there's just something really endearing to me about the idea that after 8+ years, the only reason these guys aren't together is because they just haven't considered it. like that is actually so funny to me, as a concept. anyway, pepa and maddie should go get drinks after this
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d) none of the above
9-1-1 | Buddie | G | 3.8k words
Eddie hasn't really thought about it. Until he does.
Summary: Y/N never thrived in the dark, but it seems she might have to battle her way through it if she wants to make it out of the Underworld.
Word count: 13.9k (the longest chapter yet!)
Warnings: angst angst angst. More angst. Did I mention angst? Character haunting the narrative (like, basically the whole chapter is high-key about that and grief). Mentions of blood. Also, there's a looot of hand holding!
Previous part || Series masterlist
A giggle threatened to escape Y/N’s lips as she tip-toed down the stairs. Stars were playfully twinkling between the pine trees, throwing little silver threads on the walls. The moon was slightly obscured by the dark clouds outside, but it still bathed the cabin in argent light.
A wooden step creaked under her foot and Y/N stilled as she strained her ears. From where she stood, she could hear the fire in the living room die down in the fireplace. Her mother must have fallen asleep in the armchair.
A mischievous grin blossomed on her lips as she skipped down the stairs, the leftovers from her birthday cake calling to her from inside the fridge.
She was no longer four years old, she had just turned five and Y/N could proudly say that this year’s birthday cake was the best yet. Creamy and chocolatey, the slice had melted on her tongue in a burst of sugary fireworks. She had laughed in delight and jumped to kiss her mother on the cheek, smearing her with cake frost.
This year, when she blew into the candles, she wished for nothing more but more days like this one, coloured in sunshine and warmed by her mother’s embrace.
Another step creaked and thunder rumbled outside. Y/N jumped as she threw a look into the living room. The armchair was empty and the embers in the fireplace were spitting out faint sparks of fire. Only a dip in the armchair betrayed that someone had sat in it.
Lightning flashed outside and Y/N ran to the window. The skies split in two and rain came down pattering to the ground, soaking the dry earth and swallowing the cracks in the dirt. Her lips parted as she stared at the thunderstorm. She stood on her tiptoes, sticking her face into the window, its glassy surface turning foggy from her breath.
A door clicking open caught her attention. Now the storm outside howled its way in and Y/N shyly made her into the hallway, peeking around the corner. Her mother’s silhouette was illuminated for a split second as lightning flashed once more. Her curls shone as they cascaded down her back. Y/N opened her mouth to call out to her, the cake now long forgotten, but the words died in her mouth as her mother’s voice resounded against the thunder.
“Why are you here?” she heard her ask. There was a poison in her tone, a tone Y/N had never heard her mother use before.
A sigh and an unknown voice. “It’s my daughter’s birthday. Can’t I see her?”
Y/N’s breath hitched and she leaned more around the corner. Now she could see a tall shadow clawing the length of the floor. Another thunder.
Her mother crossed her arms. “It was. You’re late, it’s past midnight. She went to sleep.”
A deep embarrassment coloured Y/N’s cheeks in crimson. She didn’t go to sleep, she had waited in bed, wringing her toes in excitement at the thought of stealing another slice of cake as she stared outside the window.
A beat of silence as the storm slowly quieted down.
“You’re as beautiful as ever,” voiced the stranger wistfully, before he paused. “I see you’re still wearing it.”
“Why are you really here?”
Y/N stretched her neck as she tried to catch a glimpse of the man standing in their doorway. A pair of stormy eyes looked down at her mother and suddenly an electrifying shudder travelled through the little girl’s body.
“Sooner or later you’ll have to bring her to camp,” he said as the wind picked up again.
“No.”
“She’s a forbidden child, she’ll be hunted down–”
“I said no.”
The man clenched his jaw and replied in a sharp voice. “She wasn’t supposed to be born, she will bear the consequences.”
Y/N’s eyes stung as she retreated back into the living room. By now, the embers died completely, a heavy chill overtaking the room and settling into her bones.
Her mother’s voice shook with rage and Y/N could feel her boiling underneath from where she was standing. “You should leave.”
The worn out carpet swallowed her tiny toes and she suddenly wished the carpet would swallow her whole.
“Cassandra–”
“No. You’ve done enough.” Another thunder. Another flash of lightning. “It was very kind of you to drop by, but it was also too late.”
“You must understand–”
“Understand what? I told you, I’m not taking her to camp. She’s staying with me.”
“Hera found out and she’s furious and I–”
Y/N stumbled up the stairs, the rising voices fading into the raging storm outside. She slammed the door to her bedroom behind her and tumbled into her bed, hiding her tears away from the thunder. From the storm.
Burying her face into her pillow, she clutched onto the blanket and let out a silent cry. It wasn’t her birthday anymore, it was past midnight, her mother had said so herself, but to Y/N it still felt as though it had been ruined. She should have stolen that cake and retreated into her room. She should have done so. She wouldn’t have heard all these horrible, horrible things. She wouldn’t have heard them and she would have been happy and content with her mouth all full of chocolate and her nose smeared with cocoa powder.
She didn’t understand what she heard anyway. But at least she would have remained blissfully unaware.
She had just turned five years old. And she regretted it.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
The bandage hugged her knee tightly, rolling itself around the curve of her bone. She tried bending her knee, the pain fading into a dull echo.
“Is it better now?” asked Grover from his crouched position in front of her.
Y/N nodded, smiling gratefully. “Thank you.”
The satyr grunted as he straightened, looking out the window of the pharmacy. “Do you think they finished?”
The girl remained silent as she met the suspicious gaze of the pharmacist. He was an old man with too much time on his hands, Y/N concluded as she took in the way his wrinkled hands were gripping the newspaper. She could tell he wasn’t reading it, he had been stuck on the same page since she and Grover entered the pharmacy.
The paper rustled in his hands as he cleared his throat and pinned his gaze back on the page. Y/N almost scoffed quietly as she got up from the plastic chair. The pharmacy was deserted and dusty. Particles of floating dust tickled her nostrils and she almost sneezed for the second time since she limped into the pharmacy.
“I’m not sure, Grov,” she finally replied, tearing her eyes away from the grumpy man. Her eagle was flying circles in front of the pharmacy, pausing every so often and meeting her eyes through the glass.
Her lips parted as a clear thought shaped into her mind. Throwing one last look out the window and towards the shop across the street, she limped towards the counter. Hooves clinking against the tiles told her that Grover was just behind her. “I don’t think you should force your–”
“May I get a pen and a piece of paper?” voiced Y/N, a sharp edge in her tone.
The man raised his eyes from the newspaper and grumbled under his breath, shifting in his seat.
The girl turned to share an annoyed glance with the satyr, but he just nudged her. Turning back towards the man, she cleared her throat. “Please,” she added, forcing a smile.
The pharmacist grumbled once more before he handed her a pen from under the desk.
“And paper?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.
Sighing, the stranger slapped in front of her a crumpled post-it note, before gluing his eyes back on the newspaper.
“Thanks,” muttered Y/N, as she took hold of the post-it. The paper rustled in her hands as she straightened it out. The pen weighed heavily in her hand as she stared down at the note, slightly frowning. English sounds echoed in her mind as she tugged and pulled at the alphabet. Her hand shook slightly, a drop of ink falling from the tip of the pen.
“I want to write to Chiron,” she whispered as she felt Grover’s questioning gaze on her. “About Clarisse. Let Blade deliver the note.”
“Do you want me to help?” Grover’s voice was gentle. Quiet. It soothed her worries.
Y/N shook her head. Inhaling, she pierced the paper with the pen. She started writing a C, before her mind took a hold of her hand and Ancient Greek letters flowed from the tip of the pen, sliding down its waterfall of ink and settling neatly on the wrinkled paper. She could hear the letters as if they were mere whispers in her ear.
Before she knew it, the post-it had been filled to the brim with Ancient Greek letters. The words “lightning thief” and “Clarisse” were standing out among the others, curved and underlined twice. Smiling, she raised her head to meet her friend’s gaze but he was subtly nodding toward the old man peering at them from behind the newspaper.
Y/N’s eyes widened, a chill settling in her bones, as she saw her face and Percy’s slapped on the front page. The smoking Arch was towering behind their figures, taking up the whole page. The words swirled in front of her eyes, but she didn’t need to read them to understand what they were saying.
Gulping, she lightly put down the pen back on the counter. “Thanks for the pen!”
“And the bandages!” added Grover, laughing nervously as he took her by the elbow.
Y/N forced a strained smile and she almost tripped as she turned on her heel, the note now fisted in her hand. An alarm was going off in her head, blaring and deafening. It blurred out all her other senses and she had the urge to pull open the door and run out of there.
The old man grumbled as he frowned suspiciously at them.
“Really, you were of great help!” said the satyr as he reached the door and pulled it open. A bell dinged cheerfully. “Great, great help!”
The girl, slightly shaking her head, softly steered him out the door. The bell dinged once more as Grover yelled “Have a great day, sir!”
Once she heard the door close, Y/N’s shoulders dropped and she sighed in relief. She didn’t dare throw a glance over her shoulder, in fear that the old pharmacist would go back on the front page and recognise her face in splatters of colourful ink. The unreadable headline floated through her mind and a shudder travelled down her back.
The sound of beating wings and the feeling of a breeze caressing her cheek, made her raise her gaze. Blade’s electric eyes looked deep into her own, a silent greeting reflecting in them. The eagle leaned down to tug the note of her hand, a feathered wing touching her skin. It was smooth like satin and Y/N marveled still at the way the inky feathers shone under the heating sun.
“You’re so clever, aren’t you?” she praised as she reached a hand out to him. Her strokes were light touches against the feathers. “You must get the note to Chiron, you understand? He’s a centaur.”
The eagle nibbled on her finger in response.
Her hand stilled and Y/N tilted her head, her eyebrows furrowing. “But how will you know where the camp is?” Her voice turned dejected and she let the hand fall to her sides. Her eyes were now glued to the note held in Blade’s beak, her scribbling hidden and barely visible.
The warmth of a hand rested on her shoulder and she turned towards her friend. Grover was bearing a soft smile as he looked down at her. “He’ll know,” he nodded. “He’s no ordinary eagle.”
Blade, as if understanding, gave out a screech before he took flight, heading towards the endless horizon. His flapping wings caught the golden sunrays and threw shadows along the street. Y/N watched as the eagle turned to meet her gaze one last time, his eyes’ blue blending into the sky. Before long, he was just a dark spot on the crystalline line.
“Come on,” voiced Grover as he gently tugged her by the hand.
The shop in front of them must have been the most colourful building on that street, thought Y/N. The lively advertising stickers stuck on the glistening doors burned her eyes as she blinked and stared at the outdated writing. If anything, they reminded her of that one green van from that cartoon she once saw on the TV in her aunt’s tiny living room.
