in the distance. Your head snaps up immediately, senses sparking to life before you've even fully processed where the noise is coming from. Around you, the tension in the camp is amplified as the other Half-Bloods spring to the same level of alertness.
Draco straightens up, reaching into his back pocket for a wand that you can almost guarantee will be completely useless within the boundaries of Camp Half-Blood. You place a hand on his shoulder as you stand, pushing him back down onto the bench.
“Stay here.”
“Where are you going?” he asks, head darting left and right. “What was that?”
“I don't know, but it didn't sound good.”
“So call someone!”
You raise a brow, shooting him a glance over your shoulder. He looks like a scared little boy, hands balled against his chest, eyes darting to and fro. They join with yours eventually, softening almost immediately.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“We don't just call someone at Camp Half-Blood. We deal with this stuff on our own.”
Draco falters. His eyes narrow, though the expression doesn't last long; suddenly, he cries out and lurches forward, pointing madly to a space just over your shoulder. You spin just in time, yanking your sword from your belt and swinging blindly. Your shoulder smashes against the dirt, giving you a view of the beast that has just tried ripping you to shreds.
A chimera.
You recognise it. Of course you do. The lion head and snake tail are kind of difficult to forget.
“What the hell is that?”
“Draco, go!” you yell, rolling onto your knees and swinging your sword yet again. The chimera dives, talons outstretched, mouth open in a roar.
It's massive paws slam into your shoulders, shoving you back yet again. You cry out, struggling to lift your sword with the weight pressing against your chest, the blood now seeping from two wounds in your shoulders. Over the chimera's massive shoulders, you can see Draco jumping from foot to foot, clearly unsure what to do.
“Why are you still stood there?” you scream.
Your yelling triggers something within the chimera. You watch the gears turn in its head, its red eyes gleaming before it spins, it's tail snapping out and wrapping around your wrist. You cry out, sword clattering to the floor before you're yanked to your feet and thrown carelessly against the bench you were previously sat on.
Draco spins. “Y/N!”
You groan, looking up through bleary eyes; your sword isn't like Percy's. It won't just reappear in your pocket any time you lose connection with it. Where it lies in the grass, feet away from you, it will stay.
That means you only have one way to get this beast away from you and Draco.
It takes all of your strength, and it's never easy, but you push through the pain and the exhaustion and pull on that little trigger within your body. Something surges inside you, a feeling so familiar it almost feels like second nature. The floor rumbles. Draco yelps, clinging desperately to the back of the bench, but you keep your eyes on the chimera. It digs its foot into the dirt, growls low in its throat, and then it dives.
The skeleton's hand bursts from the ground, wraps around the chimera's ankle and pulls it back.
As soon as the chimera's chin hits the dirt, you bounce to your feet and sprint towards your sword. You snatch it from the ground, spin and slash through the air, no longer caring what part of the beast you hit, just as long as you injure it somehow.
It strikes through the goats head that protrudes from the chimera's back.
Black blood oozes from the monsters back end. It splatters up your arms, tiny dots sprinkling your face, but you don't have the time to ponder on that. You swing again, this time going for the neck. The chimera screams, but as soon as your sword makes contact with it's bushy mane, the scream disappears. The chimera bursts into golden powder in front of you, blowing away in the wind.
A pair of hands wraps around your waist, tugging you up before you can fall to your knees.
“Holy shit,” you whisper against Draco's collar. “Are you okay?”
Draco can't speak. Looking up, you see his lower jaw rattling, words fighting to the surface but being unable to push past his wall of fear. He looks everywhere but your face, as if trying to figure out where on earth the chimera disappeared to.
“It's gone for now,” you say, throat dry. “You're safe, Magic Boy.”
“How did that get in here?”
Annabeth's voice echoes up the hill. Glancing over your shoulder, you see her marching in your direction, Chiron and Percy walking by her side. At the bottom of the hill, the other Half-Bloods look up, shocked at the sight in front of them. Your disgruntled form being held up by a wizard is certainly not a normal sight at Camp Half-Blood.
“Y/N,” Percy exclaims. “Are you alright?”
“Just peachy,” you croak out. “I think I might be bleeding out, though.”
“Someone get some ambrosia,” Chiron demands, and it's with gentle hands that he extracts you from Draco's grip and lowers you to the floor. He looks up at Draco and says, “Are you alright, boy?”
“T-the skeletons,” Draco stammers. “They just – they just came out of the floor!”
Chiron smiles gently. “So I see you've been witness to our Y/N's miraculous abilities, hm?”
Draco's eyes widen. “Y/N did that?”
“Yes, you idiot,” Annabeth hisses, shouldering Draco out of the way so she can kneel beside you. She dabs a wet cloth against your shoulder, and you hiss at the contact.
Percy arrives shortly after with an air tight bag of ambrosia, which you eat in about two seconds flat.
“How did that get in here?” Percy asks.
“The barriers were open already,” Chiron replies. “We needed to let the Minister and his men inside the camp, so we had to weaken them a little bit. We must have weakened them too much, and the chimera found a way in.”
“Or this is the gods playing some sick trick on us,” says Annabeth. “Remember when Percy first arrived and they thought it would be funny to let the Minotaur roam free?”
“This isn't the gods,” you mumble. “I haven't done anything to make them mad.”
“So it's the wizards, then.” Annabeth whirls on Draco, folding her arms over her chest. You close your eyes, listening to Percy chuckle lightheartedly at your side. Both of you have given up trying to calm her down at this point. “You and your people just have to come in and ruin everything, don't you?”
Draco blinks. He's barely spoken the entire time, clearly still trying to figure out what the hell he has just witnessed.
Annabeth laughs coldly. “When will you and your people get the hint that we don't want you here. We don't want anything to do with you! It's you lot who have so much to say about us, and the minute we retaliate, you take a little hissy fit and have to get the bloody council involved! Well, goodbye to you. Get out of our camp and stay out or else the next monster to attack you won't be killed by us – you can deal with it on your own with your fancy magic spells.”
She turns back, flicking her curls in Draco's face.
You shyly glance up and mumble, “Sorry about her.”
“And although that speech held a lot of passion,” Chiron cuts in, placing a hand on Annabeth's shoulder, “I'm afraid Mr Malfoy and his people cannot leave the camp until the barriers have been sorted.”
Silence.
Even you're too stunned to speak, staring up at Chiron as if waiting for the punchline of some joke. He simply looks around, examining the invisible barriers surrounding you, most likely seeing every single gap and crack held within them.
Percy is the first to break the silence. “Uh. . . Why not?”
“Well,” Chiron says, “the barriers have been split. If we were to open them any further to let these men out, I fear they might be unsalvageable. We can't risk it.”
“So we're just gonna let them stay here?” Annabeth hisses.
“I can't do that!” Draco exclaims, stumbling forward with wide eyes. “I have school, and my mother-”
“This isn't up for debate,” Chiron says. “I must keep the safety of my people in mind at all times, and this is the only solution that will keep them safe.”
Annabeth scoffs. “I wouldn't say letting the Malfoy's in our space is keeping us safe.”
“That is because you're blinded by your ignorance.”
You and Percy take sharp breaths through your teeth, watching Annabeth's face drop. It would almost be sad if you weren't in agreement with the centaur.
And it's weird because you used to have the exact same thought process as Annabeth; all you read about wizards was how much they despised your kind, how they saw you as unnatural, a mistake, because gods aren't meant to have children with mortals. Mortals – or Muggles – aren't meant to carry such powerful beings.
And yet here you are, looking at Draco and feeling even the tiniest glimmer of excitement at the idea of having him stay with you for a little while.
Chiron turns back to Draco and says, “You can stay in cabin eleven with the Hermes kids. That's where all the newcomers go.”
Draco pales. “I really don't think this is a good idea...”
“It's the only idea we have,” Chiron says. “Now, get ready for the feast. You must be starving.”
---
Draco doesn't go to the feast. Apparently, he isn't as starved as Chiron made him out to be.
Instead, he follows you to the infirmary, despite having no injuries himself. Will Solace feeds you chunks of ambrosia, keeping a narrowed gaze on Draco as he sits by your bedside, saying nothing. He looks thoughtful, head ducked down, hands perched between his legs; he hasn't spoken a single word since the two of you arrived, and his skin is yet to find colour again.
You glance at Will and whisper, “Is he looking okay to you?”
“Absolutely not,” Will replies, pressing a damp cloth to your shoulder blade. “But I'm not one hundred percent sure how wizards are supposed to look in the first place, so I can't really say.”
“Have you got any juice or anything like that you can give him?”
Will hollows out his cheeks, clearly not appreciating the idea of using up resources on a wizard. Nonetheless, the son of Apollo is too kind for his own good and heads into the back room to grab a juice box. He hands it to Draco with a soft smile, one Draco does not return, before Will says he's going to go check on the other campers. He leaves you alone after that, the room empty besides you and Draco.
Draco doesn't look up. He doesn't really need to; even without seeing his face, you know what expression he will be wearing, as it is the same expression so many people have worn after watching you bring the dead up from the ground.
You bite your lip and say, “The food is good here. Are you sure you don't want to go and get some dinner?”
Draco slowly looks up. His eyes are bloodshot, strained, glinting light blue beneath the yellow lights. “Who is your godly parent?”
You pause. “Why do you care?”
“Because what I just saw you do-”
“Hades,” you blurt out, unable to bear hearing him go into detail again, unable to bear the disgust that will surely ring through his voice. “Hades is my father. I'm the kid he was never supposed to have.”
Draco stares at you, waiting for you to continue, but what else is there to say? There's no relationship to describe, no happy memories with your dad you can share. All there is to it, is that you are not meant to be here, and you are.
“And you . . . you have no brothers or sisters? You're all alone?”
Your eyes snap up. “I'm not alone. I have Percy, and Annabeth, and. . . and everyone else. Plus, I have a little brother – Nico.”
Draco perks up, like the idea of you having a little brother is something to be excited about. “Really? Where is he?”
“He's floating around somewhere,” you reply. “He doesn't really like staying in one place for too long; I only really see him when he comes to visit me or his boyfriend.”
Draco withers. “Oh.”
“Why do you care anyway?”
He scowls. “I don't care. I'm just curious. If I'm to stay here for the next few days, I might as well get to know you a little better.”
“It works both ways, Magic Man. Tell me, why is your father such a little bitch?”
“I could ask the same thing about yours.”
“My dad is the god of death. What's your dad's excuse?”
Draco glares. You grin, slowly leaning back on the hospital bed as you wait for his response, because you genuinely want to know. You've spent years reading articles orchestrated by Lucius Malfoy that go into great detail about why he hates demigods so much, why he thinks they're the scum of the earth; now, you have his son at your disposal, and you're determined to find out where these violent opinions have stemmed from.
Draco sighs, folding his arms over his chest. “My father just doesn't like people who are different.”
You pause. “Different?”
“People who aren't pure-blood wizards are basically bottom tier to him. That includes Muggle borns, Squibs, Muggles, demigods.”
“But he doesn't even know anything about demigods.”
Draco shrugs heavily. “He knows you're different. That's all he cares about.”
It makes sense, you suppose. Lucius has never kept his ignorance a secret. It's not just demigods he speaks badly about. You've read it all – his hatred for Muggles, for people who disagree with him, for good people.
People who aren't like him.
“And what about you?” you ask.
Draco flicks his eyes up, still messing with his fingers. “What about me?”
“How do you feel about demigods?” You gesture around the room. “Now that you've seen us in action; what are your thoughts?”
Draco shrugs, looking back down at his intertwined hands. He has nice hands. Muscled, long fingers, expensive rings. “I think it's all quite odd, but I'll get used to it. I'm gonna be stuck here with you for a while, so I don't really have a choice, do I?”
�� You smile. “No, I don't think so.”
---
The dreams are worse that night.
They always are after you have been injured. Already restless, you aren't strong enough to fight off the nightmares that swarm your mind, and tonight they come for you in full force.
You always call them nightmares, even though they really aren't. More like visions, people visiting you when you least expect it. You've had Poseidon visit your dreams, Athena, even Ares, but tonight, someone new is making an appearance.
You recognise him immediately. He has the same eyes as you.
“Dad.”
He stands waist deep in black mist. Curly black hair frames a chiselled face, dark eyes gazing at you with a look close enough to love that you get a little emotional. By his side is a three-headed dog, and in his hand is a skull, held so casually. Neither of you mention it. Neither of you need to.
The room is dark. Looking down, you see black mist crawling towards you, hiding your legs from view. You should probably be panicking, but something is holding you back.
“Dad,” you repeat. “Where's Nico?”
“Safe,” he responds, voice too calm for a man whose son has been missing for weeks. Voice too calm for a man who is standing in front of the child he abandoned so many years ago. “And how are you, child?”
