ᘏᘏ i could’ve been wild, i could’ve been free ⤷ j. grace
── cw ♥︎ butttt nature played this trick on me !!! ok there’s nothing to worry about unless u don’t like tooth rotting heart aching body IMPLODING fluff yes i haven’t written in like 4 months… blame all my counselors bcuz wrd 2 we putting itching powder in they clothes and annihilating them ok gn gotham city
you weren't supposed to fall in love at camp jupiter.
that wasn't the plan. the plan was simple: survive the wolf house, make it to camp, train hard, maybe join a cohort, and keep your head down. you'd spent your whole life being yourself—loud, reckless, free in a way that made other people uncomfortable. you wore your weirdness like armor, laughed too loud, spoke your mind without filtering, and never apologized for taking up space.
then you met jason grace, and everything went sideways.
it started small. you didn't even notice it happening.
and everything you were before; wild and free, was immediately taken away from you. nature had just played a trick on you.
you arrived at camp jupiter on a tuesday, exhausted and still shaking from your encounter with the wolves. lupa had been terrifying but fair, and somehow you'd proven yourself worthy. now you stood at the entrance to camp, staring at the roman architecture with wide eyes, trying to process that this was real. demigods. actual demigods. you were one of them.
you turned to find a girl with dark hair and sharp eyes watching you. she looked intimidating in her purple camp shirt and jeans, a sword strapped to her side like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"uh, yeah," you said. "just got here."
"i'm reyna," she said, extending her hand. you shook it, trying not to wince at her grip. "praetor of the twelfth legion. welcome to camp jupiter. you'll meet the other praetor soon—jason's out on patrol right now."
you nodded, following her into camp as she explained the basics. cohorts, training schedules, the mess hall, new rome. it was overwhelming, but you tried to absorb everything. reyna was professional, efficient, and honestly kind of scary. you got the sense she didn't suffer fools.
you met jason grace three hours later.
you were in the armory, trying to figure out which sword felt right in your hand, when someone cleared their throat behind you. you turned and—
he was tall, blonde, with a scar on his lip and the bluest eyes you'd ever seen. he wore his praetor position like a second skin, all confidence and easy authority. he smiled at you, and you felt something in your chest do a weird flip.
"you're the new recruit," he said. it wasn't a question. "i'm jason grace. sorry i wasn't here to welcome you earlier."
"it's cool," you said, trying to sound normal. "i'm sure praetor stuff keeps you busy."
he laughed, and the sound was warm. "you have no idea. how are you settling in?"
"still figuring out which end of the sword is the pointy one," you joked, and he grinned.
"that's the sharp end," he said, pointing. "pro tip."
you laughed despite yourself, and just like that, the ice was broken.
over the next few weeks, you fell into a routine. training in the morning, classes on roman history and battle strategy in the afternoon, dinner in the mess hall with your cohort. you made friends—mostly people who appreciated your sense of humor and didn't mind that you were still learning everything.
and jason was... around. a lot.
he had this habit of checking in on new recruits, making sure everyone was adjusting okay. you told yourself that's all it was. he was just being a good praetor. it didn't mean anything that he remembered how you took your coffee, or that he always seemed to find you during training to offer pointers, or that his smile got a little wider when he saw you.
except it did, and you were starting to realize it.
the problem was that you were changing. slowly, in ways you didn't notice at first. you started second-guessing yourself before speaking. you'd think about whether jason would find something funny before you said it. you caught yourself fixing your hair before training sessions, hoping you'd run into him.
it was subtle, insidious. you were losing pieces of yourself without even realizing it.
your friends noticed before you did.
"you're acting weird," marcus said one day at lunch. he was a son of mercury in your cohort, quick-witted and observant. "like, weirder than usual."
"what are you talking about? you’re always rambling stupid stuff.” you asked, stabbing at your salad.
"you've been quiet lately," another friend, julia, chimed in. "and you never used to care about what people thought. now you're all... i don't know. filtered."
"i'm not filtered," you protested.
"you literally stopped yourself from making a joke about octavian yesterday," marcus said. "the old you would've took him down without hesitation."
you opened your mouth to argue, then closed it. he was right. you had held back. because you'd wondered what jason would think, whether it was too mean, whether it was praetor-appropriate.
when had you started caring about being praetor-appropriate?
"i'm just trying to fit in," you muttered.