She absently heard her friend pulling the door open as she whispered the name of the shop. The letters rearranged themselves and she blinked in amazement.
CRUSTY’S WATERBED PALACE
“Doesn’t really look like a palace to me,” she muttered.
“Is it over?” asked Grover, peering in the shop. Y/N came up behind him and stood on her tiptoes, her gaze finding Percy’s. The light from the outside obscured his features but she still caught the ocean in his eyes.
Annabeth waved them over and Y/N followed the satyr into the shop. A soft song was playing in the background and the girl’s nose scrunched in disdain as she looked around. Rows of waterbeds were crowded near the walls, lining up at her feet. Her eyes caught sight of a thrashing man on the purple bed in front of her friends. Procrustes himself, she supposed. His long grey hair followed his hectic movements, much like a shadow would follow one’s body. Strands of hair were falling down into the dark hole of his wrinkled mouth. They looked like ropes tying a person down, silencing their words. Sniffing, his movements slowed and he looked at her.
“A daughter of Zeus,” he simply said. There was a certain ice coating his words.
“What gave me away?” smiled Y/N bitterly, crossing her arms. Suddenly, she could feel Percy’s warm gaze on her and the chill that Crusty’s words planted in her veins melted away.
“Your energy, it is very palpable. If I could feel it, what makes you think that the monsters down there won’t?”
The girl gritted her teeth, sticking her arms to her chest. “Your brother sucks, Perce,” she scowled.
Percy pursed his lips. “Yeah,” he mumbled.
Annabeth sighed. “Let’s go, we can’t waste time on this guy.”
The thrashing resumed and a string of swears filled the air. Y/N threw him one last glare as she passed him, following her friends down the hall and into the back office.
Little light slithered in through the window blinds. The shelves were crowded with trinkets and files. A single lamp threw gleaming particles around, but not enough to cover the whole room in light. Y/N’s Converse caught onto a rug and she almost stumbled. A hand on her elbow steadied her and she mumbled a single thanks once she caught Percy’s gaze. He softly smiled.
They stopped in front of a closed door. The girl squinted against the darkness at the little sign hung on it. Once again, Greek letters twinkled in front of her eyes before they spelled out a few words.
DO NOT ENTER
She inhaled as she wearily eyed the door. Something beyond it raised the hairs on her arms, a certain feeling that left her stomach to tumble and twirl. Suddenly, she felt sick.
“Are we sure this is the right place?” asked Grover in a meek voice.
“Only one way to find out,” she replied just as quietly.
Grover took a few steps toward the door, the clinking of his hooves’ silenced by the carpet, and pulled the door open. It creaked in protest. A chill air flowed into the room, settling on Y/N’s arms, heavy and wet. She could hear the wind and something else howl beyond the fog guarding the entrance to the Underworld. A rotten, sour smell reached her nostrils and she blinked as her eyes watered.
“Very inviting,” she said, as she hugged her middle in an attempt to shield herself from the sting of the cold.
The satyr coughed as he stepped back towards them. He raised his hand to his hair, gripping it until his knuckles turned white. “It’s either the realm of the dead, or someone left a carton of milk in there in the 1990s,” he panted.
“More like the last millennium,” she replied, her lips curling downwards.
A squeaking noise filled the air and a black hand suddenly shot in front of her face, holding a ball of the deepest red towards Grover. The satyr hesitated before he reached it out and took it from Annabeth. His hand wrapped around it, swallowing the red as it squeezed the ball.
“Better?” asked Annabeth.
“Much.”
Y/N threw him a small, comforting smile. Grover smiled back as the ball squeaked once again.
“If we get into trouble…” began Percy, looking between them. “These are our tickets out.” He held out his hand. Pearls of the most iridescent white shone against his skin. Even in the dark, they gleamed with a light of their own.
“No one’s turning back ‘till we all come back,” voiced Athena’s daughter, a promise edged between her words.
“No one comes back,” came Crusty’s mocking tone. He must have stopped his attempts to free himself, Y/N thought as she turned to look behind.
“Dude! Don’t make me come back out there,” threatened Annabeth.
Crusty remained silent but Y/N was sure he was swearing under his breath in a string of incoherent Ancient Greek words.
“We have no idea what’s down there,” continued Percy and the girl turned to look at him. “I just think it’s safer if I’m not holding them all.”
The blond met her gaze with a pleading one of his own. She let her gaze slide down again to the pearls in his hand. They were five in number and their innocent glowing hypnotized her. She watched as each of her friends reached out for a pearl. Only three remained.
“Let’s go get your mom,” said Annabeth before she touched Y/N’s arm in passing. The squeaking of the ball also faded.
Y/N frowned slightly at Percy’s still outstretched hand.
“Are you scared?” she heard him ask softly.
“A bit,” she admitted. The sudden thought that down there she would be prey again mortified her. No open skies. No winds. Just the dead and their regrets.
“That’s why you have this,” he replied, taking her wrist gently before he placed a pearl in her palm. It was cool to the touch, its uneven surface delicate against her skin.
She raised her gaze up to him. The glowing of the pearls reflected in his.
“Ready?” he said.
“No,” she sighed. “But your mom is waiting.”
A sad, lopsided smile curled on Percy’s lips. Zeus’ daughter nudged him as she straightened her back and let the pearl find its temporary home in the pocket of her faded jeans. She braved her quivering heart, now missing her bow and arrows more than ever, and she let the darkness of the Underworld swallow her whole.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
The car rolled to a stop. It was cloudy that morning and Y/N watched, pouting, as the first raindrop splashed against the window. The few trees caught between the towering buildings bent in the harsh wind.
“Okay, sweetheart. We’ve arrived. I’ll come pick you up at twelve, alright?”
Y/N slowly turned in her seat, the seatbelt digging into her chest. Her aunt was smiling at her but Y/N saw beyond the stretching of her lips. Her eyes didn’t sport the dark shadows underneath them a few weeks ago. And her face used to be plummer. “I don’t want to go,” she finally replied, looking back towards the dancing and lonely trees. Back home, there was an entire forest of them, shielding the cottage, her mom and herself.
Penny’s smile slightly curled downwards. “I know, but you’ll meet people.” A forced happy note strained her voice. “You’ll make friends.”
Y/N’ eyes met the imposing sight of the school. The building was grey and it almost disappeared beneath the heavy clouds. Its colour was washed up, no drop of life. A bell screeched against the wind and travelled all the way to the car.
“I don’t need friends,” she said as she saw two girls hugging. The sight squeezed the heart in her chest. “I need my mommy. Why can’t mommy drop me off at school? Why isn’t she with us now?”
These questions had been burning her since she started noticing her mother turning paler by the day. The colour in her cheeks had faded away and the glimmer in her eyes started to dim.
Her aunt hesitated as she gripped the steering wheel. “She’s not feeling well at the moment.”
The girl whipped her head around, her voice turning sharp as a razor. “It’s because of the city. Back at home, she was fine. And she used to play with me. And we would collect little stones from the creek and–”
“Y/N, sweetheart-”
Her throat burned as she spilled out more words. They left a scorching trail behind. “She built me a swing once. She was fine back home. It’s the city, she doesn’t like it here.” Her eyesight turned misty and a hand reached out to clutch the seatbelt. The unyielding grip hurt and her knuckles turned ghostly white. “I know she doesn’t.”
“Y/N, please, listen to me–”
“I don’t like it here either, I want to go home. I want home, auntie.”
“Y/N–” sighed Penelope.
“I want to go home,” the child repeated through the tears. A few slithered into her mouth and onto her tongue. They tasted bitter.
Her aunt’s eyes softened. She pursed her lips before her hand found the gearstick. “Okay, we’ll go home.”
The car came to life, leaving behind the parking lot and its school. With a shattered heart, Y/N watched how the two girls disappeared behind the school doors. More raindrops came, pattering down, silencing the engine and the storm within.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
The fog was everywhere, veiling everything in a blurry white, but it couldn’t hide the grotesque sight before Y/N. Spikes of stone struck the dry earth, menacingly and sharp. Heavy and dark clouds littered the grey sky above them. She thickly gulped as she stared up at it. It seemed endless and bottomless, but there was something about it that froze the blood in her veins. No pleasing, electrifying tingling awoke on her skin and she felt no pull in her chest as she regarded it. This was not her sky, nor was there something lively about it.
“Not in Kansas,” muttered Percy from beside her.
“What?” She blinked as she turned to look at him, a slight frown pulling at her eyebrows. “This is the Underworld.”
“Yeah, it’s just–”
“Hey, focus,” voiced Annabeth. “We left Kansas four days ago.”
“Yeah. No, it’s a–” Percy glanced at Y/N, as a gust of cold wind whooshed around them. It awakened goosebumps on her arms and she almost had the urge to tug on her sleeves.
“What?” she asked again, the frown melting away and being replaced by a challenging raised eyebrow.
“Never mind.”
“Guys, is that who I think it is?” said the satyr, as he squeezed on the red ball in his hand. It gave out a squeak.
Y/N shuffled closer to her friend and peered over his shoulder. The fog didn’t hide all of the Underworld’s secrets. She watched as a man in a long cloak guided spirits toward a boat eaten slowly away by time. “That’s–”
“Charon, the boatman,” finished Athena’s daughter. “Taking new arrivals across the River Styx.”
A shudder passed her as an image of her dear mother fleshed itself in her mind. Her mother, cold and dead, crossing the River Styx. Her mother with her cascading curls and soft smile, now pale and haunting. Her mother, barefoot, in a flowing satin dress, her toes sticking into the grey and hard earth of the Underworld. Y/N gulped as her legs almost gave out. The pain in her knee returned and she blinked away the mist stinging her eyes. She could feel Percy’s heavy and burning gaze on her once again and she turned her face away from him.
“Which means that over there is the main gate,” continued Annabeth. “Let’s go. Maybe we can get there first.”
“Yeah,” nodded Grover. The ball squeaked again. His hooves were hidden in the crimson Converse gifted by Luke, but Y/N could still hear them clinking against the stone as he got up and took a few marching steps toward Charon. She cringed as the ball squeaked once more.
“Grov, maybe it would be better if you stopped doing that?” she gently suggested.
The satyr stopped in his tracks and glanced at the red ball in his hand. He shifted his weight, his back slouching ever so slightly. “But–”
“Why don’t you let me hang on to that for now?” offered Annabeth, holding her palm out.
Grover hesitated as he looked between the girls. The ball squeaked in protest and he sighed pleadingly.
“You’ll have us,” said Y/N, smiling his way. Her friend met her gaze, in his eyes fear pooling. His lips curled into an unsure smile but he nodded and let the ball fall on Annabeth’s outstretched palm.