“Good. Better than ever, actually.”
“Even with the company you have been keeping recently?”
You pause, certain you misheard. Hades raises a brow, tilting his head as if to say Are you going to try and tell me otherwise?
Swallowing, you say, “So this is about Draco.”
“This is about the wizards in general,” Hades corrects. “Don't think I didn't notice you getting comfortable with that boy.”
“I wouldn't exactly say comfortable-”
“He held you up when you fell.”
“And that was very nice of him.”
“That was inappropriate.”
You fall silent, cheeks heating up. You truly cannot believe your dad – your real life father – is stood in front of you giving dating advice. He needs to take one look at his own history with women and sort himself out before he comes running to you.
“Wizards aren't safe around our people, Y/N,” Hades continues. “You aren't meant to mingle with people like him.”
“I think that's a little harsh.”
“His father wants you dead.”
“My father wants everyone dead! You're the god of the underworld, for crying out loud!”
Hades's eyes widen for a moment, clearly shocked at your outburst, but you don't even have the strength to reel it back in. You have felt frustration towards many of the Olympians, all of whom seem to believe they have some sort of control over you, but the one Olympian who makes you angriest the quickest, is the one stood right in front of you, the one who shares your blood, the one who hooked up with your mum one day before abandoning her, along with the kid he always claimed he was never going to have.
You don't even care that he's a god. You don't care that he could kill you in two seconds flat if he so desired.
“Chiron did not raise you to have such a sour attitude,” Hades says after a moment.
You deflate, eyes slipping closed. “There's really no point in trying to get through to you, is there?”
“It is my job as a father-”
You scoff.
“-to keep my kids safe. That's what I'm doing.”
Your eyes pop open. “Keep us safe? Bianca's dead, Dad. Nico's gone rogue. The only reason I haven't been slaughtered is because I never expected you to keep an eye on me – I do everything on my own.”
“That's not true,” Hades growls. “You know that's not true.”
“No? So where's my little brother then, huh? Where's Bianca? Where were you yesterday when a fucking chimera nearly ripped me to shreds, huh? Where were you then?”
“I'm a busy man, Y/N, but I'm serious when I say that wizards are not the kinds of-”
“This isn't about the wizards!” you yell, throwing your hands up. The ground rumbles, but neither you nor Hades acknowledge it. “This is about you coming into my dreams, thinking you can just lay down some fatherly rules after nearly eighteen years of not giving a shit about me!”
His eyes flash. Within the dark irises, you catch a glimpse of a screaming face, and you know exactly what he must be hearing in the back of his mind right now. You hear it sometimes, too, only he must be much more used to it than you are.
“I have always cared for you,” he says. “Even when my brothers and sisters were punishing me for having another demigod child, I cared for you. I kept them from harming you. I made sure you reached Camp Half-Blood safely so that you could be under the protection of people who knew where you came from.”
“And they've been more like family to me than you have ever been.”
Hades closes his eyes. A god dejected. A god not getting what he wants. It's a rare but pleasant sight.
“I'd like to wake up now,” you mumble. “I appreciate you stopping in, but please never do it again.”
Hade's looks at you, and you hate the resemblance. You hate that pull, so mortal and familial. You can't even help it. It's like the genes you got from this man are desperate for you to just make up with him, to just see him as the dad he is.
But you can't.
He argues no further, clicking his fingers to send you out of your sleep. You awake, startled, eyes snapping open to the sight of your dark room, the smell of ash heavy in the air. You flick your eyes over to see your bedside table gone – yet again, you incinerated it in your sleep.
“Fuck sake,” you whisper.
“I put it out.”
You yelp, very nearly falling out of bed in your shock. Your head snaps up, hands grappling for your sword, only to pause when you look over and see Draco standing in the doorway wearing a white dress shirt and black trousers.
He looks exceptionally smart.
Exceptionally smart.
Your heart jumps as you push yourself up, running a self conscious hand through your bed head. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
“Chiron asked me to wake you. He said you have training today.”
You groan, flopping back into your pillows. Draco chuckles, and before you can tell him to stop, he strolls right over to your window and pulls the black out curtains open.
“Noooo,” you moan, rolling onto your stomach and stuffing your head in the pillows.
Draco chuckles. “Come on. It's already nine am. The climbing wall is gonna be packed if you don't wake up now.”
You peek an eye out of your pillow and glare at him. “How do you even know about the climbing wall?”
“Poseidon's son gave me a little tour after I left the infirmary yesterday; quite a nice little place you've got here, I must say. I'm quite fond of it all.”
“Oh, happy days. As long as you're happy.”
He grins, sharp as knives. “I feel like I'm on holiday.”
You swing your legs out of bed. “You're digging yourself into a deeper hole, Malfoy.”
“I can just sit back, kick my feet up, watch you lot fight a bunch of mythical creatures-”
You lob a sock at him. “Get out while I get changed.”
Draco grins before bowing out of the room, slamming the door closed behind him.
And so you get ready for the day, getting dressed in your usual Camp Half-Blood shirt and a pair of comfortable jogging bottoms. The sun is bright this morning, a clear indicator that Chiron and the gods are in a bit of a better mood than they were yesterday, when rain was breaking through the already damaged seals of the camps barriers.
As promised, the climbing wall is set up and booming with Half-Bloods. People from all the different cabins take turns going up against one another, clambering up one side of the wall, racing each other to the top as lava pours down from nowhere, lightening strikes zap through the centre of the wooden beam, as random hands appear out of nowhere and make swipes for legs and arms and faces.
You spot Draco sat by himself in the stands, wand twirling in his fingers. It could very well be an intimidation tactic, but you stroll up beside him anyway, taking a seat to watch the scene before you unfold; someone from the Ares cabin has gone up against someone from the Athena cabin, a deadly pairing when put together.
Draco doesn't budge when you sit down. Instead, he points and says, “I think the one with the spear is going to win.”
“Clarisse?” you say. “Yeah, probably. She's a stubborn bitch.”
“Daughter of...”
“Ares.”
“God of...”
You roll your eyes. “Have you ever actually looked into the Greek myths?”
Draco shrugs, leaning back in his seat. He stretches his long limbs out in front and says, “I was educated more in the ways of Dark Magic than Greek myths.”
“Boring.”
“Necessary, I think.”
“Tell me how that all works.”
Draco glances over. “Magic?”
“The world of magic. It sounds. . . confusing.”
Draco pauses for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. As he ponders, the two of you watch Clarisse make her way to the top of the climbing wall, where she pulls the ring loose of it's confines and holds it up to the sound of applause and cheers from the people on the ground. She hops off, landing in a crouch on the ground; her brothers and sisters swarm her, all but lifting her off her feet in celebration.
Finally, Draco speaks. “It really is just a whole different world. Different to. . . any other world, I guess. We dress differently-”
“Yes.”
“The structure of the whole thing is different. You get used to it after a while, but I guess being here is making me realise just how weird the way things are run back home really are.”
“But it's what you're used to, isn't it?” you say. “You must have thought the way we did things was weird when you first arrived.”
Draco scoffs. “Skeletons coming up from the floor? Definitely weird.”
Your cheeks heat up, despite the lack of malice in his voice. Your powers are still – and forever will be – a sensitive topic for you; you've had far too many bad experiences with them to ever be comfortable flaunting them around like the other Half-Bloods are capable of doing. Even now, you watch the Hephaestus kids make fire sprout from their fingertips without so much as a flicker of hesitation – you've never been able to do that, because people take one look at what you're capable of and immediately think you're some kind of devil spawn, there just to drag them into the pits of hell or something.
Draco nudges you, pulling you from your trance. When you look over, he gestures towards the climbing wall. You follow his gaze to see Percy standing in the centre, waving up at you, arms wild above his head, that goofy grin on his stupid face.
“I think he wants you to join him,” Draco mumbles.
You glance over. “You don't mind?”
“I'll stay here and cheer you on. How about that?”
You stare at him a second longer, the wand twirling between his nimble fingers; oh, it would be so easy to hate him. That cocky smirk, the subtle hostility to everything he says. You weren't made to like wizards, but Draco Malfoy is starting to grow on you.
You give him a smile before hopping from your seat and jogging down into the grounds. People cheer at your arrival, because this is the match they have all been waiting for; scared as they may be to face your powers on their own, they would never give up the opportunity to watch two kids of the Big Three go head to head against one another. This is truly the only time you feel comfortable using your powers.
Percy shakes your hand when you reach him, dragging you close so he can whisper in your ear. “You and Dynamo getting a little close up there?”
You shove him away, not even giving him an answer before you hop up onto the first ring of the climbing wall. “You coming, Seaweed Brain?”
Percy rolls his eyes, taking position on the other side of the climbing wall. In the stands, a whistle blows, and immediately the two of you start.
Percy's quick. Percy has always been quick. From the day he strolled into camp, dragging Grover along with him, he has proven how powerful he is.
But you're also pretty quick, pretty lithe, just as capable as him.
You don't even fully process where he is, much too focused on avoiding the downfall of lava dribbling down the side of the climbing wall. The heat singes your hand as you pull yourself up, and you have to grit your teeth to stop the cry of panic that always wants to make it's way to the surface when this happens.
Percy has the advantage, of course; he just summons some water from thin air, and the lava is immediately overpowered. He laughs at your scowl, pulling himself further along the climbing wall.
“Okay, Mr Jackson,” you mutter. “If that's really how you want to play it.”
You pull on something within your stomach, a trick your sister Hazel was able to teach you when you visited her in the Roman camp all those months ago. You reach a hand out, grabbing the iron ore before it soars above your head after being ripped from the ground by your powers. It's not much – you're much better with a sword – but you throw it, using your powers to push it away from your body, straight towards Percy's face. It smacks him in the nose, making him cry and stumble. He slips from the ring he is hanging onto, dropping a few feet before finally latching onto another; blood oozes from his nose, and he glares up at you as you quicken your pace, hoping to put as much distance between you both as humanly possible.
“That wasn't very fair, you know!” Percy yells up.
“Gotta do what you gotta do!” you yell back, which of course prompts Percy to shoot a blast of water straight at your legs. You yelp, grip loosening on the ring you have grip on.
But then you're falling, because the thing about water is that it makes surfaces extremely slippery, and not even a child of Hades can overpower that. You desperately try latching onto something – anything – that can soften your fall, but your moving too quick, and the rings are zooming past, out of reach, and you know this is it. You're going to fall to the floor and break some bones and be out of commission for weeks, because that's what always happens when Percy gets competitive. You're starting to get real-
“Wingardium Leviosa!”
Another yelp is ripped from your throat, this one more a yelp of surprise as you suddenly become light as a feather. The wind stops whistling in your ears, replaced now by the gasps coming from the ground, and the sound of Percy yelling, “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” over and over again.
Ever so gently, you are lowered onto the floor. As soon as your feet hit solid ground, you are engulfed by a crowd of Half-Bloods, all coming to make sure you're okay, have not been harmed despite that being the way of things in this place.
Percy clambers off the climbing wall and dashes to your side, wrapping you in a brotherly hug as soon as he reaches you. “Fuck, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hit you that hard-”
“'Course you didn't.”
“You had it coming!” He points to his nose, still dripping blood. “Look what you did to me!”
You roll your eyes before craning your neck to get a better view over the heads of your fellow campers. You catch sight of him immediately, leaning against the stands with his wand still twirling in his fingers, the tiniest of smirks present on his pale face.
Your stomach turns; he had used his magic, cast some sort of spell to stop you from hitting the floor.
You probably need to thank him for that.
However, as soon as he meets your eyes, he does nothing but wink and turn on his heel, strolling oh-so-casually towards cabin eleven.
----
“So are you going to tell me what that was?”
You scream. Your hands fly above your head, knocking the low hung lamp shade dangling from the roof of the Hades cabin.
Spinning, you catch sight of your father stood in the corner of your room, shrunken down to the size of a normal human being. He likes playing pretend, apparently, but you see right through it. His dark eyes are narrowed, and leaning against the wall beside him is the scythe he so often carries around with him.
“That's an intimidation tactic,” you pant, motioning to the scythe. “It's not gonna work me on, Big Guy.”
“Don't ignore my question,” he snaps. “What did that boy do to you when you were falling?”
You slowly straighten up. “You saw that?”
“Answer the question.”
“Why do you think I have an answer?” you exclaim. “I know just as much about the wizarding world as you do! I don't know what he did, but I'm not dead, so I'm not gonna bother questioning it.” You grab a pomegranate seed from the bowl beside your bed, popping it into your mouth before you point a stern finger at the god standing in your room. “And you shouldn't either; he saved your child's life.”
