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slipping-through-my-fingertips · 2 months

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In My Head, I'm Yours

AO3

Chapter 4: I'll Take What I Can Get From You

Annabeth remembered to go to her favorite bookshop on her way home. Hazel was working, which was great because Annabeth went right up to the counter and asked for Hazel's pick of the month.

“Hey! I didn’t expect to see you today,” Hazel said.

“Sorry, I know I normally text you but it was a spur of the moment.”

“How’s your break going?”

Hazel and Annabeth shared a math class last year and became fast friends who bonded over books when Hazel showed up one day with a worn copy of War and Peace. She had told Annabeth all about Pages a Plenty where she worked and Annabeth had been making monthly trips ever since.

So, Annabeth told her about last night, about Percy.

“Wow, that’s heavy. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know!” She exclaimed, thankful no other customers were around, “I think I could really like him but I’m so busy with school I feel like I couldn’t give my all to a relationship right now and he is definitely the type of guy who deserves a girlfriend who’s all-in.”

Hazel nodded.

“Plus, if it all goes wrong, which knowing my past it will blow up sooner rather than later, he’ll still have to be in my life.”

“What I’m hearing is you’re scared.”

“Terrified,” Annabeth confessed.

“Not everyone is Luke or Travis, Beth.”

“I know but…”

“No buts. Percy seems like a nice guy and don’t you think you deserve a nice guy for once?”

Annabeth didn’t know how to answer that question.

“Just promise me you’ll think about it before your self-destructive behavior gets in the way. At the very least don’t you think you owe him that?”

She nodded, Hazel was right as she so often was. It was nice to have a friend outside of her normal circle. Hazel had never met Annabeth’s roommates not that Annabeth was keeping her all to herself but she liked knowing that Hazel wasn’t going to spill this secret to them. Annabeth wasn’t ready to talk to Thalia or Leo about Percy. Not yet. They were too close to him.

“So about that book…” Hazel teased.

When Annabeth made it back to the apartment, dinner was already cooking. Leo was at the stove, stirring something in a giant pot.

“Hey, welcome back!” He shouted, “what did you get up to last night, Miss Chase?”

His tone was suggestive, like he knew something he shouldn’t. Annabeth kept her cool, “didn’t Thalia tell you I went to Pages a Plenty?” She held up her new book as evidence.

“She did, you bore,” Leo said, “I thought maybe there was a chance you and Percy hit it off. Guess not.” He shrugged.

“Guess not,” Annabeth repeated under her breath as she walked into the kitchen.

“What are you making?” She asked louder.

Thalia appeared and sat down at their dining table across from Annabeth.

“Mami’s recipe. Menudo Blanco but you can add chili peppers, Thalia, if you want to make it Rojo.”

“It smells great,” Annabeth said.

She tried to distract herself by listening to her roommates chatter. Thalia still had to pack for her trip because she slept in so late, Leo was bragging about the girl he almost went home with last night, but Annabeth was daydreaming about Percy again.

The way he cupped her chin when he kissed her, how sweet he had been before trying something new, how his eyes changed shades of green depending on his mood (dark green when he was aroused she now knew), but mostly she was dreaming of what it might be like to have him for more than just a night.

Would his palms be sweaty the first time he held her hand? Would he press her against the door as he kissed her goodnight after their first date? What about the second? Or third? Did he think stargazing was as romantic as she did? How long could she lecture him about column styles until he kissed her senseless? How did he feel about war documentaries because it was all her dad talked about over dinner?

Could she kiss him the next time she saw him?

Would he text her tonight now that they exchanged numbers?

… He didn’t text her. Percy desperately wanted to but he could hear the voice in his head saying it was too much, too soon. And gods, what would he even say?

Had fun, wanna do it again?

Go out with me please

Let me take you on the most romantic night of your life and we’ll figure the rest out

I’m pretty sure I want all the songs I write to be about you

Everything he could come up with was too much too soon. He barely knew the girl. So what if she left nail marks on his back or that he knew she had a complex family situation or that she smelled of lemons and vanilla or that he was pretty sure given the chance Percy would fall in love with Annabeth.

What if he already was falling?

He picked up the legal pad again. Percy had finished the first verse after Jason left.

Would you wait, a moment They’re ringing the bell for last call Would you wait, a moment Just give me a second, that’s all.

But now he had the perfect idea for that chorus.

Three days later he was sitting on Piper’s bed, pretending to scroll through social media while she read the lyrics from the most insecure part of himself. It wasn’t the first time they had done this. Though normally Jason was here too.

“Wow, Perce, this is seriously good.”

“Yeah? You think so?” He rubbed the back of his neck and put his phone aside.

“I do. Did Jason see this before he left?”

“Part of it. The first bit.”

“Gotta a beat?” She asked, reaching for her keyboard.

Percy hummed it wishing he had the forethought to bring his guitar in here when they migrated from the living room to her bedroom after Piper’s roommate came home.

Piper picked it up easily and started playing. Then she was singing it with him.

“Oh, oh, talk fast, romance Oh, oh won’t last I’m okay with that Oh, oh burn, crash, romance Oh, oh, I’ll take what I can get from you”

He had texted with Annabeth since their night together and it had solidified for him that she was interested in being friends but not more. He was trying to be okay with that. Percy assumed she thought their familiar circles would interfere if they got together. Hence the burning and crashing. Any relationship they pursued would be a risk.

Clearly one Annabeth wasn’t willing to take. Or maybe she just didn’t want to take it with him.

“Do I get to know who this is about?” Piper asked, when they finished singing.

Percy considered telling her. He really did but as soon as Jason called he knew Piper would tell him. And if Jason knew, Thalia would know, which likely meant Annabeth would too. Didn’t that defeat the purpose of not pursuing a relationship?

“I’m not ready.”

Which was the truth.

“I won’t pressure you but I am basically the child of a love goddess so if you need to spill it better be to me, got that Jackson?”

Piper’s mom ran a dating website called Love Goddess. It used to make Piper super embarrassed but now she just embraced it.

“Wouldn’t dream of telling anyone else first,” he assured her.

“Good. I’m hungry,” she announced, “let me see if Kayla wants anything.”

Percy had only met Kayla a couple of times. She also went to Goode, had a brother named Austin who lived in Canada, and was on the archery team but beyond that Percy barely knew her.

While Piper was gone, Percy fiddled with his phone. Tossing it around in circles. Until it dinged with a new text and he nearly threw it at the wall.

Annabeth: missing Delphi’s music, wishing the Graces would get their butts back to New York so I could see the band again.

All Percy got out of that was she missed him. Well, maybe not him specifically but his band. But that counted for something right?

#percabeth #percabeth fanfic #percabeth fanfiction #my fics

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leovaldezdefender · 3 years

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ranking demigods on how girlboss they are!

10. percy. our boy ranks dead last, but do not mistake this as an insult. percy is last simply because he is the exact opposite of a girlboss: a malewife. and that’s completely fine. all he wants to do is cook and clean for annabeth and hey, dude, me too.

9. jason. he truly radiates malewife energy, which is why he’s near the bottom, alas! however, between being praetor and being raised by wolves, he has just enough bisexual girlboss energy to get by. kudos!

8. leo. he has girlboss energy and i can’t even explain why. maybe it’s the internalized homophobia. i would’ve put him higher but he definitely used the term alpha male at least once which considerably detracted his points.

7. frank. i debated on this one because he’s even meeker than hazel but he was really a badass in toa and he deserves recognition. still too awkward to be a true girlboss but he has potential.

6. nico. i hate to put the only canonically gay demigod in a ‘feminine’ role because stereotypes but yeah, he’s a girlboss.

5. hazel. she’s a little meek to be a proper girlboss, which is why she’s fifth, but she definitely is still one. and after toa, she’s now literally one too, plus props for being the most powerful demigod. horse girl supremacy!

4. thalia. this was really hard ‘cause i wanted to put her higher up but the three above really just outranked her. she definitely is a girlboss though. also hates men which is a bonus. #feminism #womenpower

3. piper. breaks up with her boyfriend and then gets with another girl like two months after he dies. love that for her! rip jason though.

2. reyna. she had to be second because, as she is praetor, she is quite literally a girl-boss. but past that, she has the necessary vibes for it, so she really went into the right career! even if she hates it. so credit where it’s due!

1. annabeth. we all know she was going to be here. she just very much radiates girlboss vibes in every possible way. if you look up ‘girlboss’ in the dictionary the definition is just her face.

honorable mentions

clarisse la rue. definitely a girlboss but rick nerfed her with ruegard not being canon that i couldn’t stand to put her here. sorry girl.

luke castellan. girlboss, but in a negative way. he is girlboss in its first and rawest form - that is, pretending to do things for the good of the people but really for his own gain.

gaea. tried to conquer the world, which is pretty girlboss. however she is a primordial deity. is she even a girl? well, it doesn’t matter, but she’s too evil to be put into the list, even by girlboss standards.

drew tanaka. girlboss robbed of a redemption arc, as fictional girlbosses often are. the little amount of screentime establishes her as one, but it is precisely because of this screentime being so little that she does not qualify.

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not-the-tie-youre-looking-for · 2 years

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Chiss cuddle pile—who's on top? Samakro or Wutroow?

Eli, Ezra and Ronan meeting Ere'bus

Ezra and Ere'bus vs Ysalamir (and Tye'kho, Ira and Saris?)

What's Laknym's favourite pastime?

Ezra Tye'kho Ere'bus and Theron are in a room for ten seconds—what happens?

How do Wutroow and Samakro respond to the three humans?

