inspired by writing prompt: Your spouse is leading a secret double life as an assassin, trying their best to keep it secret from you. This has never really worked, because, unbeknownst to them, you are actually their handler. co-written by @sanccharine
pairing: assassin!momo x handler!reader
summary: Good speakers are good liars, too bad Momo is neither.
word count: 18.9k
a/n: Like Chidi Anagonye once said, âLies are like tigers. They are bad.â
last updated: december 26 2024
a collection of random moments between an assassin and their handler
pairing:Â daughter of demeter!tzuyu x child of hephaestus!reader
genre:Â actionÂ
word count:Â 1k
warnings:Â descriptions of injuries and violence
a/n:Â finally wrote something and visited tumblr lol, everyone say thank you percy jackson. actually it's thank you to @panda-writes-kpop @neon-city-dreams @foolish-clown @kingmaker-a for motivating me to write, yippee :]
The moment Tzuyu realized there was no fight, she shoved her satyr behind her. âThe entrance, find it!âÂ
The satyr lost colour, horror mounting as he shook his head. In his defence, asking to find an entrance to the labyrinth by pure scent when a horde of reptilian monsters were marching towards you was a big ask.Â
Tzuyu turned and shoved him again, her features pulled tight as she ordered. âGo!âÂ
Unable to make an argument for himself, he cursed and turned tail, his goat legs carrying him much faster down the rocky terrain than either yourself or Tzuyu. Which seemed to be the next plan, as she grabbed your hand and ran.Â
Every few seconds, she looked over her shoulderâthat stare of hers youâve seen so many times when playing capture the flag, when friendly competition became war for honour within a matter of seconds. When she took things a bit more seriously than she needed to, but this was an understandable situation, you only feared what order sheâd bark at you.Â
âAt my mark, you will torch down the first line, okay?â Tzuyu screamed over the winds rushing past us.
âWhat?â You screamed back, nearly tripping over a rock, your shin getting clipped but you managed to keep running. The question wasnât because you hadnât heard her, it was more the fact that your supposed fire powers have dwindled down to pathetic sputters. âYou know I canâtââ
âIâll help you,â and with that harshly, she turned, somehow skidding to a stop and faced the avalanche of dracaena.Â
Nearly a hundred, maybe even more monsters of serpent legs, a mixture of green, brown, and yellow scaly skin. Both slithering and running down the terrain at an alarming speed. A tangle of reptilian limbs with no end who seem eager to spill your blood, hissing with joy at the thought of it.Â
Tumbling to a stop yourself, you turned to face the wave of dracaena, unable to fathom a way to defeat them all. But Tzuyu had said the first line⊠but even then how were you blasting them with fire at such a distance? Youâd be blessed if you could manage a lick of flame.Â
Tzuyu looked over her shoulder, searching for our satyr who circles a tall rock formation. His hand grazing the jagged surfaces for something. Tzuyu nodded and kneeled to the floor, one glance to you told you she needed you ready at her will.Â
So you did your best to conjure a flame. Every snap of your finger pulling a spark, warming up your palms and bubbling up your blood just enough. Each click seemed to bring the monsters closer and closer.Â
Tzuyu, uncaring of the clusters of rocks on the ground, wiggled her finger into the dirt. Almost searching for something. With the snaps of your fingers counting the seconds, she waited, waited, waited until the first dracaena hit the slight dip in the terrain. Tzuyu clawed at the dirt and mass of land, directly in front of the monsters cleared of rock as if tugged and slanted. The dracaena went down thrashing, an ugly green coiled mass of serpent limbs.Â
You watched with your mouth agape, one hand still snapping as now flames tickled the tips of your fingers.Â
âWhy did you do that?â you shrieked, but still not horrified enough to distrust whatever Tzuyu was thinking off.Â
While the monsters were now not on their feet, they didnât really lose momentum, instead they were speeding up, headed straight for you, ready to roll you flat to the ground at any moment.Â
That was when the satyr called out. âFound it! Found the entrance!âÂ
A tree root shot out of the ground next to you, nearly poking your eye out, you stepped back both hands fully aflame.Â
âAre you out of your mind?â is the question you wouldâve asked, but were stopped short when another root erupted from the ground much larger than one by you.Â
More vines and thorns and woods spilled out from the ground at an alarming rate, slithering up to the monsters much like they had to you. Tzuyuâs eyes were glowing, a faint green tint to them as she muttered something under her breath. Something like an apology before she turned at you, casting that godly glow at you.Â
âNow,â her voice was weak, distorted and hoarse. You could only imagine the power seeping out from her as she managed to wring up more vines now, the first line breached by the monster collection.Â
You understood her. You understood her apology. You knew who it was for.Â
Raising your hands, and with much strength as you could muster, blasted a torch of flame. Warmth arching and coiling much like her vines, as they caught the wood, and bursting alive, spreading much faster than you could predict.Â
The hissing was the first indicator of a job done. The nauseating scent of burning flesh was the mission accomplished.Â
The sight was horrendous. Spindly trees and vines and thorns, skeletal looking and strange in this rocky terrain, all dancing in the wind as flames engulfed them along with the dracaena. Their mass of reptilian limbs, erupting in golden dust as the flame burns brighter.Â
With one last sputter, you put out the flames around your hands. The wall of fire and woods and serpent was still rolling towards you, and you didnât want to be there for it when it reached you. Tzuyu was hunched over the ground, her eyes still emitting a faint glow yet she looked anything but godly.Â
Her forehead dripping with sweat, the heat getting to her more easily than yourself. Her flat and sticking to her face as she gripped the dirt, coughing like sheâd smoked a whole pack at the last minute. Words were useless to her, so you grabbed her by the waist, dragging her away from the ground.Â
Usually, sheâd put up a fight, but she just crumpled in your arms as you pulled her back with you. Much like her, the roots sheâd erupted seemed to dwindle, but it didnât matter because the satyr was waving to you, a dark cavern opening into the ground just by the foot of the rock formation. The entrance to the labyrinth.Â
You took one last look at the burning mess of woods and flesh as the satyr flanked to Tzuyuâs other side to hold her up.Â
If Tzuyuâs mother hated you before⊠then you might as well be dead in Demeter's eyes now.