“My children are capable of protecting themselves. That's how you were raised.”
You roll your eyes, flopping down on your bed. “This again? Where do you get off talking about raising kids?”
For a brief second, Hades pauses. You savour it, the moment his face twists into one of uncertainty, as if only just then realising where he has messed up; he can talk all he wants about his children and how you're all just like him, but he can never claim to have made you into the people you are today.
You hum, smirking. “That's what I thought.”
Hades snatches the bowl of seeds out of your hand and slams them back onto the bedside table. The room rattles much more than necessary, but you spare the trembling walls only a single glance before turning your attention back on your father. He glares down at you, no longer justifying your attitude with words. He's waiting patiently for you to just open up and tell him exactly what happened, waiting for you to just admit that what happened out there was messed up, and unnatural, and you will never see Draco ever again if you can help it-
“He saved my life.”
You believe it, even though it takes every fibre of your willpower to admit such a thing. Demigods don't just get saved. They do the saving. They live their lives getting trained to protect themselves, because they know nobody else will. Today, all those years of training disappeared, and you should have died. You should have fallen to the ground as punishment for your lack of concentration, but Draco had stepped in and given you a second chance.
And maybe that's dramatic. Maybe looking at it as a second chance was taking it a step too far, but he had done something, and you can't just sit back and pretend otherwise.
Hades straightens up. In mortal form, his full height is only around five foot nine, but he still manages to look intimidating. It's the eyes. You wonder if people think the same thing about you when you look at them.
“My brothers and sisters have been voicing their concerns about you getting too close to the Malfoys,” he says, voice softer now. “I told them not to worry, that no child of mine would ever fraternise with people like them. And yet here we are.”
You pause. “Here we are, yeah.”
“Lucius won't be happy to hear his son has helped save the life of a Half-Blood.”
“Lucius Malfoy won't be happy, period. Plus, I haven't even spoken to him the entire time he's been here.”You push yourself up into a sitting position. “Draco isn't like Lucius, Dad. They are two separate people, just like me and you.”
Hades clenches his jaw. You've hit a nerve. You always do when you bring up just how desperately you want to be separated from your father, just how much you despise being told you look like him, or you do something like him.
He looks at you with those dark eyes and says, “You're stubborn, you know. That's a trait you get from me, not your mother.”
“You're grasping at straws now.”
“You're more like me than you'll ever be willing to admit, but everyone sees it. Nico and Bianca. . . they had little traits of me within them, but not as much as you. You really are my child.”
Your stomach clenches, and it's confusing. It's so, so confusing, and so painful, because there's a part of you that basks in these comments. He's your dad. No matter how much you try denying it, there has always been a part of you that wants to know you're a little bit like your dad, and yet there's that hostility that begs and clambers for any excuse you can use to go against such a thing.
You look away, fighting the urge to cry that always seems to rise to the surface when Hades is in your vicinity. “Can you just leave, please? I'm not going to stop talking to Draco just because you lot upstairs have a grudge against his family.”
Hades sighs. “I know you won't. But you can't say I didn't warn you.”
“Get out, Dad!”
When you next look up, the room is empty. Nico and Bianca's beds are desolate, pushed against the wall, suffering from years of neglect. Once again, you are alone. Outside, Draco's shadow passes the window, accompanied by Lucius.
----
Draco seems to be getting comfortable in camp.
Your father doesn't like this.
You see, Hades has a very annoying way of making his anger obvious, especially when the anger is pointed towards his children. You will be sat talking to Draco, having a seemingly normal conversation about whatever the days endeavours are holding, when suddenly a scream will plunge right through the centre of your brain, impossible to ignore.
It's painful sometimes. The headaches that often follow are the kind that leaves you sweating, unable to look into any form of light lest you make it worse. Hades doesn't take this into consideration, however, as he continues giving you these flashes throughout the next week and a half.
It's another one of his stupid fear tactics. You know it is. He wants to make you suffer so you'll be on his side through intimidation, and you're not willing to give in to him like that. Gods don't always get what they want. That's something they need to learn.
And so, you continue talking to Draco, and honestly, he's starting to become a friend. He's still a little drawn back, and you can only imagine the reasoning behind that is because Lucius is breathing down his neck every two seconds. Whilst Draco is taking the moral high ground and getting used to life at Camp Half-Blood, Lucius refuses to do such a thing. He spends his days brooding away in the Big House, getting angry when Chiron or any of the other Half-Bloods step foot in what he has now claimed as his domain. The Big House has basically become Out of Bounds whilst the Malfoys are in your presence, because Lucius throws a tantrum any time anyone besides him and his fellow wizards step foot inside of it.
It's on day twelve that you and Draco sit together in the grass upon the hill. In your lap is a colouring book that Percy stole for you a few years back, one you haven't touched because you very rarely have the time to just sit down and colour something in. He said it got rid of stress or something like that. You wonder if it works.
Draco lays down beside you, gazing up at the baby blue sky. He has one hand cupped across his forehead, the other resting on his stomach. His ice blue eyes are a little lighter when the sun hits them, and you can see some golden streaks in his silver hair.
You colour in a picture of Poseidon, already excited to show Percy the final product.
“Look at this picture a second,” you say after too many minutes of silence. “Tell me if that guy looks like Percy.”
Draco flicks his gaze over, lifting his head just slightly to get a better view. “Percy?”
“The son of Poseidon,” you confirm. “The annoying one who blew up your fountain.”
“Oh, him.” Draco scowls, dropping his head back to the grass. “I suppose it looks a little bit like him, yes. Why?”
You tilt the colouring book back and forth, humming as you inspect the drawing; it's badly done, of course, with the image probably taken from Google Images, drawn by some human who didn't know any better. For example, they drew him wearing some fancy toga-looking thing instead of his usual khaki shorts and Hawaiian button-up. You've also known Poseidon to enjoy getting his hair permed, but his hair is dead straight in the colouring book.
“I just think Percy looks a lot like his dad,” you reply. “Not in this picture, obviously – Poseidon wouldn't be caught dead with his eyebrows looking like that. But in real life, I swear, they're the picture of each other.”
Draco grunts. Not exactly the response you were looking for.
You glance down at him, raising a brow. “Not gonna add anything helpful to the conversation?”
“What could I possibly add? I don't know the Greek gods personally.”
“Really?”
Draco glares at you. “Forgive me for not fraternising with mythological gods, Y/N. I don't have quite the same relationship with them as you do.”
You hold up your hands in faux surrender, recognising his angry tone. “Alright, fair enough. No need to get grumpy.”
“You and Percy are really close.”
It isn't a question, and you suppose it doesn't have to be. Anyone who has known you for more than two seconds will be able to see that you and Percy are close, having been through so much together. “Yeah, we are. What's wrong with that?”
Draco slips his hand from his forehead over his eyes and mumbles, “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” But his heart isn't in it, and you're not exactly convinced he's telling the truth. You haven't known Draco all that long, but you're pretty confident now in your abilities to pick up when he's angry, or frustrated, as you have seen it more often than any other emotion.
You glance at him, raising a brow. “You sure about that?”
“Yes. Why would I think there was something wrong with you having a friend?” He pauses a moment before adding, “He is just a friend, isn't he?”
It clicks.
Your cheeks heat up with the realisation. You're thankful that Draco is covering his eyes, because otherwise he would have surely been able to see your shocked expression, and that isn't the look you want to give off right now; you need to remain calm and collected, make sure you're reading this right before you go and lose your cool.
Awkwardly, you push the colouring book onto the grass and turn your attention fully on Draco. He stiffens when he feels you move, though he doesn't look at you. He doesn't even move his hand away from his face. You wonder if perhaps he doesn't want to show you his true expression, either.
“Yes,” you say. “Percy is just a friend. He's never been anything more than that.”
“Oh right. Nice.”
“Would...” You inhale, glancing down into camp. You're not used to this. Actual emotions, they're scary things. You've never been able to properly handle them. “Would that be an issue if he was?”
This time, Draco is unable to hide his embarrassment. Beneath his hands, his pale cheeks flush red, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallows and says, “No. It's none of my business.”
“Well, it's just 'cause, like, you asked, and I just thought-”
“Thought what?” Finally he looks at you, eyes narrowed. “Thought I cared about what you got up to when I'm not around?”
You reel back at his tone. “What? No! Well – yeah, I guess, because clearly some part of you cares-”
“You and Percy can do whatever you want.” He stands, wiping the grass from the elbows of his fancy black blazer. “I honestly couldn't care less. It's not like I'm sticking around much longer, anyway.”
You raise a brow. “Are you mad? How the hell did that happen? I didn't even say anything!”
“I'm not bloody mad.” He groans, spinning on his heel as he runs his hands through his hair. You don't even go after him, too stunned to even move. Instead, you just watch his retreating form, only for him to stop a few feet away, turn back and say, “Do you just forget the fact that he was about to let you fall to your death?”
You freeze. This was not the turn you were expecting the conversation to make. “Come again?”
“On that climbing wall,” Draco exclaims. “He watched you fall, Y/N! He didn't do anything to stop it from happening, and I refuse to believe he wasn't able to, because from what I've heard, he's one of the most powerful things in this bloody camp!”
“Things?”
“Oh, you know what I meant!”
You shoot up then, anger flooding your system. This is happening too often. You're losing your grip on the control you have trained so hard to gather, and it's all Draco's fault. “No, Draco, I don't actually know what you mean. In case you've forgotten, you're in our home, so don't you dare come in here claiming to know what we see is right and wrong. Percy might be one of the stronger demigods, but so am I. I can handle myself, and Percy knows that! That's the only reason he didn't do anything-”
“That's his excuse, is it?” Draco laughs, a bitter noise that makes your blood boil. “I wonder how long it took for him to brainwash you into believing that.”
That's what does it.
You remember all those times Percy has saved your life. You remember spending weeks by his side, on the run from the worlds most terrifying monsters. You remember crying with your belief that he was dead, imagining a life without your best friend, your companion.
And here Draco is, acting like he knows Percy better than you, deeming him a bad person just because of a single mishap he happened to witness, a mishap he doesn't even fully understand.
Behind you, the black cloud arises from the ground. Without even looking, you know it's there, consuming you in tendrils of darkness. Draco's eyes widen, a cry of surprise escaping him before he stumbles back.
The cloud follows him.
In your head, you listen to the screams of the souls that make up that cloud, the souls you can control with nothing more than a brief thought nowadays. Draco cries out, nearly falling over his feet. Soon, you can no longer see him as he disappears behind the black curtain.
You stay exactly where you are, watching him run down the hill, being chased by this power you have total control over. It's fuelled by anger, and you know you're going to get in trouble for doing it, but in this moment, you don't even care. You'll deal with the repercussions later, so long as Draco learns his lesson now.
It's once the young wizard has disappeared round the corner that you let the souls drop. They sink back into the floor, a rush of energy slamming back into your body now that the strenuous work is over. The hill you are standing on goes silent bar the sound of the snickering tree nymphs.
And then, just by your left ear, your fathers voice whispers, “Good job, Y/N. Definitely my child.”
----
Percy always knows when something is wrong with you.
There's something in the air, he says, a buzzing that he recognises as something he too possesses when he's angry. It's like the children of the Big Three communicate their anger through this weird little hum that only the other mistakes can hear.
He must notice it now.
He sits across from you at the lake, his toes dipping in the water as you keep your knees drawn to your chest, fingers sunk in the dirt. You keep your eyes on the tide as it sways in and out, but Percy keeps his eyes on you, waiting for the moment you will turn and look at him.
But you don't.
You don't want to answer his questions right now. You don't want to go into detail about what Draco said, about what you did to him, about how guilty you feel even though you know you shouldn't. You have used that scare tactic on so many people in the past, and it's always been for good reason – not once have you ever felt guilty about it.
Not until now.
Finally, Percy sighs and says, “So you're just gonna sit there and not tell me what's up?”
Leave it to him to be blunt.
You glance over and shrug, unsure where to even begin. You want to tell him the truth, of course; he's like a brother to you. The world always feels a little off when you're not telling him every little detail of your life. But gods, how do you explain this without sounding crazy?
“Do you want me to guess?” Percy continues, shuffling a little closer to you. “'Cause I'm good at that. Especially with you.”
“Try it.”
He hums, leaning back. “It definitely has something to do with the wizard boy.”
Your eyes snap up. “How did you know?”
“It's always about the wizard boy; you two have been joined at the hip since Chiron declared his residency here.” Again, he hums, continuing his analysis. His sea green eyes are narrowed, his lower lip protruding in a pout. “Did you two get into an argument?”
“Kind of.”
“Was he taking his fathers side?”
“No.”
“Was he insulting one of us?”
“...Kind of.”