“Come on,” voiced Athena’s daughter, getting up and starting down the unknown and dusty path. It stretched ahead towards a row of motionless bodies.
A shudder travelled down Y/N’s spine as she caught sight of the eyes of a nameless dead man. They were of the most depthless dark. No emotion twinkled in his eyes and Y/N found herself tripping, her Converse catching on a cracked rock. A warm hand wrapped itself around her elbow and she was again standing, the gust of wind now turning into a harsh whip.
“You okay?” she heard Percy say. She turned to meet his worried blue gaze. His hand on her elbow scorched her all of a sudden. She stepped out of his hold.
“Yeah,” she muttered. “Yeah, of course.” But her heart thudded against her chest in a rhythm she could not keep up with. A cold sweat broke on her forehead.
The boy remained rooted in his spot, the fog slowly crawling up his leg as he looked back at her. His eyes roamed the length of her face, a question swirling in the ocean of his eyes. His lips stretched in a hesitant smile before he nodded. Y/N had a feeling he didn’t believe her.
He brushed past her, leading them into the crowd of the dead. She watched as his green shirt flannel got swallowed by the grey and black alike. Grover touched her by the shoulder, smiling down at her in reassurance before he turned to follow his best friend.
Y/N blinked. Suddenly, her throat went dry. “What?”
Annabeth’s lips curled in a sympathetic smile, her eyes shining with worry. She turned to follow her friends through the crowd and Y/N allowed her legs to do the same. They had grown roots and it hurt to rip them out.
“I don’t think your mom is here,” Annabeth repeated just as quietly. Her voice got muffled by the quickly suffocating crowd but Y/N heard her all the same. “I don’t think you can see her.”
Y/N’s lips remained sealed as she elbowed her way through the crowd. The stench of the dead aggressively invaded her senses and her gut lurched at the smell. She held her breath as she pushed between the cold, unmoving bodies. Their cracked skin was like a scissor against her own and she trembled.
“This stinks,” she mumbled.
“It’s not a garden of roses, that’s for sure,” joked Annabeth as she squeezed past a dead man.
The thud of Y/N’s heart eased and she let a soft smile tug at her lips. “Could’ve fooled me,” she replied, rolling her eyes.
“Was it the pleasant odor of decay?”
“Yeah, that must have been it,” she almost laughed. Annabeth threw her a smile in between the bodies.
“Excuse me. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry,” she heard Percy say as he elbowed people out of his way. None of the corpses seemed to pay him any mind. Y/N could see the edge of his shirt fluttering between them. The only splash of colour. “I’m sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me. We’re with them, up there. Behind you. Sorry.”
“This seems so wrong,” voiced Grover.
“Nah. Only suckers wait in line.”
“Good thing we’re not suckers then,” she muttered but Percy must have heard her. An amused laugh escaped his lips.
“Just–” started the satyr.
“You know, you should really spend some time in the city with me. I think you’d learn a lot.” Percy turned to look over his shoulder. His eyes found hers through the endless crowd. “Me and Y/N could show you around. You’re staying in New York, right?”
For a split second she wondered how he had figured that out but then she remembered how they bantered over Manhattan traffic, exotic animals and Central Park Zoo. She blinked. “Well, yes, but–”
She almost crashed into Grover as the four of them came to a full stop. The unforgiving wind ruffled her locks once more as she took in the sight of Charon. His silhouette was obscured by shadows, fringes of his dark cloak billowing in the air. His face was safely hidden away from her eyes by an equally dark hood. It was as if she was staring into an abyss.
“You’re not dead,” he proclaimed as he stared down at them.
“Well, neither are you,” frowned Y/N.
“I mean,” added Percy, shrugging. “We’re all dying… To some extent.”
“We did die!” intervened Annabeth, a note of panic slipping in her tone.
“How did you die?” inquired Charon.
“We drowned–” began Y/N.
“In a bath tub!” added Percy in a single breath.
Y/N’s eyes widened and she jabbed him in the side. “Idiot,” she muttered. He turned to glare at her.
“All four of you?” continued Charon.
Y/N sighed through her nose. She forced her lips into a sweet smile. “It was a big bath tub.” She was sure Charon was looking down at her with an eyebrow raised. She wouldn’t have believed her lie either. Stupid kelp head ruined it all.
The man sighed, unimpressed. He turned away from them, the cane in his hand wobbling as he took two heavy steps. “And you didn’t pay to cross.”
“Wait! We– we can pay! We can pay!” exclaimed Grover, his voice a mere squeak. He dug into Percy’s backpack, the zipper’s whooshing filling the silence between them.
“Here! Drachmas,” voiced Percy, fumbling with the golden coins. Their soft clinking echoed even through the whining wind. “Just take… take, uh…”
Y/N huffed and snatched the drachmas from his hands. They were heavy in her palm, but warm from Percy’s touch. She held them out to Charon, the smile plastered again on her face.
“Just, you know, take them all,” continued Poseidon’s son meekly.
The wind’s whining now turned into moaning as the drachmas in Y/N’s palm slowly started losing their warmth. She shook her palm out, the coins clinking together in a single chiming. “Are you seriously denying drachmas? The money we’re paying you to help us cross the River Styx?”
Charon brought the silver whistle hanging from his neck to his lips. It gave out a single, shy note, drowned by the harsh gusts of wind.
“You can buy a new whistle,” voiced Percy.
“You are not dead,” repeated Charon, his voice firm.
“Yeah, well, you aren’t rich going by that tattered cloak you have,” said Y/N, nodding towards the black garment draping from the man’s shoulders. “I wouldn’t refuse any drachma if I were–”
“I’ve seen your face before.”
“What?” The blood in her veins froze and her lips parted in shock. The wind seemed to cease its howling.
“But your eyes are not hers. You are not dead.”
Y/N blinked. “I– Wait, are you talking about–”
But growling cut her off. Dog growling.
Fear seized her by the throat and her eyes widened as she took a step back. The drachmas in her hands dropped as that night flashed before her eyes. Thunder, rain and growling. Furious barking. This time, though, the dog was much bigger. And it had three heads. Three pairs of eyes glared down at them. Saliva dripped from sharp fangs. Its black fur was veiled by the fog, almost ghostly so. Y/N inhaled a trembling breath as she backed away.
“Go, go!” yelled Percy as he took her by the wrist.
Her heart leapt from her chest as his hand slid down to grip her by the hand and pull her along. The ground shook, black dust swirling into the air. She almost coughed as she turned to throw a look behind her shoulder.
“Don’t look back!” Percy warned her.
The dog was much closer now. She could feel its hot and sticky breath on her back. She whimpered as a sharp pain stabbed her knee. A snapping of teeth close to her ear pushed her further up the path, Percy’s hand squeezing hers.
“Grover!” he yelled in fright.
Y/N turned to look over her shoulder once more, just in time to see Grover’s hooves disappear in one of the dog’s mouths. The other deep mouths were glistening with saliva, the dog’s eyes pierced on her.
Your energy, it is very palpable. If I could feel it, what makes you think that the monsters down there won’t?
For a split moment, she had wondered how her mom had managed to hide her away from all of it. From the shadows and the monsters and this world? How come not a single Satyr protector found her?
Her foot almost slipped down the path and she felt Percy steading her just as a bark resounded near her ear. She flinched.
“Guys, that way!” yelled Annabeth, pointing towards the right.
The blond pulled Y/N ahead and down the rocky road. Thin beads of sweat crowned her forehead as her injured leg trembled. “Wait– Annie!”
“I’ll be fine! Trust me!” came her best friend’s reply through the thick fog.
Percy tugged her forwards until Annabeth’s silhouette was a mere shadow in the milky mist. She panted as her Converse raised dust in their wake. The little unfortunate rocks who found themselves in their path stumbled down and fell through cracks. The fog was like a cold and thin sheet on her skin. Heavy water, unpleasant beneath her hair and on her neck.
Percy’s feet slid to a stop, his hand falling from hers. He dug into his pocket. The pen squeezed between his thumbs was one Y/N recognized too well. It soon vibrated, glowing golden. With Riptide now secured in his hand, Percy stepped in front of her, raising the sword towards the fog. Faint snarling and barking tore through the phantom-like veil and Y/N’s own hand crackled with purple energy, throwing heated sparks around. It illuminated the path ahead of them and Y/N frowned as the three-headed dog’s growling turned into pitiful whining.
“Did it just… whine?” she asked, her eyebrows shooting to the top of her head in disbelief.
A grunt and then the monster fell to the ground with a thud. Its chest rose and fell with loud snores, eyelids dropping. The lightning in Y/N’s hands dimmed as her shoulders dropped in relief. A squelching sound filled the air as Grover slithered out one of the dog’s mouths and down its tongue like on a waterslide.
“You… are… a bad… bad dog!”
His clothes were sticking to his skin, curls licked down and straightened. Y/N was sure it wasn’t gel that styled his hair in such a way.
“Oh, Grov,” she said, a slight grimace on her face. Her friend did not smell like daisies, strawberries and sunshine anymore. “I think you might need a bath.”
The satyr’s lips stretched into an apologetic smile. He raised his slimy arms in front of his eyes as his nose scrunched. “One with petals and oils.”
“Guys! I can’t hold this forever!” Annabeth’s voice was strained with stress. She was hanging on the side of the dog, one arm struggling to hold onto his black fur, the other caressing it swiftly. Growling filled the air once again, before it fell into snoring.
Y/N sighed as her eyes frantically looked around. They followed the height of the rock wall beside them, all the way to the dark clouds touching the tips of its rough spears. “There!” she exclaimed, pointing towards the wall.
“Can you fly us up there with your shoes?” asked Percy, as he turned towards Grover.
The satyr started shaking his head, pursing his lips unsurely.
“You can do this!” voiced Annabeth. “One at a time. Take Y/N and Percy first.”
The wind picked up again and goosebumps awoke on Y/N’s arms. She tipped her head as she stared at the sky above her. It was not the sky she grew up under, but it still was very much a sky, she figured. Albeit darker with harsher, angrier winds, but nonetheless a sky. She cleared her throat as she straightened her back, her palm squeezing into a fist. “Take Percy,” she ordered.
“What?!” gaped the boy. “No, you must go first. Grover, you take her–”
Y/N rolled her eyes. “I’ll be just behind you, kelp head.”
Percy’s face flickered through a jumble of emotions. Y/N recognized some of them as being guilt, worry and annoyance (She knew that one really, really well. She saw it sometimes in her aunt’s eyes with a hint of warmth.) He nodded reluctantly before he took Grover’s hands.
“Maia!” said the satyr, taking off. Percy’s eyes found hers through the mist. She held his gaze, until both him and Grover disappeared through the fog.