any feedback is much appreciated.
a/n:Â this was literally written in the last hour and i'm severely out of practice with writing so rip. also will probably add title and banner to fit with the rest of the pjo collection but who knows when that will come anygays hope you have a good day/night :]
there's something so endlessly poetic about eva noblezada and reeve carney's relationship.
they met & fell in love while performing the central romantic characters of a retelling of a 2000+ year old tragic myth, in which the central theme of the show is how people have been retelling this story over and over again for all of those 2000+ years, every time hoping that it will 'turn out this time', only to be devestated by the inevitably tragic ending. a retelling that begs people to hope, to believe that this time, orpheus will get to take eurydice with him.
"who are you?" "the man who's gonna marry you."
"lover, tell me, when we're wed..."
on reeve's final show, they recreated the end of the show, allowing orpheus to take his eurydice up the stairs and out of 'hadestown', hand in hand with her - an ending that the mythological orpheus & eurydice never got to see.
and then they got engaged, on a bridge overlooking the theatre where they first performed together, while returning to their characters together for the first time in a year and a half.
they are the orpheus and eurydice who made it out. they are what the show begs us to believe in.
summary: good speakers are good liars, too bad momo is neither. co-written by @eternallyghosting
chapter summary:Â momo spends the day with you
warning: sickeningly sweet, like makes me want to throw up actually
word count:Â 2.5k
a/n: assassin!momo is here because indigo works hard af. literally she wrote everything, again i didn't do jackshit for this part, didn't even open docs until yesterday lol. im just here to post and disappear like avatar aang, again :]
masterlist
You cursed as your oven timer dinged for the third time, barely managing to shove your hands into heat proof gloves before hurrying to take the baking tray out of the steaming oven. This had to be your sixteenth batch of heart shaped cookies, an apparent Valentine's day tradition. A cliche, more like, you rolled your eyes.Â
Although this influx of orders was no doubt good for your growing business, you were just about ready to gouge out your eyes if only to avoid looking at pink food colouring again.
You sighed, at least after this last order for Mr Moyo, you'd be done for the day. As you busied yourself with measuring the flour, something you could do in your sleep now based on the amount of times you'd made this exact recipe, the front door slammed shut.Â
Momo. Hearing the loud slamming noise would've given you a headache in any other situation, but not today. Today Momo had promised to give you a break from doing the dishes after seeing you knee deep in orders since the morning.
You hadn't even realized how tired you were until she came up behind you and laid her chin on your shoulder. You took a break from kneading and pulled her closer. Sensing your fatigue, Momo wrapped you up in her arms, gently turning you around and laying a soft kiss on your lips.Â
"Rough day?"Â
"Mmm," you didn't bother with a more coherent response. Momo got it anyway.
She gazed around at the heart cookies, with their light pink frosting and red and white sprinkles, and snorted, "I don't really get why people would want these."
A beat.Â
She rushed to add. "Of course not saying that because it's your baking! These look great babe, you've done a really good job on the decor." She cupped her warm hands around your cheeks, emphasizing that she didn't mean anything by what she'd said.
You shook your head, "It is a silly holiday."
"Exactly! That's what I meant," she kissed your cheek in apology.
You settled deeper into her hold. The dough could wait. "But still, it's kind of sweet that people celebrate Valentine's day," you murmured.
Momo could be quite dense sometimes. You had to often spell things out for her. But this, your unmentioned plea, she understood clearly. Maybe it was the exhaustion making you more sensitive than usual. Or maybe it was the sentimentality of the holiday that made you melt against her arm as she brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.
"Tell you what, you finish up this last batch and I'll run you a bath. How does that sound?"
That did sound great. You gave her a grateful nod as you added, "there's extra frosting in the fridge if you want to try some."Â
Momo hurriedly disentangled herself and gave you another kiss before rushing to the said fridge. Perhaps it wasn't just you feeling the sentiments of the holiday.Â
With renewed vigour, you managed to toss the new batch of cookies in the oven, having to wait only for a couple minutes before filling up all your used dishes with soapy water. Although Momo had promised to do them for you, you couldn't just leave them be without rinsing atleast a few.
You trudged upstairs, where your nose was immediately met with the soothing scent of lavender, from the bath salts you had gifted Momo a few months ago. As you slipped into the bathroom, Momo turned to face you.
"So my next flight isn't for another few days."
You nodded silently, focusing on throwing your flour stained shirt into the laundry basket instead. Momo and you had discussed her flight over dinner last night so you didn't know why she was bringing it up again.
"I was thinking we could do something together."
Now that got your attention. You lifted your head and asked with a hint of a smirk, "I thought you said Valentine's day was a shitty occasion."