Percy raises a brow. “So I'm getting warmer.”
You sigh, closing your eyes in exasperation. “He thought you and I were a couple.”
Percy pauses. It's now an awkward pause, especially considering he bursts into laughter not three seconds after. His shoulders jolt, eyes widening as he claps a hand to leg as if to stabalise himself. “You're kidding.”
“Alright, Seaweed Brain, hands off.” You push him away and fold your arms over your chest. “But yes, he thought you and I were a couple.”
“And that bothered you so much that you got into an argument with him and now you're huffing?”
You glare. “You're really enjoying this, huh?”
Percy nudges your shoulder light-heartedly. “I'm just messing. Tell me what happened.”
And so, as Percy gets comfortable, you begin your retelling, going into the details about Draco's little tantrum, and your retaliation to said tantrum. Percy interjects with a little “Aww” when you talk about defending him, to which you push his arm to get him to pipe down.
You feel even worse once the story has been spilled and you are able to see everything in hindsight; should you still be mad? Did Draco deserve that kind of torment?
Percy is silent for a moment once the story has been told. He looks off into the sea, as if calling to the waves for an answer, a piece of advice he can give you.
Finally, his wise mind comes up with, “That sounds shitty.”
“Yeah,” you grumble. “It was.”
“Sounds like he fancies you.”
Your cheeks heat up. “I don't think so. Not any more, anyway.”
“And you're disappointed about that?”
You shrug, because you really don't know. It would be much less hassle if you weren't disappointed about it, but you can't deny that you don't enjoy the feeling of Draco being mad at you. It feels off. It feels like you've done something wrong, even though you don't think you have.
“You know,” Percy continues, “I feel a little guilty being the reason you two have fallen out. I wasn't even there and I'm still causing trouble.”
You scoff. “Yeah. You have a habit of doing that, don't you?”
“I can't help it.” He leans forward, nudging your arm. “What if I have a little chat with Draco?”
You perk up, stomach turning at the mere suggestion. “Oh Percy, no. . .”
“What do you think I'm gonna do?”
“Bully him. Make him hate me even more.”
“The fact that that thought bothers you so much just proves to me how much I need to step in and offer my expertise. Annabeth didn't fall in love with me for no reason, and you know that.”
You open your mouth to object, but the words fall short, because he has a point; out of everyone you've ever known, Percy is the one who has been able to keep up a healthy relationship the longest. He and Annabeth argue like cat and dog, yet they still give off the aura of two young people who are truly in love with another.
That's rare.
You slump back against a tree. “Just don't say anything stupid to him. Please.”
He's already standing up, brushing dirt off the seat of his trousers. “Of course not. Give me ten minutes. I'll have him seeing sense in no time.”
----
Draco tries his best to stop the panic.
It's an old habit, one he hasn't been able to kick. He sees a demigod, and immediately his heart starts beating really fast, and his stomach drops, and his fingers twitch in the direction of his wand. It's a self defence reflex, one that has been built into him from day one, but he's amongst them now, and he needs to stop it.
But seeing Percy Jackson walking towards him is never going to be a sight he's going to get used to.
Draco remembers that picture you were colouring in the grass the day previous. You said Percy looked just like his father, and Draco can see the resemblance now. From what little he knows about the true Greek god of the sea, he can tell just where that analysis came from; Percy's black hair, his sea green eyes, even the way he carries himself like he owns the place.
It screams My dad is a god.
Draco pulls his shoulders back and gives Percy his best game face, trying desperately to look like he knows what he's doing, like he hasn't been lost in his own thoughts from the moment you looked at him with that anger on your face. He hates that it affected him so much, that he can't get the image out of his head, that he wants nothing more than to storm over to the Hades cabin and apologise for ever upsetting you.
“Draco, my man!” Percy exclaims, though his heart clearly isn't in it. “How are you? Good?”
“Fine.”
Percy clicks his fingers, giving awkward finger guns. “That's good. So good.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks around. Then, out of nowhere, he snaps his gaze down to Draco's and says, “So, I've been told there's a bit of trouble in paradise.”
Draco pauses. “Paradise? I'd hardly call this place paradise, Jackson.”
Percy raises a brow; it infuriates Draco, who is so used to his comments making people angry. Percy just seems amused. “Your accent really doesn't do my last name justice when you say it like that.”
Draco scowls. “What do you want from me, Percy? I've got nothing to say to you.”
“Well, no. You don't. Technically, I have nothing to say to you, either, but I'm a nosy little shit head, so here we are.”
“What makes you think I'll tell you anything?”
Percy grins and takes an abrupt seat next to Draco, shoving his shoulder like they've been best friends for years. “If you tell me what I want to know, I'll tell you what you-” He prods a finger into Draco's chest. “-want to know.”
Draco's heart hammers. He stares at the grinning demigod, debating whether or not to just jinx him here and now rather than let this absurd conversation go any further.
But then the options come into his head.
He has questions about you. Of course he does. You're just. . . a force to be reckoned with. You're such an individual, unlike any Draco has ever encountered in his life, and he wants to know more. Percy could be the key to having those questions answered.
He coughs into his hand before saying, “I suppose I can talk a little bit.”
Percy perks up. “Oh, really? Great! So what makes you think Y/N and I are a couple?”
Draco's cheeks heat up. “Y/N told you about that?”
“Y/N tells me everything. It's part of the whole being best friends thing.”
Draco shrugs, awkwardly glancing down at his hands knotted upon his knees. “It was a stupid assumption to make. I know that now. Just. . . at the time, with how close you both are, it seemed the most plausible thing to think.”
“Well, it was stupid.”
“Yes-”
“And did this assumption-” He says this with a snooty British accent that makes Draco glare even harder. “-piss you off?”
Draco pauses; here is where he could very easily trip up. He needs to choose his words carefully.
“Yes.”
Percy tilts his head. “Because you. . . love Y/N?”
“Love?”
Percy raises his hands in faux surrender, though there is a grin flashing across his face. “Sorry, sorry. Do you fancy Y/N?”
Draco swallows the golf ball sized lump in his throat; he wants to die. He literally wants to throw himself into the lake and never resurface. How has Percy managed to butter him up in less than fifteen minutes?
“I suppose,” Draco mutters. “They are very – um – attractive.”
“Big brain,” Percy says, nodding. “I get it, man. Smart people are hot.”
“Uh, yes. Yes, they are also very smart-”
“And scary.” Percy hollows out his cheeks, shaking his head at nothing. Draco is starting to get annoyed. “Y/N is terrifying, and let me tell you, when a person can intimidate me? Wow. Marry me on the spot, is what I say.”
“Why don't you just ask Y/N out then?”
The words come out harsher than Draco planned, but he can't help it. Percy is sat there, basically drooling over you, and it's driving him mad. It's been driving him mad from the instant he got that stupid thought stuck in his brain that maybe – just maybe – you and Percy were something a little more than just the best of friends.
Percy is grinning, though.
Draco scowls. “What's so funny?”
“You really like them, don't you?”
“I never said-”
“Personally, I wouldn't touch Y/N with a six foot pole,” Percy continues, which just makes Draco even angrier, and he no longer knows just what he wants. “I'm talking about my girlfriend, Annabeth. The blonde girl. Daughter of Athena.”
It takes a moment for Draco to remember who Annabeth is. But then it dawns on him, and suddenly everything is making sense.
His cheeks warm again. “Oh. Right.”
“Yep. So that's that.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Nah, don't be. It's not me you need to apologise to.”
Draco bites his lower lip, understanding that Percy is right; he said some awful things, and he put you on the spot when you really didn't deserve it. You were doing nothing more than talking about your best friend, and Draco let his own jealousy push to the forefront.
He looks over at Percy to see the demigod grinning again, an expression he often seems to have. Draco wonders why you don't like him, why you decided to spend all those hours with him instead of Percy.
And as if Percy can read his mind, he says, “Y/N likes you too, you know. Like, properly likes you.”
Draco pushes up from the grass, gives Percy a grateful smile before heading out on his mission – to apologise.
----
You run into Lucius Malfoy shortly after Percy storms off.
It's quite a chance meeting, though part of you can't help but feel that maybe Lucius had it all planned out from the beginning. He holds himself like a man who knows exactly what he wants, like a man who doesn't understand what a chance meeting is.
You pause in the grass, watching him wade towards you. In your hand, you hold your sword, but that clearly isn't enough of an intimidation tactic against the tall, pale wizard. He stops only when he's feet in front of you, and with his posh accent, he says, “Y/N.”
“Mr Malfoy.”
“Where is Draco?”
“Beats me. He isn't my son.”
Lucius's nostrils flare. “Can you put that sword down whilst talking to me, please? It's disrespectful.”
You look at the celestial bronze blade and tilt it back and forth. The sun hits off the hilt, illuminating the Greek words inscribed upon it. “No. I quite like it in my hand.” You look back at Lucius and smile pleasantly. “Is there something I can help you with, Mr Malfoy? Are you lost?”
Lucius grits his teeth. Something throbs in his jaw, and honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if he were to draw back now and punch you square in the face.
Or he could just cast a spell, or whatever it is wizards do.
“You know, Y/N, Draco has told me an awful lot about you,” he growls.
“Oh?”
“Yes. And quite frankly, the details he has given me only further prove my theory that your kind are just unnatural.”
He's only trying to wind you up. You keep that in mind as you stand before him, listening to him spew such hatred; you could so easily just chop him to pieces right now. You could end this for everybody, but you think of Draco and how he would react and that thought alone is enough to silence the violent thoughts before you lose grip on your powers.
“I'm sorry you think that,” you mumble. “Hopefully you'll be out of camp soon enough and won't have to bother with my kind for much longer.”
Lucius laughs. There's no humour in it. It makes you ill just listening to it. “He told me about your little parlour trick – raising the dead, is it?”
“Controlling the dead.”
“That's Dark Magic, dear. That's the devils work if I've ever heard of it.”
You open your mouth to respond, but the chance is ripped away by the sound of someone else's voice ringing in your ear.
“I don't really enjoy being called the devil. He and I are two very different legends.”
You close your eyes. “Dad, go home.”
He doesn't listen to you. Of course he doesn't. Instead, he steps up to your side and places a warm hand on your shoulder. When you look up, he's smiling at Lucius with the same pleasant smile you gave him only seconds before – the pleasant smile that hides the fact you're on the verge of murdering someone.
“Is there a problem here?” Hades asks.
“Who are you?” Lucius demands, and you very nearly laugh at his stupidity.
Hades actually does laugh at his stupidity as he motions between you. “Surely you notice the family resemblance?”
Lucius stares, and then it all clicks into place. His eyes widen, mouth dropping open in a look you can only label horror. He stumbles back and says, “Hades?”
“A god,” you pipe up. “So watch what you say. I can't hold this one back.” You turn to Hades with an exasperated look. “Who let you crawl out of Tartarus again?”
“Nobody lets me do anything, dear,” Hades replies, keeping his eyes on the horrified Lucius Malfoy. “I just heard what our little friend here was saying to you, and I thought I'd come and put him in his place. Can't have someone insulting my dear child, can I?”
“You've never intervened before.”
Hades pushes you backwards, ignoring what you've just said. “So, Lucius; would you like a little duel beforehand, or are you just going to let me end your life, plain and simple?” He pauses, and when Lucius doesn't reply, he adds, “There's no shame in taking the easy way out.”
“Dad-”
“Stay out of this, Y/N. This is between me and-”
“Dad? What's wrong?”
Your head snaps up. Draco is stumbling down the hill, eyebrows raised as he glances between Hades and his father. Your heart jumps at the sight of him.
“Draco, pack up your things,” Lucius demands, staring at Hades as if afraid to look away lest your dad make any sudden movements. “We're leaving.”
“Oh, happy days!” You rush forward and grab your fathers elbow, dragging him back as much as you can. “Did you hear that, Dad? They're leaving!”
“I'm not going anywhere.”
You whirl on Draco. “What do you mean you're not going anywhere? Can't you see the predicament we're in right now?”
Draco raises his brow, clearly still confused as to what the hell he has just walked in on. “Who is this?”
“This is my dad.”
Draco's skin pales even more, if that is even possible. Hades turns, gives the young boy a pleasant little wave before he starts rolling up his sleeves, eyeing Lucius up again.
“Oh, right,” Draco squeaks.
You turn your attention back to Hades, latching onto his arm yet again. “Come on, Dad. This is pointless. They're leaving camp-”
“Y/N, I'm not going anywhere before we talk.”
“Draco, this really isn't the time-”
“Make up your mind, Lucius. . .” Hades sing-songs. “Quick and easy, or slow and painful? I can do both.”
