Chains of Normality (PJO)

The attic of the Big House stank like dust and dead things. Old beams groaned above me, sagging under cobwebs thick as curtains. I kicked a crate, and a gray cloud puffed up, biting at my nose. Fucking perfect. Sunday, and I’m stuck here, sorting trash, while the real demigods—Percy, Jason, Frank—get to play hero. Me? Trevor Miller, son of Hermes, the god of thieves and speed. What a joke. I got none of it—no skills, no glory, just a nobody drowning in shitty chores.

I wiped sweat from my brow and risked a glance at Annabeth. She was across the room, sifting through artifacts with the focus of a general plotting a siege. Her long honey-blond hair, twisted into perfect princess curls, swayed as she moved, a few strands clinging to her damp neck. The camp t-shirt hugged her slender, athletic frame, outlining every curve, while her shorts clung tight to her legs, accentuating toned thighs that flexed as she leaned over a box. My mouth went dry. She was gorgeous—stunning enough to stop a heart—and she barely registered my existence. Just another speck of dust in her world.

I tried to focus on my pile, but my eyes kept drifting back to her. Her hips shifted, sweat glistening on her tanned arms. ****. Pure ****. She was Percy’s, the golden boy who could drown me with a flick of his wrist. No chance in Hades I’d ever touch her. But I imagined it—my hands tracing her curves, her body pressed against mine, her breath hot on my neck. My jeans tightened at the thought.

Annabeth’s head snapped around, catching me mid-stare. I jerked my gaze to a cracked vase, but it was too late. Her stormy gray eyes—sharp, calculating—pinned me like a blade.

“Trevor, are you planning to sort these relics or just admire the view all day?” Her voice cut through the muggy air, dripping with sarcasm and a barely veiled threat.

My heart slammed against my ribs, heat creeping up my neck. “Uh—what do you mean?” I stammered, my tongue tangling.

Her eyes narrowed, glinting like polished steel. “Don’t act innocent. I’ve caught you staring at me three times already. And I’m betting there’s a dozen more I didn’t catch.”

At least that many. I might’ve been the runt of Hermes’ litter, but I had the thief’s knack for sneaking looks.

“Normally, I’d have you running laps around camp for that,” she said, her tone biting. “But I’ve got a boyfriend and better things to do than waste time on you. I thought two heads would speed this up, but you can’t keep your eyes—or your brain—on the job. You’re hopeless at this.” She held up a stuffed claw, her grip tight. “What’s this?”

“Bear claw?” I mumbled, barely audible.

She rolled her eyes with exaggerated flair. “It’s a relic from the 1800s, genius. We only ditch stuff older than five centuries. I’d have this done by now if I didn’t have to fix your screw-ups. Maybe I should’ve just done it solo. Got anything to say for yourself?”

I bit my tongue, tasting blood. My fists balled up, nails digging into my palms. Her voice burned me, each jab fueling the fire in my gut. I wanted to scream, to ram that claw down her throat, make her **** on it. But I just stared at the floor, the dusty wood blurring as my eyes watered. She was right—I was nothing. A fuck-up. And she loved rubbing it in.

“Yes, ma’am,” I growled, the words scraping my throat.

She smirked, a quick, cutting twist of her lips that twisted my stomach with rage—and something hotter. “If you make one more mistake—staring, misidentifying, anything—you’ll wish you were facing a monster instead of me. Got it?”

I nodded, jaw locked, and turned back to my crate. The air thickened, heavy with dust and her hate. My shirt stuck to my chest, sweat dripping down my back, soaking my jeans. Her sneakers tapped behind me, each step a taunt. She owned this attic, owned me, and it made me want to break something—or fuck something.

I shoved a busted shield aside, its jagged edge slicing my knuckles. The attic stank of rot and leather, every breath burning my throat. I sorted fast—helmets, spears, trash—just to escape her wrath. But my eyes betrayed me again. Annabeth bent over, shorts hugging her ass, thighs flexing. Her shirt rode up, flashing tanned skin above her waist. I wanted to taste it, feel her sweat under my tongue.