Apros hairstyle—hit me

Obligatory ask for frying pan or angy cat

(Sorry couldn't find the head pat one)

wutroow is all limbs. at some point, she will inevitably roll around to the point that samakro will have a hand slap his face and a foot kick his stomach, so definitely wutroow :’)

extremely intimidated (but can you blame them?) and also ezra gets some VERY weird force vibes that he doesn’t really know how to interpret. dispute that, he thinks Ere’bus is like. super cool

ezra tries to be a cool creature-connected jedi but like. fails horrendously. everybody else looks on with second-hand embarrassment as he tries to pry the poor ysalamir off its panel before Ere’bus eventually drags him away in shame

i am absolutely convinced that Laknym acts as Che’ri’s second momish whenever thalias is too tired. he is very good with kids, and helped take care of his 3 younger sisters before he joined the military. they color, play tap-click games with each other, and try to find weird recipes in cooking blogs on his questis.

tye’kho vibe-checks the room and immediately leaves. there is too much chaos about to happen for even them to manage.

wutroow is absolutely fascinated. she loves to try saying basic words and works basic idioms into cheunh every chance she gets, with eli’s help. she is also a bad influence on ezra, and convences him and vah’nya to go get a bunch of piercings when they’re on leave—cause why SHOULDNT he experience age-old young chiss rites of passage? she also relentlessly teases ronan about everything and he hates her for it. samakro—of admiral Mak’ro, is much more hesitant about them. he hates the idea of outsiders in the ascendency, but respects the work eli and ezra do for the navigators. he hates ronan and wants to exile him. it becomes a running gag for Mak’ro to try exiling him over everything he finds annoying.

first thought out of my brain was that his haircut is probably very similar to thrawn’s, but a little longer 🤔

obligatory angy cat pic

(OCs: Tye’kho belongs to me, Ere’bus belongs to @emp-roar, Ira belongs to @pretty-with-andorian-shingles, saris belongs to @loud-shimo-screes, and theron belongs to @evarinaandlat :D)

#tye answers asks #rp stuff #thrawn #star wars #chiss #thrawn ascendancy #ezra bridger #wutroow #samakro #laknym #samakro and wutroow #aralani #brierly ronan #eli vanto

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thebigqueer · 3 years

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What are the seven (+ thals, solangelo and rara)'s love languages?

Piper is probably time

Annabeth could be acts of service...

Aside from that idk

Ooh, I like this ask!!

I'm curious as to why you think Piper's might be time... I don't see that for her, but I'm definitely interested in hearing why you think that!

I think Percy's would be acts of service to be honest, because he is seen to be really loyal and loving towards people he trusts (and it's pretty clear that he isn't always so easy to trust people). I can also see him using cooking as a love language.

Jason... Hmm. I feel like he'd be the kind of person to use words of affirmation. Not entirely sure why but I think it's something he does.

For Piper, I also see her as words of affirmation, but also physical touch. I think the words of affirmation comes more from the fact that charmspeak is, like, her thing, so maybe that's it.

For Frank, I think gifts. He seems like the kind of person who would like to give gifts to everyone he loves.

Hazel would also be words of affirmation. Don't ask me why, but I feel like she loves letting the people she knows that she adores them.

Leo's... I think acts of services, or maybe gifts. I think he likes to make little small things for people he loves, even if they seem insignificant or small. He carries a lot of love in his small toys or trinkets that he makes.

Annabeth I would say is physical touch, but also quality time. I think especially after Percy was gone for so long, she really loves to hang out with him - and that also translates to other people that she's friends with. Also, I wonder if her past with running away from her family factors into that need to be with people. Plus, after Tartarus, I don't think she really wants to be alone on her own, at least not for too long. I think quality time works with her.

Nico's is acts of services, no doubt about it. But also physical touch, because in Tower of Nero he has been seen to hold hands with Will pretty often. I think he's more into acts of services, though, but also partial to physical touch.

Will... I also think physical touch (again, with him and Nico being so touchy with each other and also the fact that he does tend to be a little bit touchy with others), but quality time is also something he likes. I'm thinking of that scene where him and Nico were in the canoe. I think he likes to just spend some time with people he loves and loves to just take those private moments for only him and anyone who he's hanging out with.

Thalia I think would be acts of services, or physical touch. I think the physical touch comes more from this idea that I don't think she'd be into words of affirmation, but she likes to translate her love to people she really cares for through touch. And it's a big deal too, because I also don't think she likes to touch people often. Nonetheless I still think she enjoys it, but only with specific people.

And Reyna. I would say she's a quality time kind of person, but I'm not entirely sure. I think especially seeing that she's spent so much time lonely and kind of separated from everyone around her (since she's only ever been seen as a leader) she likes taking that time to hang out with people and give them her full attention.

But these are just my thoughts!! You're totally fine to have your own of course!!

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ethannku · 3 years

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desi jason/thalia headcanons

i’m just on that desi shit today...

they def learned bharatantyam together. thalia has giant thighs and continued it and DEFINITELY has a hunter bharatantyam dance squad going.

jason learned how to braid hair because of bharatanatyam, so he would braid piper’s when they were on the argo II. longhaired-nico also gets his hair braided by jason.

whenever thalia has free time she likes to visit whatever spice shop is nearby and just take a peek around. since she’s always on the move, she can’t really go to a temple, so she’ll send quick prayers when she’s around the idols in the shops.

she also definitely cooks for the hunters.

yes both of them are hindus no they are not orthodox yes they celebrate all the holidays and know all the myths no they don’t regularly go to temples.

well that’s a lie, jason actually does go to temples quite often as part of his “searching around for minor gods” thing. he doesn’t expect to ever meet the hindu pantheon gods since he like... actually believes in them as real gods (*cough* aru shah doesn’t exist for the purpose of this headcanon *cough*)

anyways what i’m trying to say is jason definitely has a little section of the zeus cabin set up with incense and krishna pictures and statues.

speaking of incense, jason's comfort scenet (if that makes sense) is agarbatti. lighting an agarbatti stick and leaving it in the cabin immediately calms him down.

thalia has a gold leaf chain that she wears all the time, it’s one of the things she never takes off as well as the hunter circlet.

similarly, jason wears malas around his wrists that he likes to fiddle with. thalia got them for him once she realized he didn’t have his birth ones. he takes them off sometimes, like when he has to go out fighting, since he doesn’t want to get blood on them or anything.

thalia and jason don’t know any indian languages, they actually aren’t very sure what part of india they are from, but they are both learning hindi and whenever they meet up they’ll try to have conversations entirely in hindi.

post-jason’s death nico makes sure there’s always an agarbatti lit in the zeus cabin, just in case jason’s spirit is wandering around and he wants to visit.

#jason grace #thalia grace #toa #hoo #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #desi jason grace #desi thalia grace #desi pjo #indian jason grace #indian thalia grace #percy jackson and the olympians

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 3 years

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Dumbass got stabbed III

I really thought I had finished with this two shot but after a request from @/booksrlife300 on ao3 asking for the aftermath I really couldn't resist making it a three shot. And my writing demon certainly agreed because it really went wild during my plane ride.

Anyway here is part three (and i think the final part) to dumbass got stabbed.

Recap (since it's been over a year):

Percy gets stabbed by a monster after coming back from the movies with his friends and the first place he goes to is Jason's house. Jason nearly has a heart attack after Percy collapses on his door and then he pulls him inside and stitches him all up.

This fic starts with Percy waking up the next morning.

[image has alt text]

Percy wakes up to searing pain. It spills across his skin like an upturned sowing box. He doesn't know where it's coming from because it feels like it's coming from everywhere. He can't even take stock of his body because he feels like one big pincushion. He supposes being stabbed makes him a pincushion.

He doesn't want to open his eyes. He can feel the light behind them. Too bright. Too loud. Too not how he feels.

He feels like deep darkness. Like the darkness just before a star explodes. The darkness before the sky erupts. The kind that blankets all of his senses except the one that pings danger. That's red and wailing at him. But then pain so untamed it turns his vision orange lances across his side and his eyes snap open with a low howl.

He can see white ceiling. He can see black dots. He hears scrambling, clothes rustling and something falling over. And then he can see blue eyes. And then he can see skies and oceans and glass bottles and concern like mothering hens staring down at him.

"Percy," His name is a growled gasp. Sleep still clinging to the strings of his friends voice box, scratching it's way down his throat.

"Hello, I'm in immense pain." Vaguely he notes that he sounds like an automated machine relaying it's faulty inner workings. That's half how he feels now that the burning-orange pain has lessened to a caution-yellow.

"Here," A golden hand, fingers wrapped in individual bandages, long and racing with green veins, holds out a square to him. It is small and unassuming. Nobody would guess it holds the food of gods. Then again nobody would guess those gods existed.

His mouth feels as though he's been eating his clothes for sustenance the last week. All heavy tongue, dry saliva glands, and teeth too smudgy to be healthy. He considers turning the square away for some toothpaste and a glass of water. But neither of those are going to magically cure the wound marking his side. So he opens his mouth, his jaw, and let's Jason drop the square onto his tongue. Warm fingers brush his lips as they pull back and he wants to chase the lightning-blue zing that they leave behind against his sarcastic mouth.

Instead he snaps himself shut and chews slowly. Only half interested in the cookies, then brownies, then soda— which he somehow knows is blue— disappears down his throat. He feels the magic working through his veins, skin stitching itself together. A headache he didn't know he had disappates.

With a long exhale he relaxes back against cotton cushions and finally takes a good look around the room. He has every detail of it already memorised, having spent many a day and night in this position bothering his friend endlessly. There's the singular shelf that houses old trinkets tattered and bruised from years of moving; the single arrow from Thalia's set— given in protection and as a reminder that she would always be there, for real this time; there's the gaudy new York taxi keyring he had given the blonde, now without the ring part, so of no real use; and the snow globe from Piper when she visited Paris. The soft yellow wall— lemon drizzle if you want to get specific— sits in perfect contrast to the charcoal grey of the rest of the room. It sort of embodies Jason's whole presence. The desk, well used and scattered with books and paper and Chinese takeout containers, sits in the corner opposite the bedroom, right near the window. He says if he can see the city he can breathe a little easier. He knows what he's working towards. Percy thinks it's so he can see the sky and know there's always a way to escape.

Him and Jason are good at that. Escaping. From bad situations, from big feelings, from each other. There's always something left unsaid between them. It drives their friends mad, but it's all they can do to stop from becoming hurricanes and devouring the entire universe.

"How are you feeling?" The blonde is sitting in his swivelly squeaky desk chair, leaning over him with all sense of care and concern. It makes him feel like duck egg blue.

"Much better thank you." He attempts a grin. He hopes it's not a grimace. "No matter how many times I get stabbed it doesn't seem to hrut any less."

Jason narrows his eyes, "I wonder why."

See that's what Percy likes. Everyone else is always giving him disapproving looks and worried scoldings when he says things like that but Jason? Jason indulges him, makes it feel not so suffocating to always be injured and bruised and relying on little squares of God-food to get him through the month.