"I didn't say it like that! And also this doesn't have to be for Valentine's day," she added. "It could be just a date."
"Okay," you shrugged. You would do anything if it meant spending more time with Momo.
She perked up. "Great! I'll plan it out!"
Wait, what?
Before you could ask her anything, she smiled, said "Enjoy your bath!" and left, closing the door behind her.
As you enjoyed your much needed soak in the tub and made your way out of the bathroom, you found Momo hunched over on the bed with her glasses on and laptop in hand. You smiled to yourself. She hardly ever wore her glasses, so she must be taking this date planning very seriously.Â
As you crawled into bed, she turned her screen towards you and pointed excitedly. "Look!"
You took a look at a website showing various people with axes in their hands. Before you could ask about what Momo wanted to do with a Thor convention, you caught sight of the title at the top of the screen.
Axe throwing. Huh.
"Seems fun, doesn't it?"
You tore your glance away from the laptop to Momo's face, grinning widely and awaiting your answer. You were looking at her, but you weren't really seeing. The only thought in your mind was how cute those glasses looked on her. You really had to make her wear them more often.
"You're adorable," you blurted out as she nudged you for an answer.
Stifling a giggle, she rolled her eyes. "I'm taking that as a yes." And right away, she booked a slot for the two of you. You settled under the covers quietly, not really having any objections but also not expecting her to be so proactive about this date.
"There, all done. It's in the evening tomorrow." She put her laptop away on the bedside table and joined you under the warm duvet.Â
Not that the duvet stayed settled for long as her words jolted you up. "Wait, tomorrow? I can't tomorrow, I have to delivâ"
Momo took your hands, silencing you in the action. "I know, you have to deliver the cookies. But we could do those on the way to the facility."
You weren't convinced this easily. "What if someone isn't at home? What if we can't deliver some of the orders?"Â
She shook her head. "The time slot I booked is their last one. It's at 8 pm, which gives us plenty of time to make the deliveries, even if someone isn't home in the morning," she emphasized the end of her sentence to lay your worries at ease.
Kissing the hands still in her grip was the cherry on top, as you finally settled down again, content that Momo had it all planned out. She laughed quietly as she turned to face you, the faint yellow hue of the night lamp casting a glow on her face. "I wouldn't have booked the slot without making your deliveries happen, babe."
"I know, I just like having a plan." So what if your handler tendencies bled over into your regular life, having a plan was never a bad thing.
"You and your lists and schedulesâŠ"
"Hey, at least I'm not the one getting lost in a city because I can't read out the itinerary made for me!" It was a bit of a deep cut to bring up something that had occured on vacation years ago, but you couldn't resist teasing her.
And Momo retaliated by doing what Momo did best. When at a loss for a verbal attack, she mercilessly moved her hands up and down your sides, tickling you until your feet kicked and squirmed in the blanket.
She only stopped when you finally cried out for mercy, ceding victory to her if only to be able to breathe properly. Having eventually caught your breath, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows to situate your torso over hers and wipe off the smug smile on her face with a deep kiss.
"Goodnight, babe. I love you."
"I love you too. G'night."
True to her word, Momo had done all the dishes last night while you had been in the bath, and walking into a gleaming kitchen almost made you want to get on your knees and sob in relief. You loved baking, but cleaning up after was often the hardest part, something you absolutely had to be particular about no matter how tired you were.
You turned on the coffee machine just as the sounds of Momo rustling around in the sheets reached your ears. You were content to just stay in and share a cup of coffee, enjoying the morning sunlight streaming through the windows onto your kitchen counter. You looked around your carefully curated kitchen, at all the designs you had insisted on, knowing that it would be one of the places you spent the most time in. Your eyes landed on the pile of trinkets in the corner, stubbornly making themselves known in the pristine marble decor of the kitchen.Â
Despite your hatred of the mismatched colour scheme, that corner held a special place in your heart, after all, it contained all the little things Momo had brought back from her trips around the world. The woman was talented in many areas, but interior design was decidedly not one of them. She would buy whatever she thought looked cute, irrespective of whether it was something that would fit in your kitchen or was needed by you in the first place.
Still, you couldn't bear to hide it away. As your gaze landed on the porcelain soap dish Momo had brought back a few weeks ago, you had to stifle a laugh at the memory of that particular day. All things considered, it wasn't even as horrendous as some of the other things she'd purchased, but her reasoning for buying it was what had you stumped. You remembered her ravenously eating forkfuls of the pie you had made to celebrate her arrival (and the difficult mission you knew she'd undertaken), before she had sprung up from her seat to haphazardly search through her bags.
Having found what she was looking for, she had tossed the dish towards you, and beamed as though expecting praise for her 'thoughtful' purchase. You couldn't lie, the gift had you bewildered for a good couple of minutes as you wracked your brain trying to recall why this dish would be of particular significance to you. Momo had impatiently gestured at you to turn the dish over and "look at the back!", where you found a 'Made in Greece' stamp over the dish. Although that gift had greatly confused you to the extent of looking like the human equivalent of a keyboard smash, it brought a smile to your face knowing that Momo carried your love of Greek myths with her wherever she went.