Your heart hammers in your chest; this is not how you wanted things to go, not at all. You wish to every other god listening that Draco will just agree to go with his father, that he will leave and never return.
But you don't really want that, do you?
“Curse you, Zeus, you mind-reading bitch,” you hiss beneath your breath.
Draco glances at you. “What?”
“Never mind.” You grab Draco's shoulders and shove him back. “Just go, Draco, please. My dad is going to-”
But you never get to tell Draco what your dad is going to do, not before Lucius Malfoy cries out, “Avada Kadavra!”
You don't understand what's happened; the words just yelled by the Malfoy man are unfamiliar to you, jibberish if you've ever heard it, but Draco cries out and dashes forward. A blinding flash of light slams makes you stumble before Draco's arms wrap around your waist, throwing you to the ground with him hovering over you. When you open your eyes, his face is inches from your own, but neither of you get to bask in each others closeness, because all hell has suddenly broken loose.
Hades is so powerful. Sometimes you forget that. You've read the stories, and you know he's a god, but sometimes, all he is to you is your annoying dad who shows up every now and then to be annoying, and then he leaves. Sometimes you forget he can literally raise the dead in two point six seconds.
And judging by the corpses now stumbling around you, that's exactly what he has done.
“Oh my god,” Draco mumbles.
You push him away and clamber to your feet. “Dad, stop!”
The wind is billowing, however, and your words fall on deaf ears. Lucius has fallen to the floor, staring up at your father with a look of pure, unfiltered horror. Hades stands over him, now in full god form, and the sight is breathtaking. He's at his full height now, standing over everyone with his arms outstretched. Dirt billows around him, and a black light emanates from his body, blinding if you weren't his child. Draco has fallen to the floor, covering his head with his arms, and you are so, so happy he has the common sense to look away.
You stumble forward, latching onto your fathers clothes. “Dad, stop this now! Please!”
“How dare you?” Hades's voice shakes the trees. His eyes are pitch black. He is a god. “How dare you use your filthy wizard spells against my child?”
“I'm fine!” you cry. “Dad, I'm fine! Draco saved me! Look!” You helplessly wave your arms over your head. Beside you, a corpse laughs a high pitched laugh. You glare at it and say, “Shut up.”
The wind only grows stronger as Hades continues to bellow his threats and his curses. Lucius is too stunned to even move. Behind you, Draco cries out your name, tries reaching for your sleeve, but you pull away and continue yelling up at your father, trying to make him see sense.
“Dad, I'm fine! If you kill him, I'll never forgive you!” You grapple for something else, some other excuse you can use. “I'll – I'll never come back to Camp Half-Blood! I'll stay in the mortal world forever and there's absolutely nothing you can do about it!”
Hades falters. He glances down at you with those dark, sunken eyes and he says, “You know you're not safe there, Y/N. Don't joke about such things.”
“Then let him go,” you beg. “Please, Dad. I never ask you for anything, but I'm asking – begging – you for this. Just let him go.”
Hades tilts his head. “You're standing up for this piece of dirt?”
“Draco,” you pant, as if that is enough explanation. “Draco just saved my life, Dad. The least you can do is spare his fathers life.”
The wind dies down. Dirt topples back to the floor. The walking corpses drop to their knees before the soil reaches around them and drags them back into their graves, where hopefully they will remain for another few years. Slowly, your father shrinks back down to his usual five seven stature, his eyes gaining their normal dark colouring again. He continues staring.
You stare back for only a second before you spin on your heel and march towards Draco. You yank him up by his collar and shove him back, hissing, “Go grab your stuff and get out of here. This is the shit you're gonna get wound up in if you stay. You don't deserve that.”
Draco, flustered, grabs your shoulders and pushes back, keeping himself rooted to the ground. You want to cry. You need him to leave. You need him to be safe. You can't let him witness something like that ever again.
“Please, Draco,” you croak out. “Save yourself the bother-”
“You're crying.”
You groan, quickly swiping beneath your eyes to rid yourself of the tears you didn't even realise were falling. “No, I'm not.”
Draco wraps his arms around you and drags you into his shoulder. You don't really know why you melt into him in the way you do; it just kind of happens. Feeling the fabric of his shirt against your cheek, his arms around your shoulders, his body against yours – it's as if all the stresses of the evening flood out of you in a single swoop, replaced by a relief you didn't even know you were in such dire need of.
It's like Hades and Lucius don't even exist any more. It's just you and Draco, swaying back and forth in the darkness, saying nothing and that being enough.
“I'm not going anywhere,” he whispers. “Not until you know.”
You pause, but don't pull away. “Until I know what?”
“That – That you're special.”
You look up, raising a brow. “Is that a demigod joke?”
Draco groans, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “No. That's not what I meant. I meant – like – you're special to me.”
“Okay...”
He squeezes his eyes closed. “What I'm saying is, I don't want to leave you. I don't want to go back to the wizarding world and pretend I never met you. I want this – whatever this is – to last a long, long time.”
Your heart thunders in your chest. Beneath you, the ground rumbles, like the floor is hungry. “Draco...”
“I don't care what my father thinks of it,” he says, voice lower now. “I haven't been this happy in forever. I haven't met anyone like you before, and I'm so, so grateful you don't hate me.” He blinks. “Percy told me that, by the way – that you don't hate me. He wasn't lying, was he?”
You laugh. “No, he wasn't lying.”
“Oh, great.” He pulls you closer. “So, as I was saying-”
“Oh, for the love of me!” Hades claps his hands impatiently. “Just kiss them already, you idiot! Why do mortals take so long to get to the point?”
Draco looks over your shoulder, face going red. “Are you giving me permission to kiss Y/N?”
Hades rolls his eyes, waving a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes. Just get on with it. I'm ageing.”
“You're immortal, old man.”
“Watch your mouth, little one, or you're grounded.”
Your laugh is broken by Draco's kiss.
In the background, Lucius yells in frustration, but he quietens as soon as he looks at Hades. You don't even care, though, because once again, it's like neither of them are really there. It's just you and Draco. There is no world separating you, there is no problems, you are the same. His hands trail along your jawline before crawling over the back of your neck, holding you in place, as if you would ever willingly pull away.
Beneath you, the ground continues to growl. You imagine it's the dead people giving you a round of applause.
---
“Lumos.”
You crack an eye open. Beside you, Draco shifts, lifting the covers further over his head. Through the thin material of the quilt, you can make out a dim yellow glow coming from Draco's wand.
You roll onto your back, nudging his arm with your elbow. He pauses, taking a few seconds before he pulls the covers back down, revealing his messy bed head and bare torso. He gives you a grin and says, “What are you doing awake?”
“You woke me,” you reply, before nodding towards the book resting on his lap. “What's that?”
“Oh, this? Nothing. Just a little book I picked up from the library the last time I was at Hogwarts.”
You raise a brow; you haven't seen Draco casually read in quite a while. Any time he has his head stuck in a book, it's usually to learn some new potion, or some new spell that he can show the harpies to impress them when they ask for a magic show. However, looking down at the book currently perched on his knees, you can see this isn't just some simple recipe book for wizards – the pages are filled with text, with very little pictures to accompany them.
“Can I read it with you?” you ask.
Draco's cheeks light up. “Maybe you should just go back to sleep. It's pretty late-”
He goes quiet when you rest your drowsy head on his chest, tugging the quilt up to your chin. You hear him sigh, a noise of content before he looks down at the page and places his wand beneath the words. In bold at the top is the title Hades and Persephone.
“Oh, my mum hated her,” you say.
Draco chuckles. “I can imagine.”
You trace your eyes over the words. You can't really make them out with your dyslexia, but Draco reads them for you, because he knows. He reads the story of your father and his true wife, pausing to ask you your opinions, or if you know anything about any of it. You tell him you don't, but you want him to keep reading, so he does, and together you learn about your father and his ways.
Finally, when Draco reaches the end of that particular story, you look up at him and say, “Why are you reading this?”
He shrugs. You don't buy it, though, and continue waiting for his response. He rolls his eyes at your patient silence and says, “Remember when you asked me if I'd ever read any of the Greek myths?”
You raise a brow. “Yes...”
“I hadn't read any of them. But I realised it's kind of part of your history, isn't it? These myths, the people and things you talk about. If I really want to understand you, I have to get familiar with a few of these terms, don't I?”
A lump forms in your throat. “You're reading these for me?”
“Of course.” He slams the book closed and says, “Quiz me. I can tell you who Demeter is right now.”
You stare at him a moment longer, overwhelmed beyond words. Instead of giving Draco a pop quiz on all things Greece, you reach up and press your lips to his own, whispering the unknown words of “I love you,” against his mouth.
Draco chuckles, the sound like music to your ears. “I love you, too.”
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So! I think I’m just gonna say “fuck it” and rewatch 9-1-1. Like, starting today or tomorrow. But probably only seasons 1-3 (for now) since I watched those some months back, and those seasons feel like a bit of a blur.
I definitely know there will be some scenes I’ll just skip because I can’t be bothered with some stories I remember, but I don’t think there will be entire episodes I’ll skip.
For tagging sake, I’ll probably use “911 episode chatter” and/or “911 rewatch.” Whichever I use, feel free to block either tag if you don’t want to see my yammering on your dash.
Once again I am fully admitting that I’m mostly looking forward to analyzing the shit out of anything to do with Buck and Eddie (and Chris). The himbo and his husband have my heart, what can I say.
Some random thoughts before I rewatch:
- I remember it took me a lil bit to warm up to Buck. Not long, but a tiny bit because he was a bit of a douche at the very start (which I later learned was a sorta shield for his golden heart).
- I think it took me till the end of season one, maybe the start of season two for me to fully warm up to Athena, tbh.
- I don’t hate Abby, but she did hurt our beloved Buck, so she’s on thin ice. And I don’t think she ever properly apologized for that? Not really… Thin. Ice.
- I did and do find Eddie, Shannon, and Chris’s storyline really interesting and compelling, but… Man. I’ve written a post about my mixed feelings about Shannon, and I will always feel mixed. I think mixed to the point where even in my first watch, any time Shannon was on screen I just felt… tired? Not mad, just tired. And to be honest? There was just something about both the character and the actress who plays Shannon that never clicked for me, if that even makes sense. *helpless shrug*
- While there was good moments/scenes that came out of the lawsuit arc, I gotta say that storyline was kinda dumb. Not my favorite.
- Man, I can't wait to rewatch Eddie in season 2 and 3. Eddie, my beloved. 😌
- The drama and perfection of the tsunami arc. I can’t wait!
So yeah.
#9-1-1#it's already time for a rewatch babyyyyy#plus I need to do it now before my Hulu subscription expires#I won't subscribe to Hulu again probably until#season 5B of 911 is done airing#99% of the content on Hulu does not interest me. so.#shout out to the fandom and awesome fanfic writers#who helped me Love this show#and the characters#ramblings
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Bobby: Swear word are now illegal. If you say one, you'll be fined
Athena: Heck.
Bobby: You're on thin fucking ice!
Bobby: oh...oh no
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okay so i actually did watch a few episodes of 911 this week without liveblogging them but i did take notes as if i was liveblogging and then just,,, didnt lmao so in case anyone cares about my thoughts im going to share them anyway asdlfkjsdl mostly i think they’ll just be fun to look at later
2x02
CHRISTOPHER CAN BE ON SCREEN FOR 2 SECONDS AND I LITERALLY LOVE HIM SO MUCH
Eddie Diaz is soooooo fuckin dreamy i stgggggg
“I cant order you guys to go inside that building and im not gonna judge you if you decide not to” “Hen, you got a kid, so...” “Yeah. And I’d hope if someone whose job it was to save him they’d do it. No matter what.” QUEEN SHIT 😤😤😤
Marvin you on thin ice but you right; you a king
IM GOOD COACH HEART OF A CHAMPION WHY AM I CRYING
HEART OF CHAMP I AM CRYING AND THEY ALL KEEP SAYING IT BACK TO HIM IM- IM FRAGILE RN. LITERALLY WHY DID EVERYTHING ABOUT HIS ARC MAKE ME SO EMO
NOT HENRIETTA. FUCK
2x03
MADDIE I BELIEVE IN YOU YOU GOT THIS QUEEN
“They could really use a miracle today” “I might just have a few of those left. I see them.” ALSKFKGKS crying why is the dialogue so good in this show???