"How do I look?" This time it's definitely a grin. He can feel the green of his eyes go emerald with amusement.

"Very pretty as always." The reply is solemn, but there's a twitch of pink lips and it's all he can do to not reach over and touch it.

"Want to tell me what happened?" A frown replaces the amusement and he wants to rewind the last few seconds again and again. "You were a little...out of it when you showed up."

"Yes I suppose getting attacked by a monster makes all the smart chemicals in my brain go a little foamy."

"You don't know what attacked you?"

And he is pinned to the bed, to the room, to the world. Because nobody can read the words behind his words the way Jason can. Can read the emotion behind his pauses and the expressions behind his masks. He is neon purple.

"It was dark." He resigns himself to the story. When he's done, laid all the boring details bare, he studies the floors.

The silence stretches around them, cocooning them into something too delicate to touch. It feels almost awkward, or it would if he knew anything about that when he was here. Instead it's just quiet.

"Can you stand? You need a shower."

"Oof Jase," He puts a hand to his chest, hurt painted like clown's make up falling across his face. "I can't look that bad."

There's a precious smirk, full of quick whips kicking up in his friend. "It's the way you smell actually."

He takes an exaggerated whiff and nearly gags. "I smell like I'm decaying." He shudders.

A laugh bursts from the blonde and Percy doesn't want to move in case the music ends. He feels candy floss pink in that moment.

"Right up you get. I'll sort out breakfast and then you can entertain me for the day."

"You don't have to take care of me." He rolls his eyes, sitting up with a hidden wince. His feet settle on the floor. He's grateful neither of them acknowledge that he came here in a haze. That Jason did take care of him. That when his mind was nothing but blinding pain this was the first place his legs took him.

"I'm not taking care of you. I'm using you for entertainment."

What his friend doesn't realise is that Percy can read all his hidden scripture just as well. How "entertain me" means I'm keeping an eye on you. How "mind helping me with this" means I can do it just fine by myself but I want company. How winks mean "it's a joke between us" but smirks mean "it's honesty but gently". It warms his heart to know he can do this. It's a sunshine yellow thing to know someone the way they know each other.

"You good?" Jason stops at the door when he still hasn't moved from the bed.

"Yes just preparing to haul my very large body into your very small shower." He feels the eye roll more than see it. It tugs a smile onto his face.

"I'll remind you that I'm an even larger body and I make it work."

"How on earth do you ever have shower—"

"Percy Jackson!" He is snapped into a laugh.

And then he's in the bathroom and his mouth is full of mint bubbles and although there are circles as deep purple as squished plums under his eyes they shine with contentness. He doesn't fear or worry. Not here. At home, in his mother's house, he's the protector from monsters only he can decimate. At camp he is the protector from monsters that are determined to destroy. But here. He is just Percy. And his protector is cooking pancakes in the kitchen. He is just Percy. And he is sage green as he steps into the steam of the shower.

He looks down, catching the fading wound on his abdomen. His brown skin let's droplets of water rest briefly before rippling and they go racing down to the tiled floor. He stands there for a good minute just staring blankly. But then he hears the sound of a kettle whistling and it jolts him into action as he scrubs the grime and gross of yet another something trying to kill him, off his body.

By the time he's done— sweats and a loose tee rummaged from Jason's closet draping over his too hot skin— the pancakes are neatly stacked on two plates and fresh steaming coffee sits to the right of their food. He feels honey brown.

"Looks delicious."

"I know the way to your heart." The blonde shrugs.

"It's more of a journey than most bargain for." He laughs quietly.

"Dont worry I've brought my hacksaw and my hiking boots I'm willing to run through Amazonian forests."

"Well that's relieving," He grins around his mug. "I was beginning to think I'd be stranded in my stone tower forever."

"All alone?"

He snorts, "No I've made friends with all manner of being. I can't be alone, you know that." He bites into his pancake, blueberry slipping off his fork with a thudding splash into the syrup.

"I do know." The blonde's voice is all buttery and melting. And the truth that comes with it knocks a new vein into Percy's heart.

They're quiet for a few minutes as they devour their breakfast. When there's mere sips of coffee left he settles back in his chair and regards his friend.

"What manner of entertainment am I providing today?"

"Whatever you want but I'm not leaving the house."

"Oh good I don't know if I can make it ten steps out your door without half crumbling to dust these days."

"You wouldn't."

"Mhmm," He hums distractedly, gaging the weather to decide if they're going to huddle up with movies and far too many blankets or throw playing cards at each other while drowning in lemonade. It's a movie sort of day, he decides.

"You wouldn't turn to dust." Jason is saying. "You're too much god and too much good to die like monsters." There is that silent reading again.

"Maybe I was." Percy shrugs, "Before you know..."

And he doesn't need to add anymore because the big space the catches onto that sentence no matter how much time separates those events from the now still means the same thing. Before Tartarus. Before he made a ventriloquist puppet out of a goddess. Before he became unhinged.

"You are not a monster for protecting yourself. Or others." Golden voice is firm. Solid.

"You may be the only one who knows and thinks that."

"Doesn't matter it's still true."

"Okay enough seriousness." He doesn't have the energy for their circling conversation. "Shall we binge Pirates of the Caribbean?" For a stormy grey second he thinks his friend is going to keep their talk going but then he sees the surrender behind the blue eyes and a part of him unwinds.

"We can." There's a raised eyebrow accompanying the agreement and he knows there's conditions attached. Like a damn insurance plan. "If your promise to let me walk you home this evening."

"My big bad wolf." He teases.

The blonde responds with a low growl that makes his whole body turn a violent azure blue. "Fine. We shall stare at Captain Jack Sparrow and then you can valiantly walk me to my front door and shake hands with my mother."

"Wonderful. Now let's get some blankets down."

Jason smiles as he stretches on his tiptoes to reach the fluffy ones. He feels the soft material under his palm but the there's a hand over his brown one and it's tugging the blanket down. He sticks his tongue out at his friend.

Percy is ocean blue.

#Dumbass got stabbed #Part 3 #PJJG fanfic #PJJG series #Percy jackson #Jason grace #Jercy

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lightwdangelo · 3 years

Text

The Seven + Toa Characters in online school

In pure hatred towards online school I made headcons of how these characters would be in online school, hope you like it!

Disclaimer: please please pretend that somehow they are in the same class sp they are together. Ik that it’s impossible but let’s use imagination!

Annabeth: You see her in every class. She always opens her mic and cam, and doesn’t care anymore about how she looks. But, deep down you can see how tired she is. There’s a rumor going on that she never submitted and assignment late, and it’s true because she does everything 3 hours before.

Percy: He logs in every class, but never says anything. Is he there? Bold of you to assume that. He’s not even in the same room as the computer. He’s cleaning, he’s cooking, helping Estelle, hiding from Paul because he thinks he’s paying attention… Annabeth helps him with essays and he gives her chocolates because can’t give cuddles

Leo: The last time they saw him, was three months ago because of a presentation where he spoke for about 14.6 seconds. Piper talks to him every other day, to check if he’s alive. Sometimes pops in, answers a math question and is out again.

Piper: She only shows up at classes she cares about. Barely participates but when does, is an amazing speech that leave everybody in awe and the teachers asking themselves “Why the HELL she doesn’t talk more?” Does the essays that she needs to do to pass, because mental health first.

Jason: On the same page as Annabeth, the teachers absolutely love him. Always opens his cam so you can see his will to live running on the background. Every time a teacher asks him something or just calls him he says under his breath “fuck, not again”

Frank: One of the few that are actually trying. Wakes up early, takes a shower picks a notebook and pays attention on the first class but It’s really hard. BECAUSE HOW CAN YOU LEARN ANYTHING? But he’s getting by just fine.

Hazel: Always with her cam open (but doesn’t talk much) and looking down so the teachers think that she’s writing notes, but in reality? She’s making stunning drawings and vibing to her super chill playlist. She studies later in the day.

Rachel: Just started taking it as a podcast while draws somewhere, on the tablet, paper, canvas, anywhere. She texts Hazel a lot to ask for opinions and Nico because he sends her memes every 5 minutes

Nico: Also taking the class as a podcast but stays still in front of the computer. He tried in the begging but honestly? Way too hard. Just looks for random stuff on internet, even recipes and he doesn’t even cook. Text to 5 people he knows are not giving a flying fuck and checks if his mic and cam are off because of f e a r

Will: The one that always says “Good Morining!” and “Good Afternoon!” but in the class itself doesn’t say much. Participates on the scheme of cheating on tests, the passing/getting answers. Also, sweetheart of some of the teachers so all the warnings and things they didn’t have time to say on class they say to Will so Will can say to everyone else.

Meg: She actually wakes up early, takes a shower and sits in front of the computer, but can’t stay there all the time. Her leg is always bouncing and every fifteen minutes she walks around the house just because yes. Doesn’t pay much attention because that shit is boring, but is getting by just fine.

Apollo/Lester: He complains a lot. Just saying to everyone how online classes suck, how this year is a lost one and how everyone is extremely tired. Howfuckingever, when teachers ask, “Are you guys okay?” He’s the first to say “Yes, everything is fine!” Raw definition of ‘Hey, how you doing well I’m doing just fine I lied I’m dying inside’

Thalia: She looks for the answers of the texts while Will is exchanging them. They work well together. Has a breakdown every time she needs to write an essay but always delivers on time. How? 2 minutes earlier and 2 cans of monster energy. Feels like a God, but always says she’ll do earlier next time. Liar.

Reyna: She can’t stand it anymore. It’s been really overwhelming, so she mutes the class and studies the subject by herself during said class. Sometimes when a teacher calls her, obviously she won’t listen, so Nico always calls her every time “hey, they’re calling you”

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janfraiser · 3 years

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Random + 33 for Peter/Lesley

This prompt is so Lesley it's perfect thank you

33. "Welcome back. Now fucking help me."

Peter honestly hadn't enjoyed his first day back at work after paternity leave.

He'd thought case files and nicking criminals and drinking coffee without Lesley glaring at him would feel nice, would give him a breath of fresh air and a differing rhythm to his day. But nope. Police work was full of dead ends and he just feels behind after three months off. He can't wait to come home and hold his daughters and try not to fall asleep washing dishes.