The subject of your thoughts bounded down the stairs just as you wrapped up that precious memory. Her hair was mussed up from having rolled around in bed, and her bleary eyes indicated that she wasn't fully awake yet. But to you, she had never looked better. You loved Momo like this, all soft and pliant in the morning, making you feel like you were in a never ending Sunday.Â
You must have taken a second too long to acknowledge her, as she whined at not immediately receiving her good morning kiss. You moved towards her and obliged, before getting a hold of her wrist and gently dragging her off to where your twin coffee mugs stood, ready for a lazy start to your day.Â
The rest of your day went by similarly in a haze, with you dividing your time between wrapping up your final orders, and making the most of Momo being home. Once the admittedly long and lazy breakfast was over, you enlisted Momo's help in reorganizing your closet, getting rid of items you didn't use anymore. Then, after hastily vacuuming your bedroom, the two of you made a quick lunch of enchiladas (well, you cooked and Momo tried not to get in your way), before settling down on the couch and scrolling through Netflix for a new show to watch.
You sighed contentedly in her hold as Momo, eventually tired of trying to find something new, clicked on the long memorised sitcom favoured by you. As your eyes glazed over the familiar scenes, you lauded your past self for closing off orders even though Valentine's Day was still two days away; you got to make the most of your time while Momo was still home.
By the time the afternoon hues of the sun had started to darken to twilight, you had already finished a season of the show you had put on, as well as two cups of tea and a bowl of popcorn. Deciding to clear up a bit, you turned off the television with a groan of protest from Momo, before eventually tugging her off the couch and upstairs to get ready for your deliveries.
Momo had been right in booking the 8 PM slot for your date, and as you watched her carefully load all the orders into the backseat of your car, a serene feeling washed deep in your bones. All it took really was a four letter word.
Home.
Time.
Love.
"Why are you staring at me like that?" Momo asked as you slid into the passenger seat.
You had an absent smile on your face as your fingers drummed against your thighs. "Mm, just thinking of how all it takes is a four letter word."
Momo leaned over, grabbing and fastening your seatbelt for you in a swift motion. "You're thinking of 'sexy', right?" she smirked.
You felt your cheeks being pulled upwards as the absent smile blossomed into a full one. "I was thinking more of 'dork' but okay."
"Nerd."
"Fool."
"Rude."
"Mean."
The two of you traded back and forth before Momo suddenly said, "Y/N".
"Hmm? That's not howâ"
"I love you," she giggled. This time it was you who leaned in, pushing forward as much as your seatbelt would allow, and sealed her giggles with a kiss. "Wife," you murmured against her as she pulled you in closer upon hearing that fall from your lips, a revered whisper.
Despite everything in you screaming not to, you eventually pulled yourself away and let Momo start the car. You settled in your seat, putting a hand over your heart to calm it's racing, but to also feel how strongly it beat. For Momo. While the pair of you weren't really convinced by the traditions of Valentine's Day, and scorned at how the town had blown a quarter of its budget on tacky pink and red decorations, you couldn't deny just how full your heart had felt today. How it felt everyday you were by her side.
You had your own traditions with her, of course you did, honed after years of being together, but it all boiled down to one thing, a simple four letter word: Momo.
any feedback is much appreciated.
a/n: happy valentines day y'all, tell people that you love them !!! or don't, or tell them that you hate them lol, idk don't let me tell you how to spend your day :P
a/n: more pjo stuff yippee ! thanks to my lord and saviour indigo (@eternallyghosting) for correcting my shitty english
âYou wanted to see my powers, right?â Jihyo yelled, her voice having to carry over the dozen skeletal soldiers emerging from the ground, clawing and crawling, as the crowd dispersed in a panic.Â
You didnât have time to wonder what the others saw, you know they didnât see the animated bones like you did. But you were far too captivated with Jihyo. The smugness in her voice, the confidence youâd come to loathe as you spend the rare few months when you went to school, and coming to miss her endless energy when she leaves for some camp over the summer.Â
âYouâll believe me now!â She laughed, her head tilting back at the sky, the same previously cloudless sky that slowly darkenedâand you swear, Jihyo was floating.Â
âI do believe you, you assholeâ!â
A palm, with a grip too firm, clamped above your elbow. With a harsh tug, you were pulled, almost stumbling back. âCome on, mortal. You donât want to be hereââ
âShouldnât you help her?â you asked, placing your own hand over her wrist in hopes your captor, or saviour according to her, would let you go. You open your mouth again, wanting to say some colourful insults but Soyeonâs strength was not something you could overpower.Â
âTrust me, she doesnât need my help,â you could hear the disdain in her voice. Biting, but even still, you knew she respected Jihyo⊠at least enough to protect you. âYouâre in danger, mortal, you can see.â
It was hard not to roll your eyes at that statement. Having known Jihyo for two years, youâve heard that exact sentence just enough. Jihyo often regaled her quests and missions, but never had any monsters she speaks of attacked you. As long as you can remember, youâve seen strange things with imaginary friends turning quickly to creatures under your bed, you figured it was all in your head. Ignorance is bliss, after all. And then Jihyo appeared in your life, for better or worse, confirming that everything youâd seen was real⊠of course, she couldnât make sense of your very strange dreams that would occur from time to time.Â
Regardless, the point is, youâve never been attacked. And you certainly didnât need protection from Soyeon.Â
You looked over your shoulder and your eyes widened at the sheer amount of skeletal soldiers, all grotesque and malformed as they rose from the cracks of the earth. Struggling again to pull yourself free, your mouth open, Jihyoâs name on the tip of your tongueâŠ
But you never said her name. Well, you couldnât hear it, if you did say it. Nor could you see, really.Â
Not over the blinding lightning bolt that struck the ground, followed closely by thunder.Â
You were certain your heart stopped. Nothing else could explain how your whole chest seized at the sensation.Â
Blinking away the white and blurry spots in your tear-brimmed eyes, the first of your senses to return. Soyeon was saying something to you, sheâd stopped dragging you away to check on you, though her voice was barely audible over the ringing in your ears, like a never-ending dial tone. The burning smell was the next sensation, a sharp and dizzying odor, like chlorine. Electricity⊠that was the scent. Even if you couldnât quite place the exact smell, you felt it. The way your hair stood on your arms and your tongue felt like lead. The static in the air around you, charged and dangerous.Â
A tear trailed down your cheek, as your vision lost its bluriness and Jihyo came into focus.Â
Hovering almost two meters above you, hands raised while lightning crackled around her. The ground wasnât dissimilar with the cracked pattern where the lightning had struck, skeletal soldiers charred beyond recognition. Jihyo, sheâ
Soyeon gripped your jaw to turn you to her. Youâve never seen her so worried, not over you. Though you still couldnât hear her, she was realizing what had happened. You found yourself turning back to look at Jihyo. Seeing her.Â
And almost as if she knew you were watching her, Jihyo looked over her shoulder. Her eyes a striking white-gold in glow with a striking bared grin to match. Smugness. Confidence. Power.Â
Another lightning strike shook the ground, but this time the image was clear in your eyes.Â
One youâve dreamt so many times over. Seen so many times over!