Y/N hesitated as she stared at the unwilling sky. The wind played through her hair and she took in a breath, raising her arms, palms outstretched. The wind curled itself through her fingers and beneath her arms. Soon, her feet left the ground, her Converse hanging in the cold and wet air. The fog thinned and then she found herself finding the ground. She sighed in relief, a smile blooming on her lips.
“Told you I’d be right behind you,” she said as she met Percy’s shock-struck gaze.
He huffed in relief before another growl tore through the fog. Y/N’s smile fell and she rushed to the edge, frowning at the thick veil of white. It was blurry at best. “Annie?!”
“Annabeth!” screamed Poseidon’s son beside her.
Silence, only cut by the violent whooshing of the wind, stretched on. Y/N’s chest heaved as she peered into the fog, her blood racing towards her head, spilling over in a mush of anxiety and wreaking guilt. “I should have brought her with me–”
The fog dissolved as a dash of crimson flew through the air, straight into Percy’s hand. The ball gave out a little, pathetic squeak as if it cried. Y/N’s eyebrows twitched in regret.
“Annie?” she yelled again.
Nine rows of teeth clamping on nothing snapped towards them and Y/N stumbled backwards, her heart leaping to her throat. The barks muffled and the trio exchanged looks as they neared the edge once more. A trembling breath escaped Y/N’s lips as she stared at the fog.
“Guys?” came Annabeth’s strained voice and Y/N sighed in relief.
Her best friend’s knuckles were turning white on the edge of the wall, her feet dangling through the mist. Her face was contorted in a grimace as she grunted, trying to pull herself upwards.
Y/N dashed towards her, the knee crying out in pain but she didn’t pay it any mind. The boys followed her suit, leaning down with their palms outstretched. Annabeth’s dark hand latched onto Percy’s and he pulled her on the platform.
Y/N’s knees buckled as she pulled her best friend in a hug. She felt her hands grip her back, body quivering. She heard her inhale before she stepped back. “Excuse me,” she said in a trembling voice as she took the ball out of Percy’s hand.
Y/N watched as Annabeth sighed and threw the ball into the distance. It fell in the River Styx with an echoing splash. A happy barking followed.
“Wow,” voiced Grover. “That was really– I mean, how did you–”
“My father had a dog when I was little,” explained Annabeth, a sad frown overtaking her features. “I guess, I remember the tricks.”
“A three-headed dog is still a dog, right?” asked Y/N, trying to muster an amused smirk and a nonchalant shrug. But the goosebumps still pricked her skin and her heart was still squeezed by needles.
“Right,” nodded Athena’s daughter.
“Oh, wow,” voiced Percy. “Look at that.”
Y/N turned on her heels. Her lips parted in shock as she took in the view before her. The Underworld stretched on for miles in undulating shadows and secret paths. An imposing palace spiraled upside down from its twisted sky. She gulped as she stepped beside Percy.
“Hades’ palace,” voiced Annabeth, coming beside them. “That’s where he’ll be keeping the master bolt. And your mom.”
“Oh, no,” whined Grover in panic, rushing towards them.
“What?” asked Percy.
Grover’s face fell, morphing into horror. “My pearl. I lost the pearl.”
Y/N’s features twitched into paralyzed shock as she turned to look on the ground. “No, it’s gotta be here somewhere.”
“I think it’s…” continued the satyr, searching his pockets and patting his clothes.
The soft sheen on pearl was nowhere to be found on the hard ground, and a cold realisation dawned on Y/N, stiffening her shoulders. “Unless…”
“It’s in the dog.”
Y/N’s shoulders slumped as she met her friend’s eyes. Her lips curled into a frown.
“What are we gonna do?”
“You can have mine,” she replied, her fingers already searching her pocket. A dainty globe to the touch told her she still had her pearl.
“No!” exclaimed Annabeth, a hand on Y/N’s arm. “We’ll figure something out.”
“What?” asked the satyr.
“I don’t know. But if we don’t move, it is not gonna matter.” She turned on her spot, back straightened. “Come on.”
Y/N followed her down the path, her gaze flickering to Percy’s with a mind of their own. A hidden pain seemed to swirl in his eyes and she turned her gaze away. Suddenly, the pearl’s weight increased tenfold and she only wished to bury it further in her pocket out of an unknown shame and a mirrored hurt.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Y/N watched how her feet dangled. How they swung back and forth above the white tiles. Her hands were gripping the green plastic chair she was sitting on and she started humming a song she heard the other day on the radio.
Upon hearing hurried footsteps, Y/N raised her head. Her aunt had just entered the school, the jacket falling crookedly on one of her shoulders. She was panting as she smoothed the stained waitress uniform she was wearing. Her hair seemed to have been hastily pulled in a ponytail., strands falling down the sides of her face. A keychain rattled in her hands as she arranged her bag back on her shoulder.
“I haven’t done anything–” started Y/N, her voice trembling.
“I know, sweetheart, we’ll talk later, okay?” her aunt replied, before she opened a door and entered the principal's office.
The door closed with a clink and Y/N remained in a deafening silence. She sniffed as the quiet weighed down on her, hunching her shoulders. Her ears strained and caught muffled voices speaking. Jumping down from the chair, the little girl hobbled towards the door. Standing on her tiptoes, she peered through the window.
“I need to speak to her legal guardian,” she heard the principal say. He was a wrinkled man with square glasses. Y/N always thought they made him look funny. But the narrowed eyes beyond them made her shudder every time.
“I am her legal guardian,” replied her aunt evenly as she settled into the chair in front of him. Y/N could see her disheveled ponytail.
“You? But you’re young!”
Penny clutched the hem of her uniform. “I don’t see how that’s a problem. I’m her aunt, she is my niece, so what does my age have to do with any of it?”
The principal pushed the glasses further up his nose. “Nothing, ma’am, I was just saying–”
“Ma’am? If I’m that young, you’d better use miss.” Y/N could detect a note of annoyance seeping into her auntie’s tone.
“Miss, please–” The man cleared his throat and started rearranging some files on his desk. The girl pushed herself further into the door, her eyes a binocular. “I’ve called you because your niece had one of her episodes again–”
A rush of fiery crimson burned her cheeks. The teachers and the principal used that word often when it came to her. Episode. She came to learn that it didn’t have any good meaning to it.
Penny scoffed. “Again? Please, there is nothing wrong with Y/N.” She took a look around the office. Her shoulders were still squared and her back stiff. “Anything else?”
The eyes of the principal rounded and widened behind the frames of the glasses. “Ma’am– I mean, miss, your niece pushed someone into a wall!”
Her aunt turned to look at him, her jaw clenched. “My girl pushing someone into a wall? Are you hearing yourself?”
“Well, yes–”
“Not possible.”
The principal paused and Y/N stuck her face to the window, the glass fogging from her breath. “Maybe we should bring her in and let her confess?” she heard the man say. Her breath hitched and she backed from the door.
Before she knew it, the door opened and her aunt was kneeling in front of her, cupping her cheeks and looking kindly in her eyes. “Sweetheart–”
“I don’t want to go in there!” Her throat was burning from unshed tears and she almost screamed in Penny’s face. “Not again!”
The woman sighed and wiped the tears away. “Y/N, I believe you.”
“I didn’t do it!” croaked out Y/N, shaking her head. “I didn’t even touch him!”
“I know. But the principal doesn’t. So we will just tell him, okay? And then we’ll go home and your auntie will make you some spaghetti.”
Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat, before she nodded shyly. Penny gave her a kind smile but the little girl caught the sad twinkle in her gaze. Her aunt gently took her by the hand and led her into the office. Her hand was warm but it did little to soothe the cold nerves overtaking Y/N.
She came to know every little corner of this office. The layer of dust on the trophy shelf and the way the chair dipped under her weight. The principal regarded her with a dark look and Y/N shrank into herself,
“Have you pushed Ethan Branner into the wall during today’s recess?” he asked once she sat down, her aunt squeezing her hand.
“I haven’t done anything!” she repeated in a squeaky voice. “I didn’t even touch him, I swear!”
“You are a liar, miss L/N. And it’s not the first time.”
“Hey!” exclaimed Penelope, eyebrows furrowing. A few more strands of hair came out of her ponytail and hid her furious gaze from Y/N. “How dare you?! You asked her to confess and she did.”
The principal shifted in his seat. “Ma’am– I mean, miss–”
“The girl said she didn’t do it.”
Y/N tugged on Penny’s hand. “I really haven’t done it! I don’t know what happened.” She frantically looked around the office, a shame creeping up her neck, clouding her mind. “The– the wind or something pushed him.”
The man raised his eyebrows, looking at her over his glasses in disbelief. “The wind?”
Y/N just nodded, backing into her seat. “It’s not my fault,” she whispered. She turned to look at Penny, unshed tears threatening to spill over and stain her cheeks once again. “Auntie, tell him.” Her throat closed and no other words came out.
Penelope’s thumb caressed her niece’s hand. “The girl is not at fault,” she said as she met the man’s gaze.
A bitter laugh escaped the principal’s lips. “You just repeated what she said.”
“No, I repeated what I believed.”
“She just said that the wind pushed the boy. Aren’t you hearing properly, miss?”
Penelope’s gaze hardened and she leaned forward. “I am. Are you, sir? My little girl just said she hasn’t done anything. And I believe her. A child’s word is always true.” She leaned back in her seat, her free hand inching towards the bag she had dumped on the ground. She picked it up and threw it on her shoulder. The leather was chipping away. “Something apparently you haven’t heard about, since Y/N has been complaining about bullying and you haven’t done anything.”
The man’s eye twitched and he forced a smile. “Beg pardon?”
Penny got up, tugging her niece by her hand, the bag and the jacket already falling from her shoulder. “We're withdrawing our file. She won’t be coming to classes here anymore.”
The principal fumbled with his words, getting up to his feet. “Ma’am– Miss–”
“I see no point in continuing this collaboration when my niece hasn’t been treated fairly.”
“With all due respect, ma’am–”
“Miss,” Penny corrected.
“Miss,” replied the man, gritting his teeth. “Your niece has problems. You should get her checked.”
Y/N almost shrieked and she took a step closer to her aunt, hiding behind her thigh. Her eyes stung, eyesight getting blurry.
The woman paused, squinting her eyes at him. A thick tension filled the room and Y/N could feel anger scorching her aunt’s skin all the way to the fingertips still caressing her. “The only person in this room who has problems is you, principal,” she voiced slowly, venom dripping from her tongue. She adjusted her jacket and bag on her shoulder once more before she turned her back to the man, heels clinking on the wooden floor. Y/N almost stumbled as she hurried to follow her out the door.
“Come on, Y/N, this is no place for children like you,” Penny said as she slammed the door shut and marched down the hallway.