Clearly, his family has missed him too.

"Welcome back," Lesley says, when he makes his way up the stairs and into the nursery to find her holding one baby and trying to put a diaper on another while the third wails from her crib. "Now fucking help me."

Peter hurries to take over the diaper change, sneaking in a quick kiss for Lesley as he holds Cassie-- he's pretty sure this is Cassie-- still. "Hey, hey there," he soothes, jiggling her leg until she looks at him instead of crying. "Yeah, you're okay. No need for all the drama." Lesley's done the hard part, so he just needs to get the clean diaper secure and comfortable on his daughter's tiny body. Once that's accomplished, he lifts her into the air and blows a raspberry on her belly before grabbing her tiny dress from the other side of the changing table.

"There we go," he says, tugging it over her head and cradling her against his chest. "Giggles. Much better than crying."

"I swear they've all three been in tears since you left," Lesley groans, sitting in her armchair with Sera and Thalia both in her arms. "Thalia won't let me put her down, and Sera's been nursing so much I think she's having a growth spurt."

"It's about time for it," Peter muses, thinking back to all of the books piled on his nightstand. He moves across the room and kisses his girlfriend's cheek, stroking Thalia's dark curls with the hand that isn't holding Cassie. "And clinginess could be a sign of that, too."

"Shitty timing," Lesley groans, and Peter's heart feels heavy as he watches her eyes close over and her head tilt back. "Today felt like a total nightmare. Every time I thought I had things under control, something else happened. And Molly helped with the bottles and supplies and all that, but she can barely hold a baby. Not that she should have to..."

Seeing Lesley's obvious and undeserved guilt makes Peter himself feel guilty. "Shit, Les, I'm sorry I left. I can pull strings or whatever and get more leave, even if I have to count it as a vacation. You know I'd rather be home with all of you."

"No," she argues, shaking her head and adjusting the breast Sera is nursing at. "You need to be back, and not just because we need your paycheck."

"I'm not leaving you like this," he argues, reaching out to cup her face. "I mean, obviously there's an adjustment period, but this seems-- miserable. Every other time I've seen you with the girls, you've been happy, even when you're dead tired in the middle of the night. But now..."

"I just feel like I can't do it by myself," she admits, looking away. "And that makes me feel like a shit mum. Which doesn't help."

"Lesley, love." It's hard to get close to her with a baby in his arms and two in hers, but Peter lean forward as best he can, resting his forehead against hers. "You're an absolutely fantastic mum, alright? That doesn't mean you have to do it all yourself. We'll figure something out."

She leans back to look at him, expression skeptical. "What other options have we got?"

Peter heaves a long sigh as he adjusts how he's holding Cassie, bouncing her slightly and staring into her wide brown eyes. With her pouting lips and the way she's watching him, she almost reminds him of...

"My mum," he says, grinning as he looks back up at Lesley. "C'mon, you know she'd love to help. And she loves you. She'll get to see her grandchildren and make sure the Folly passes muster, and you won't have to do everything yourself. Everybody wins."

A small smile appears on Lesley's face. "Are you sure she won't mind helping? I know she works..."

Peter shakes his head. "She's working a lot less now that dad's got that record deal. She'd love to come over. You know she would."

Lesley nods and sighs and smiles down at her daughters. "I think I would definitely feel better just having some backup."

Now that all three babies are quiet and his girlfriend is no longer spiraling, Peter can focus on some of his own concerns. Namely, his growling stomach.

"Yeah... and I would feel better having some of her cooking."

#peter grant #lesley may #peter x lesley #ask meme #skipps tag #my writing #my stuf

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kingburu · 3 years

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can we... know more about maria's parents? 👁️👄👁️

Laura, daughter of Victoria and Rafael, son of Letus (Thanatos)!

@ariihen and I have always joked/pushed around that idea that Nico is a Roman legacy in canonverse and dd-verse--but especially so in dd-verse. Since “Conquer or die” is a phrase that’s used by the Romans, we based Maria’s parents off that motto and basically said Victory or Death. Or in this case, victory and death!

Since Victory/Nike is kind of high strung, so is her daughter. Laura’s a sharp-tongued who has no patience for BS, and will throw hands if she needs to.

On the other hand, Rafael is a softer, gentler man since Letus/Thanatos’s realm is kind death. Since death is in his blood, we talked about how Rafael would have a low sperm count to begin with and Laurel probably miscarried a few time before they were finally able to have Maria, so they’re very protective of her.

Thus, Maria di Angelo, Legacy of Victoria and Letus was born with a kind father and a mom who told her never to take anything less than gold who’s a little kookie and zany, and it’s the Victoria in her that basically said, “Anyone can sleep with Jupiter/Zeus, who wants to do that? Has anyone tried to romance his wife?” (by proxy this is her attitude with literally any god in any AU that tries to romance her, she enjoys a challenge) and it’s the Death in her that makes her a little weird and say a bunch of double entendres Like, Zeus tried to romance her by taking her to the normal makeout spots and she wasn’t interested. He had to beg Hades and Poseidon to be Bros and let him take her to their realms and bc she wanted to see how cool the Underworld was and she was curious if anyone has tried to dissect a merman before (literally just think of Eclipsa from Star vs. the Forces of Evil and that’s how sweet/kookie she is)

When she fell in love with Hera, Laura congratulated Maria on winning her challenge but was not impressed with Hera bc the Queen of the Gods was not willing to marry her daughter. She also thinks that Hera’s cooking is subpar at best and “if you’re the goddess of family then why aren’t your kids running through the door?” and made Hera wear one of her aprons and use her hands to make pasta in the di Angelo household

Hera had to learn bc Maria can’t cook worth shit

Ironically, Hera’s need to impress Laura just puts Laura’s competitiveness into overdrive so that’s just a neverending battle for her

Rafael is just a chill dad; apparently Letus was known as kind and wanting to just sleep a lot; so he and his Type A wife really just balance each other out a lot. Laura made pasta, but Rafael made bone cookies for the Italian Day of the Dead and taught both Nico and Bianca how to make them. He really doesn’t care if Maria gets married or not, but he definitely cried both times his grandchildren were born bc he was worried that the di Angelo name would die with his genes

(he also doesn’t think Hera knows how to cook very well but he will eat what he was given)

This all started because ren and I joked that Percy would dress Nico up as his Italian grandmother to get the early bird senior citizen discount at the restaurants in New Rome, so he’d wear a gray wig, small spectacles, and a shawl made of Peacock feathers and Percy would parade Nonna Nicola around (i’m really hoping to bring this into the story at some point)

But another joke was that since Nico is a roman legacy, Laura would try to become a lar and protect the Fifth Cohort, so Thalia and Percy have just been listening to this crazy lady babbling on about her adorable grandchildren for a long time before Nico finally showed up. Laura has a soft spot for Nico bc he can carry on the family name

On the other hand, Rafael would be following Bianca around and supporting her shopping habits, and he has a soft spot for her bc she looks so much like Maria

Lastly, their names were chosen since laurels are a symbol of Victoria and Rafael means “Healing God,” or in the way it’s being depicted, the di Angelo patriarch is the “Healing Angel.”

#nico di angelo #maria di angelo #dearly departed #fic #the more you know!#Anonymous #tw: miscarriage #tw: miscarriages

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phykios · 3 years

Text

honesty and promise me, part 4 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

July twelfth dawns like any other day, Annabeth wrapped up in Percy’s sheets. She’s spent significantly more nights in his bed than she’s spent in her own apartment over the last two months, but who could blame her? This bed is literally to die for. Therapeutic mattress for the fucking win.

Percy, to her greatest confusion and chagrin, is a morning person. Well, actually, what he is is someone who runs on very little sleep for three weeks at a time, before crashing headfirst into his bed for thirteen hours. It is a decidedly unhealthy way to live, but it means that Annabeth is used to waking up alone. The nights where she gets to wake up with Percy are the nicer ones, sure, but his presence is suffused in every corner of the room, his smell wafting from every piece of sweaty clothing tossed haphazardly about the floor, so much so that she never feels like she is truly waking up alone.

Gross? A little. But the smell is oddly sexy, too, especially after he’s just come home from a run, all wet and glistening and flushed, panting hard--

Ahem.

The point is, when Annabeth rolls out of bed in one of Percy’s shirts (the one that says “Do You Even Lift, Bro?” with an image of a male dancer raising his partner, courtesy of one Jason Grace) and stumbles into the kitchen for one of Percy’s patented brunch specials, it’s a pretty normal morning. What catches her off guard is the spread: eggs and bacon, obviously, with fruit and granola and yogurt, but also an enormous tray of delicious, flaky croissants, perfectly crescent shaped, with little bowls of every condiment imaginable, multiple flavors of jams and preserves and Nutellas.

“Bounjour, mademoiselle!” Percy says cheerfully from the oven, perfectly accented, bending over to take out a tray. “Ça va bien?”

“Um… bonjour…” She pokes a croissant experimentally, and is equally delighted and dismayed to find that it is just as flaky as advertised.

“Take a seat, these ones just need to cool for a bit and then we can get started.”

Spring in his step, he opens the refrigerator, taking out the most beautiful cake Annabeth has ever seen in her entire life. Perfectly round, paper white, with little blue borders piped around the edge, but it’s got Annabeth feeling like she’s just been doused in cold water. “How the hell did you know it was my birthday?”

Immediately, she knows it was the exact wrong thing to say. His eyes go wide as the saucers on the table, mouth open in shock. “It’s your birthday?”

Goddammit. “Um.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Because birthdays were inherently a dumb concept? Because her father had to be reminded of her birthday more often than not? Because her mother had stopped sending her birthday cards after she turned thirteen, calling them a waste of money and resources? “I don’t know,” she shrugs, dipping her finger into the strawberry jam. “I guess I just didn’t think it was a big deal. Ooh, does this have rosemary in it?”

“Annabeeeeth,” he whines, plopping the cake onto the kitchen island. “I can’t believe you! I love birthdays.”

“Well,” she flounders, attempting to duck his sudden attention, “what were you originally celebrating? I don’t usually think of cake as a brunch option.”

He raises an eyebrow, not at all impressed with her attempts to change the topic, but he answers dutifully, “Originally, we were celebrating me being one month cig-free--”

“Percy!” Annabeth gasps, clapping her hands delightedly, and a little exaggeratedly. “That’s great!”

