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lastnleast · 2 months ago

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salt.

op81 x reader

summary: it's your penultimate summer at camp half-blood, and you run into a familiar face. wc: 2k cw: near-drowning a/n: ummm hi this is my first fic for oscar and I also wanted to get into the groove of writing chb x f1 aus! have this little one-shot while I get the hang of things (this was NAWT proofread) <3 if you have any questions or kindly-worded feedback, don't be scared to say hi! moodboard!

People always turn to the water when they’re trying to escape something.

A shitty boss, a hectic work week, a bit of relief after final exams. Or sometimes the risk of drowning still feels safer than whatever awaits you on shore. The ocean’s depths are the sort of deep blue that is so rich and true that it looks like protection. Her width is mistaken for open arms.

This is the error you make when you decide to surf your problems away one day, hoping that maybe catching a wave will take your mind off of the looming spectre of college admissions. Your second-to-last trip to Camp Half-Blood before you’re left to figure it all out on your own. Instead, you come face to face with a wave that rises far too high, and suddenly you're clinging to a piece of coral as it wreaks havoc just above the surface. The sound of rushing water is all you can hear, and your chest is tightening. You’re running out of breath. Fast.

Your head begins to feel light, and the world feels like it’s floating away from you no matter how fast you blink your eyes to try to remain on earth. Just before it all goes dark, you think you hear some kid’s voice. It sounds male, and he’s yelling, but distantly. Maybe he’s actually trying to welcome you into heaven or something. Man, you really wanted to tour Spelman’s campus first, at least…

For the next few moments, everything is dark and warm. A few moments more, and you realize that you’re laying on your back, the warmth coming from soft sand. There’s blue sky, but it is interrupted by the dark silhouette of…someone hovering over you. Your eyes sting with saltwater as you blink slowly. The silhouette speaks.

“Oh, thank God. You alright? Can you speak?”

You try to, but coughs wrack your throat and chest instead as your body expels more water.

“Whoah, easy there.”

When you can finally get words out, your vocal chords scrape together painfully.

“Where’s my surfboard?” you rasp.

As your vision clears, the silhouette becomes a pale-looking, wavy-haired brunette, freckled cheeks reddened with sunburn. His eyes look dark at first, but then you realize that they’re really a stormy grey. They squint as he stares at you, perhaps in disbelief that you’ve just nearly drowned and the first thing you ask for is your surfboard.

“It’s swimming with the fishes, I’m afraid. Would’ve dove down deeper to get it for you but,” he shrugs, “you were kinda drowning.”

“Damn,” Your lips jut outwards in a pout as you sit upright, dark elbows dusted with sand. There’s a twinge of pain there as if you’d been cut. You’ll have to check that out later.

“That thing was expensive.”

The boy raises an eyebrow. “Well I’ll be sure to have my priorities straight next time.”

You're sweating through your orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt beneath your armor as you stalk through the forest, hand resting at the hilt of your sword. Three years ago, the beads collecting at your hairline would've had you worrying about the state of your baby hairs, but you had learned to wait until after training to gel them down. There was no point getting dolled up otherwise. You weren't in Aphrodite's cabin - no one cared how you looked.

A light breeze picks up and carries with it the smell of murky water. Sure enough, you come up on the lake. Your fingers tighten around the hilt. You had instructions to remain on high alert and—much to your disappointment—defend. Still, the possibility of some twerp coming around here to take a break or grab a sip? Never zero. Maybe you’ll get an easy battle.

The snapping of a twig near the foot of the lake proves you right, and you immediately spin on your heel towards the sound, drawing your sword. It points at the pale, freckled face of a camper you don’t recognize from the previous summer, slick with sweat and flush from exertion beneath a helmet plumed with the opposition’s blue feathers. A section of brunette hair falls over his face, curling just so. His expression is oddly calm, dark grey eyes widened but not darting around.

It’s…familiar.

Your eyes become saucers.

“Oh, shit! You’re that Aussie kid from the beach!”

He doesn’t say anything, just shrugs while his hands remain held out in defense. You can see small scratches on his palms and up his arms, likely from thorned plants he’d failed to avoid. His awkward half-smile doesn’t feel appropriate for the current situation given that—if you're guessing correctly—he has neither shield nor sword at his hip. Newbie must’ve lost them somewhere in battle.

You lower your weapon, but don’t sheath it. “Well? Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?”

“Aren’t you gonna put the pointy sword away before trying to chat me up?” He responds without missing a beat. He shifts his weight on the uneven ground, and you can tell he isn’t used to the weight of his armor. What harm could he possibly do?

You shrug, and finally sheath your sword. “Fine. Name?”

He lowers his hands slowly, his shoulders appearing to relax in what looks like a sigh of relief.

“Oscar.”

“Like…like The Grouch?” you snort.

Oscar presses his lips into a thin line. He’s heard that one before.

“Whatever helps you remember it.”

The conversation is interrupted by the sound of voices yelling in the distance. One of them you recognize as Kimi’s, who showed up only last summer and was already hell to spar with. Based on the intonation and volume of his shouting, he’s chasing someone down. Oscar tenses, and he toggles his gaze between you and the direction of all the commotion. His eyes seem to plead for help, and you almost laugh. This kid doesn’t know the half of how things work around here.

As the yelling draws nearer, accompanied with the crunching of leaves and twigs beneath frantic footsteps, you draw your sword (not pointed in his face this time) and give him a reassuring look.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let ‘em toss you around…” you mutter the tail-end of the sentence under your breath. “...much.”