Like a vision.
Another tear dripped down your cheek, but you raised your hand to wipe it away.Â
Crimson smudged across your fingers. Â
any feedback is much appreciated.
a/n:Â percy jackson aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa !! yeah that's all. hope you have a good day/night :]
warnings: descriptions of blood and injuries, includes violence, murder and gore â please donât read if you are uncomfortable !
summary: why was everyone following you? monsters. satyrs. gods. you couldnât catch a break.
a/n: thanks to indigo (@eternallyghosting) for fixing up my english, it was horrendous prior to her witchcraft
Shoving away the meek satyr and watching as he crumpled to the ground should have made you feel remorseful.
But you were bleeding. But also bloodied. And exhausted. And worst of all, angry.Â
âI told you to stop following me around,â you said over your shoulder, stopping at the end of the alley, careful not to step onto the pavement. Hiding in the shadows and peering onto the street.Â
You only stopped because something wasn't right. Cornered in this alley with a ginormous butchered boar and a nervous satyr behind you wasnât your idea of a typical day. Although you could argue you donât have or know such a thing as a typical day.
Your typical days had stopped as soon as you ran away from home. Maybe even before then. Maybe you had no idea what a typical day was even like.Â
This was the life of a demigod.
No, what bothered you was the sense of being watched. And to make matters worse, you were unable to pinpoint from where or what it was that watched you. You didnât like it⊠though you could argue again that you didnât like many things.Â
The streets tonight were quiet. You couldnât really call it night anymore as the first tendrils of light had begun to brighten the sky. Despite the early hours, the sun was nowhere in sight, only the full moon casting a picturesque glow over the lonely street. Somewhere far down the alley, you found a drunkard stumbling his way back home. But apart from him and the rare taxi that zoomed past, you were completely alone, save for the dead boar and feebly bleating satyr. So, who was watching you?
You knew you werenât just imagining things. In your life, gut feelings were almost ninety-nine percent correct. Especially yours. So you werenât in the habit of ignoring them when theyâve always guided you down the right path.Â
Toying with the growing splinters on the handle of your double-bitted axe, you watched the street with a steely gaze. Not minding the blood threatening to soak deep into the very wood of your axe. Not minding the slight ache from where your arm locks into your shoulder. Not minding that your axe needed a new handle on top of needing to be sharpened. It was still a lethal weapon, especially in your hands.Â
âReveal yourself,â you said. More of a whisper into the night but it was still a command nonetheless.Â
âI donât think that is smartââ
âCome on!â you said, anger seeping into your skin readily like the blood did into your pores.Â
Thatâs when you noticed the scent. Acrid, pungent, sharp. Like acid.Â
You had to breathe through your mouth to avoid the burning sensation down your nose, though that only made your throat itch and your eyes tear up. The grip on your axe tightened until the wood hurt your palm, you were ready to swing⊠but unfortunately, you knew you shouldnât.Â
âDonâtââ
âI know, satyr,â you grit out, before asking once again, âShow yourself!âÂ
A blinding light appeared, akin to the headlights of a car. Yet, it was directly opposite you, perpendicular to the street. Then you supposed it was another monster, perhaps with glowing eyes. However, when the lights only grew in size, covering your vision in white, you knew who it was.Â
âLook away,â the satyr behind you said. Almost pleading, if you could call its weak bleating that. âPlease.â
With your free hand coming up to pinch the bridge of your nose, you relented. Merely hiding your eyes would do nothing. So you turned your whole head behind, your torso and most of your body moving along, but with your feet rooted in the same position. Ready to swing⊠even if it was a god.Â
âEasy, child,â a young voice called out. Of course, her appearance was just that⊠an appearance. A veil the gods used to hide, from you, and from themselves. The voice matched. âLook at me.âÂ
Blinking away the blind spots in your eyes, you slowly turned to come face-to-face with the Goddess of the Hunt herself. Artemis.