“But,” he continues, “now we’re definitely celebrating your birthday instead.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Nuh uh,” he chides, grabbing his phone and beginning to type something, “I am asking Nico to pick you up a birthday card as we speak.”

Oh. “Nico’s coming?”

“Well, this is his apartment. Part of the deal is that I make him breakfast. I think he’s bringing his boyfriend.”

“Is… anyone else coming?”

“Just a couple of people, my friends Frank, Grover, Rachel… I invited Hazel and Thalia, too, but I think Hazel told me she was busy, and you know Thalia. If it’s not at a crappy dive bar then the odds of her showing up are virtually none.” Percy pauses in his text, fixing her with an odd look. “You really don’t want anyone to know, do you?”

How easily he reads her is a little disconcerting, and also a thought that she just can’t handle right now. “I just don’t like people making a big deal out of it. You know, it’s just another day. I’d much rather celebrate you quitting.”

He holds her gaze for a beat, before smiling, finishing typing out whatever he was doing on his phone. “Yes, I am officially quitting. Cigarettes are terrible for you, and I do not have the money to keep up the habit. So, I swear,” he holds up a hand, “No cigarettes, no weed, no vaping. Not that I ever vaped before.”

“Oh, never?” Annabeth teases.

“Not ever.” He leans in, grinning that devastating grin that is seriously detrimental to her health. “You could not pay me enough.”

“Good.” She goes to meet him, pressing her mouth to his, sweetly and chastely, but swiftly turning deeper, almost against their higher brain functions, like they only exist to be here in this moment, lips against lips, tongue and tongue. She’s always hated the taste of cigarettes, she prefers edibles to blunts, and anyone who vapes is automatically dropped from her list of potential partners… but she’s never minded the taste of ash on Percy’s tongue. It was just another part of him, another facet of the whole sexy package.

Now, though, she has the full taste of him, unfettered and unfiltered, his morning coffee and his morning breath. It is disgusting, but again, oddly thrilling. This is Percy, stripped down and divested of all the trappings of blue lipstick and tight pants. She wonders what he thinks when he sees her like this, messy haired, face and ears empty of metal, last night’s mascara smudged all around her eyes. Given the way that he deliberately threads her hair through his fingers, winding the frizzy curls around him, pulling her close enough that the pristine cake is in danger from some serious smushing, she thinks he likes it just as much.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on which perspective, either Percy’s, Annabeth’s, Nico’s, or the cake’s, their little impromptu makeout session has cold water dumped on it before they can end up doing it on the kitchen island. The sound of someone unlocking the front door is almost comically loud, and they break apart, equally red and flushing.

“Gross,” says Nico di Angelo. “No heterosexuality allowed in my kitchen.”

“Take that back, you biphobic ass,” Percy says. “I have never been heterosexual in my life.”

“I’m not biphobic, I just don’t want to see you getting it on on my marble countertops.”

“Speak for yourself,” chimes in Will, setting down a grocery bag right on the spot which would have been ground zero. “Hi, Annabeth.”

“Hey, Will.”

“Nice of you to join us today,” he says, as though he doesn’t see her here all the time.

She offers her assistance in cooking or setting up, knowing full well that she will be firmly rebuffed--domestics are not her strong suit, by any stretch of the imagination--and is sent away with an iced coffee that Will has so thoughtfully bought for her instead of the birthday card she was dreading.

Soon after, the party is in full swing.

Well, she uses the term party loosely. It is fairly intimate, even with Nico’s enormous apartment making everything smaller. They have assembled an odd amalgamation of people: “You already know Nico,” Percy says, indicating the goth prince next to, “and Will,” his boyfriend, the perpetually cheery med student, next to, “and this is Frank,” a large, physically imposing man with a shy smile, next to, “Rachel,” a red-headed girl who looked like she just walked out of a paint shower, all making space for, “and my buddy Grover,” the guy in crutches who had immediately dropped into the single, out-of-decor, but extremely comfortable-looking loveseat Nico had placed nearest to the bathroom. All told, they look like the brochure for a community college who really, really wants to publicize how diverse their student body is, but with a kind of natural chemistry and camaraderie that those kids on that brochure could only dream of. “Everyone, this is Annabeth.”

They greet her, each giving a limp wave.

Then Percy leaves to attend to his brunch spread, but not before giving her a quick peck on the cheek. She can feel all eyes on them, hot and burning.

Silence.

“So,” Annabeth says, as awkward as a freshman in an orientation mixer. “What’s up?”

“Your hair is amazing,” says Rachel.

Hers is crusted with paint, a deep red that turns pink against the orange in the light, a close cousin to Annabeth’s, which is in dire need of a touchup, curls thrown in disarray by Percy’s grasping fingers. “Thanks, I--”

“So how do you two know each other?”

Annabeth blinks. “Friend of Thalia’s,” she says. “You?”

“Used to do ballet together,” Rachel says, brusque, efficient. “Frank, too.”

Frank waves again.

A beat passes.

Annabeth looks to Grover, who watches, bemused. “You, too, I take it?”

Another second. Then he laughs, weird, but hearty, a joyful bleat. “Oh, sure,” he says. “I’m a regular Baryshnikov.”

She can almost feel the room relaxing, heaving a sigh after holding its breath.

“Are you with NYCB, too?” she turns to Frank, shoving her hands in her pockets, fingers curling around the fabric there.

Shaking his head, he swallows his orange juice. “I mostly do modern and hip hop, now, music videos and stuff.”

Objectively, she knows that you don’t have to be skinny as a rake or bodybuilding champion to dance, but Frank is neither of these, a huge, sweet-faced guy with a healthy layer of fat around his face and torso--a strict counterpart to Percy, who could give the Belvedere Apollo a run for its money. “Have I seen you in anything?” Not that she really watches music videos, but she figures it’s the polite thing to ask.

“Um, maybe,” he shrugs, embarrassed. “I’ve been lucky enough to work with some really big people.” Though he offers no further details.

“Working on anything cool?” She asks, doing her best not to cajole.

He nods. “Percy and I have a thing coming out probably in the next month or so, with--ah, well. Can’t say.”

“Tease,” Rachel grumbles, tossing back her mimosa. “I’ve been trying to get the secret out of him for months.”

Frank smiles, secretive and a little smug. “Sorry. You’ll find out along with everyone else.”

“Do you work together a lot?” Annabeth asks. She had thought that Percy was strictly ballet--though, she supposes dancers do crossover work more often these days, if only for the money.

“Not as much as we used to, sadly,” he replies. “We actually lived together in Paris for a few years while he was contracted with the opera before I decided to come back home. Vancouver,” he adds at her unspoken question.

“Bit of a hike, from Vancouver to New York,” says Grover.

Frank shrugs. “I was in town anyway, and I haven’t seen Percy in about a year.”

Annabeth frowns, doing some mental math. If Frank hadn’t seen him in two years, then that meant… that Percy had been alone in Paris all that time. The man thrives off of friendship and social interaction; no wonder he was jonesing to come back to America.

“Remind me again how long you two were together?” Rachel asks, red hair bouncing as she cocks her head. A jolt goes down Annabeth’s spine, appraising Frank in an entirely new light.

“On and off for about two years,” says Frank, thoughtful. “But I just lived with him to save money. The rent in Paris sucks.”

“And you were the best roommate I ever had,” Percy says, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Clean, good cook, better kisser--”

Frank shoves him away.

“You’ve only ever had one other roommate, other than Nico or your mom,” Grover points out. “That one guy when you first moved overseas--Frodo? Fedora?”

“Fyodor,” Percy corrects. “He was terrible. I didn’t know any Russian, he didn’t know any English, and our French wasn’t good enough to actually hash it out, so he just gave me a permanent cold shoulder.”

“Kind of a low bar, don’t you think?”

“And there was my roommate in Boston.”

Sharply, she turns her head. “You lived in Boston?”

“Yeah, for like a year. I told you I was with Boston Ballet for a little bit, didn’t I?”

Pretty sure he didn’t. She almost opens her mouth to retort, to ask when and compare notes, to mention that she lived in Boston, too, before remembering who she is with, swallowing her words.

“Fyodor hated you,” Frank hums, reentering the circle. He’d wandered away and returned with a croissant, dipped in chocolate.

“Trust, me, the feeling was mutual.”

“It must have been,” Frank says, “because I saw your new apartment after he kicked you out--that place made a shoebox look luxurious.”

Something in Percy’s face almost falls when Frank says that. Annabeth is sure there is a story there.

But Rachel laughs. “Annabeth, you have no idea. It was a Chambre de bonne ,” she says, exaggerating the accent, “which might sound super fancy and French and cool, but trust me, it wasn’t at all. It was this size.” She slaps the kitchen island, a little too hard, her third mimosa making her loose-limbed and loud. “When I visited for Thanksgiving that year I had to pay for the heating bill, because Percy basically refused.”

“It was cozy,” Percy mutters, suddenly very preoccupied with the half a croissant on his plate.

“It was not.” Rachel says. “It was sad and cold and small.”

Nico looks interested, but not nearly as boisterous as Rachel or Frank, “Was that the place…”

“Ye,” Percy cuts him off, “Yes it was.” He smiles, Stepford-strained. “But, then Frank came to town, and so did his grandmother’s money.” He slaps Frank on the back. “And I got a bathtub.”

“I still can’t believe that a ballet dancer lived anywhere for two years without a place to soak,” Frank says, shuddering.

“I can’t believe you waited until Frank got to Paris to get yourself a sugar daddy,” Grover quips. Percy throws a grape at him. Grover, to her immense surprise, manages to catch it in his mouth.

Annabeth can’t really be impressed. This is the second time someone has brought up Percy and Frank having a history. Something hot and angry curls in her stomach. But Percy is laughing.

Rachel laughs too. “Oh, he didn’t wait,” she says. “He had a bevy of sugar mommies for trips to Ibiza and Moscow and Beijing.”

“It was Tokyo,” Percy says, “and they weren’t my Sugar Mamas.” He turns to Annabeth, sheepish, but not actually shameful. “They weren’t. Honestly.”

“Uh huh.”

