Percy Jackson x Male Reader The Lightning Thief

I Get My Death Blade Confiscated by a Horse

"By the way. Thanks for the assist. Would've been turned into a Jackson pancake without the help."

He seemed a bit taken aback by the compliment. But it still got him to reply.

"Oh really? Um your welcome. That was some good bull riding. At least from what I saw before you know getting thrown across the pavement."

I smiled back.

"Yeah, bet I looked like a true cowboy up there. Now all I need is a lasso and a hat."

He seemed to laugh a bit at that, and I smiled at my success as he eased up a bit. He looked like he was about to speak again when we turned the corner of the house. And my breath caught in my throat.

We must've been on the north shore of Long Island, because on this side of the house, the valley marched all the way up to the water, which glittered about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, I simply couldn't process everything I was seeing. The landscape was dotted with building that looked like ancient Greek architecture an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena except that they all looked new, their marble columns sparkling in the sun. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school-age kids and satyrs played volleyball. Canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Grover's were chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shot targets at an archery range. Others rode horses down a wooden trail, and unless I was hallucinating, some of their horses had wings.

Down at the porches the end of the porch, two men sat across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired girl from earlier who'd spoon-fed me popcorn-flavored pudding was leaning on the porch rail next to them.

The man facing me was small, but porky. He had a red nose, big water eyes, and curly hair so black it was almost purple. He looked like those painting of a baby angels what do call them, hubbubs? No, cherubs. That's it. He looked like a cherub who'd turned middle-aged in a trailer park. He wore a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt, and he would've fit right in at one of Gabe's poker parties except I got the feeling this guy could've out-gambled even my stepfather.

"That's Mr. D," Grover murmured to me. "He's the camp director. Be polite. The girl, That's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And you already know Chiron. . . ."

He pointed at the guy whose back was to me.

First, I realized he was sitting in the wheelchair. Then I recognized the tweed jacket, the thinning brown hair, the scraggly beard.

"Mr. Brunner!" I cried.

The Latin teacher turning towards us as I spoke. Y/n speedily zipping up his gray hoodie as he realized that there was quite a bit of skin showing through the rips in his shirt. I quickly turned back towards Mr. Brunner. His eyes had that mischievous glint they sometimes got in class when he pulled a pop quiz and made all the multiple-choice answers B.

"Ah, good Percy. Oh, and you've brought the other splendid young man. That makes five for pinochle" He offered me and Y/n a seat on either side of Mr. D. He glanced towards me and Y/n with blood-shot eyes. Heaving a sigh as he began to speak. Though I did notice his eyes linger curiously on Y/n for a little longer than needed.

"Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you."

"Uh thanks." I scooted a little farther away from him because, if there was one thing, I had learned from living with Gabe, it was how to tell when an adult has been hitting the happy juice. If Mr. D was a stranger to alcohol, I was a satyr.

"Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner called to the blond girl.

She came forward and Mr. Brunner introduced us.

"This young lady nursed you two back to health, Annabeth this is Percy. And uh. . ."