FUCK. RUSS ITS YOUR DAY OFF
Russ gonna die im calling it. They saved the athlete and they’ll probably save the little girl?? So hes not gonna make it. At least hen is okay
“Even i couldnt save me. You dont know me, but im good.” “Oh yeah? Well maybe im better”
FUCK. I called it but it still hurts
CLOSE CALL WITH THAT ELEVATOR OMGGG
ALL OF THAT ENDING??? WE CAN BE HEROES SLAPS AND IK WE BEEN KNEW BUT ALDJFKFKSKJ everything about the end to that episode is so 👌👌👌 i wanna cry
EDDIE RUNNING TO HIS BOYYYYYYYY IM
ATHENA AND BOBBY HELL YEAHHHHH the husband is a straight g pullin thru for him like that
2x04
OMG CHRISTOPHER AND EDDIE IM 🥺🥺🥺
Also Christopher is such. Lil cutie
THEIR LITTLE FAMILY!! THE ABUELA?
“These fire guys are totally hot” LAKJDFKAL I MEAN YOURE RIGHT
AKJDKLASDJ YOU LIVE IN YOUR INVISIBLE GIRLFRIENDS HOUSE AND YOURE TELLING ME ABOUT WEAK EXCUSES. THAT SMUG LOOK ON EDDIES FACE IM ASLKFJSAL
Oh sheet Eddies abuela 😞
Every interaction between Eddie and Christopher got me like 🥺🥺🥺
Okay how are you not supposed to ship Buddie they’re talking about being single together and then his aunt telling buck about how ‘he’s a saint’ and all that??? THATS SUCH ROMANTIC INTEREST SHIT. WHEN DO YOU HAVE A FAMILY MEMBER GUSHING TO A MAIN CHARACTER AND THAT CHARACTER ISNT THE LOVE INTEREST????
HE BROUGHT CHRISTOPHER TO WORK AWWWWW!! THEYRE GOING ON A MISSION TOGETHER
Oooh I love this song STUCK IN THE MIDDLE WITH YOU
“Now I feel kind of lame” “BECAUSE YOU ARE” LMAO HEN
Ooooh yeah why do you call him chim???
BOBBY AND CHRISTOPHER. CHIM AND CHRISTOPHER. THIS IS SO CUTE
AWE EDDIE AND CAP
BOY CRUSH ON EDDIE ADLSJFLDKS
Awe good for Maddie omg 🥺🥺🥺
CHIMNEY IS A MODERN MEDICAL MIRACLE???? I mean good for him bro figured lol but for it to be said out loud shittttttt
AKSFJALSDK TATIANA SHES FUCKING MARRIED YOURE KIDDING ME HOW QUICKLY DID YOU GET MARRIED AFTER BREAKING UP WITH CHIM
alkjsdskla im losing it over Tatiana
Awww now this is sad :( chim’s got noboddddddy
Sdkljfas Buck you have GOT to move out of Abby’s place dude
‘I had a life-altering trauma and her life got altered. All I got was the trauma.’ THATS SUCH A GOOD LINE SPEAK YOUR TRUTH CHIM
YOURE MY FRIEND SHES YOUR EX. YOU GET TO FORGIVE AND MOVE ON I GET TO HOLD A GRUDGE UNTIL THE DAY I DIE ALSKFDSDA
Chim 🥺 awe. “Wakes me up in the middle of the night”. Buddy :( CAPS GOT YA
CARLAAAAAAAAAA HELL YEA
“BESIDES THAT PERFECT BONE STRUCTURE” SDKAFSJA
like. Fuck Tatiana. But also good for her. And Chim gets to start to move on!! That was a really sweet scene
Aw Bobby gets Athena ^-^
This was such a good fucking episode yo. Like the way the idea of being stuck had to do with the 911s lives while also all of the calls they went one were being physically stuck and the way the proposal instigated Chim’s breakdown to allow him to finally move on…. just. Excellent television!!!!
So proud of Maddie!!!! So proud of everybody this episode :)
Buck yeah you gotta move out buddy
2x05
ASKFJHASJLAD this has gotta be fake im sdlfkjsaldk
LMAOOOO THIS BITCH she’s gonna end up actually getting hurt
OMFGGGGGGGG this bitch had it coming
DONT WE KNOW YOUUUUUUUUU THE PORCH PIRATE?? ASLDKJFALKSS
What is this girls fucking problem with Maddie lmaaooooooo fuck off
Awe this lady with the muffin or whatever is so sweet. This places Celine dion 😂😂😂 queen
Lmao wait why is she actually horrible 😂😭😭
BUCKETTE LMAOOOOO
Omg Maddie and Athena are so fun
THEYRE PROTESTING HOMOSEXUALITY??? WHAT THE FUCK
HES A FUCKING RACIST TOO???
I CAN HELP YOU WITH THE SWEDISH HALF BUT I DONT KNOW WHICH HALF THAT IS SLKDFJASLK EDDIE
I love Maddie and Athena so much alsdkfj
WHATS HER FACE? EVA? STRAIGHT UP BITCH JFC
Gloria im sorry but you’re getting what you deserve.
LKAJSDALKS. “People who yell and scream and cry and expect you to do something for them” GIRL YOU ARE LITERALLY A 911 RESPONDER THAT IS YOUR GOT DAMN JOB???
“Do they ever think of anything but themselves and what they need?” THEY ARE USUALLY DYING GLORIA
“SNITCHES GET STITCHES” JEEZ WOMAN
I feel so bad for Hen and Karen :( Eva can fuck off dude. Can’t they get sharing rights with the dad? I mean yeah it sucks that Eva is just doing this to fuck em over but like.. the dad still deserves to get to know his son if he wants to. Though Eva would probably try to stay with him just to turn Denny against Hen and Karen… UGHHHHHH
Lil denny :( aw Hen. I love her sm
Hen what u doing girl…. Cant it make the case more difficult if you keep interacting with Eva?
I love Karen and Hen sm 🥺
WHAT YOU DOING HEN. ARE YOU JUST GONNA LEAVE HER???
YOURE FINGERPRINTS ARE ON HER NOW DUDE. GO BACK
Ugh I hate that she lived but it was the right thing to do….
“I save awful people every day its my job” Hell yeah girl
SHES GOING BACK TO JAIL HELL YEAH
Dont love cheering for her going back tho jail can be terrible…. But at least she’ll be out of Karen and hens lives. we’re not meant to think too deeply about this is.
LOVE MADDIE AND ATHENA
GLORIA IS THE FUCKING WORST
oh…. gloria… damn.
Cant you just share custody?? :( I mean it sucks but like… just talk to him.
“Yeah people can be awful… but not everyone is awful… but you’ll never know what kind of person someone is unless you give them the chance to show you” :(
WOW THE DAD IS THE FUCKING BEST?? HELL YEAH
ATHENA AND BOOBBY ARE SO FUCKING CUTE
Wow the last shot of the episode thats like the long shot at the dinner table with the narration was real fucking good :( im emo.
2x06
ADSLFJLK;ALSD. BUCK THOUGHT SHE WAS CALLING EDDIE CUTE BUT SHE MEANT CHIMNEY
listen. I do know what happens between those two and I am very excited.
Oh no maddies so anxiousssss
Buck fangirling over this reporter lady im asldkjflksad
“But the way they cared for me, thats what kept me alive” :( Hen :(
Omg are Athenas kids like the same age as Bobbys :(
SOMEONE SENT THEM EDIBLES????? OMFGGGGGG
OH NO CHIM IS THE ONLY ONE THATS SOBER
THIS WOMAN HAS A HIGH HEEL STICKING OUT OF HER FACE EWWWW ITS SO GROSS
DID THESE BEAUTY QUEENS SHRINK OR ARE WE SUDDENLY GIANTS ALKDSJFLKAKL
TEEN TINY THE WAY HIS VOICE FUCKING CRACKED
SDKFJSKDA THEYRE ALL FUCKING HIGH IM
HIGH BOBBY IS SO FUCKIN FUNNY
Oh no eddies upsetttttt 😂
This is fucking HILARIOUS
Oh no bobbyyyyyyyy :((((((
Awe the news piece was so nice
CHIMNEY AND MADDIEEEEEEE
Oh shes got a fucking POPCORN MAKER IM SO JEALOUS
Wow Taylor was really going to use the footage :/
“Just get a room already” BUCK NOOOO DUDE
The way bobby always fist bumps Athenas son whenever they say hello/goodbye. So fun 🥺good content right there
DONT TELL ME THEYRE GONNA ASK HIM TO BE IN THE PIC????
OMGGGGG BOBBYYYYYYY IM CRYINGGGGGG
AWE AND THE FUCKING SONG; WHEN YOU LOVE SOMEONE YOU MAKE ROOM YOU PROBABLY NEVER LOVED SOMEONE LIKE I DO
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Mythology (II)
Word Count: 6.5k
Requested? Not exactly, but you always can here :)
A/N: Thank you all for being so patient! I’ve decided I’m going to extend the series into another part so I split up this chapter a little bit so it wouldn’t be too long, and so I wouldn’t have to cram so much into one chapter. There’s more Harry in this one so I hope you enjoy! Also, if you like what you read (or if you didn’t) send me some feedback, it really helps me out :) *nose boops*
tag list: @thicksniall @meetmeinfleetwood @afire-hes @pradaxstyles @c-h-e-r-r-y-y @gotmyhandonmyheart @burberryharold @harrymoncheri
Waking up in a foreign bed the next day, solidified this new reality for Calista.
One trait about her is that she finds it very difficult to sleep in a bed that isn’t her own, so it was actually a miracle she could fall asleep so easily the night before. Because she bounced around a lot as a child from home to home, not having one single bed to call her own was a reason for her exhausting insomnia. More proof that her move away from the states had been good on her, is that her illness had lessened its severity when she finally could call a place home. Most of the times when it occurs nowadays is when she’s over stressed about something. Yet, the previous night had been one of her most peaceful slumbers.
Her and Trinity had stayed in the cafeteria for a while after their encounter with Wren, the thin ice they had been walking on dissipating into a more comfortable area where they didn’t feel this unbearable tension surrounding them. Niall and Harry had helped with this easy atmosphere, all of them informing Calista the best they could before she would talk to Mr. Cirillo the next day.
Harry didn’t stick around too long though, hopping around between tables and people before disappearing completely for the night. Something about him was so intriguing, and even if she had only spoken to him for a maximum of twenty minutes, Calista could say she had the tiniest crush on him. It was ridiculous to think such a thing, because she obviously hardly knows him, but there was something about him.
Maybe because he genuinely seemed interested in her, something not a lot of males, or people in general, do.
When she first came to Cambridge there was one boy who liked her, resulting in a relationship of almost a year, but of course he turned out to be a bit of a dickhead, that mainly cared for himself and disregarded her in so many ways. But, Harry didn’t seem like the type; He actually seemed genuine. Of course she doesn’t want to get her hopes too high up, but that doesn’t stop the physical attraction she has towards him.
She was directed to go to Mr. Cirillo’s office early that morning, of course getting lost on the way there, shamefully asking two different people for directions. She should’ve been given some sort of map to guide her because this place was nothing short of humongous.
When she finally came across the plaque that read Headmaster Cirillo, she took a deep breath and knocked softly on the door, a response immediately voicing on the other side of the door. Pushing the white wood open, she poked her head in and saw Mr. Cirillo at his desk. He removed his one lens glasses from his face, a soft smile on his lips as he gestured to the seat across from him, encouraging her to sit on the patent leather
“Good morning, Calista. Please, have a seat,” the older man… cyclops greets her, hands clasped together on the desk in an authoritative manner. “Sleep well?”
“Yes, thank you,” she answered, for some reason completely nervous. It was sort of like when she would be called to the principal’s office when she was younger because she would miss classes or the one time she got into a fight and broke the girl’s nose. In her defense, the girl started it, and she doesn’t even really remember where the strength came from to actually break the girl’s nose.
Something now tells her it has to do with her ancestry. If that’s even possible. But, at this rate, anything is possible as she sits across from a cyclops, and is a demigod herself.
“Good, well, then I’ll get started. I know you’re wondering why it took so long for you to… know about everything and I’m here to answer any questions you have to the best of my abilities. I’d rather you ask me anything and we’ll go on from there.”
Calista nodded along, sweat in her palms developing, causing her to casually sit her thighs down on top of her hands. So many questions sprinted through her mind, her not knowing which to ask first. “I mean… I don't know, why did it take so long? I spoke to people last night and they’ve all been here for years and I guess I just want to know why I wasn’t told sooner.”
Mr. Cirillo nodded his head, “That was per your mother’s request. She was adamant on you not risking your life being a part of this society of ours.”
“But why? It hardly seems fair that I’m being kept in the dark,” she scoffed back, leaning back against the black leather, her hands coming up to grip the arms of the chair.
“I agree. But, in her defense, your mother had very good reasoning to make the decision she did. Our life, this existence of ours, is a complete mystery to the outside world,” he stood up, walking over to the grand window behind him. “People have been trying for years upon years to dig up the truth. There’s no telling what kind of acts will be made against us if they ever find us, so over the years, we’ve been preparing for any sort of war that could affect us.”