“They were mostly Kym’s friends, and sometimes we’d go out when they were in town, and if we had fun, they’d invite me wherever they were going next. And if I didn’t have to work, I’d go with.”

“I have heard rumors,” Will says, popping his head in, Nico attached to his hip, “of Percy Jackson, boy toy of the rich and famous of Europe. Is it true?”

“Yes,” Grover and Rachel say at once.

“Do you want to hear about that, Will?” Percy asks, “Or would you rather hear about the summer Nico came to stay with me and Frank before he started college, and slept with every single dancer in Europe except Frank?”

Nico waves him off. “Only because you were already sleeping with him, cause he was your sugar daddy. Not like I needed the money.”

“It wasn’t like that.” Frank says.

“And now that we’ve aired all of my dirty laundry,” says Percy, “I need to borrow Annabeth for a second.” Gently, but with force, he tugs her arm, his other hand around her waist, directing her where to go like she’s one of his dance partners. Usually, she minds--a lot. She’s not about to let anyone, let alone a man, tell her where to go--but, you know, it’s Percy. Alone time with him is never a bad thing.

He pulls her into the hallway, shoving his hand into his pocket. “What’s up?” she asks.

“So.” Mouth open, he pauses for a moment, just… looking at her. His eyes are soft, warm like the first day of spring.

“What?”

“Uh, nothing,” he shakes himself a little, pulling his hand out. “Sorry, I just--I know you said you didn’t want anyone making a big deal out of your birthday…”

Oh, no. She braces herself for the worst.

Uncurling his fingers, he reveals his present for her.

“It’s… a pin?”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “Remember when I took my sister to the Met a few weeks ago? They were having that thing on Egyptian jewelry? Well, of course we had to stop in the gift shop, and I saw this and just--you know, thought of you.”

It is a pin--one of those lapel pins that more often than not are added to a collection usually displayed on a backpack. This pin is a silhouette she recognizes instantly: the Parthenon, its columns and angles rendered in sterling silver, little grooves dug into the metal in an approximation of the fluting.

“Wow,” she breathes. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing.” His ears are pink. “Happy birthday.”

And then he hugs her.

After a moment, she hugs him back.

It’s amazing how she can have had sex with someone so many times, but feel so awkward giving them a hug.

“I didn’t, um, tell anyone else,” he says, pulling back. His hands linger on her shoulders, thumb tapping at the base of her neck. “But, I kept meaning to give this to you, so, you know, now was as good a time as any, yeah?”

“I love it,” she says, honestly. Which surprises her. “Thank you.”

She slips it into her own pocket, not even minding the sharp corners.

When they return, Nico has already cut into the cake. “You were taking too long,” he snips.

It really is delicious. Much, much later, Percy sends her home with a sweet, soft kiss, and one of the last remaining slices, rather than staying for dinner.

Percy is the kind of boy who goes to his mother’s for dinner every week. She had been invited, but also threatened with the promise of another cake, and his ten year old sister, who would “love to make you a present.”

It sounded nice, but Annabeth knew when she wasn’t really wanted, and so she demurred, citing a need for some solo downtime.

She hasn’t heard from Thalia in, like, four days, which meant she had probably gotten a short-term gig. (“You’re lucky, she’s had Jason paying for her phone the whole time you’ve known her. Before that, she was almost impossible to get ahold of.”) Piper would take her out to dinner tomorrow, “just because.” But they would both know it wasn’t true.

So, to refresh and relax after a long, harrowing day of socializing, Annabeth goes home.

Or at least to her apartment.

It doesn’t have a doorman, or the views, or the room, like Nico’s place. Nor does it have any of the people, the energy, the joy. Her furniture doesn’t fill it up. The most appetizing thing in her kitchen are the granola bars Percy had made the week before, or maybe the brownies he made four days ago. She sets her to-go bag of cake and croissants down next to them, a smorgasboard of Percy’s culinary prowess.

Despite the long hours, her clothes still smell a little like last night’s bar, and her skin has a faint patina of dried sex sweat, and smudged makeup.

She doesn’t want to start leaving things at Percy’s place--don’t want him to get the wrong idea--but she also occasionally needs to be able to touch up her eyeliner. She’s either going to have to find a bag that isn’t embarrassing to carry, or surreptitiously shove some eyeliner and lipstick next to the condoms in Percy’s nightstand next time they have a sleepover. Or raid Nico’s bathroom.

Regardless, she needs a wash something bad.

As she scrubs down, she does her best to focus on the lemon scent of her body wash, and not Percy’s perfect form, dripping with water. She tries to visualize her last trip to Sephora, not blowing him under the hot water.

It doesn’t really work, so she gets herself clean and gets herself off and considers just spending the rest of the day naked, in case the mood strikes her again. But it's only 5PM, and she doesn’t have Percy to cook her some dinner tonight, so she sucks it up and puts on some pants.

When she had visited Boston for work a couple of months back, Alex had insisted on taking her shopping, complaining that her sister and her friend Mallory didn’t understand Versace quite like Annabeth did, and that Blitz sucked all the fun out of fashion, anyway. Then, she had bullied Annabeth into buying a set of sweats, claiming it was because of the Grecian patterns, but probably because she thought Annabeth in that much purple would be funny.

But eventually, she had wheedled, cajoled, and threatened Annabeth into buying a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. After deciding to forgo a bra, because that is just one more area she has always fallen short in, she shoves on a School of Architecture underneath them. The crimson clashes terribly with the lavender and seafoam, but she kind of likes it. Piper would call it “artfully nauseating,” or something.

Besides, no one is going to see her but her delivery guy. And if someone did see her, someone like Thalia or Percy, well, the clashing colors would be the least of her worries.

She is folded into her couch, wedged into the corner, very much not looking up Paris Ballet clips from the past few years, trying to spot Percy in the background, when there is a knock on her door.

Not for the first time, she curses her lack of doorman--and then frowns. Who even knows where she lives?

Piper and Leo? Magnus and Alex?

Has she already ordered food and just forgotten?

Is memory loss a side effect of a SK-II mask no one had warned her about?

Tentatively, she creeps towards the door, opening it slowly. If this were a horror movie, the door would creak open, revealing the villain cast in the shadows of the hallway, holding his weapon of choice.

She sighs.

The man is only a few inches taller than her, and dressed impeccably in a t-shirt and jeans that probably cost half a year of her rent-- a big critique coming from her, since she wears a month of her own rent as sweats. His blond hair is impeccably combed, his tennis shoes impeccably white, and his smile the most charming thing you can find this side of the Brooklyn Bridge.

“Happy birthday, girly,” he says, giving her an awkward, one-armed hug, trying to avoid getting any of her facemask on his shirt.

“What are you doing here?”

“It's your birthday,” he reminds her, holding up the bag. “I told you I’d stop by last week.”

Had he? Maybe, and she’d just been too drunk or hung over to really process it. But maybe he’d also meant to, and then failed to follow through. Luke has a bit of a nasty habit of treating his intentions as the same as his actions. His intentions are good, usually, but it means that he often ignored the actual actions. Like how his intention was to support his mother in the best nursing home in the northeast, but his action was to work with Saturn, a very shady hedge fund, to facilitate it. Or how his intention was to have someone at a stuffy party to talk to, but his action was dressing up Annabeth as his arm candy because none of Piper’s models would call him back anymore. He hasn’t asked her to do that since, like, February though, thankfully.

“Sorry,” Annabeth says. “I just… you know I don’t like my birthday.”

He also has a bit of a habit of ignoring her distaste in a really blatant way.

He’s a little like Percy that way, actually.

She’d only ever told Luke about her birthday back in those embarrassing freshman days, when she’d thought he looked as good on paper as any Harvard MBA student possibly could, with a devastating smile to match. She’d been so convinced that he would be the right boyfriend that might finally get her mother’s approval, and she figured that her future husband should know her birthday.

“Come in,” she says, reaching for the bag, but he shakes his head and brushes past her, dumping his black back on the coffee table. Graciously, he doesn’t look at her as he starts to empty out its contents, giving her an opportunity to dart back to her bathroom and peel off her facemask. Luke would forgive designer sweats, but they aren't at the “just chilling in a facemask” level of a relationship.

When she returns, there is a small assembly line arranged on her coffee table: a stack of paper plates, a carton of Haagen Daas, forks and spoons, and a Milk Bar cake, all wrapped in its box.

“Is Milk Bar still the ‘it’ thing?” she asks. “With locations all over the country, I figured it would be passé by now.”

“I know it’s your favorite,” Luke says. “I don’t always have to choose the most popular thing.”

Milk Bar had been her favorite, that is true, right up until she’d started fucking Percy Jackson, and eating his food.

“Thanks,” she says, cutting herself a slice, and scooping herself some ice cream.

“That’s all you’re going to get?” he asks, cutting himself a sliver.

“I have had so much cake today,” she says. Milk Bar really isn’t as good as Percy's, but it reminds her of birthdays in high school, waiting for her mother to visit, sneaking out when she inevitably didn’t, convincing the local bad boy to buy her some alcohol. She eats it, eagerly.

Luke’s jaw drops. “You had a birthday cake? By choice? On your birthday?”

She shakes her head, swallowing. “No, I was at a party with some friends. They didn’t even know it was my birthday,” Until she had stupidly revealed it. Whatever. She just has to make sure he’s been excised from her life by this time next year. And maybe freeze some of his baked goods beforehand.

Luke doesn’t let her go through with her evening plans, which consisted basically of watching Legally Blonde for the gazillionth time while she slurped down some pierogies, but he capitulates to Roman Holiday , helping her put away the leftover cake and ice cream. “Thanks,” she says, when the movie was done. “I’m glad you came over. “

No one ever comes over. Thalia is her best friend, but Thalia would have questions about how she could afford the place, Piper never understood why she’d moved out here at all, and Percy… Percy was irrelevant. There is no reason for him to come here.

“I always like to see my best girl.” He smiles at her, charming and rogueish.

“If all those models you keep trying to date know that your best girl is an architect who lives in Brooklyn who you actually feed, that’s probably why they don’t want to date you back.”

Luke laughs, leaning over and knocking his shoulder against her own. “None of those girls could hold a candle to you.”

“God, you must be a terrible boyfriend.”

“Probably,” he agrees, sitting up and stretching, before reaching back to the bag he brought the cake in. “After all, you are the one I bring all the nice presents. But I think I’m a pretty good friend.”

