#REPRESENTATION FOR LIFEEEEE

[niallfab]

PLEASE TAG ME I AM RISEN THIS IS ART ALREADY

well kept [1] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, bdsm elements, rafe has control issues, some sugar baby vibes, future NONCON/DUBCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think!

word count: 4.8k

In which you interview for a low-level position at Cameron Development, but instead, you unexpectedly find yourself chosen as Rafe Cameron's personal assistant.

rafe cameron masterlist

The sky was dreary. You looked up to see dark and ominous clouds staring down at you. Taking a breath to steady your nerves, you continued walking along the pavement. At least the southern sun wasn’t beating down on you. Maybe you’d appear less sweaty and nervous to your possible employer. 

Charlotte was a big city you hadn’t fully explored, but your walk was familiar. A few blocks down from the Cameron Development headquarters was the Mug & Muffin, where you’d been serving coffee for the past year. You practically only served housewives who had the time to grab coffee at 11 in the morning and suits who were on their way to the giant buildings downtown to make more money than you’d ever see in your whole life. 

Today was your day off; however, it was the only day of the week that you weren’t working for ten straight hours. Somehow, you’d been selected to interview for a Filing Clerk position at Cameron Development. You thought it was some kind of mistake that out of all the places you applied to through online portals, a legitimate company wanted to interview you. Not only was it legit, but they had their building downtown. The building was no skyscraper, but looking up at twenty dark steel floors, huge windows wrapped around each side, and a sparkling gold sign that read CAMERON, you felt incredibly intimidated. 

When you finally pushed through the revolving doors, you reminded yourself that it was a small position. A small position you weren't qualified for, but there was no need to worry. The receptionist on the first floor barely glanced at you when you approached her. You took a deep breath, slowly releasing it before starting your sentence: “Hi, I have an eight-thirty interview with Andy Speer in the Record Management department.”

She spoke curtly, “Twelfth floor,” She pointed to the elevators hidden behind a corner.

“Th-Thank you,” You mumbled, your shoes clicking against beautiful marble floors as you made your way to the elevators. You weren’t expecting to go so high up the building. The ride felt like an eternity, with each floor reminding you of how out-of-place you were. Even the receptionist who worked on the first floor acted like she was above you. You wiped your sweaty palms on your dress, grateful you’d chosen a black one. Well, you were thankful that you’d chosen the second out of the only two nice dresses you owned. 

You were now the age you should've graduated college at, you couldn’t work at a coffee shop forever. If you ever wanted to not have to live with three other people then you needed a serious job. You needed to take advantage of this opportunity. If you somehow landed it, this was the type of job where you might be able to grow. Who knows? Maybe you’d eventually be able to afford a car payment. Those thoughts pushed you forward as you walked down the hallway. 

“Ah, Ms. Y/L/N,” The male voice came from behind you and you whirled around to see a short, bearded man approaching you. He wore a blue dress shirt and navy tie and was carrying a coffee from no other place than the Mug & Muffin. You spotted a small brown spot near his shirt pocket wear he’d clearly spilled some, “You’re here about the Filing Clerk position?”

You nodded, your heart beginning to race, as you stuck your hand out for him to shake. You weren’t sure if you were overdressed, having worn your outfit at your cousins wedding, but you added a red cardigan and ballet flats to make it more professional, “Yes,” You smiled, “That’s mmm-me.”

He didn’t seem to look you over more than once, and his smile remained despite the bump in your speech, “Great, my name is Andy Speer. I manage the department. Come on into my office.”

Breath, you reminded yourself. Start your sentences slow. Take a pause if you need to. If you get stuck, don’t get too frustrated. Try not to bring attention to it. 

When you settled into his office, relatively small but with a large window that had a lovely view of the city, he began the interview. You folded your hands in your lap, trying to be acutely aware of your facial expressions and your body’s posture. 

“So, tell me a little about your experience,” He started. 

“Well,” Breath in and slowly release, “I’ve actually been working at the Mug & Muffin as a shift lead for the past year but, before that, I worked in retail for several years. I’m v-vvvv-very organized; that’s why I’ve been able to help with-with both managing inventory and scheduling tasks.”

“Organization is key in a position like this. And you also know how to work on your feet. Our clerks travel all throughout the building, retrieving documents and assisting with things like file purging and managing file systems.”