Walking over to one of the many filing cabinets that lined one wall of the office, he opened one of the drawers that seemed to be labeled Athena, skimming through the multiple manila folders before pulling a specific one out, closing the metal cabinet shut behind him. He sat back down in his own chair, keeping the folder closed on the desk before he continued his explanations. “We’ve had multiple threats over the years, claiming our secret would be revealed to the world. If the world were to ever find out, we could be executed and wiped off the face of the earth, or maybe held captive for the enjoyment of ignorant people. It would leave the gods no choice but to wreak havoc on the planet.
“One night before you were born, there was a threat against us, and your half-brother, Mikael, was sent to settle the situation. Unfortunately that night he was killed, and your mother took it very personally as any mother would. Just a couple weeks later you were born, and she didn’t want another child of hers to live their life with risk or in secrecy. She wanted you to have a so-called normal upbringing,” he finished, opening the folder that had been kept shut, turning it to face her direction. A small picture of a smiling young man was clipped to the corner of a page, the name Mikael printed on the tab.
Calista felt a sudden wave of sadness flush through her at the mention of a half-brother, seeing his smiling face that she never got the chance to greet. As she looked over the few papers in this folder briefly, she learned that her brother used to be of high status here, ranked as General Combatant along with his multiple skills and achievements. She swallowed as she never imagined herself achieving such superiority amongst everyone here, especially with her late start.
She only grew more frustrated as she hastily closed the folder, placing it back down on the table. “A normal upbringing? Do you know the kind of life I’ve lived? It was anything but normal. I’m sure I would’ve had a better chance at normal here, then anywhere else,” she rolled her eyes, her jaw clenching as tears threatened her waterline.
Normal is all she wanted. A normal family, with normal friends, and a normal life. Instead she’s practically been to Hell and back, and the scars imprinted in her brain and on her skin is the evidence of that. She understands her mother’s decision, because it must be hard losing a child and running the risk of losing another, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck. Calista has been dealt the shittiest cards, and knowing she was cheated out of a better hand twists her heart and constricts her lungs.
Standing again from his chair, Mr. Cirillo walks over to the door of his office, opening it and looking back to the depressive demigod, “Let’s go for a walk.” Calista says nothing as she follows him, eyes focused to her shoes as her mind swirls with countless thoughts of never being good enough. When she looked up to look at the multiple paintings and portraits lining the walls, her stomach sank further as she saw what could’ve been her life.
She could be grateful for knowing now rather than never, but since she found out now when her life was getting better, it only hurt her more. If she found out before, she would’ve seen it as a saving grace, but now it only seemed like a burden.
They made their way outside to the courtyard, the building guarding the blooming flowers and small ponds filled with various fish. A few others were scattered around, sitting at benches or small tables and talking amongst themselves, not paying any attention to Calista and Mr. Cirillo.
Their walk was at a slow pace, silence surrounding them except for the smaller chatter from the other people, the beauty of the sun beaming down on the spacious greenery engulfing their minds. She understands why he wanted to take a walk, because breathing in fresh air helped cool her mind just long enough for her to regain her somewhat stable composure.
“I know your life was hard,” he began again, looking down at the Calista, his hands tucking into the pockets of his slacks. “And I deeply apologize for everything you’ve been put through, I wish there was something I could’ve done.”
Calista licked her chapped lips, pursing them as she came up with something to say back, because in all honesty an apology means nothing coming from him. The real apology she wants is from Athena, or even her fucking father. “Why now? Why not follow her rules and keep me away?”
“Well, there was another threat against our livelihood. An insider that has anonymously threatened to tell anyone and everyone willing to listen. When I told the gods, your mother, Athena, advised it was time to… She said you’d be a great leader like your brother once was,” he smiled softly, eyeing her reaction as she looked at the olive tree, sitting in the center of the courtyard.
“I’m not a leader,” she responded softly, taking her gaze off of the plant and back down to the laces of her boots. “From what I saw, Mikael was an honorable person, and I’m far from that.”
“And from what I’ve gathered, is that despite the horrible schools you went to and the awful people you’ve met along the way, you were still one of the highest in your class and was awarded a full ride scholarship to Cambridge. Even with setbacks, you pushed through with determination. I’d say that’s pretty honorable,” he quipped back, sitting down on the bench that was beneath the giant tree.
All she really felt at this point was confusion. She wants to be able to call this place her home, and maybe even call these people her family, but they’ve been doing fine for years without her, she just doesn’t understand why all of a sudden it was necessary to tell her. Getting an A on a test was a whole different game compared to being a leader in a war. Aside from breaking a girl’s nose, she had no ability to fight or any sort of strategy at all to be able to hold her own. Her being involved felt more of a burden to everyone else, and she’d probably get herself killed almost immediately.
“I just don’t see how I’m of any use. I don’t have experience like Trinity or Wren, or anybody here. I’ll probably end up running around like a headless chicken.”
He laughed at the small joke, raising his hand up to squeeze her shoulder. “Like I said, with determination you’ll push through.”
The reminder of Trinity telling her to surpass Wren from last night came to mind, a little ounce of this determination sparking through her, but it was quickly diminished as she thought of the actual process of conquering that. She wants to be the underdog like in all of those movies she’s watched that beats the bully in the end, but those are movies, and as much as this doesn’t feel like real life, it is and that’s not how everything works. She can try, but that doesn’t mean she’ll be successful and if she’s not successful she’s afraid she’ll be a disappointment and then that disappointment feeds into her anxiety of never being wanted by anyone and it’s this constant cycle in her beaten and bruised brain.
On the other hand, she can’t just tell Mr. Cirillo no, because then she’ll probably end up disappointing him and sending herself into a subcycle of unwarranted thoughts. She wishes everything right now had a clean cut answer as to what she should do, but she’s stuck in her thoughts, feeling as if she’s being pulled down by rapid quicksand, not giving herself enough time to mull over everything properly.
Looking up through the leaves of the olive tree, admiring the sun that peaked through the greenery above her, coating her face in a dull glow, Calista said one last thing to Mr. Cirillo before they would go on their separate ways as she would take time to think about everything alone.
“Do I ever get to meet her?”
Mr. Cirillo sighed, a look of solemn etching across his features. That was her answer alone, but she still acknowledged the words that tumbled out of his mouth. “It’s a rarity that they make an appearance.”
Calista nodded, getting up off the bench and ready to make her way back inside and hopefully find the way back to her room. Mr. Cirillo reached for her wrist, holding her in her place for one more moment, “But she’s always looking after you, Calista.”
And with that, she walked away, holding back her tears until she collapsed on the sheets of her bed.
❊ ❊
Hours had passed since her meeting with Mr. Cirillo, and she had made no progress towards processing everything that’s been relayed to her. She tried falling asleep to dull the headache beating through her skull, to give herself a moment to breathe before she would fully understand everything at hand.
Trinity had offered her support, but Calista felt it was better to be alone at this time, just so she would have no distractions and so she could wallow in her own thoughts. And while at first being alone seemed to help, after a while, she was in need to vent and discuss all of the problems soaring through her head to her best friend.
Thing is, her problem just lies in the fact that everything had been kept secret from her for so long. Who’s to say this all would’ve been revealed to her if there hadn’t been this apparent threat? Would her best friend have continued to lie to her for the rest of their lives?
Why should she maybe put her life at risk for people that she hardly even knows?
Everything just relates back to her anxiety over never being good enough for anyone, which would prove why she’s lived such an awful life considering she wasn’t good enough to be her rightful title of demigod. She understands it was done to protect her wellbeing, she just wishes that’s the way her brain would take it. Instead, she’s thinking the worst because that’s how she was raised; Expecting the worst.
When Trin finally came back to the room, she could tell something was off with Calista as she saw her friend in the same curled up position on her bed since she left. “Lis, everything okay?”
First there was no response or any sort of movement, then she heard the small whimpers leaving the girl’s lips, and immediately she was crawling into her bed, cradling her to her chest, doing her best to help ease her pain.
“I just wish I could shut my brain off for one minute,” she cried, clutching onto her friend’s hand that had wrapped around her front.
“What’s going on inside that head of yours?” Trin murmured, pushing the loose curls from her friend's face and behind her ear.
Calista calmed herself for a moment, rolling over to face Trin, eyes red and cheeks blotchy as she sniffled, bottom lip quivering slightly. “I-I want to see the good in this, but all I can think a-about is how I wasn’t good enough from the start and how I’m not good enough now.”
“What’re you talking about? What did you talk about with Mr. Cirillo?”
Calista relayed everything she was told to Trinity, even delving into the topics that are her insecurities just so her friend can understand a little more about what’s going on inside this head of hers. She had a chance at a family, and friends, and people who related to her, but that was stripped away from her. She has a life she never knew existed and she has no guide book to understand how to go about it all, not to mention it’s a life that isn’t exactly supposed to exist at all.
Is she meant to live up to her past brother’s legacy? If she doesn't, is she just going to be forgotten about?
If her mother is always looking after her, how could she let her daughter go through everything she has?
So many questions that no one has an answer to, and it’s so exhausting.
Trinity didn’t interrupt once, letting her best friend vent to her as she sat patiently. She was once where Calista was, but of course she doesn’t know how she’d exactly take it all in if she had found out so much later in life. As an adolescent, it was so cool finding out her heritage, knowing she was meant for better than just her stuck up dad and stepmom. And she knows how Calista is with trusting people and their intentions, that’s why it took her awhile to warm up to her. So she completely understands her worries about everything too good to be true considering her past.
Being here, though, at Mythology, is where she belongs. And Trinity will do her very best to try and convince her so. When they first met, and Calista told her that she was studying the classics, she knew it was fate and that her role here as Athena’s daughter is meant to be.
And one way to help guide her friend is through the bonfire this night. The annual bonfire before the announcements of the Leaderships. Trinity is convinced the bonfire will help persuade Calista into staying here, because once she spends one night with all of these people that come to be family, she won’t ever want to leave again.
Or, so she wishes.
❊ ❊
“I’m not so sure about this, Trin.”
There was a lot of convincing in order to get Calista to leave their room for the bonfire. After Trin sat and listened to her, she felt a little better getting everything off of her chest that’s been setting up camp. Though, Calista could feel their friendship going down a more comfortable path toward recovery as she expressed her concerns.
She’s not exactly warmed up to everything yet, but the more she vents and talks to Trin who went through a not exact but similar process with being thrown into this new lifestyle, Calista can feel herself wanting to get to know this part of her life a little more.
She’s still struggling with trusting all of these people, but that’s where the bonfire comes in and why Trin believes it’ll help her. As an observant best friend, she saw the way Calista was talking to Harry and even Niall, as if they were her friends she had known for years. Granted she has known Niall for some time, but not in the way she’s known Trin. And Harry she’s known for all of twenty minutes, yet she was laughing and smiling as if she knew him since they were children.
If the bonfire can bring out more of that, then Calista will surely want to stay and be around at least for a little while longer.
Though, for Calista it felt a little like the first day of school as she scrounged through her suitcase to find something suitable to wear. It wasn’t the hottest night yet it wasn’t exactly cold, so really that left her at square one. And Trin wasn’t any help as she sat on her phone waiting for her friend to make a decision. But, Calista just followed suit with her and put on a sweatshirt and shorts along with a pair of her worn down sneakers. It also didn’t help that her ruthless curly hair was like a nest sitting on her scalp. Her best bet was a semi decent ponytail that at least kept her hair out of her face.
Trinity finally looked up from her phone, “It’s gonna be fun. It’s basically tradition, and you can’t skip tradition.”
“It’s not exactly my tradition though, so maybe I’ll just pass.”
With a roll of her eyes, Trinity stood up from her bed and grabbed onto her friend’s wrist and led her out of their room. “Well, let’s make it your tradition then.”
They both eventually wound up outside and in the large field that expanded for acres of land, the moon glistening over them as they walked further until they reached multiple people laughing and dancing and talking as a fairly big fire sat between them all.
Immediately, Calista’s eyes were drawn to the force that is Harry as a guitar sat on his lip as he sang some song, joking around with the people around him. Niall was over with them too, and once he spotted them, he ran over to hug the both of them before encouraging them to join the little circle of people.
“Everyone, this is Calista,” Niall introduced as he sat back in his previous seat. Unsurprising, there was a single seat open next to him that was clearly meant for Trin, which she so graciously sat in, leaving Calista to stand alone, full of awkwardness.
The few people greeted her with a wave, insistent she sit down with them. A little reluctantly, she sat between two people she had yet to meet, but would come to know their names are Sarah and Mitch.