He takes out a box, burnt orange, a black ribbon wrapped around it, because Luke is nothing if not predictable.

Annabeth sighs internally, quietly reminding herself that money is how Luke shows his love. And that she is wearing Versace sweats.

“Herm é s,” she says, pulling off the ribbon. “This box looks too small for a Birkin.”

“Do you want a Birkin?” he asks. “I can get you a Birkin.”

“I probably don’t need a Birkin,” she admits. Though maybe it would be nice to have one in her closet, if her mom ever calls her up for lunch again. She could show up with a Birkin and an eyebrow ring. Sweet revenge.

Luke waves a hand. “It doesn't matter if you need one, just if you want one.”

Inside the box is a scarf, the silk soft and smooth between her fingers, a pleasing gradient of oranges and reds and pinks and corals. When she unfolds it, laying it out before her, she finds a sharp, geometric design, columns stacked together like skyscrapers. Luke obviously had her in mind when he picked it out.

“Thanks,” she says. It’s pretty--perfect for an ambitious young architect with two degrees from Harvard who had moved to New York City with an offer from one of the best architecture firms in the world. And Annabeth has no idea where she could possibly want or need to wear it.

“Hey,” Luke says, suddenly soft, “don’t cry.”

Shocked, she reaches her hand up to her face. It’s wet.

Luke is probably the only person she will let herself cry in front of. She’d spent three years doing that in college. He’d seen her through heartbreak and hangovers, guiding her through it all like an aloof big brother.

“I’m okay,” she hiccups, wiping her nose.

He hands her a napkin.

Annabeth blows her nose, wet and gross. “I’m sorry, I promise I’m alright.”

“You sure?” He sounds sincere, but she catches him glancing down at his wrist.

“Do you have a date?”

“I…” At least he has the decency to look sheepish. “Just some guys at work. You can come, if you want.”

It could be fun. Hanging out with Luke can be fun. Get a little lit, take a business bro home, screw his brains out, send him on his way. But there’s an unspoken dress code to these things, and Annabeth just doesn’t wear Louboutins anymore. And the idea of fucking a business bro just… doesn’t hold any appeal right now.

“No thanks,” she nods, using the clean edge of the napkin to wipe her eyes. “I am going to watch The Search For Elle Woods , and you're going to strike out with some models, and everyone is going to be happy.”

“You really are so mean to me.” Luke complains, as she walks him to the door, before giving her another hug. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”

“I am.” She is different and new, but Luke is still her friend. She had survived. It would be okay.

“Well, call me if you need something.” He kisses her cheek, sweetly, without any heat. Perfectly platonic. “I love you very much. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” she says, “I’ll see you around.”

“Always.” And he is gone.

She folds the scarf, going to put it in the dresser in her room, shoving it among a handful of accessories, gathering dust. She realizes, with a start, that she’s left a week’s worth of clothes all over her room on the way to the shower, and, with a sigh of adulthood, and the knowledge that if she doesn’t follow the ADHD gods and pick them up now, they’ll be there for weeks, languishing on her floor and stinking up the place, she goes to at least move them into her hamper. She rifles through ripped jeans and band t-shirts and black socks as she goes, checking each for anything like discarded change or a bus pass she doesn’t want to wash.

She shakes out the pants she’d worn out the night before, and therefore the entire day until she’d gotten home. There is a rather unfortunate stain on the knee that she can’t quite parse--ketchup? Chocolate?

Then she reaches into the pockets, touching metal, and she suddenly remembers her other birthday present for the day.

Pulling out the pin, she feels strange, hot in the face, funny in the belly, tossing the jeans haphazardly in with the dirty laundry. It's small and shiny, cheap metal for mass market production, and yet, she walks it over to the dresser, laying it down on the silk scarf like it's the diamond broach her aunt gave her for her sixteenth birthday.

She really is beyond Hermès scarves now. But that pin? Well, you never really can get more Annabeth--the middle school know-it-all, teenage debutante, college perfectionist, New York yuppy, or barfly and punk princess--than one of the greatest architectural achievements in human history.

She is still a little shocked by how much she loves it. How much it means to her that Percy saw that it was perfect for her.

And like so many times when she is confronted with an emotion she doesn’t like, she slams the door closed, and goes and watches a favorite movie from high school.

She does order dinner, eventually, setting out her meal in between texting Piper about brunch tomorrow. It's a whole thing, pretending that they’re not going out for her birthday, but eventually they agree on a time and a place, and she can eat her sausage and watch everyone practice the Bend and Snap in peace.

So she is very annoyed when her phone buzzes again.

Maybe the reservation fell through. Or maybe she doesn’t want Annabeth to show up in ripped fishnets, even though that only happened once.

Her stomach sinks when she checks her phone. It isn’t Piper.

Hello Dear, Happy Birthday. We miss you. Please call anytime. Love Dad, Mary, and the boys.

Below the text is a link, leading to a gift certificate for $200 to Sephora, which has Mary’s name written all over it. Aunt Natalie would have suggested Bergdorf Goodman.

Her hand clenches, momentarily overcome with the urge to hurl her phone against the wall. But there is no one around, so there wouldn’t be any point to it.

She stabs at a pierogi with a chopstick, and watches the girls dance on screen, humming along.

She passes out on the couch after midnight.

Her mother never called.

#my fic #darkmagyk #pjo #percabeth #the rivalry ends here #ballet au #slightly douchey big brother luke castellan ftw!!!!!

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prongsies · 4 years

Text

Star-Crossed ⁕ Chapter 2

←Chapter 1 | Master List

Two weeks have passed since Thalia’s arrival at The Burrow. By then, Hermione had joined them, staying with Ginny in her room and offering an extra pair of hands in completing the household chores that needed accomplishing as each day passes. By that time their O.W.L.s results have been delivered, Thalia receiving an ‘Outstanding’ in all – well, except Divination.

The twins’ results came in as well, the two brandishing their eight O.W.L.s - COMBINED – like a badge of honor, much to Molly’s dismay. Thalia was proud of them, though, since she knows their beliefs rest on their skills lying outside any academic-related profession – and they didn’t believe in the significance of exams. Nevertheless, she was proud of them for at least trying.

Harry arrives days later, fetched by Arthur, Ron, and the twins in their little muggle home in Surrey. When they returned, it was in the middle of Thalia and Ginny teaching Hermione how to play Exploding Snap on the floor in the living room – which Hermione had never found interest in, really – just to pass the time. This is then followed by Molly berating the twins for using Harry’s cousin as a subject of experimentation for their ‘Ton-Tongue’ coffee, which, although Harry found hilarious, earned them two days of doing all the chores.

“You’re on your own this time, lads” Thalia laughed as she pushed the twins faces away while they try to convince her to offer even just a little bit of help, “You’ve made her proper mad this time, you’re not sucking me into that punishment”

She turned back to Ginny and Ron, who were already starting a new game with Harry, before winking back at Fred and George.

“Come on, Lia” Fred said softly, sliding next to Thalia who was concentrating for the game, “just so we could perfect the Puking Pastilles before school starts”

“Puking what?” Ron interjected, earning a roll of the eyes from the twins.

“None of your business, Ronniekins” George teased. He joined Fred in trying to convince Thalia, eventually having her agree on making breakfast for all of them just because she enjoyed cooking.

“You owe me!” She screamed behind the two boys, who ran up the stairs as soon as she said yes. They shouted incoherent responses back to her, before the loud slam of their bedroom door echoed until the living room.

The Quidditch World Cup day had finally arrived, but much to everyone’s excitement, they had to leave before the sun could even cast a single ray in the sky, just so they wouldn’t have to deal with more crowd later. Ginny had been the one to wake the three in Fred and George’s bedroom, knocking loudly at the door while screaming “IT’S WORLD CUP DAY!”

With a groan, Thalia peeled herself off her comfortable bed. She peered over towards Fred and George, still asleep in theirs, before gathering her clothes and making her way to the bathroom to get ready.

Percy had just gotten out of his shower when she arrived, smiling at the sight of her all disheveled from last night’s sleep, “Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes”

“Percy Weasley, are you teasing me?” Thalia mocked gasp, her hands flying straight to her hair to flatten it.

Percy laugh with a roll of his eyes before side-stepping to allow her to use the bathroom. She called back to him before he could return to his room, asking, “Are you coming with us?”

Percy looked back, “No, I’m afraid not. I have to run some things over at the Ministry before going. I’ll see you there, though”

Thalia hummed in response as she reentered the bathroom, taking a quick shower and drying her brown hair before changing into her outfit. She figured a sweater would do the trick since, well, she’d definitely sweat on their hike to find the portkey. Pairing it with some pants and boots, she exited the bathroom and returned to the twins’ room to wake them.

When she descended the stairs, she was immediately greeted by Charlie and Bill Weasley, who were both in a debate against Percy on magical creatures over the dining table, as Hermione and Ginny drowned them out with their own silent chattering.

“Pestering him again, you two?” Thalia asked Bill and Charlie in amusement, leaning down to hug Bill briefly before taking her seat beside Ginny. Percy, who seemed to be on the losing end, huffed and hurriedly finished his breakfast, before standing to leave to the Ministry. “You know you should’ve given it to him this time”

“As his older brothers” Bill shared a look with Charlie.

“Nah” They said in unison before returning to their food. Thalia soon mimicked them, scooping beans onto her plate and forking down some sausages, pairing it up with some toast.

Everyone had been well-fed as they double-checked their belongings while they readied to leave. Harry, Ron, and the twins have gotten up a bit later than everyone else, and were the only ones being waited on as they prepared.

“Ireland, eh?” Bill asked, motioning towards the green bandana Thalia had tied around her backpack as he approached her, “Care to make a bet?”

“No bets, William Weasley!” Molly scolded from the top of the stairs as she retrieves what looked like a coin bag. She paused to look at Bill pointedly, before leaving to give Arthur the bag.

“Anyway” Bill continued when his mother was out of earshot. He said confidently, “I bet you 2 galleons Krum catches the snitch and Bulgaria wins”

“Sign me up for that!” Charlie, not even trying to hide the fact that he was eavesdropping, joined them, swinging an arm over his older brother’s shoulder, “I’m going with Bill her, Lia”

“Well, I bet you Krum catches the snitch but Ireland wins”

“Impossible!” Charlie exclaimed, throwing his hands up dramatically.