Deep breath in. Start slowly. 

“I’m totally capable of being in service to others. Working in customer service will teach you how to deal with people very quickly and I’m sure there are similar ups and d-downs even within a company. I think it’s important to show a p-p-person that you’re listening, even if you c-c-can’t help them directly.”

He nodded, “People tend to forget that. What else interests you about working in Records Management?”

“I like the idea of keeping things in order. Making ssss-ssss,” Too fast. Slow down, “Sssss-sssss-sure. Uhm. Making sure everything is in place. It ssss-sound sss-small but it’s s-something I’m good at. And I’d like to be a part of a bigger company where I can grow and learn.”

Andy’s lips parted, and he gave you a look that you were no stranger to, “Ms. Y/L/N, if you don’t mind me asking–”

“I have a stutter,” You finished his sentence before taking another breath, slowing down as much as you could, “I have it managed, mostly. When I’m asked direct questions, or I’m especially nervous, it can flare up. But I-I-I am nervous. I’m interested in this job.”

Andy smiled softly, and your heart seemed to rest slightly. The pounding in your chest was about to make you go crazy.

“I appreciate your honesty. I have more questions for you but there’s no need to be confined to this office. I’ll show you around the building.”

You were more than relieved, instantly nodding. He seemed to understand how tense you were and undoubtedly the conversation would feel more casual if the two of you were walking at the same time. The interview continued, and Andy allowed you time to ask him questions about your possible role. 

Still, you felt small, like a child in an adult’s world. Andy touched on your lack of secondary education but didn’t press it. You explained how you’d completed two years of your undergrad degree, majoring in accounting but had to leave for personal reasons. You explained that you eventually wanted to finish your degree, but in reality, you’d only chosen accounting because it was one of the few majors that didn’t require you to take a public speaking class. 

You followed him through corridors with large glass meeting rooms on either side. Again, everyone you came across looked like they belonged. You walked past a room with a long, sleek table, and it seemed like at least twenty people were sitting at the table. At the front of the room was a tall man, impeccably dressed in a navy blue suit. His back was slightly turned, but the air of authority permeated through the glass all the way to you. You felt it against your skin. 

His voice was raised but was muffled by the glass barrier, “That’s Mr. Cameron. Our CEO.”

Your lips parted when you caught a real glance at him. He was older but much younger than you expected. Certainly younger than a CEO typically was. His hair was buzzed short, his skin a nice tan color, and blue eyes that locked on you. Briefly but intensely, “Let’s continue our tour.”

The rest of the tour happened in a blur. You felt that you made a good impression on Mr. Speer. He was accepting of your stutter and resonated with all the examples you shared from your past jobs. He informed you that they were interviewing four other applicants but that you’d receive an update in the next week about whether they’d chosen you. 

You felt slightly more confident than when you arrived and you reached for your phone, wanting to text your roommate how it went and that you’d be home soon but you ran into wall of muscle as you stepped onto the elevator, “S-Sorry,” You gasped, reaching down to grab your phone which had slipped from your grasp, “Ssss-so sss-sorry.”

Just shut up, you told yourself, and you found yourself actually speechless when you looked up into Mr. Cameron’s eyes, “Careful,” He said, slightly patronizing, and you wanted to crawl inside your skin. You tucked your phone away into your bag, stepping aside until you were on the other side of the elevator. 

The elevator door closed, and your eyes widened when you realized the elevator was not going down, “Oh,” You breathed, “You’re going up.”

Of course he was going up. The CEO works on the top floor. And now, here you were, stuck in an elevator with the CEO himself, a barista dressed up and pretending to belong in a place you had no right to be.

“Yeah, you can usually tell by looking at the arrows before you get on.”

You pressed your lips together, determined not to say anything more, even though you could feel his eyes on you. He sighed, “You’re new, I’m assuming.”

You shook your head. Breathe, start slowly. “I interviewed today. File Clerk.” Keep it brief, you reminded yourself. There was no need to try to impress the CEO—he was far too important to be involved in hiring someone like you. It was better not to embarrass yourself.