Y/N stopped in her tracks, a knot tying itself in her throat, blocking the air. The words hardened to stone on her tongue and she inhaled to spit them out. “Am I weird? Is there something wrong with me?”
Penny slowed to a stop and she turned to look at the little girl. The expression on her turned remorseful and she lowered herself to her niece’s level, her hands gripping Y/N’s. “No, honey. Why are you asking?”
Y/N sniffed and freed a hand to wipe her now runny nose. “It’s just– you said this school isn’t for me.”
Penny reached out to tuck a strand of Y/N’s hair behind her ear. It slightly curled behind her earlobe. “You’re just special. And special people deserve special places.”
“But why are they being mean to me?” The girl’s voice broke and a tear slid down her cheek.
Her aunt sighed. Her thumb wiped the tear. The woman leaned to kiss the wet and salty streak away. “Because being special means being different. And while there is nothing wrong with that, people tend to run away from everything that is different and unfamiliar.” She gently squeezed Y/N’s hands. “But you see, you don’t need to change for anyone or for anything. The right people will find you and will like you for who you are.”
“Are there other special people like me, auntie?”
She nodded, softly smiling.
“But what if they don’t find me? What if I don’t find them?”
“You will. And once you do, you won’t be alone anymore.”
The child tilted her head, confusion lacing her features. “But I’m not alone. I have you, auntie.”
A genuine glimmer lit her aunt’s eyes and a smile curled on her lips. Y/N mirrored her smile,
“You do, sweetheart. You do,” whispered Penelope in Y/N’s hair as she enveloped her in a hug.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•
There was something chilling about this forest. Unusual. A graveyard of skeleton trees. Y/N hugged her torso as she made her way through the dark. The bitter cool was persisting against her skin in sharp, small bites.
“We can’t ignore this,” voiced Grover desperately, struggling to keep up with the three of them.
“Stop,” replied Percy sternly.
“It’s just math. The four of us, plus your mom, is five people, and only four pearls.”
Y/N dared to look around. Her skin crawled with an unpleasant feeling, as if someone was watching them both from afar and up closely.
“Someone is staying behind and it should be me,” continued Grover, determined.
The girl sighed sadly as she turned to look at him. “Grov–”
“You’re not giving me your pearl! I won’t accept it. It’s– it’s not right.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” interjected the blond, halting to a stop. “And even if it were, you’re not getting left behind. Period.” He took Grover’s hand and gently placed a pearl in his palm. It threw iridescent hues around even through the thick darkness. Percy shuffled his feet. “After we get the bolt and stop this war, you guys are leaving. With my mom.”
“What about you?”
Y/N’s arms fell limply to her side. “No,” she shook her head. “We promised no one would be left behind. Do you think you’re an exception?”
Percy’s gaze darted to the side as he clenched his jaw.
“Wait, wait, wait, Percy,” continued the satyr. “What about you?”
Y/N’s gaze hardened as she tilted her head. “You’re doing it again, kelp head.”
The boy’s ocean eyes snapped to hers. “What?”
“Being an idiot!”
“Yeah? Shall I remind you that you almost gave up your pearl?”
“That’s different. I can do it. You can’t ‘cause I’m not allowing you to.”
Percy rolled his eyes as he spun on his heel. “Quests aren’t linear, right? I’ll figure something out–”
Y/N jumped as he almost crashed into something. Or someone. Two bottomless pits stared at her as if they could see through her ribcage, directly into her soul. If she did not know any better, she would have thought that this person was searching for her soul to suck it out of her.
“Sorry,” apologised Percy at the creature.
“They can’t hear you,” voiced Annabeth simply as she looked up at the emotionless face.
“They?” inquired Grover.
Y/N turned on her spot as her eyes looked between the trees and through the crawling fog. There were so many of them. Too many. A shudder passed her and she knew it wasn’t because of the cold.
“What is this place?” she murmured as another shiver raked her hair up. It felt as if a spider was crawling up her neck.
“This must be Asphodel,” replied Athena’s daughter. “I read a book about this place.”
“They all look the same,” voiced Y/N quietly. Empty, she almost added.
A beat of silence passed before Annabeth crouched down at the feet of one of the creatures, her hands reaching out to lift up the garment.
“Wait. No, no, no no, no, What are you–” voiced Grover, panic seeping into his tone.
The dirty garment rustled in Annabeth’s hands, revealing knots of roots curling both upwards and downwards. Much like prison bars, they locked away the feet, bounding them to an agonizing eternity.
“Are those… roots?”
“Yeah,” breathed Y/N, amazed.
Annabeth slowly got to her feet. “Souls here are bound by regret. Haunted by choices they made in life.”
Branches creaking filled the eerie air. Some snapped but no cries of pain followed. Y/N’s heart bled a little at the sound.
“...or never made,” continued Annabeth.
A wrathful growl echoed around them. The ground rattled as Percy’s hand closed itself around Y/N’s wrist once more. Her soles burned as she dodged trees, panting and sprinting behind Percy. It felt as though her knee was splitting open, tearing the flesh down to the dry bone. “I can’t run that fast!” she cried.
“Sorry!” he replied just as hurriedly, but he pulled her along all the same.
They slowed to a stop and Y/N clutched her side as she heaved. Her heart jumped up to her throat as she looked around. “Where’s Annie?”
Percy’s lips parted in fright as he spun around. “Annabeth! Annabeth!”
“Annie!”
A bloodcurdling scream slayed the air. It hurt Y/N more than a knife pressing on an already open wound would. “Guys!”
“Annabeth?” yelled the blond in reply.
“Guys!”
“Annabeth!”
“Annie!”
Her knee throbbed with surging, hot pain as she dashed back.
“No,” she gasped as she kneeled beside Annabeth. She held back a cry of pain.
“We’ve got a problem here,” she heard Annabeth say in a trembling voice.
“I can see that,” replied Y/N, a quivering hand grasping the roots curling around her best friend’s ankle. She pulled and pulled until her skin turned raw and red. The relentless roots bit back at her palms. She could hear Percy crouching near her and grunting as he fought against the growing roots.
“I already tried,” voiced Annabeth remorsely. “It’s too strong.”
Y/N’s voice broke as she looked up at her. “Why?”
Annabeth’s eyes glistened. Y/N could see unwilling tears threatening to spill over.
“How did this happen?" panted Percy.
“It’s some kind of regret, right?” murmured Grover. “But what would you have to regret?”
Y/N shook her head as she thickly swallowed. “Annie, I don’t understand.”
Annabeth looked back at her, her lips quivering as she raised Y/N to her feet. The dark couldn’t hide the pain in Annabeth’s eyes even if it tried. Y/N breathed in, her chest aching with grief.
“It’s okay,” said Annabeth, squeezing Y/N’s hand. “Go! I’ll distract the dog and buy you guys some time.”
“But–”
“It’s okay,” she repeated, nodding. Another hand squeeze followed.
Percy heaved as his hands fisted around the roots. They stretched under his palm but did not snap in two, curling themselves back around Annabeth’s ankle like gums.
“Percy!” exclaimed Athena’s daughter. “This will work.” The all too familiar pearl glowed in her palm. Its sight was a soothing balm on Y/N’s bleeding heart. “I’ll be okay. I trust your dad.”
The boy started to shake his head in protest.
“You can do this,” continued Annabeth. Her voice was firm and sure as she met her best friend’s eyes. “I know you can.”
An echoing growl resounded around them. Branches snapping and cracking could be heard as more padded footsteps shook the ground.
“Run! Now!”
A shaky breath escaped past Y/N’s lips as Annabeth gave her hand one last squeeze. She could feel Percy’s soft hand clasp her wrist and soon her hand slipped from Annabeth’s, the oncoming growling melting into a buzz in her ears. Her feet followed Percy’s quick ones between the trees, the pain in her knee numbing as a white noise crackled in her mind, overflowing until her eyesight turned blurry with tears. She almost choked as she looked behind her shoulder at Annabeth's shrinking figure. It soon got swallowed by the fog. A flash of blue light and she was gone.
“She made it. Let’s go!” said Grover, urging them forward.
Y/N couldn’t remember when the trees thinned and the shadows retreated, Percy’s touch on her wrist grounding her as he guided her out of the woods.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•
The sand was deep, her sneakers sinking into its grains. A desert was stretching ahead of her, dunes rising and lowering like golden waves. The wind was as cold as ever as it raked her arms and pulled on her hair. She blinked, the harsh light hurting her eyes.
“Haven’t heard the dog in a while,” voiced the satyr, as he turned to look behind him. The woods grazed the skies in the distance.
“He chased us all that way and then… just stopped?” added Percy, confusion lacing his features. “I wonder why.”
“That’s what I’m saying. It’s weird.”
Percy’s eyes slid to Y/N. “What do you think, thunder girl?”
She hummed as she turned to look at him. “Yeah, weird,” she echoed, frowning.
“You’re being awfully quiet.”
“No, I’m not.”
Her Converse sank even deeper with each step she took.
“You’ve been quiet since… Well, since Annabeth–”
“I have nothing to say,” she snapped, her eyes flashing.
Percy fell silent as he stared back at her. A soft huff slipped his lips as he looked away from her. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“No, I–” she sighed.
“Grover?” questioned Percy.
A flapping of wings filled the air and Y/N frowned as she turned to look at the satyr. He was stumbling down the dunes, grains jumping behind him.
“Grov?” she asked, eyebrows pinching together.
“Grover, where are you going?”
“I don’t– I don’t know! I– I can’t stop!”
Y/N’s sneakers ploughed into the sand as she rushed towards her friend, hand clasping around him. “I got you,” she heaved as she hauled him back, only to be pulled forwards with him. There was a magnetic force that fastened itself around them like chains, dragging them down the dunes and raising swirls of sand into the air.
“Grover! Y/N!” yelled Percy.
“Percy! It’s the shoes!”
Y/N yelped as her foot slipped and she fell on her side, bringing Grover down with her. The wind rushed past her ears, sand grazing her cheeks. Her free hand clutched Grover’s arm, her soles digging into the sand.
“The pull’s too strong,” she said, gritting her teeth. She gasped in pain as her injured knee trembled and gave out.
“Y/N!” she could hear Percy’s yell.
Her hold almost went limp and her eyes widened in fright. A wide hole opened its mouth, ready to gulp them whole. Tartarus was a dark bottomless tomb in the middle of the desert, staining its golden sand.
“Percy!” she screamed, her throat aching red raw. She turned to look behind her, the sand stinging acid upon her eyes. She reached out a hand towards him, her fingers clasping onto nothing but seething air. Their fingertips touched fleetingly before he grasped her hand. Their knuckles turned ghostly white. With one hand, Percy reached into his pocket and uncapped Riptide. A short metallic clinking vibrated through the pen before the boy stabbed the newly transformed sword into the sand. Y/N’s muscles stretched painfully as she held onto him, Grover weighing her down.