âYouâre following me too?â was the first thing you asked.Â
âWatch it, kid,â a new voice spoke from behind the goddess.Â
For the first time, you saw a hunter of Artemis. Like youâd heard from the satyr that followed you, she wore a silver jacket and a circlet⊠something to assign her as the goddessâ right hand or the like. She was beautiful, all regal-like. Maybe she was a princess before she swore to hunt with Artemis, yet whoever she was, you knew her looks deceived her true age. While she looked not that much older than you, there was no guessing her real age. The same way Artemis took the appearance of a young child, looking even younger than yourself, when she was in fact not mortal at all.Â
However, what you should have been really focused on was the silver arrowhead, nocked and pointed at your head. Despite all your prowess in battle, even you knew youâd be dead before you could even decide to swing your axe. While it made you hesitant to fight, it didnât really scare you.Â
The satyr let out a scared bleat while Artemis only chuckled, her hand raising to tell her lap dog to lower her bow. âIt is fine, they are always like this.âÂ
You glared in equal measure at the hunter, who huffed out a bit before lowering her bow. Though her arrow was still nocked, all she needed to was raise it again and let it soar.Â
âYou sent the boar?â you jutted your head over your shoulder and Artemis leaned to your left to peer at it.Â
âIt was our hunt,â the goddess chuckled again before returning to look at you. âBut it would seem someone butchered it.âÂ
âYou sent it on purposeââ
âWatch it!â the hunter said again, almost hissing at the same time the satyr bleated out your name and hurried to the Artemisâ side. He began bowing over and over again, muttering apologies on your behalf.Â
You only rolled your eyes, it was an honest question. Nothing of this sort was a coincidence in your life.Â
âNot this time, child,â the goddess smiled, âbut youâve proven yourself once again. It is no simple task, slaying my boar. That too, alone.â  Â
You only stared at her, already predicting the question before she could ask it.Â
âMy offer still stands,â Artemis said. âSwear to me and join my hunters. I will bless you. I will protect you.âÂ
âAnd my answer still stands,â you reply, âI do not want to be your lackey.â
âMâlady, give me the chance and I willââ Artemis only raised her hand again to stop her lieutenant from shooting straight through your eye like you were the game they hunted.Â
âYour fatherââ
âWhere is he?â you asked and Artemis frowned, no doubt noting your contempt.Â
âI am not here on his behalf,â she quickly corrected herself. âBut he has aided you more than he is allowed toââ
âHeâs pulling a lot of strings only to not show up?â you spat out, unable to resist the contempt souring your tongue. âAll of these tricks, blessings, and gifts⊠offers of protection⊠for what? Afraid to speak to me?â
For that last question, you looked up at the sky. You knew no god appreciated that.Â
The satyr beside Artemis only covered his face with both hands, almost crying. The hunter looked appalled. But Artemis only chuckled, again.
âYou are lucky to still be standing here, child,â she said with a smile, it was almost warm.Â
âI donât know about luck,â you say dryly, raising your free hand to gesture from your head to your knee. Almost every part was coated in crimson that was drying up.Â
âNo, then, not luck. It is your father. He protects you, like many gods and goddesses are willing to do soââ
âIf I listen to them, right?â you ask and Artemisâ smile drops. âHelp them? Swear to them?âÂ
When you use her own words, she sighs. âGet to the camp, child. It is not far. If you will not accept direct protection, then at least do not be foolish and decide not to be amongst others like yourself.â
You wanted to defy her. Again. Like you have the gods. And your own father over the last year or so. But you were also exhausted. You cannot escape this. That is what your mother had said. This is your life. This is who you are. A demigod.
And that wonât change no matter how much you denied it.Â
âNothing will change.â It was a statement, because it was true.Â
Artemis gave you a look, an expression almost foreign on the goddessâ face. Something like concern or pity, but whatever it was supposed to be, you knew it was genuine.Â
âThis is your life, child,â she said. âYour fate⊠it cannot be changed.â
âRight,â you let out a sigh.
Pursing your lips into a thin line, you turned to the satyr. He looked up at you, his hands just slightly lowering from his face. You didnât have to say the words for him to understand. His whole face seemed to light up⊠no doubt, because of the rising sun, nothing else. He straightened himself and then bowed to the goddess in gratitude. He also pulled out a little sapling from his shoulder bag. Why he would carry such a thing was beyond you, but he presented it to the goddess and she accepted with a nod.Â
âAm I supposed to give you something too?â you asked, half-mocking but half-genuine.Â
âYou could begin with giving respect, kid,â the hunter said, scornfully.Â
âWatch it,â you said with a scorn of your own. Her face morphed into a deeper sneer but Artemis lightly pushed the hunter behind her.Â
âControl your emotions,â Artemis said calmly. âYou are not acting yourself.âÂ
The hunter looked at her goddess, a little taken aback for a moment. Almost insulted at the scolding before realizing it wasnât a scolding, but a warning. Then the hunter looked at you. As if looking at you in a new light.Â
âI understand, mâlady,â the hunter bowed and Artemis chuckled.Â
âCanât help it, can you?â you shrugged, not necessarily to mock them.Â
You were being honest. There was no controlling the subconscious power, at least you hadnât figured out how to control it just yet. But it was like a mist around you, provoking people into frustration and anger just by being in your mere presence. Though you doubted you needed such power from your father, something told you would have managed to do that even without being a child of Ares.Â
Taking a step back, the tension leaving the hunterâs body was visible. Even more so when she didnât respond to your question.Â
âI would heal you, but I fear you would not accept it,â Artemis said with something like another warm smile, this time more genuine than the last.Â
âIâll live.â
âAnd you have,â she nods.Â
There was a silence between the four of you as the sun finally rose. Artemis watched the sky lighten and the world awaken with that kind smile of hers.Â
âThe gods watch you,â she was still smiling as she said it, but you knew what it was. A warning.