"you fit in fine by being yourself," julia said gently. "don't lose that."
but it was too late. you were already lost.
you were falling in love with jason grace, and it was changing you in ways you didn't know how to stop.
he was everywhere. in your thoughts during training, in your dreams at night, in the way your heart sped up whenever you heard his voice. you found yourself volunteering for patrols you knew he'd be leading, lingering after meetings just to talk to him for a few more minutes.
and the worst part? he seemed to like you too.
not in the way you wanted, maybe. but he sought you out, asked your opinion on things, laughed at your jokes. once, during a particularly brutal training session, he'd helped you up after you got knocked down, his hand warm and steady in yours, and you'd nearly forgotten how to breathe.
"you're getting better," he'd said, smiling. "your footwork's improved."
"thanks," you'd managed, very aware that his hand was still holding yours.
he'd let go after a moment, but the warmth lingered.
you were so gone for him it was embarrassing.
the breaking point came on a random thursday in march.
you'd been at camp for three months by then, and you were starting to feel like you belonged. your cohort had accepted you, you'd proven yourself in training, and you'd even led a successful quest to retrieve a lost standard from some rogue monsters near berkeley.
but you were also miserable in a way you couldn't quite name.
you missed the old you. the one who didn't care what people thought, who spoke without filtering, who took up space unapologetically. now you felt like you were constantly performing, trying to be someone worthy of jason's attention.
the fight started over something stupid.
you were in the principia, the headquarters building, helping jason and reyna plan the next war games. you'd suggested a strategy—something unconventional and risky—and jason had immediately shut it down.
"that's too dangerous," he said, not even looking up from the map. "we can't risk that many people on something so unpredictable."
"it's not unpredictable if we plan it right," you argued. "and the payoff would be huge."
"the payoff isn't worth the risk," he said firmly. "we'll go with the standard approach."
something in you snapped.
"of course," you said, your voice sharp. "the standard approach. because gods forbid we do anything that isn't by the book."
jason looked up, frowning. "what's that supposed to mean?"
"it means you're so obsessed with doing everything the roman way that you can't see when there's a better option," you said, standing up. "you're so busy being the perfect praetor that you've forgotten how to think outside the box."
"that's not fair," jason said, his jaw tightening. "i'm trying to keep people safe."
"by playing it safe all the time?" you shot back. "that's not leadership, jason. that's fear."
reyna cleared her throat. "maybe we should take a break—"
"no," jason said, standing up too. his eyes were stormy, crackling with barely contained lightning. "if you have something to say, say it."
"fine," you said, your heart pounding. "you want to know what i think? i think you're so afraid of making mistakes that you've stopped taking any real risks. and i think you expect everyone around you to be just as perfect and controlled as you are."
"i don't expect that," jason said, but his voice was strained.
"yes, you do," you said, and suddenly you weren't talking about war games anymore. "you expect people to fit into these neat little boxes, to follow all the rules, to never step out of line. and some of us can't be that person, jason. some of us are messy and chaotic and we don't fit into your perfect roman world."
jason stared at you, something unreadable in his expression. reyna looked between you both, then quietly excused herself.
"is that what you think?" jason asked quietly once she was gone. "that i want you to be someone you're not?"
"i don't know," you said, suddenly exhausted. "i don't know anything anymore."
"talk to me," he said, moving around the table toward you. "please. what's really going on?"
and maybe it was the gentleness in his voice, or maybe you were just tired of holding everything in, but the words came spilling out.
"i've been changing," you said. "ever since i got here, ever since i met you, i've been changing. and i didn't even notice at first, but i'm not myself anymore. i second-guess everything i say, i hold back my opinions, i try to be more... more roman. more acceptable. and i hate it, jason. i hate that i'm losing myself."
"why?" he asked, and he was close now, close enough that you could see the concern in his eyes. "why are you changing?"
you laughed, but it came out bitter. "because i'm in love with you, you idiot."
the words hung in the air between you.
jason's eyes went wide. "what?"
"i'm in love with you," you repeated, quieter this time. "and i know that's stupid, because you're a praetor and you're perfect and you probably don't even see me that way. but i can't help it. and i've been trying so hard to be someone you could love back that i've completely lost who i am."
for a long moment, jason just stared at you. then he did something you didn't expect.
not a mean laugh, but something soft and almost disbelieving.