“Come on,” grunted Percy as he let go of her. His hand quickly found her waist and pulled her upwards. Her freed hand fisted around dunes of sand as she crawled up the hill. Suddenly, the lead-like weight became bearable and she sighed in relief, her shoulders slumping. She turned to look behind her, just as Luke’s gift flew down into the jet-black hole.
She turned on her back and fell, panting as she stared at the grey sky. Her arms ached and she fluttered her eyes closed, a few drops of sweat rolling down her temple. A clanking noise filled the air as Percy slumped near her. She snapped her eyes open and sat up.
“What was that?” asked Grover, just as spent.
Percy shared a quick glance with Y/N before he brought his backpack on his lap and unzipped it. He stiffened and paused.
“What?” she said as she leaned closer to him to peer into the backpack. Her lips parted in shock.
A pointy, sharp metal stuck out the backpack. Golden and glinting, it tipped heavily in Percy’s hand as he took it out. Intricate carving adorned its handle, lines that curved along its lightning form. It slightly vibrated and buzzed as if it was unhappy and quite disgusted in the blond’s hand.
“That’s–” started Y/N.
“Is this–?” voiced Percy.
“No!” gulped Grover.
“I mean, it looks like–”
“It absolutely is not.”
“Okay,” nodded Percy, unsure.
The wind whistled around them as they all gaped at the object in Percy’s hand.
“So, what is it then?” he continued, looking up to them with big, round eyes.
Y/N took in a breath as she curiously reached out a hand. Her fingertips were feathery light against the metal. It hummed contentedly before it lit up in purple hues, sparks of lightning shooting up.
Percy hissed in pain and he dropped the object onto Y’N’s palm. “I’m sorry!” she shrieked before she let it fall. The humming died down, returning to its displeased buzzing.
“Yeah, that's the master bolt,” concluded Grover, a tremor in his voice.
“I mean, I think so, right? Why else would it go all crazy at Y/N’s touch?”
She threw him an annoyed grimace, scooting closer to Grover. The sharp point of the bolt was almost touching her thigh.
“How is it in your bag?” inquired the satyr.
“Wait, this isn’t my bag. This is the bag that Ares gave me.”
Y/N’s nostrils flared as a sudden rage burned her veins. “Of course. That whole quest with his shield was a diversion. He wanted to give you this backpack.”
“Ares had the master bolt this entire time and tricked us.”
“He was working with Hades?” replied Grover, rattled.
“I guess so.”
“I mean… that was it, right?” Grover pointed towards the bolt. It mockingly still sparkled. “That’s the quest.”
“Right,” muttered Y/N, as she frowned at the bolt. She could still feel its restless twitching. It sent shock waves towards her, as if begging her to claim it.
“Zeus is expecting us to return this.”
Silence fell and Y/N dared to glance at Percy. He was looking in the horizon, at the black palace hung upside down. A certain longing pooled in his eyes. Y/N pursed her lips. “No.”
Percy snapped his gaze towards her. His lips parted and he allowed his gaze to roam her face.
“The master bolt wasn’t the only thing we came all this way for.”
“Zeus is just gonna have to wait,” added Grover, nodding. “Let’s go get your mom.”
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•
The dough was sizzling in the pan, the oil popping up in bubbles. A waft of vanilla unraveled and swirled in waves around the kitchen, drifting off into the living room. Cassandra Amelia L/N hummed as she flipped the pancake. It fell back on the pan with a light, delicious smack.
A shy morning sun let its rays dance through the window, a light breeze bringing with it the aftertaste of the raging storm from last night. The cottage was silent, but the woman knew that her daughter was in the living room, flipping through the short photo album.
She had seemed blue, Cassandra noticed. Quiet. Just yesterday she had blown into the birthday candles and now Y/N refused to speak. When Cassandra asked what had upset her, the little girl raised her shoulder, her lips in a pout as she muttered “The storm scared me.”
The silver necklace dangled from her neck, as Cassandra leaned down to take out a plate. “I see you’re still wearing it”, he had said. She wasn’t one to throw away gifts and she certainly wasn’t one to forget.
“Honey, breakfast is ready!” she yelled as she adorned the freshly done pancakes with a few chocolate chips. She poured herself freshly brewed coffee, its stark bitter aroma enveloping her in steaming rings.
She balanced the plate and the mug in her hands as she took a step towards the round table, before a ringing echoed in her ears. Her eyesight clouded and turned white. Her head throbbed, a familiar ache by now. Flashing images rolled behind her eyelids. A dipping hospital bed, a trembling hand and tears running down the curve of her daughter’s cheeks. She gasped, the plate and the mug falling from her hands in a shattering flourish of porcelain. The coffee cascaded down the tiles in a running river of dark brown, washing away their whiteness.
The visions came and went with no warning. She got them often. While doing the laundry, while cooking. She once received one when she was cutting carrots. The sharp blade of the knife stabbed the thin layer of her skin then, drops of blood curling themselves around the bumps of her finger.
They were always about the gods, about him. About his wars and innocent children. This one, though, had been different. This one had been about her. A sob escaped her lips as she crouched down to gather the shards. The coffee was sticky against her fingertips.
“Mommy?”
Cassandra raised her gaze. Y/N was standing in the doorway, the floral dress she had sewn for her last week, flowing past her knees.
“Stay there, Y/N. You’ll only hurt yourself.”
The girl remained silent, fisting the hem of her dress. It wrinkled under her palm, hiding the delicate petals. A sharp shard stung Cassandra’s palm as she took it. She hissed, blood flowing down the lines, towards her wrist.
“Mommy!” exclaimed Y/N, taking a step forward.
“Stay there, Y/N! I’m fine, see?” replied Cassandra as she got to her feet and yanked a paper towel. She patted it down against the injury, the blood soaking it through. A crimson flower bloomed on the tissue. “Mommy’s fine. She’s not hurting. It’s just a cut, darling.”
“Just a cut?” sobbed Y/N.
“Yeah, just a cut. It’ll heal. Mommy will be fine.”
Cassandra wasn’t sure of that herself but she forced a warm smile as she threw the soggy tissue in the bin. The spilt coffee slithered down and she almost could see the vision reflected in it as she mopped it away.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•
A dark, suspended bridge led them to an entrance guarded by soldiers of stone. The spears gripped in their hands thudded on the ground as the soldiers slammed them. A wall of black rock slid open, rumbling and shaking.
“He was waiting for us,” voiced Y/N quietly.
The three of them entered the palace with cautious steps, looking around expectantly. Everything was black stone, sharp and dangerous.
“Grov,” said the girl, leaning towards him, “do you still have the pearl?”
The satyr patted his pocket, before he silently nodded.
“Do you?” Percy asked her.
“Yes,” she replied once her fingertips met the curved surface of the pearl. It was buried deep in her jeans pocket.
The ground shook and rumbled and Y/N almost lost her footing, as a platform rose into the air. The rocks scraped against one another, the noise unpleasantly scratchy like a broken record. She winced as she looked up. Grey, weak light flowed down to them through the hole in the ceiling. The platform stumbled into a stop, a loud boom echoing around.
“Is this our stop or…?” asked Grover, confused.
“It would seem so,” said Y/N, slightly frowning as her gaze swept the length of the corridor. It looked deserted and not what she imagined a palace would look like. The same inky rocks held the walls like columns, soaring into the clouded sky. Two empty thrones proudly stood at the end of the hallway, overlooking the room. “But where is Hades?”
Approaching footsteps echoed around them and Y/N straightened her back as a short man wearing a black leather jacket opened his arms in greeting. “Hey, fellas. Welcome!”
He was much shorter than she expected him to be. His face was ghostly pale, his eyes two dark wells. They wrinkled at the edges as he smiled at them. His goatee and quiff of hair proudly wore threads of silver. “Sorry about all the… oh!” he waved in apology.
“You’re sorry about your three-headed pet?” Y/N voiced bitterly.
“Cerberus just needs a little more training, that’s all. Anyways, it’s great to meet you. I know who you are and you know who I am, so we can just skip right past that part. Can I get you anything? Fresh pomegranate juice, a snack?”
“Pomegranate?”
“My favourite,” smirked Hades.
Y/N rolled her eyes. “Of course.”
“Actually, if–” started Grover.
“My mother,” interjected Percy, jaw clenched.
A beat of silence passed as the god stared back at Poseidon’s son. “Boom. Straight to business." His lips curled upwards. “I admire the cut of your jib. Little nautical reference for you. I see you.”
The girl almost snorted. The god of the dead had a sense of humour.
“Where is she?” asked the blond, a sharp blade edged between his words.
“Right. Okey-dokey. Let’s get to it. Your mom’s just over here,” replied Hades, pointing behind him.
The trio hesitated as they watched him turn and strut away, his shoes tapping against the smooth, mirror-like tiles.
“You’ve come all this way, don’t be shy,” he called out, throwing them a look.
Y/N pursed her lips, before she started following him out the throne room, the others close behind. “This place is depressing,” she voiced, disgust coating her words as she let her gaze roam around.
“It’s feng-shui.”
“This is feng-shui?” she asked, her eyebrows flying to the top of her head.
“My wife decorated the place. You’re insulting her.”
Y/N opened her mouth to reply but stopped frozen as her eyes caught sight of a golden statue. The woman had her hand outstretched, mouth opened in a scream. She sighed regretfully, as she turned to look at Percy.
“Mom?” asked Percy, horrified. He took a few steps forward, his gaze locked on his mother. “What did you do to her?”
“Uh,” scoffed Hades. “Saved her life? You know, typically, getting crushed by a Minotaur is a terminal diagnosis. I snagged her for ya, just in the ta-da nick of time, so that you would come see me.” His smile stretched once again in a smile. “And here we are.”
Y/N frowned. “You’re looking for a deal.”
“Smart kid! You give me what you got, and I’m giving you what I got.” The lord of the dead tilted his head as he regarded the girl. “You have his eyes.”
“I’ve been told,” said Y/N, gritting her teeth.
“And his temper, too.”
“I– I can’t give it to you,” voiced Percy, shaking his head.
Hades cocked an eyebrow. “Ah, see, there’s a quid and quo here.”
“The bolt doesn’t belong to you.” He raised his shoulders in a rueful shrug. “Your plan almost worked. You and Ares managed to steal the bolt, trick me into bringing it right down and giving it to you. But it’s wrong and I won’t do it. So, all I can do is ask you to do the right thing, too.” His eyes glistened as he paused. “Please… let my mom go.”
The god started shaking his head, his features twitching into confusion. “Huh?”