A flurry of helmets break through the foliage, the majority of them red save for the poor kid being chased - Ollie from the Aphrodite cabin, you realize. Kimi is the main hunter, and the most enthusiastic at that. He’s followed closely by Doriane and Amna, who look about ready to pounce until Amna catches your eye. Her brows furrow in confusion for a moment, until you throw her a wink. Her expression relaxes, and she smiles conspiratorially. She’s had a few summers to get familiar with your strategy.

Kimi, not so much.

“You are fraternizing with the enemy?!?” he yells, letting Ollie clamber away from the group. It doesn’t matter, he’s running in the wrong direction anyway. Owlish brown eyes settle on his new target.

“Chill out,” you yell back. “This is Oscar. He’s new here, but he saved me from drowning a couple months back.”

You look back at Oscar, tilting your head towards your teammates as a signal to step in front of you. He does, even waving at them tentatively. You thank the gods above he’s stupid.

“Hey Oscar,” Amna greets with a knowing grin. “Know who your godly parent is yet?”

“Uh, no,” Oscar scratches the back of his neck, “I’m stuck at the Hermes cabin, for now.”

“Good. Means they can’t protect you.”

He pauses, eyes widening. “Wait, what—”

Your sword is at his throat before he can even finish the sentence.

“Sorry, buddy. We’re taking you hostage. You’ll show us the way, right?”

Poseidon must have a sense of humor, because Oscar gets claimed in the bathroom that very same day.

See, Chloe wanted revenge after he’d apparently chucked his shield at her during Capture the Flag. According to her, Oscar ran to hide inside of a bathroom stall with his tail between his legs. But the moment she corners him - just as they're about to get into a

“fair fight”?

WHAM!

Chloe gets slammed into the tile wall by a powerful stream of toilet water. By the time she came to, Oscar was staring at something above his head. She followed his gaze, and her jaw dropped.

A trident.

Now Oscar sits by himself at table three, staring down into his plate like it's the most interesting thing he's ever seen. Chloe passes by him to get to the Ares table with a scowl, but gives him a wide berth. Everyone steers clear. You feel bad for him - knowing how these things go, the bathroom debacle likely wasn't his fault.

You take a final bite of your pizza slice before rising from your seat, the decision already made before either Doriane or Amna can stop you. The two girls just look at each other and giggle.

When he looks up at you, you notice that Oscar's eyes already have bags underneath them.

“Must've been a weird day for you.”

He shrugs. “Believe it or not? I've had weirder days.”

You take a seat next to him on the warped wooden bench, and realize he unfortunately does smell a bit like toilet water.

“You've survived this long while being Big Three. I can imagine.”

His brows knit together. “ ‘Big Three’?”

“Poseidon, Hades, Zeus,” you rattle off as if you've given this speech before. “The Big Three. Makes you smell extra tasty to monsters.”

Oscar's expression darkens at the mention of monsters, his eyes darting back and forth as the gears in his head begin to turn.

“Interesting,” is all he says after a moment of pause.

You give him a teasing grin. “You do know who those three are, right? I don't have to explain basic Greek mythology to you?”

A tiny grin plays on Oscar's lips.

“No, I know. And here I thought I was just a really good lifeguard.”

Your smile settles into something more earnest as you push back a stray braid.

“Thank goodness you're not, otherwise I don't think either of us would've made it here for the summer.”

Oscar is quiet for a moment, looking down at his lap before speaking again.

“...Do we really have to do the sacrifice thing?”

You laugh, the question reminding you of yourself. “Yup, every time. Whether you think they deserve it or not. I've already given up a slice of pizza.”

He nods slowly.

“Shame. This steak's really good.”

Oscar gets up with his plate in-hand, moving toward the fire where he dumps the remainder of his meal. The flames rise a little when he does so, lapping it up. You swear the flames seem alive sometimes.

“Thank you, by the way,” you tell Oscar once he returns. “Never said it properly.”

“What for?”

You laugh and give him a light smack on the arm. “For saving my life, idiot!”

He goes red at the realization, which makes you laugh even harder.

“Sorry,” Oscar tries on a more comfortable smile. “Still reeling from getting sprayed with toilet water after being in an active hostage situation.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You're not still hung up on that, are you?”

“It’s literally my first day!”

“So? I had to battle Chloe on my first day. Ever had to fight off an overconfident Ares kid? She nearly skewered me.”

Oscar winces. “So I'll have to get used to that then.”

“Probably. I'm sure you'll make some friends though,”

You elbow him, and he doesn't try to defend himself. “I'll try not to let my cabin mates jump you next training session.”

“You said that last time.”

“Hm. True. Pinky promise?”

You raise your pinky finger. Around it is a silver ring with a tall, noble-looking owl on it, its wise face illuminated by the orange flames.

Oscar stares at it for a moment, then meets your eyes. He wraps his pinky around yours.

“I hope you know that's like, legally binding.”

“I don't make promises I can't keep.”

Doriane’s voice cuts through the din of noise.

“Hey, lovebirds! Lewis is starting the sing-a-long!”

You roll your eyes, snatching your pinky back as quickly as possible. Sure enough, you can hear the strumming of the counselor’s guitar.

“I gotta go. You gonna be alright, Grouch?”

Oscar blinks. “What did you just call me?”

You shrug as you swing your legs over the bench, “You said whatever helps remember your name. Your name's Oscar, and you barely smile. It's too easy, man.”

“I'm never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Nope!”

You don't see Oscar watching your retreating figure as you jog back to the Athena table, a big, goofy smile spreading on his face.

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