You nodded, reverent for the first time as you bowed. âI know, mâlady.âÂ
You are not without respect. Or without order. Or manners.Â
There just havenât been reasons for you to give that to anyone. It was all unearned. And youâre sure the gods knew you thought so. But they have yet to smite you down. Like she said, it was your fate. You were still⊠needed.Â
With another bow, you turn to the mutilated boar. âI offer my kill to you, Lady Artemis. Please accept my hunt.âÂ
It was no sacrifice or offering. But merely a challenge you intercepted.Â
Artemis chuckled and when you looked at her eyes, they were glowing silver faintly, and for a moment it looked like the sky darkened. Sheâd accepted.Â
âYour journey to camp will be successful, child,â you nod at her call. There was a faint tingling in your fingertips. That acrid smell again, sharper than earlier. âBut not easy.âÂ
It was finally your turn to chuckle.Â
Artemis had been right.Â
The trip to Camp Half-Blood was far from easy. Having survived alone for a year, fending off monsters, you thought it would be smoother⊠but it was as if the universe decided you werenât supposed to make it to the camp.Â
Every street, every turn, every corner had something waiting for you. This went further than a challenge or test. If it was testing anything, it was testing your patience. Your satyrâprotector, he called himself ironicallyâwas a nervous wreck. Though you surmised it was you who he was nervous of and not the monsters you faced.Â
On the way, he offered his meals to youâof course, the very rare actual foods and not soda cans or plastic bagsâbut you told him he could save it for himself. You preferred to steal wallets from non-assuming tourists and get yourself some proper meals⊠snacks from vending machines.Â
Restaurants always took too long and the wait made you antsy. Your protector didnât approve of the method, and never had in the past year, but he had become tolerant of your behaviour and you of his.Â
Of course, he was not completely useless⊠that sounded harsh. But you couldnât help but feel somewhat protective, even if you hated the feeling. He was always shaking, jumpy, a well of anxiety trotting on goat legs.Â
In the rare times that neither of you could sleep or bear the silence of the woods you trekked through, you would let him prattle on about the camp. Not only had you deprived yourself of a sanctuary for the past year, but also him of a home as he chased after you. Raving about the strawberry fields and the woods around his home where some council was held, all of that seemed to calm his trembling. So you let him talk, not necessarily listening but not necessarily ignoring him either. It was no trouble. Besides, you donât think he cared if you listened or not⊠heâd learned youâre not a conversationalist.Â
But despite his disposition, it was clear why he was chosen to guide you to this camp. Scared as he was, he stood his ground. Pulling out his flute? Pipes? Whatever it was to cast magic and spells. Not your preferred weaponry, but it did help in battle most times. His keen sense of smell did steer you clear of monsters on the main roads and also guided you through the woods. Without him, you would be running circles around these trees. He also found a clearing with running water for you to get yourself at least slightly cleaned up before heading to camp.Â
While it was appreciated, it was useless. Most of your injuries were surface level, closing up on their own or scabbing over. You were able to clean the dirt and grime from underneath your nails and the dried blood from your skin. In the process, you found more bruises and scars scattered across your body. Your reflection looked foreign to your own eyes, youâd aged so much in a year. Eyes darker, sunken into your cheeks, sharper and narrowed permanently. Lines across your forehead and between your eyebrows, etched into your skin in a way that no amount of rubbing seemed to erase. Skin a bit marred from the sun, lips chapped and dry, though those were less important. It still made you frown. Shaking your head you looked away, a hand coming down to splash away the reflection.Â
Then it was the matter of your clothes. The true uselessness of water on fabric drenched and soaked in blood. Your jacket was your test trial⊠no amount of scrubbing could erase the splatters. So instead you just decided to wash it in the water for the sake of freshness rather than spotlessness. Your protector nearly bleated himself into an early grave and excused himself when he saw you cleaning your clothes. He was so strange. What else did he think you were going to do?Â
After the clearing, it was the worst of it all.Â
The satyr had mentioned earlier that the camp was protected and being surrounded by woods it was more likely to have many hidden monsters. It was only a matter of when youâd come across one.Â
There were three of them. Spindly and coiling, snake-like. Perhaps reptilian but not exactly. Midnight coloured, a rotund head with what you assumed was tendrils of who knows what. Instead of a tail, however, they had legs like a forked tongue, unsure whether they wanted to slither across the ground or walk with their disjointed bones.Â
Your protector said something. The name of the monsters perhaps. Not that it registered in your ears. You were already charging towards them.Â
For the most part, you were impervious to attacks, though it was a power that seemed to be selective. You still hadnât figured that power out either. But you took your chances, you always did. And while injuries were bad, you figured they would eventually heal on their own.Â
So you threw up your free hand to block one of the monsters while swinging at the other. The third chased after the satyr, but he just ran around playing his instrument, surprisingly fast given the terrain. You supposed the goat legs helped.Â
Using your bare hand was a terrible mistake. The tendrils werenât tendrils. They were jaws, with tiny rows of teeth, latching onto your skin like leeches. And just like leeches, they tore at your skin when you pried them off. A blood-curdling scream left your throat grating and burning, sending the nearby birds scattering from the woods in a flock.Â