“What?”
“Who– who tricked Ares into doing what?”
“You did,” voiced Y/N, pointing at him.
“You’re in cahoots with Ares, to secure the bolt,” added Grover.
Hades spluttered, as if the thought alone of working with Ares repelled him. “I’m not in cahoots with Ares. I seldom cahoot.” His gaze locked on Y/N. “The bolt is my brother’s drama. I don’t want any part of it.”
“You don’t want it?” inquired Percy, shocked.
“No.”
“Then, what do you want?” replied the boy, visibly annoyed as he glared at the god.
“My helm!” exclaimed Hades, like a child begging to be given his toy back.
Y/N blinked. “Your helm?”
“Your what?” said Percy, frowning.
“My Helm of Darkness,” explained the god. “It went missing just days before someone used it to turn invisible and steal the bolt. I’d like it now, please, and then you get your mom back.”
“We don’t have your helm,” voiced Y/N, as she crossed her arms.
“Stubborn, too,” replied Hades as he pointed at her.
She simply scoffed.
Percy’s voice echoed as he yelled. “You really don’t want the bolt?”
The god shifted his gaze from Zeus’ daughter to the blond. “Why would I want that?”
“To start a war between your brothers,” replied Grover, his tone rising in octaves.
“Why would I want that?”
“Jealousy!”
“Envy,” added Y/N, peering at her supposed uncle.
Hades sighed, disappointed. “I don’t know if you noticed, but it’s all candy canes and rainbows down here. I’m managing just fine. I don’t really do jealous. My brothers, on the other hand, have the market cornered on jealous. On envy or whatever you call it. Family drama is why I don’t go up there anymore.” He whistled. “These grudges, they go on forever. Super unhealthy.”
Y/N rolled her eyes at his rambling. “Get to the point,” she muttered.
Hades threw her a displeased look. “Someone stole Zeus’ bolt, it wasn’t me, it must have been somebody who was–”
“Kronos!” exclaimed Percy.
Hades paused, tilting his head, eyebrows arched. “Excuse me?”
The hair on Y/N’s arm rose at the name. Her lips parted and her arms uncrossed as she turned to look at Poseidon’s son. A cold dread washed over her and she almost shuddered.
“He’s got the biggest grudge of them all,” explained the blond. “Zeus took Kronos’ throne. Who else has a bigger reason to weaken Zeus and take his throne back?”
“Kronos is in a million pieces at the bottom of–”
“Tartarus, where something just tried to pull us into it the moment the bolt appeared in our bag.” Percy took a step forward, his shoulder brushing Y/N’s in passing. “Tartarus, where I’ve been hearing a voice from in my dreams, telling me it needs my help to take down Olympus. I assumed that was you but that voice I heard…” He shook his head. “That definitely did not sound like you.”
The girl neared Percy. “You heard it, too?” she asked, her tone strained. Their eyes locked and the boy frowned, lips twitching. He sharply took a breath in.
“Wait, you–”
Hades sighed loudly, his gaze sweeping around. Y/N snapped her head towards him. Her eyebrows pinched together as she gaped at him.
“Ask me for sanctuary,” the god eventually said, now gaze steady.
“What?” blinked Percy.
“If Kronos is somehow planning to emerge from exile, and you were his first call… You’re not safe.” Hades shifted his eyes on Y/N. “Neither of you. And you’re a daughter of Zeus. You’re the most vulnerable, he would go for you first. You’re a threat to him. A liability.”
A knot settled in Y/N’s throat and she struggled to get the words out. “So, you mean to tell me that I have grandpa issues just because I was born a forbidden child?”
“Because you were born as Zeus' child.”
The knot tightened. She had the inexplicable urge to throw up, a certain dizzying sickness falling over her.
“Ask me and I’ll protect you.” Hades moved his gaze back on Percy, his tone gentle. “You and your mother. And the goat. I’ll throw him in, on the house.” Y/N could feel his dark gaze back on her. “I could make sure you see her again.”
“What?” she asked, her voice trembling with emotion. It hurt her to breath, her ribcage swelling painfully as she struggled to inhale.
“She’s resting in Elysium. Quite the pained soul that one, but I’m sure a visit from her daughter would cheer her right up.” Hades shrugged, a lopsided smile blossoming on his lips. “This works out nicely for you, as it turns out. All it’ll cost you is the bolt.”
“I thought you didn’t want the bolt?” huffed Grover in disbelief.
“I don’t want the bolt. Now, I need the bolt. If war with Kronos is coming, I’d like to be prepared.”
Y/N’s eyes darted around the room as she took an unsure step back. Hades’ voice was muffled as her gaze met the golden statue of Sally Jackson. She spared a pained glance towards Percy. Her fingers discreetly inched toward his hand. They caressed the inside of his wrist. At her touch, he turned his head towards her. She subtly shook her head.
“No messing around here, kid. This only ends one way. The only question is how difficult you make it.”
“No,” replied Percy firmly as he turned back toward the god.
Hades’ gaze hardened and his shoes clicked against the floor as he took a step forwards. “Give me your bag.”
Percy backed away, his hand finding Y/N’s. A sphere appeared in his free hand, clutched between his fingers. It gave out a sweet ringing, its shine ethereal and soft.
“Nice pearl,” voiced the lord of the dead, unimpressed.
“I accept your offer.”
“Great!”
“Your first offer! We’re gonna go get your helm. And when I get back, you’re gonna let my mom go.”
“Okay. Hang on, kid!”
“Grover, now!”
A bubbling noise whirred and the pearl exploded at the satyr’s hooves in fluorescent lights. Y/N’s hand frantically pulled out her own pearl, the same ringing filling the air.
“Hold fast, mom,” said Percy, mouth curling down into a frown.
He squeezed her hand and Y/N took it as a sign to throw her pearl. The blue light blinded her and her feet fell through the ground. Her hand slipped from Percy’s, bubbles popping around her as if she broke through waves. Gurgling sounds echoed in her ears, water muffling her senses. Then, silence came. She fluttered her eyes open, her back cushioned by something wet and grainy. A sky painted in shades of pink and purple met her and she turned her face, eyes catching Percy’s as he looked back at her, confused. He was laying on his stomach, his hand inches from hers.
A shadow blanketed her and Y/N blinked as she turned her head. A smile bloomed on her lips at the sight of Annabeth holding a hand out. She pulled her to her feet, the bed of sand remembering her form. Waves crashed onto the shore, a light breeze caressing her cheek as she met Percy’s gaze once more. A certain relief reflected on both of them.
From the corner of her eyes, Y/N could see a tall figure approaching. He bore a smirk and a shining bronze sword on his back. She recognized that conceited smile and purple lightning crackled in her palm. A metal hissing told her that Percy unsheathed Riptide. If her dear older brother Ares wished for a family meeting, Y/N would make sure to give him one.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It's almost 14k words long so it took me a while to finish it. I can't believe we're so close to wrapping up the TLT era, just one more chapter. It will have some big revelations concerning Cassandra and it will also include the betrayal scene, of course. So get your tissues ready.
If you'd like to be added to my main or the series tag list, you can comment under this chapter or send me an ask!
Thank you so much for reading, any kind of feedback is greatly appreciated xx
Main tag list: @bohemianrhapsody86 @andreead @asgards-princess-of-mischief @islayhawkin @iamawkwardandshy
Series tag list: @mynicknameisgasoline @constellation-archive @leptitlu @br3nt-12 @utterlyunawarewriter @spidermansfangirl @zomb-1-egutzz @legallyatheaterkid @legallyatheaterkid @fratbrochrisgf @lovecatsandbooks
@epersonae, @redsesame, @emi--rose and I were having our weekly Star Trek watch party with friends tonight and the topic of hockey came up (blame Emi) and we were joking about what hockey would look like in Star Trek. I made the argument that the Andorians would have been INCREDIBLE hockey players, so much so that they probably won the Stanley cup so many times that's why they didn't play hockey any more by TNG and then oops, this popped out.
Terran hockey was a popular game, going back many centuries on earth. It remained popular among humans even as they began exploring and colonizing space. The Lunar Cheeseheads were the first non-terrestrial team to win the Stanely cup in 2101 and went on to do so for a record 4 years straight; the Martian Bradburys won for the first time in 2109.
After the formation of the United Federation of Planets in 2161, hockey and other Terran sports gained popularity among the other charter members. Sharing of sports and other cultures was seen as an act of camaraderie and building of good faith, much like the ancient Olympics on Earth.
Of all the other members of the Federation, the Andorians took to hockey the quickest. This is unsurprising, given their native icy climates and own cultural history of contact sports. The sport spread across Andoria, with an astonishing 18 teams active in the FHL in 2179. The Andorian Gas Giants first won the championship Stanley Cup in 2176, and then again in 2178 and 2179.
By the time the Aenar Ice Combs won the Cup in 2186, it hadn't been back to Earth in nearly two decades.
Hockey slowly began losing popularity in the late 2200s, and by 2348, the FHL was no more. Some scholars say it finally fell out of favor for less violent sports; others say the opposite as relations with the Klingons began to thaw and Parrises Squares gained in popularity. Others still say that humans lost interest in the sport of their ancestors because they couldn't stand to continue losing to their blue rivals.
Whatever the cause of its demise, hockey left its mark on the hearts and dental records of centuries of sports fans across the galaxy.
I'll Show You Heaven**
Word Count: 6.4k
Crosshair x F!Reader
Lifeline
Word Count: 3.5k
No Pairings
Second Impressions
Word Count: 2.5k
Crosshair x GN!Reader
Echo
Working Parts
Word Count: 3.4k
Echo x F!Reader
Hunter
Next Steps
Word Count: 1.3k
Hunter x F!Reader
The Singer
Word Count: 2.3k
Hunter x F!Reader
Tech
Asking for Help
Word Count: 918
Tech x F!Reader (Can double as platonic)
Comfort
Word Count: 1.9k
Tech x GN!Reader
I Told You So **
Word Count: 5.5k
Tech x F!Reader
Late Night Caf
Word Count: 2.1k
Tech x Jedi! Reader
The Clone Wars
Commander Cody
This is Me Trying
Chapter 1 |
Cody x F!Reader
Kit Fisto
Service With a Smile **
Word Count: 4.4k
Kit Fisto x F!Reader
So It Goes **
Word Count:
Kit Fisto x F!Reader
Inspired by "Eternal Sunshine" prompt for Leodia week 2025.
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Freckles splashed across Leona’s face and shoulders, a field of starlight formed beneath the sunshine. Armor hid most of it now, but Diana could always picture the constellations she'd traced over countless nights and mornings with her bare finger tips and the warmth of her breath. Kissed their shape and worshiped the tapestry that covered her treasured work of art. Thankful and joyful and pious for every second she could devote to those eternal moments of sunlight.