"you think i'm perfect?" he said. "you think i don't see you?"
jason ran a hand through his hair, looking suddenly vulnerable in a way you'd never seen before. "i'm not perfect. i'm so far from perfect it's not even funny. i'm terrified all the time that i'm going to make the wrong call and get someone killed. i have no memories of my life before i came to camp. i don't know who i am half the time."
"and you," he continued, stepping closer. "you're the most yourself person i've ever met. or you were, when you first got here. you were loud and funny and you didn't care what anyone thought. you took up space like you had every right to be there. and i loved that about you."
your heart stopped. "loved?"
"love," he corrected, and suddenly his hands were on your face, tilting your head up to look at him. "present tense. i love that about you. i love you."
"i'm in love with you," jason said, and his voice was steady now, sure. "i have been for weeks. maybe months. and i've been trying to figure out how to tell you without making things weird, because you're this amazing person and i'm just—"
you didn't plan it, didn't think about it. you just grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down and kissed him, and he made a surprised sound before kissing you back.
it was perfect. he was perfect. his lips were soft and his hands were gentle as they moved to your waist, pulling you closer. you could feel the warmth of him, the barely contained electricity that always seemed to crackle around him.
when you finally pulled back, you were both breathing hard.
"you love me?" you whispered.
"so much," he said. "so much it scares me."
"i've been changing myself for you," you admitted. "trying to be someone better."
"don't," jason said firmly. "please don't. i fell in love with you exactly as you are. messy and chaotic and loud and perfect."
you laughed, and it came out a little watery. "i'm not perfect."
"neither am i," he said. "but maybe we can be imperfect together."
you kissed him again, slower this time, savoring it. his hands were warm on your waist, and you could feel him smiling against your lips.
"i'm still going to argue with you about strategy," you said when you pulled back.
"i'd be disappointed if you didn't," he said, grinning. "and for the record? your plan for the war games was actually really good. i was just being stubborn."
"really," he said. "we'll use it. if you still want to."
"i want to," you said. then, quieter: "i want a lot of things."
"yeah?" jason's thumb traced circles on your hip. "like what?"
"like more of this," you said, gesturing between you. "like being myself again. like not being afraid all the time."
"i'm afraid all the time," jason admitted. "but i'm less afraid when i'm with you."
you rested your forehead against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. it was fast, matching yours.
"i don't want to lose myself again," you said quietly.
"you won't," jason promised. "i won't let you. and if you feel yourself changing, if you feel like you're holding back, tell me. okay? i want all of you. the loud parts, the messy parts, the parts that don't fit into neat roman boxes."
you stood there for a long moment, just holding each other. outside, you could hear the sounds of camp—people training, laughing, living. but in here, it was just the two of you.
"so," jason said eventually, pulling back to look at you. "we're doing this?"
"this," he said, gesturing between you. "us. dating. whatever you want to call it."
you pretended to think about it. "i don't know. dating a praetor sounds like a lot of work."
he laughed, the sound bright and genuine. "you're terrible."
"i really do," he agreed, and kissed you again.
the next few weeks were... different.
you and jason didn't hide your relationship, exactly, but you didn't broadcast it either. reyna figured it out immediately—she was way too observant not to—but she just rolled her eyes and told you both to keep it professional during official duties.
your friends were thrilled. marcus claimed he'd known all along, which was a lie, but you let him have it.
and slowly, carefully, you started finding yourself again.
it wasn't easy. you'd spent months building up walls, filtering yourself, trying to be someone else. but jason was patient. when you held back during meetings, he'd catch your eye and raise an eyebrow, silently encouraging you to speak up. when you second-guessed yourself, he'd remind you that your ideas were valid, that your voice mattered.
"stop making me be the responsible one," you complained one day after you'd deferred to his judgment on something.
"i'm not making you do anything," jason said, amused. "but you have good instincts. trust them."
"then you're wrong," he said with a shrug. "it happens. even to praetors."
"especially to praetors," you teased, and he grinned.
"especially to praetors," he agreed.
you started speaking up more in meetings. started making jokes again, even the inappropriate ones. started taking up space without apologizing for it.
and jason loved every second of it.
he loved when you argued with him about strategy, your eyes bright with passion. he loved when you made the whole cohort laugh during training. he loved when you dragged him away from his duties to watch the sunset from the forum, insisting that he needed to relax.
"you're good for me," he said one evening, his arm around your shoulders as you watched the sky turn pink and gold.