Even though she was in a circle of people that all seemed to be like good people, it was one of those moments she felt so alone. She’s never really known how to bond with new people because she hardly ever purposely tries to talk to them, and now seems like a good time to break out of her bubble a little, but she’s afraid of the pending rejection from the lot.
They all seem really nice, yet her brain craved the worst of people so she doesn’t have to get hurt later on.
Looking around at everyone else that was outside of this little circle, it was hard not to notice Damien and Wren at the center of everyone else’s attention, doing whatever the hell it is that they’re doing. When Wren had turned her head slightly and made eye contact with Calista, she smirked in her usual cynical manner, which Calista just scoffed at, turning back around to the group with her.
When turning back around, she made direct eye contact with Harry, who was listening to whatever Niall was talking about, yet didn’t seem like he was paying attention as he kept his attention on Calista. She felt her cheeks heat up and most likely redden under his gaze before she broke the contact and looked to her hands.
Getting up from her spot abruptly, she announced she was getting any kind of drink that was over in the coolers, offering to anyone who wanted but they all declined. Though when she walked over to the red and blue coolers, one labeled water and the other labeled alcohol, she felt a presence following her.
And then Harry stood next to her, sans guitar now.
“Still adjusting?” He asked, reaching into the water cooler and pulling out a fresh and cool bottle, one for him and one for her since he saw her reaching for one.
Cal nodded, softly laughing at the question. “That’s an understatement.”
There was a sudden silence over them, neither of them talking for a brief moment but listening to the chatter of everyone else, or the crackle of the bonfire, or the hum of music that was floating into the night sky. When she finally gained the courage to look up and meet his eyes, she saw him already looking at her, entranced by her shy personality yet strong attitude. “I didn’t know until I was seventeen. M’mum kept it from me. Said it was for my own good or summat, but I was pissed. Felt like m’whole life was a lie. Gets easier though, trust me.”
She was taken aback at the sudden confession, her lips parting slightly as she looked at him with slight confusion. Out of everything that could’ve come out of his mouth, she really wasn’t expecting that, because it also felt like he somehow knew what was going on inside of her mind.
“How long till it starts getting easier?” she questions, taking a sip of her water, appreciating it’s cool texture sliding down her throat.
He nods, sitting down on a chair that was outside of the little group from before, an open seat next to him that she’s meant to sit on. “We all handle shit differently so m’not sure, but sometimes even now I have to take a step back and think about everything and I’ve been here for six years.”
Before Calista has a chance to ask him something else, a different voice butts in. The look on Harry’s face as he saw who was approaching them only solidified that she knew who it was.
“Aw, have we got a pair of little lovebirds already?”
Calista didn’t bother to look to her right as Wren stood tall and proud, looming over the two of them like a cloud, ready to rain down on them. The fire lit up her face in such a way that looking up at her made her seem nearly demonic, and if she wasn’t already in a bad mood, she would’ve laughed at the irony.
A faux smile stretched across her thin lips as she stood with her arms crossed, drink in her hand as she looked between the demigods. “Can’t even let the poor girl settle in for a day before you’re trying to jump her bones.”
“Fuck right off, Wren,” Harry sneered back, getting up from his seat to tower over the shorter girl.
This is when Damien decided to step up, placing himself between his girlfriend and his enemy, glaring at Harry with his dark eyes, jaw clenched so hard his teeth were probably close to shattering. Calista was a little nervous as the air around them grew tense, though luckily it didn’t seem like anyone else was paying attention to this little quarrel. Harry didn’t seem fazed in the slightest by the beefcake in front of him, an indifferent facial expression locked on his features.
“What?” Harry asks, tilting his head slightly, “She’s just jealous m’not talking to her.”
Damien goes to shove Harry instantly, but just as fast, Harry deflects his aggression and instead is able to push Damien back, causing him to trip over the leg of a chair behind him. Calista rolls her lips together to avoid bursting out into a fit of laughter, completely in awe of how Harry turned the situation around.
Guess Trinity and Niall were right when they said Damien sucks ass.
Wren didn’t even seem surprised at the turn of events. “Jealous? Oh, please, don’t think so highly of yourself.”
Calista looked over to Trin and saw how she was standing up, looking curious as to what was going on with the four. They made eye contact and spoke without any words, both of them concluding they had no idea what was going on.
“I just came over to wish her luck in Leaderships. Hope she doesn’t get herself killed and all that,” she conceded, her hands coming up in defense. Though, her confession wielded a taunting undertone that was clear as day to Calista, because all her life she’s dealt with people and their fake spouts of truth just so they seemed like the good guys.
This urged Calista to scoff, “Bullshit.”
Wren’s head snapped towards the new girl, eyes squinting a little as she skimmed over her sitting stature. “Excuse me?”
Throughout the course of this whole day, Calista had been wary about her place here, and whether or not she wanted to stick around or call it a day and go back to her normal. The idea of these Leaderships was practically nauseating to think about, and she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to take part in them. But hearing this girl talk about them, pushes her to stay and just kick her ass into next year. She’s not all that confident that she’ll be able to do so, but like Mr. Cirillo said, the determination will push her through.
“What’re you wishing me luck for? Wishing me luck insinuates me coming out on top, and we all know you want to keep your status, so I call bullshit,” she shrugs in response, unscrewing the cap to her bottle and taking another sip. From the distance, Calista could hear Trin cheer her on.
“Thanks though. Although, I think he,” she points to Damien who is only just now getting up from the floor, “needs your luck more than I do.” Wren stared in shock and anger, fists clenching and unclenching as her one eye twitched before she eventually huffed and stormed off, leaving Damien to catch up to her.
Calista waved goodbye, letting out a breath of air she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in. There’s something about Wren that brings out this confidence in her, that if she wasn’t such a bitch, she’d want to thank her. Again, aside from that one girl’s nose she broke, she never really stood up for herself or for others.
So, maybe this whole Greek life was actually going to do some good for her in the end.
❊ ❊
Another night, another extremely restful sleep.
Though, another day, another rendition of unwarranted anxiety.
Sleeping through one more night, Calista had come to the decision that she was going to stay. After everything that had happened with Wren at the bonfire, the night went a lot more peaceful, and Cal understood what Trinity meant when she said the bonfire was going to help.
Getting to know these people and hearing all of these stories of their arrival into this life, and the stories since they’ve been here, helped ease a lot of the tension stirring around in her brain. It sparked an interest to make her own memories and the hope that maybe these people aren’t so bad like her thoughts are trying to make her believe.
After she had woken up, Calista headed to Mr. Cirillo’s office again to announce the news, stating that she’ll regret leaving more than staying and hating it.
Plus, how bad could it actually be?
Well, the answer to that is actually pretty bad.
Not exactly in a bad way, but she never would’ve expected all the exhausting effort she was going to have to put in.
After her second talk with Mr. Cirillo, Calista was ushered to the main hall where everyone was gathering for the official announcement of the Leaderships. Walking into the room, she could see these charts full of names, and at a quick glance she saw Wren’s name in the very first spot on the female side, and Harry’s on the male. It wasn’t much of a shock to see her own name all the way at the bottom considering she’s new and all, but it made her all the more hell-bent on sliding up to the top.
Everyone seemed eager to get back into the work of things, all of them super hyped that they were back. Being here was mostly a summer occurrence, so because they weren’t here all year round, to everyone it was super exciting to be back with the people they care for, doing the things they love.
All of the elders stood at the front of the room, going over the discourse about this threat of maybe an inside source. Everyone seems slightly peeved at the fact they don’t know who the rat is, looking around warily at one another. Some even had the audacity to look at Calista with disdain, as if her being the traitor makes any sense at all considering she just found out about this place two days ago.
When it was all over, Cal was whisked away by Trin, accompanied by Niall of course, as they took her outside and to some secluded part of the forest that expanded into an open area, away from everyone else. The sun gleamed through the leaves of the trees surrounding them, coating them in a golden mask of fresh air. There’s also a little pond just a little down further, which Niall says helps him out when he’s out here for various hours, day after day.
There were targets lined up against trees that had been chipped away from what she can assume was constant arrows being stuck inside of it. There were a few racks of different weaponry that stood tall beside the targets that were covered under a tarp to keep them out of harm's way of the weather.
The nerves were itching up Calista’s spine as she looked at the daunting swords and bow and arrows, and other types of metal she had no idea what to call. “I don’t even think I’ll be able to hold anything without dropping it like an idiot,” she grimaces, a wry smile on her face as she traces the intricate design etched into the handle of the first sword.
“It takes some getting used to, but you’ll get the hang of it,” Niall comforted, walking over to one of the vacant benches and tying up the laces to his shoes that had come undone. “Plus you’ve got the best of the best on y’side, it’ll be like a piece of cake.”
Calista scrunches her eyebrows in disagreement, a mental image of her cutting off her arm or even her head coming to mind as the sharp edges of the swords and knives glimmer in the sunlight. The least threatening of the various weapons was the bo staff that stood perched against the wood rack, its blunt ends that weren’t met in metal seeming to be the easiest to handle. Though, the spear that sat beside it caught her eye too, as she thought of her mother, and how the spear is known to be her weapon of choice, accompanied by a golden shield.
Off in the distance was the sound of someone walking towards them, the sounds of the pavement crushing beneath their shoes. All three of them turned to the sound coming from the side, and were greeted by Harry’s face as he whistled his way into their line of vision.
His black t-shirt was rolled at the sleeves and a red bandanna was snugly tucked into his hair as it pushed back the few curls that tended to fall onto his forehead. His tan skin glowed as his tattoos sat contrast on his arms. Calista was envious of how he looked so good doing absolutely nothing, and if she didn’t have any better self-control, she’d probably be drooling right now.
“G’morning,” he smiles at them, hands on his hips as he stops in front of the three. But, he then turns his attention undividedly onto Calista, a little glimmer of amusement sparking across his eyes as he asks, “Ready for some fun?”
“I highly doubt it’s gonna be fun,” she drones back, bending over to wrap her hair up into the best bun she could manage.
When she stood back up tall, doing a few final adjustments to her hair, she realized Trin and Niall were walking back in the original direction they had come from, leaving behind her and Harry. She was beyond confused, calling out to them and wondering where they were off to, only to receive back a curt response of, “Harry works better alone, so we’re gonna head back,” and then they were gone.
Now, Calista doesn’t know Harry all that well, and now she’s scared he’s here to murder her, deep in the woods where no one would be able to hear her scream. He’s got plenty of methods to do so right beside them, and she’d be lying if she said her heart rate didn’t pick up a little bit. And she’s a little confused as to why she wasn’t told this in the first place.
“Are you wondering if I’m going to murder you?”
Calista pursed her lips, shaking her head slowly, “Pfft, what? No.”
“I don’t usually work with anyone. I like to stay in my own headspace away from everyone so I can stay focused,” he elaborated to their friend’s previous statement before they walked away completely.
“So… why’re you here with me then?” She retorts, arms crossing over her chest in more of a nervous manner than a confident one. The small thought that he wanted to be there because of her crossed her mind briefly, but a louder, more dominant notion danced all over that, screaming in her face that no one would ever do anything just to be near her. Especially not him.
He cocks his head to the side, eyes squinting slightly as he analyzes the features of her face, his own arms crossing together as a smirk worms up the side of his face. Calista felt small under his gaze, fearing he was reading her thoughts like an open book like he did the night before.
Little did she know, he is there for her. He’s so infatuated with the thought of getting to know the ins and outs of her, needing to know what exactly makes her, her. It boggles his mind how she seems so reserved, keeping to herself as she fights the thoughts running around her head, yet can turn around and become a strong willed woman the moment someone like Wren comes storming around.
Harry likes to train by himself, finding it easier to concentrate and better himself when he doesn’t have eyes watching him and analyzing every one of his moves. Plus, he likes the thrill of surprising everyone when he learns a few new tricks to tuck up his sleeves when Duels come around. But, he’s willing to work with Calista, to bend a few of his rules if it means she’ll break down a few of her walls.
“There’s a first for everything, Darling.”
#yayayay hope you enjoyed ;)#mythology series#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles writing#harry styles series#harry styles x ofc#harry styles one shot#harry styles au#harry styles angst#harry styles soft#harry fanfiction#1d fanfiction#1d fanfic#one direction fanfiction#harry styles
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Demeter: can we start shaming people who like their hot chocolate made with water instead of milk?
Athena: if you’re lactose intolerant you can stay, but you’re on thin fucking ice
Dionysus: I eat the powder straight from the pack
Artemis: hey do you know how horrible what you just said was?
#greek gods#incorrect greek gods#incorrect greek mythology#greek mythology#incorrect quotes#incorrect myth#mythology#classical mythology#incorrect mythology#athena#demeter#Dionysus#Artemis
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