Was it comforting or thoughtless to lose herself in the reverie of a dying star lying here in the mud?
Pain radiating through broken ribs, blood stinging and dripping into her eyes, sparks flying hit after hit from the same sculpture of memory come to life.
Reality was harsh and violent, the sunlight relentless and scorching, full of anguish and reaping for vengeance behind that starlight field blinded by betrayal.
The knife's edge of the sunshine and eternity or only oblivion in wait.
Would they ever find relief? Tamper the flames and reconcile beneath the shade, or be doomed to burn the tender remains away until their stars were gone forever.
If you give up, I'll give up too.
Failure could mean a balm for the burns licked across their skin, blistered and scarred even if they healed over and over again. This is what they wanted. To end it, to leave, to flip the page and walk out of the daylight to find out what the world looked like when they stopped clinging to promises they would never keep. How might it feel to let the night cover and clothe her instead? Turn her back on the sun and breathe freely in the shadows.
Maybe this time she could do it. Maybe this time the wounds would cut deep enough to sever her endless longing for the sunshine.
Why did this prompt make my mind go straight to the gutter? Feels like a problem... lol.
Explicit sexual content, Canon-Divergence, Friends with benefits or Established relationship, you pick 💖
Since Kiara is still living at home they’re both 17.
468 Words
Enjoy 👀
❗SMUT AHEAD❗
-
It had become a regular occurrence over the last few months for JJ to sneak inside her bedroom window. And, just like a handful of nights before, what started innocently enough as watching a movie on her bed quickly transitioned into a heated makeout session, followed by several minutes of heavy petting and the eventual loss of Kiara’s sleep shorts and panties.
Now they were caught up in a familiar scene: JJ on his back, cargo shorts trapped around his thighs, and Kiara kneeling over him, her muscles burning as she bounced on his cock. In this position, she could feel him deep, a blunt, scorching, relentless force filling her up completely.
She tried to quell her whines of pleasure for as long as possible by sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, but the harder she tried to fight it, the louder she became.
When JJ slides his hands under her t-shirt to tease her sensitive nipples, Kiara’s bottom jaw drops and her head tips back, releasing a litany of dangerously loud moans to escape into an otherwise quiet room. To his credit, apart from some shallow breathing and the occasional whispered curse word, JJ had remained disciplined and silent. But she doesn't leave him with much choice now.
“Hey,” JJ murmurs, squeezing her thighs for attention. “You gotta be quiet for me. If your parents catch us—”
“I can’t help it,” Kiara interrupts with a sharp rotation of her hips on a downward stroke. Her words tumble out of her mouth in breathy, urgent spurts. “Feels so good. I’m close. So close. JJ. Oh, fuck.” Her own hand slips between her legs, deft fingers circling her clit, chasing her pleasure.
Fearing their late-night tryst coming to a possible lethal end, JJ reaches up, tangles his fingers in the hair at the back of her head, and drags her lips down to his. Kiara gasps at the sudden shift in angle, and he smothers it, swallowing down her moans as she continues to rock against him.
While keeping her mouth occupied with his tongue and teeth, JJ plants the soles of his feet on the mattress and starts to piston his hips up against hers, drilling his length inside her, hitting all the right places so good that she's practically sobbing into his mouth.
Her desperate cries send a secret thrill racing through him, settling hot in his belly, and he fists her loose curls even tighter, keeping their mouths firmly aligned as their kisses become even more sloppy and fevered.
JJ’s plan to hurry things along before they're caught works within seconds, and when Kiara’s inner walls seize around him and her entire body rattles from the ferocity of her orgasm, all that's left of her scream is a muffled groan to match his own.
I was wondering if I could request a Jason Todd x Male reader who is really tall, mysterious (like doesn't talk or elaborate on subjects like his own scars or childhood) but loves Jason without question he would give the world to Jason but because he is more of an actions kinda person than speaking how he feels, maybe Jason question starts to question or doubt how much reader really loves him? This leaves reader to not only show how much he truly loves Jason but tell him. Soft sweet lil kisses to wash away the insecurity and gentle reassuring words?
Questioning (Jason Todd x M!Reader)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Break-ups, implied smexy times, and language
Word Count: 1.2k
A/N: Apparently, my version of x male!reader is just saying 'boyfriend' once. 😅 Thanks for the request, and I really hope that you enjoy! My requests are always open! Special thanks to @shiningheart1 for dealing with me and proofreading this!
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Jason tried to tell himself that he was being ridiculous. He had been with you for two years, and there wasn’t a day that you weren’t in contact in some way. But Jason couldn't help but wonder if you were just continuing the relationship out of obligation or fear of hurting his feelings.
He could blame the romance novel in his large hands, painting a picture in his mind of the protagonist’s soft ‘I love you’s in the rain, but he knew it was just making an already known longing stronger.
You’d think that, being raised by the big, emotionally stunted bat, he'd be used to looking for signs of love in every action. But, as he thought through the two years that you’d been his boyfriend, he can’t remember the last time you’d said that you loved him without his prompting. He knows that you're not much of a talker, especially when it comes to your own feelings, but it doesn't push back the creeping doubt.
Sure, when he’d tell you he loves you in public you’d mutter out a flustered response, and when he’d say it in private, you would smudge a kiss on his chest, just over his heart. But he couldn’t help but crave the verbal affirmation that you still gave two fucks about him. Plus, you'd been working late recently, so what was that supposed to think?
He popped his bookmark in place before setting the book aside, suddenly feeling the need to move around and shake off this negative flood before you came home from work.
Just as he began pacing, the door creaked open, your tired eyes immediately clocking in on his distressed behavior.
“Jaybird,” you prompted, approaching slowly as soon as you'd slipped off your jacket. “What’s wrong?”
The second his eyes met yours, everything he’d been trying to close up came rushing out in the form of tears. He felt stupid, crying as soon as you came through the door, but he couldn’t help it. He didn't want to lose you. He didn't want the sleepy kiss you’d shared this morning before you left for work to be the last kiss that he shared with you.
He barely registered the feeling of your thumb brushing the tears from his scarred cheek as you pulled him into you. He didn’t have the self-control to resist your soft touch as you pulled him to sit on the couch, allowing you to position him so that his head rests against your chest.
You rubbed soft circles into his back and pressed soft kisses to the crown of his head as, for the first time in a very long time, he sobbed like a child. You didn’t say a word, beyond whispered reassurances, as you held him. As his sobs slowly subsided into whimpers and hiccups, you carefully lifted his head so he could look at you, worry creasing your features.
“What's wrong, pretty bird,” you whispered. “Talk to me?”
"You don't love me anymore," came his hoarse, whispered response.
"Jason, why would you think that," you questioned, your eyes never leaving Jason's turquoise ones.
"Ya never say it," he chokes out. "Plus, you're always at work and -"
"I've been working late to save up for something," you reasoned.
"I could get it for ya," he pleaded. "Ya just had to say something, and it'd be yours."
"I know that, Jay, but I'm not going to… Ugh, it was supposed to be a surprise, but I want you to go grab something from my right jacket pocket."
"I don't like going through your stuff, babe," he reminded you.
"Alright," you conceded. "Let me up, and I'll go get it."
You could feel his eyes on you as you made your way back to the coat rack by the door. You slip the item in question into your hand before making your way back to the tank of a man that had just been crying because he thought you'd been ready to leave him.
You stopped in front of him, and his brow furrowed only for his eyes to go wide as you got down on one knee.
"I was supposed to do this at your family's dinner on Friday night, but, clearly this can't wait anymore," you explained, pulling out a handwritten scrawl on a piece of heavily folded up notebook paper.
"Jason Peter Todd, you asked me on our first date in the romance section of the library. Big guy like you was blushing and quoting poetry to get me to go to BatBurger with you. I knew then that, if this didn't last forever, it would devastate me the moment it ended. You brought me into your big family, let me see the best and worst of you over the past two years, and when Dick and Wally got married last spring, I knew that I wanted to give that to you. I wanted to stand with you for the rest of my life as partners in chaotic dumbassery.
"I know I don't say it because words are hard. And I prefer to show you that I love you by doing the little things and the big things, rather than using overused words. But, if it means that much to you, I'll tell you every day that you are my world. If you'll have me, I'd like to spend every day of the rest of my life with you."
When you looked up at him, your hands were shaking because you knew he could turn you down. But when you saw happy tears in his eyes and a dopey, lovestruck grin on his scared face, you knew it would be okay.
"Yes," he muttered as he pulled you into his arms. A soft, passionate kiss slowly turned into a heated one, and you didn't hesitate to pull him off to the bedroom.
Later, as you rested your head on his broad, heaving chest, the both of you thoroughly spent, he muttered, "I can't believe that I thought you were going to leave me."
"I've always been more of the actions type, Jaybird. I'm sorry that I made you worry. I'll try to tell you on my own, especially now that I know that it means so much to you to hear it."
"I hated that overtime," he groaned. "I think spending that extra four hours a day without you just made it worse."
"I couldn't skip out on rent to get you a ring, Jay."
"Could've asked me to pick up extra on rent. Or, you could have saved us both the stress and proposed with a ring pop."
You gave a playful slap to his chest as you argued, "I was not going to propose to you, the biggest, cheesiest romantic in all of Gotham, with a fucking ring pop, Jay!"
"Hey!"
"Tell me I'm wrong, Romeo."
"Fine. What was the plan, if I may be so curious?"
"B had it arranged for Kori, Roy, Biz, and Artemis to come for dinner on Friday. Damian was going to recruit Alfred the Cat, since he loves you more than most humans, by tying the ring to his collar. Dick was going to be responsible for keeping everyone busy while Damian did that-"
"Busy how?"
"Knowing him? Probably going to hang from the chandeliers again. Then, Duke was going to essentially lead Alfred to you by being a human laser pointer."
"So, that's why those three have been avoiding me," he replied with a hearty laugh.
"Yeah, I threatened to get Babs to release some very interesting blackmail material if they ruined it."
The resounding laughter that the two of you collapsed into, followed by soft kisses, have both of you assured that, no matter what may come next, everything will be okay.
When I think about the Lord's great work, not only in my life but in life around me, I can be nothing but grateful. I am reminded of the David and Psalm 40:1-3 that says, "I waited patiently for the Lord; He turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; He set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many wll see and fear the Lord and put their trust in Him."
We all struggle. No one is exempt from having afflictions in this world, but how great is it that we can take heart, for Jesus has overcome the world! (John 16:33 paraphrased)
I am a sinner made righteous by the blood of the lamb! Our great high priest! Not because I deserve it or can earn it, but because the Lord is good and gracious. I just want to make Him known, spread His good news and the love that He has so kindly extended to me.