The elevator dinged with each floor that you passed, “Ah, well, I hope you were impressed by all the company has to offer,” he said as the doors opened, revealing a sleek black wall with the Cameron Development logo etched in gold. A waterfall cascaded down the marble surface, exuding elegance, “Enjoy your ride down.” 

“B-Bye-” 

Shut up. 

You reached to press the lobby button, watching as his large figure slowly disappeared down a hallway before the doors shut again. 

 There went that small sliver of confidence.

You went down a rabbit hole googling Cameron Development, of course. Rafe Cameron was just shy of thirty but he inherited the company from his father, Ward, when he was only twenty. It went from a company centered to the Outer Banks to one that served clients across the entire country. According to a website you weren’t sure was actually reputable, his networth was close to 1.3 billion dollars. 

And he thought you were an idiot. Most likely, he wouldn’t remember you all. 

You hoped you wouldn’t run into again when you returned to the Cameron Developent the next week. Andy had called you to let you know that you’d been chosen for the job, but when you approached the receptionist on the first floor, she informed you that you should check in with the receptionist on the twentieth floor. 

Was there another portion of the hiring process that involved meeting someone higher up in the company? You asked her if she’d actually meant that floor twice before the woman rolled her eyes and pretended to answer a phone call. 

The twentieth floor. 

You splurged on a new outfit, hopeful that your new job’s salary would soon replenish your funds. You’d be making ten dollars more per hour, after all. You chose a black, square-neck top and soft cream-colored pants, pairing them with your trusty ballet flats that matched almost everything.

When you arrived on the twentieth floor again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that security might escort you out at any moment. Walking past the elegant waterfall, you found the receptionist desk. The redheaded woman behind it was stunning, and though her smile lacked sincerity, at least she looked you directly in the eyes.

“Hi, I’m supposed to meet with Andy Speer in Record Management?” 

“Are you Y/N Y/L/N?” You nodded as you let out a breath. At least you weren’t in the wrong place. 

“Follow me,” she said, stepping out from behind the desk. She was dressed in a sleek, navy dress adorned with gold buttons down the front, tied with a bow at the waist. You couldn’t help but admire her style, your gaze trailing down to her elegant heels. “You’ll be meeting with Mr. Cameron today.”

“Wh-” Your lips paused in an uncomfortable, rounded position before the block in your speech passed, “Why?”

She didn’t respond, and there wasn’t time to press her as she led you to the end of a long hallway. You found yourself in front of two imposing, black double doors. With a push of the large, gold handles, she opened them to reveal the most elaborate room you’d ever seen.

The sheer scale of the room was breathtaking. Your eyes immediately went up to ceilings at least two floors tall and a gigantic window covering the farther wall. You thought Andy’s view was nice … you could see all of Charlotte from this window. Long black curtains hung from the ceiling to keep some of the light out. When the curtains were drawn, the room would undoubtedly take on a different character—moodier, more intimate, and even more private.

To the right, a stunning black marble fireplace dominated the wall, flanked by a bookcase that stretched the entire length of the room. A plush seating area featured leather couches that looked as comfortable as they were luxurious, with a low coffee table in front. Nearby, a polished bar cart stood ready, stocked with an array of crystal glasses and top-shelf spirits. No doubt to impress clients.

“Holy…” You spoke, as smooth as ever. 

To the left was Rafe and his expansive mahogany desk, positioned to take advantage of the view of the city’s infrastructure. His desk was organized with files stacked neatly, a computer with multiple desktops, and a mug that held steaming coffee. Expensive art pieces were framed on the wall behind him, carefully selected to aid the overall aesthetic of the space. They were dark and imposing like him. 

His chair was high-backed and leather, and as you met his eyes, you noticed he was just as tailored as the room. Broad shoulders and lean frame … you wondered how much time he spent carefully crafting it. He set aside the folder he had been reviewing as the redhead, Eleanor, announced your presence.

"Mr. Cameron, your ten o’clock meeting," she said.

“Thank you, Eleanor. That’ll be all,” His voice was smooth and commanding, “Come sit, Ms. Y/L/N.”

He emphasized the leather chairs in front of his desk and although your legs felt like weights, you crossed the room. You couldn’t help but continue to stare at how impressive it was and now that you’d learned more about him through your research, it made sense. What didn't make sense to you was why you were sitting in front of it. 