Tendon⊠you saw the tendons of your forearm. Skin peeling like a wrapper from where it should have been covering your muscles. It wasnât the pain that had rendered your arm useless, it was the shock. In fact, the pain barely registered at this moment. It fell next to your side, like a rock in the water. Immobile and shredded.Â
Panic was beginning to creep in⊠it was something you couldnât afford at the moment. You had to eviscerate these monsters before they did you.Â
Blinking away the tears and the faint growing sensation of immobility from your injured arm, you swung your axe with a grunt. Blade cutting clean through the neck of the monster, disintegrating into dust right in front of you.Â
Your head spun and your ankle rolled on uneven ground. But you turned to the monster that had sunken its maw in you. Tearing it off from you seemed to hurt it as much as you. Its screeching was unbearable, its head gnawing at the ground. You had to kill it.Â
The blood loss made your steps falter and your vision blur, but your aim was good enough. Raising the axe above your head, you brought it down to its neck. Your knees buckled when your axe hit the ground, disintegrating the monster. One more, there was one more.Â
Blinking away the tears, you looked up. Your heart stopped.Â
There it was. The entrance to the camp. If the arch with the name wasnât a dead giveaway, it was the growing crowd of orange humanoid blurs. Scrunching your eyes again, you turned to find your satyr.Â
He was still running around, heading near you. Swinging the axe to a tree, you pulled yourself up, releasing a sound that was between a grunt and a whine. Your strength was depleting, that much was clear when you tried to keep tugging at your axe to pull it free from the bark. It wouldnât budge.Â
Your voice said something. You were sure. But you doubt it was comprehensible because your protector, even with his keen senses, only looked confused. Frustrated, you yelled what could be your last word.Â
âMove!âÂ
And just as he turned at the last minute, you pulled out the axe, the weight of the swing guiding your attack more than your strength. Your axe unevenly lodged itself into the body of the monster, its head still writhing trying to get at you, but you stumbled onto the monster, driving your axe in. The monster disintegrated.Â
Done. You were done.Â
Your protector was crying himself. His red and blotchy face came in and out of your vision as he tried to pick you up. A huge mistake on his part, another scream left your throat and you shoved him aside with your axe hand. It was the only limb in your control.Â
Holding the axe to the ground, you stood up on shaky legs and dragged yourself to the camp entrance. Your satyr arrived by your side, more than wise enough now to not touch you, despite wanting to help. The injuries on you made him sick. But he held it all in to the best of his ability.Â
The satyr was right. Artemis was right. The gods⊠they were right.
The camp was a sanctuary.Â
The moment you crossed the threshold, it was as if you were given a shot of adrenaline. For a moment, your vision cleared, the pain subdued. Just enough to keep you from taking your last breath.Â
Plunging your axe to the ground, you kneeled, heaving while your vision turned red for a moment.Â
It was the gasps that made you blink away the blurriness. Gulping, you looked up at the crowd, much larger than before. They didn't look at you. No, they were looking at something above you. There was a faint idea of what it could have been. It explained the shot of adrenaline.Â
You tilted your head up to see the remnants of the glowing red symbol; Ares had claimed you as his progeny.Â
Happy, you should be happy. Instead, you spat out blood to the ground with a groan.
Your injured arm tingled, attempting to heal itself. Attempting being the key word. Besides, not that it could replace the dizziness in your head. You looked up again, hoping to see a face. Someone to ground you. To bring you a sense of normalcy. To remind you that you were part mortal too. Anything human, anything normal, anything typical before you pass away.Â
Almost as if drawn to her, your eyes found a young girl arriving at the front by weaving through the crowd. Her shoulder shrugging away the hand that tried to stop her as she approached the very front. She had to be your age, or at least, looked it⊠but looks can be deceiving. She wasâŠÂ
Not human.
Your eyes narrowed, a sneer forming⊠or an attempt at it with how you bared your teeth.Â
She was not human. Couldnât be.
She tried to move closer but someone tugged her back harshly. Before you could guess their next move, before you could tighten your grip around your axe again⊠darkness consumed your vision.Â
The ground soared up to you and you were gone.Â
Not that you knew it at the time, but your last image was of the young girl who would come to be very important to you.Â
Minatozaki Sana.
any feedback is much appreciated.
a/n: happy new year, i don't think i said it, so yeah !! have a good day/night !!
pairing: villain!mina x superhero!reader (gender neutral)
genre: angst
word count: 1.5k
warnings: blood, explosions, fire, uh jumping off of a building, oh and vomiting ew
summary:Â despite all your attempts to reach mina, will you be able to get through to her in the end?Â
song rec(s):Â
burning pile by mother mother â the title
black swan by bts â gives me major (over)dramatic villain vIbEz
arcade by duncan laurence ft fletcher â just something i was listening to while writingÂ
a/n: since the theme at @ficscafeââ is superheroes and villains (go rec fics!!) for this week, i thought iâd drop this. also leniently used the âstop pushing me away. please just let me help you.â prompt for their drabble event. also, yes, the banner is from dreamcatcherâs deja vu mv (best song ever yes yes) !!!
also you might think the recent influx of percy references in mine and @sanccharine's writing is because of the show, but the truth is we've always been really delusional and down bad for him so this was a long way coming