“Not as impossible as Bulgaria winning”

“Placing bets already?” Arthur joined in, coming inside from the garden to retrieve what looked like his wand from the coffee table. He leaned in to talk softly to them, “don’t let your mother find out” before leaving, scurrying Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny along.

“Pretty sure you’re gonna lose mate” Fred joined in, pulling Thalia towards him by the shoulder.

“Thalia knows what she’s talking about” George continued.

They were ushered out the house by Molly, who looked far too impatient to have the three in a deep conversation with Bill and Charlie that seemed to be dragging along. With a promise from the two eldest to meet them at the World Cup, they finally left, setting foot into the hills towards where the portkey should be.

The three overtook Ron and Harry, who were following Hermione and Ginny in front of them sleepily as they practically forced themselves up the hill, and joined Arthur in the very front, conversing with him about all the other Quidditch World Cups he had been to.

Nearly an hour into their journey, Thalia started shivering from the cold. She now regrets choosing a sweater over something that could’ve been warmer, underestimating the kind of cold England had prepared for her. Since fishing for her jacket from her backpack would take too long, Thalia decided to just endure the cold for a little while longer, since Arthur had already told them they were in the site where the portkey was planted.

Looking around, a voice called their attention, “Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we’ve got it!”

Thalia looked up to see two silhouetted figures up the hill, following Arthur as he approached them. Thalia found herself beside Ginny and Hermione, who started whispering about the boy standing beside the man Arthur was talking to. They were introduced to Amos Diggory, a co-worker of Arthur at the Ministry of Magic.

“I take it you know his son, Cedric?” Arthur asked. Thalia gaze immediately went to Fred and Geroge, a smirk playing on her lips at the sight of them scowling at him. They’ve definitely haven’t forgiven him for their defeat against the Hufflepuff in their last game – especially since Cedric had caught the snitch before Harry.

“Hi” Cedric greeted sheepishly, smiling at Harry whom he seems to be in good terms with despite the loss. His eyes trailed over to Thalia, before approaching her.

Hermione and Ginny made space for him as he neared, Ginny elbowing Thalia suggestively for a moment before she was pulled away by Hermione.

“Uhm,” Cedric scratched the back of his head awkwardly, making Thalia smile, “You looked a bit cold – you can have my coat if you like. I took it off when it got a bit hot for me – it's not sweaty, though, I swear!”

Thalia laughed as the boy’s cheek flushed, making a move to accept the coat that hung on his forearm when a voice interrupted her.

“Thanks, mate, but she’s good” said Fred sternly, allowing his hand to brush the dip in Thalia’s back. In the distance, she could see Ron, Ginny, and Hermione whispering among themselves, Ron sending a wink towards Thalia, and Ginny giving her a thumbs up. These children, I swear to Merlin

“I am cold though” Thalia persisted, ignoring Fred as she reached over to grab the coat now outstretched in Cedric’s arm.

“Oh, Godric’s gracious” Fred murmured as he dropped his bag, slipping off his own coat revealing a pullover underneath. “Here”

He slung the coat over Thalia’s shoulders as he stomped back to join George and the others, scowling as they teased him over his little episode.

“He’s- he’s had a rough day – he's not really a morning person” Thalia tried to clear the air, just to make Cedric feel a little comfortable, “Thank you for the offer, though”

Cedric smiled back at her, relaxing a bit when Thalia rested a hand on his shoulder, turning him to where everyone had already gathered, circling a manky old boot which turned out to be the portkey. Thalia groaned as the boot transported them into the location of the World Cup, landing them straight onto a patch of damp grass with a thud.

She looked up to see Arthur, Amos, and Cedric descending gently from the sky, all looking at them humorously as they tried to compose themselves. Cedric was quick to help Thalia onto her feet, before skipping over to Harry to help him up as well.

They bid each other good bye soon after, with the Weasleys, Thalia, Harry, and Hermione following Arthur towards their tent. The rest happened in a blur for Thalia as she was finally able to rest on the small couch in the middle of the room, allowing herself to succumb to her tiredness as she drifted off to sleep right then and there.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

“Wake up, love” a voice whispered as a hand ran gently on her forehead. Thalia hummed as she forced her eyes awake, smiling as she came face to face with Fred who was knelt on the floor beside her. She sat up, stretching a bit before looking around and noticing the gazes of everyone around her, all on them.

Even Percy, who had been wiping down the table after spilling a soda moments ago, was staring at his younger brother, surprised to see him use a softer voice for once, before Arthur called him from outside the tent to introduce him to another Ministry co-worker.

“It is World Cup time?” Thalia asked sleepily, still adjusting to her surroundings after her wonderful nap.

“In a couple of hours” Fred replied, “We’ll have lunch first, of course. Dad’s brought chicken”

“Brilliant” replied Thalia stifling a yawn. She excused herself to go to the bathroom to freshen up, leaving everyone to continue staring at Fred. He occupied the space Thalia had slept in, before being joined by Ginny, Charlie, and George while the other returned to the conversation.

“You like her, don’t you?” Charlie teased, poking Fred’s cheeks as the younger boy tried pushing him away.

“I don’t” Fred slapped his hand, which grew nearer and nearer to his cheek, away, “She’s like a sister to me”

“I’m your sister” Ginny joined in in the teasing, “and you’ve never woke me up like that”

“Yeah” George added, “If you woke our little Ginevra like that, she’d be less of a grump grump in the morning”

“Shut your mouth, George. Like you’re any better”

The two continued to tease themselves as Thalia returned, a large smile on her face and her hair damp. “I’m ready to be four galleons richer once this game’s over”

“As if” Bill, having just returned to the tent, retorted, throwing an apple he had brought along towards Thalia who caught it easily. She tossed it over to Harry, who happily ate it, before joining Fred and the others on the sofa.

“Care to share what this meeting is about?”

“It’s about you losing, obviously”

“You wish, William!” Thalia exclaimed, tossing a throw pillow into his direction, which served its purpose well as it hit Bill square in the face. He had a mischievous expression on his face as the pillow fell onto the floor, before chasing after Thalia as she ran out the tent, nearly running into Arthur, who called out after the two.

World Cup time – as Thalia liked to call it – finally came, and everyone in the tent was practically bouncing on the heels of their feet as they waited for each other to finish getting ready so they could leave to go to the stadium. The tent flooded colors of green as everyone adorned scarves and hats to show their support for the Irish, except for Charlie, Bill, Ron, and Harry who all sided with Bulgaria.

“It’s your first World Cup, right?” Thalia asked, approaching Harry whose eyes looked around in pure amazement, grinning widely as the crowd around him blew horns and ignited Dr Fillibuster’s Fireworks freely. He had stopped to buy three pairs of omnioculars from a kind wizard selling them.

“Yeah, I wonder how different it’ll be from Hogwarts Quidditch” Harry replied, thanking the man after he received his purchase. He waited for Thalia who had bought four pairs of her own, before turning and smiling at Harry kindly.

“Much brutal, this is” Thalia laughed, leading Harry to where the others were after she had finished buying them. “Would you like to play professionally one day?”

“I would” Harry replied dreamily, a faint smile playing on his lips at the idea, before he frowned, “although I don’t think it’s the best option, with the war going on”

“Well, don’t forget to consider your own happiness once this is all over” Thalia advised, patting his back, “I know, however, that you’d be brilliant in whatever field you choose. Last I heard, you wanted to be an Auror?”

“Very much so” Harry scratched his nose, “But the idea of playing professionally isn’t off the table”

“Very well” Thalia grinned at him, before allowing him to join Ron and Hermione, handing them the omnioculars he had bought. Thalia handed Ginny her purchase, receiving a hug in thanks for her small gift.

Keeping one in her coat pocket, she made her way over to Fred and George to give them theirs, only to find them whispering among themselves, “Talking about me, aren’t we?” She teased.

“Talking about how much of a bugger you are, yes” Fred retaliated, capturing Thalia’s head in a noogie causing her to squeal, trying to squirm away from his grip. When she freed herself, she ran ahead towards Ginny and Hermione, who were in a conversation about house elves.

The group ascended the stairs of the gigantic stadium, going “as high as they can go” as instructed by the Ministry witch who checked their tickets.

“Blimey, dad! How far up are we?” complained Ron, already panting from the number of stairs they’ve climbed thus far. Arthur turned to give his youngest son an answer, when someone had already beat him to it.

“Let’s put it this way” The voice belonged to none other than Lucius Malfoy, sneering up at them from a couple of flights below, “If it rains, you would be the first to know”

Arthur made a move to usher the children up the stairs, not wanting Malfoy to destroy the mood they were in, when Thalia stopped to stare down at the silver-haired man with a stern glare.

“Lucius” She acknowledged curtly. The Weasleys stopped upon hearing her voice, the first time they’ve heard that cold tone she’d usually use in conversing to people in Pureblood galas. “It’s nice to see you’re going as high up as you can as well. Mother made sure we’ve got the Prime seats next to the Minister of Magic and the Bulgarian Minister. I trust, you’ll be seated with us as well?”

“Yes” Lucius snapped, arms crossed over his chest.

“Very well, I hope your prejudice hasn’t affected your intellect” Thalia replied, a smirk playing on her face, “Considering you’ve pretty much belittled your own seats in the process. Good day, Lucius”

The man kept his mouth shut in lack of anything to say, while Thalia ushered everyone else to continue their journey up, nodding at Draco and Narcissa Malfoy in greeting.

“Blimey, Thalia!” mused George, who stood next to Fred a couple of steps below her. “hearing that voice sent chills up my spine”

“It’s bloody hot, is what it is” Fred had mumbled, thinking he had gotten away unheard, but flushed at the sound of his twin snorting out a laugh, “Oh, shut it, Georgie!”

Finally, they had managed to make their way into their seats. Harry was immediately pulled away from the group to be introduced to the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and to the Bulgarian Minister. The Malfoys arrived minutes later, Lucius scowling as he avoided and sense of contact with the Weasley’s group, especially with Thalia.

They cheered when Ludo Bagman had started taking over the stands, placing his wand to his throat as he announced, “Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!”

Master List | Chapter 3→

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