He leaned forward, his hands folding together, and instinctively you moved further back in your chair, “I got a chance to look at your application and resume.”

Your eyes widened, “Really?”

He nodded, “You never finished college. Why’s that?”

“I…I don’t understand,” You couldn’t hide the confusion on your face, “I didn’t think I-I would b-b-be …I thought Mr. Speer would be here.”

“He works for me, doesn’t he?”

“Y-Yes-” “You want to work for my company, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you repeated, your voice smaller this time. His head tilted slightly, his gaze sharpening.

“Did you forget my original question?”

“N-No,” You blurted before you took a breath. Relax, you told yourself, despite being aware of the environment that Mr. Cameron had already created, “I …I-”

He was patient but unyielding. You tried to imagine that you were just telling a story and not answering a pointed question. He was worth a billion dollars, not you. You had to answer his questions truthfully.

“I had a bad flare-up with my speech during my sophomore year. I …all throughout highschool it was very mild, but for some unknown reason, it got really sss-severe. My professors were … not accommodating. It felt immm-mmm-impossible.”

He stared at you for an uncomfortable amount of seconds. His piercing gaze had a way of making feeling like you were naked. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, “I see,” He tapped his finger against his desk, “It took me almost eight years to finish business school. By the end, my professor’s were only passing me because of who I was.”

Your lips parted in shock at his sudden candor. 

An ugly truth for an ugly truth.

 “Oh,” you whispered, not knowing what else to say. 

“I’m saying this because it doesn’t matter how many boxes check or how good of a person you are. It doesn’t matter to me what you think you deserve.”

“Okay,” You nodded, still unsure, “I don’t think think I deserve this job. But I want it.”

“How bad?” His lips pulled into a smirk. 

You searched your mind for all the rehearsed interview answers that you’d practiced, “I think I’m a really g-good fit for the–”

“No, what would you do?” He interrupted you, not in the way that people usually did because you were taking too long to speak. He was just completely uninterested in the words you had to say, “Let’s say six months from now, you’re up for a promotion and Andy corners you in his office. It’s ten-thousand more a year. Would you fuck him?”

There was a version of you, the rationale un-scared version of you, that would’ve stood up and walked out of the room. But you froze in place as you searched his eyes for whether he was asking you a trick question. 

Breathe in, let it out slowly, “No, I wouldn’t. I don’t understand.”

“If he hired you as a File Clerk, it would be a great way to get promoted,” Rafe said, “I looked at the other applicants, they’re all more qualified, but you’re more beautiful. It’s a pattern I’m starting to notice with him.”

You couldn’t comprehend why he’d brought you here just to tear you down—to belittle someone who would be working for his own company. Shaking your head, you stammered, “I-I made a mmm-mistake,” as you reached for your bag. But Rafe held up a hand, stopping you in your tracks.

“Don’t worry,” He stood up from his chair. You took a breath and swallowed, trying to keep your heart inside your chest. Hands in his pockets, he walked around the length of his desk until he was in front of you. Even as he leaned back on his desk, his presence seemed to cloud all of your senses, “Mr. Speer does want you to work for him in his department and you’re free to do so. However, I want to hire you as my personal assistant.”

“Uhm,” You blinked, caught off guard. “M-Me?”

“I’m between assistants right now and I think you’d be a perfect fit,” His watched your reaction carefully, his lips in a thin smile. 

Rafe Cameron was a complete asshole. 

“You want me to be your personal assistant?” You asked slowly, trying to prevent a stutter. 

“I want you to be my personal assistant,” he echoed, looking amused, “I think you’re cute.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Because I’m a c-college dropout www-with a stutter?” 

“Not just that,” he shrugged, his nonchalance making you want to scowl. You should’ve walked out already, but something kept you rooted to your seat.  “I think it would be mutually beneficial. The pay starts at eighty-thousand.” 

“A year?” You asked, feeling foolish immediately. 

“That’s almost triple what you make at your barista job.”

You eyed him curiously and wondered how exactly he knew that, “Yeah …”

“So, do you want it or not, Ms. Y/L/N?” The words hung in the air, and you couldn’t bring yourself to say "no." What choice did you really have? Work for a boss who might eventually cross the line—or work for one who’s offering to triple your salary?