Focus, dumbass. She’d catch me again, and then I’d be dead. But the ache in my pants wouldn’t quit, and the anger buzzed louder. I dug into the crate, fingers hitting something smooth. A small box, dark and carved with weird swirls, heavy in my sweaty hand. I flipped it open. Inside, two earrings—teardrop stones shifting colors: blue, green, purple. They pulsed, alive. My skin tingled, a jolt running up my arm.

What the fuck? Magic, maybe. Hidden for a reason.

My eyes flicked to Annabeth again. She was wiping her hands on her shorts, the fabric stretching tight over her hips. My breath caught, and that’s when my luck ran out. She turned her head and caught me staring, her gaze pinning me like a blade. A slow, mean smile spread across her lips, making my gut twist. “Trevor,” she said, her voice low and laced with a mockery that made my stomach twist, “did I not make myself clear about staring?”

She straightened up slow, and fuck, her breasts bounced just enough under that tight shirt to make my eyes drop. I snapped them back to her face quick, but it was too late—she saw. Her smile remained in place, but her eyes promised pain. She started walking toward me, each step heavy, thudding like a drumbeat on the old wood. Dust swirled around her legs, and the air got hotter, thicker. I stumbled back, heart pounding, but there was nowhere to run—the exit was behind her. There was no way to get to it without going through her.

She knew I was trapped. Her eyes glinted with something dark, and I could almost feel the sting of the slap she was about to land. If I fought back, she’d just hit harder and call it self-defense. Percy’s girl didn’t mess around.

My fingers gripped the earrings. They buzzed, warm, alive. Panic hit—ADHD on overdrive—and before I could think it through, I jammed the magical earrings into my ears. Please, do something. I prayed they had an ability- invincibility, invisibility, teleportation- anything that would let me escape this predicament unharmed.

Annabeth was right in front of me now, her hand raised, ready to deliver her first blow. Her lips were parted, breath hot and quick, and I could smell her—sweat mixed with something sweet, like oranges. My eyes traced her tits again, tracing the curve of her breasts pushing against her shirt. I braced myself, waiting for the hit. It didn't come. Her hand froze mid-air, then dropped slowly to her side. She blinked, frowning like she’d forgotten why she was mad. “Trevor,” she said, voice softer now, “we need to finish this job.”

I gaped, pulse pounding. “You’re not mad?”

She tilted her head, blonde curls brushing her shoulder. “Mad? Why would I be?”

“‘Cause I was staring at your—” I choked off the rest, swallowing hard. “At you.”

She shrugged, chest jiggling again. “So? It’s normal to look. Let’s get back to work.” She turned, hips swaying, casual as fuck as she walked back to her crate, like nothing happened.

I stood there, dumb as a rock, my dick throbbing in my jeans. What the hell? One second she’s about to beat me senseless, and now she’s cool with me eye-fucking her? My eyes slid to the earrings, their stones glinting in the dusty light. They did this. I didn’t know how, but they fucking did it.

Then it hit me—like the earrings whispered it straight into my skull. The right one made everything I did seem normal to everyone. The left one could make anything I said “normal” true for the whole damn world. Power pulsed in my ears, humming through my skin.

No way. If this was real, I’d just become one of the most powerful guys alive. Hard to believe something this insane was just sitting in a dusty attic, forgotten. Maybe there were limits I hadn’t figured out yet, but it was doing something. Otherwise, Annabeth would’ve had me bleeding by now.

I had to test it—prove what I could do—and Annabeth was right there, ripe for the taking. Sure she wouldn’t snap at me now, I stared openly, drinking her in. She bent over her crate, shorts hugging her ass, the outline of her panties teasing through the fabric. My cock twitched hard, as I realized I had the perfect test subject in front of me.