"i'm a terrible influence," you corrected. "i keep distracting you from important praetor business."
"exactly," he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. "good for me."
you leaned into him, content. "i'm glad i met you. even if you did make me temporarily lose my mind."
"i'm working on it," you said. "getting back to myself. it's a process."
"take your time," jason said. "i'll be here."
when you had bad days, when you felt yourself slipping back into old patterns of self-doubt, jason was there. he'd pull you aside, take your hands, and remind you of who you were.
"you're the person who suggested we use giant eagles for aerial reconnaissance," he'd say. "you're the person who told octavian his auguries were 'aggressively boring.' you're the person who makes me laugh even when i'm stressed out of my mind. don't lose that."
"i know," he'd reply. "and you're doing great."
there were good days too. days when you felt like yourself again, when the words came easy and you didn't second-guess every action. days when you and jason would sneak away from camp, flying on his lightning to some quiet spot where you could just be together.
"tell me something," you said one day, lying in the grass on the hills overlooking camp. jason was next to you, his hand intertwined with yours.
"anything," you said. "something real. something you don't tell other people."
jason was quiet for a moment. "sometimes i feel like i'm playing a role," he said finally. "like i'm acting the way a praetor should act, saying the things a leader should say. and i don't know where the act ends and where i begin."
you squeezed his hand. "i get that."
"i know you do," he said, turning to look at you. "that's why i can tell you."
"we're a mess," you said fondly.
"the best kind of mess," jason agreed.
you rolled over, propping yourself up on your elbow to look down at him. his hair was messy from the wind, his eyes soft as he looked at you.
"i love you," you said. it was getting easier to say, less scary each time.
"i love you too," he said, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "my chaotic, wonderful, perfectly imperfect girlfriend."
"boyfriend," you corrected, grinning. "my chaotic, wonderful, secretly-a-mess-but-hiding-it-well boyfriend."
"that's fair," he said, and pulled you down for a kiss.
it wasn't perfect. you still had moments of doubt, times when you caught yourself filtering or holding back. jason still struggled with the weight of leadership, with the pressure to be perfect.
but you had each other. and that made all the difference.
one night, a few months into your relationship, you were sitting on the roof of your cohort's barracks, looking up at the stars. jason had his arm around you, and you were tucked into his side, warm despite the cool night air.
"do you ever regret it?" you asked quietly.
"this," you said, gesturing between you. "us. i know i'm not the easiest person to be with. i'm loud and i argue with you and i'm kind of a disaster."
jason was quiet for a moment, and you felt your heart sink. but then he spoke, his voice soft and sure.
"i don't regret a single second," he said. "you're the best thing that's happened to me since i came to camp. maybe ever."
"really," he said firmly. "you make me better. you make me want to be more than just a praetor, more than just a leader. you make me want to be myself."
you felt tears prick your eyes. "you make me want to be myself too. the real me, not the filtered version."
"good," jason said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "because the real you is my favorite."
you sat there in comfortable silence, watching the stars. somewhere in the distance, you could hear the sounds of camp settling down for the night. but up here, it was just the two of you.
"hey jason?" you said after a while.
"thank you," you said. "for loving me. all of me."
"always," he promised. "even the parts that drive me crazy."
"especially those parts," you said, grinning.
"especially those parts," he agreed, and kissed you under the stars.
you weren't the same person you'd been when you first came to camp. you'd changed, grown, learned things about yourself you hadn't known before. but you were finding your way back to yourself, piece by piece.
and jason was there for all of it. on the good days and the bad days, when you were confident and when you were doubting yourself, when you were loud and chaotic and when you were quiet and uncertain.
he loved all of you. and slowly, you were learning to love all of yourself too.
nature had played a trick on you, maybe. falling in love had changed you in ways you hadn't expected. but it had also given you something precious: someone who saw you, really saw you, and loved what he found.
you could have been wild, could have been free in the way you were before. but this—this messy, complicated, beautiful thing you had with jason—was its own kind of freedom.
and you wouldn't trade it for anything.
"what are you thinking about?" jason asked, noticing your smile.
"just that i'm happy," you said simply.
"yeah?" his own smile was soft, tender in a way that made your heart ache.
"yeah," you confirmed. "really happy."
"me too," he said, pulling you closer.
and under the stars, with jason's arms around you and the whole world spread out below, you finally felt like yourself again.
messy, chaotic, imperfect, and completely, utterly loved.