“I’d love to give you more time to think it over,” he continued, glancing at his watch, “but I have a meeting in five minutes and will be out of the country for the rest of the week. You’ll need to decide now.”

You bit down on your bottom lip and anxiously picked at the fabric of your pants until you said, “Ninety-thousand.”

“You’re negotiating when you have no experience?” He wasn’t angry, just surprised. 

You nodded, although you were afraid you’d made a mistake. Now, you’d be escorted out by security. But you’d seen something in his eyes—something he wasn’t trying to deny. For reasons you couldn’t quite grasp, he wanted you.

“Eighty-five thousand,” he countered.

You paused, “Okay.”

“Okay?” You nodded again. “Great.”

He clapped his hands together, “W-When would I ssss-start?” 

“A week from now. Monday morning at seven. I get in at seven-thirty, and I expect you to be waiting here. Eleanor will work on getting your new wardrobe delivered to you before then.” 

“Wardrobe?” You echoed, bewildered. 

“I would’ve given you a hundred if you kept pushing,” he said, waving you off as he retreated behind his desk. Your jaw dropped as he added, “That’ll be all.”

The doors to his office opened again, and the redhead waited patiently for you to gather your things and hurry over to her. You glanced behind you to see Rafe intently focused on his computer screen. 

When you finally had enough distance from his office, you asked, “What happened to his last personal assistant?” You thought you might hyperventilate when you were finally alone with your thoughts. 

“Mr. Cameron can be difficult to please,” She smiled down at you, but her eyes were solemn, “Let me take your measurements.”

“Oh, I c-could just t-t-t-tell you,” you stammered, trying to get the words out quickly.

“They’ll need to be exact,” You followed her behind the reception desk. 

You looked at her closer—voluminous hair, a sharp jawline, winged eyeliner that executed perfectly. She was tall, slender, and beautiful, and you felt like you were nothing like her. Again, a child in a place meant for adults. He’d chosen someone like Eleanor, that made sense to you, but you couldn’t wrap your mind around what he saw in you.

Cute, he’d said. You always got cute. Never beautiful. Eleanor probably always got called beautiful. 

You stood still as she took your precise measurements, including around your hips, thighs, and bust. It was another moment where you probably should have run. “About this wardrobe I’ll be receiving…” you began cautiously.

“You’ll only wear what he picks out for you,” She said. 

Breathe. “That’s a little crazy, right?”

“Your job will ensure he has everything he needs—every hour of the day. You want to be nice to look at, don’t you?” 

And you don’t look nice to look at right now.

“Will I have a desk?”

Eleanor gestured to the one across from her, the second of two black desks in a square-shaped pod, “That one is yours, technically.”

“Technically?”

“Did he mention he works from home on Fridays?”

“No-”

“You’ll report to his house at seven a.m. on Fridays rather than here.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Eleanor said with a knowing nod. “Don’t worry, I’ll type this all up in an email for you.”

Later, you sat in your apartment's living room, still in your pajamas. Your roommates, Imani and Angel, were at work for the next few hours, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You scrolled through your old laptop, reading the offer letter from Cameron Development three times: eighty-five thousand dollars plus excellent benefits. You hadn’t even been to the doctor in two years because of how expensive and terrible your insurance was.

You could afford your own apartment. You wouldn’t leave your roommates hanging, of course, but maybe you could in a few months. You could get your own cat like you’ve always wanted. That money would change your life. 

Your clothes arrived with a delivery man who was already frustrated with you. He had to make three trips to bring in all the garment bags Rafe had sent. He grew even more frustrated when you begged him to return some of it. They filled your entire living room, and you’d be a horrible roommate to keep all of it. You’d have to throw out all of your clothes to make them fit in your room. 

When the delivery man left, you started to zip the packages open and examine their contents. Your hands shook when you read the first price tag: a twelve-hundred-dollar Giorgio Armani dress. You began to notice a pattern as you looked at thirty different outfits. There were no black dresses or dark colors at all. Many of them were sad excuses for a woman’s professional work clothes. 

You couldn’t deny that the outfits were sophisticated, but they all seemed to follow a particular theme. If one didn’t feature a mini-skirt, it showcased a sleeveless top. Many had a professional air, with neat rows of buttons running down the front or crafted from rich tweed material. Yet, they were also undeniably frilly and elegant, teetering on the edge of overly dainty. You couldn’t shake the feeling that if you wore one, you’d resemble a Barbie doll more than a personal assistant.

Breaking a sweat, you piled all of the garment bags in your room, leaving only a small amount of room for you to walk from your bedroom to the bathroom. That was going to be a problem. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if you returned some of them. How many outfits did you really need for work? 

The man also brought in a trunk—an oversized, luxurious piece you couldn’t dream of fitting into your tiny shoebox of a room. Once you cleared enough space in the living room, you finally managed to open it. Inside, the left side was lined with rows of pristine heels, each pair more exquisite than the last. On the right, several items were wrapped in burlap sacks made from fine material. You carefully unwrapped one that bore the name GUCCI, revealing a small lilac handbag that looked both delicate and expensive.

God, you thought despite the fact you didn’t believe in him. 

Your roommates were going to think you were some kind of sugar baby or escort. Even if you explained what happened, they might still believe that. 

When you checked your laptop again, there was an email from Eleanor. 

Dear Y/N Y/L/N,

Congratulations on your new position at Cameron Development! We are pleased to officially welcome you as Mr. Rafe Cameron's Personal Assistant. 

Below are some key points regarding your new position:

Start Date: Monday, 7:00 AM

Work Location: Cameron Development Headquarters (Mon-Thurs) / Mr. Cameron’s residence (Friday)

Responsibilities: 

You will be expected to manage Mr. Cameron’s daily calendar, remind him of upcoming appointments, and ensure he is well prepared for them. 

You will coordinate all aspects of Mr. Cameron’s travel, including booking flights, accommodations, transportation, and hotels. 

You will complete all of Mr. Cameron's personal errands.

You must maintain strict confidentiality regarding Mr. Cameron’s personal and professional life. 

You will ensure all of Mr. Cameron’s personal needs are met. 

Salary: $85,000

Benefits: Comprehensive health insurance, paid time off, and a company-provided phone and laptop.

Confidentiality: Due to the sensitive nature of your work, a strict non-disclosure agreement (NDA) will be required upon your first day.

A few tips for looking your best: 

Wardrobe: Please adhere to the dress code. Your new wardrobe has been tailored to Mr. Cameron’s preferences. At work, you will not wear dark colors or pants. The items are non-returnable. Always opt for the heels provided. I suggest you practice at home if you’re uncomfortable wearing them. 

Makeup: Your go-to should be a light foundation, a touch of blush, and a subtle lip color. Avoid anything too bold when it comes to eye makeup. 

Hair: A braiding appointment has been arranged for you this upcoming Saturday, fully paid for. Mr. Cameron prefers a more extended length, but you’re free to choose the color as long as it’s natural. 

Remember, the goal is to look effortlessly polished. 

Best regards,

Eleanor Thornton

Executive Assistant to Mr. Cameron

Maybe Rafe Cameron was a sociopath.

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[perqabeth]

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also i've just started reading heroes of olympus and its...

i n t e r e s t i n g

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AND YES, PERCABETH FOR LIFEEEEE

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AND WE STAN THE REPRESENTATION IN THEM TOO !!1 except maybe a few ones but shhh

WAIT WAIT SO DID U FIFNSH HOO OR?#$%^&*

omg kane chornicles will not disappoint u i promise BUT IM SO SAD BC my dumbass thought it would be a good idea to read the end of the last book 🤡🤡 and not one line or one page... BUT THE ENTIRE LAST CHAPTER 🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡 AND I READ SUCH A MASSIVE SPOILER MY JAW DROPPPED 🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

pls ive seen so many memes about how they travelled the entire world to prevent smth gaea from awakening but then percy's nose went nah ☠☠ i just KNOW the seven clowned him for it later

DO I KNOW VIRIA MAAM HER ART GIVES ME SO MUCH SEROTONIN BOOST????? SHE DRAWS THEM SO WELL IT BRINGS TEars tO MY EYES

Look at my babies i love them so much i will sell my soul for them

oh my god dude wait until you read trials of apollo :((( SHITS GOING TO AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA LEAVE U SOBBING IM TRYING NOT TO GOVE AWAY ANY SPOILERS BUT <\\\3 IM STILL NOT OVER IT