Could you write conner x daughter of hades. She has to comfort him about his nightmares about Luke after getting back from the Argo 2 mission.
ok so maybe i lied abt posting the mphfpc au first. also ?? was a bit confused w the ask but i made it work. reader is nico and hazel's sibling and yeah you'll figure it out. also i think it's more focused on reader than connor WAAAAHH sorry !! being a hades kid already has enough baggage so
wc: 1.8k words
contains: heavily hinted trauma/ptsd
You couldn't sleep. You just couldn't. Even with the warmth of another body pressing onto you, even with his boyish scent mixed with a hint of citrus, even with the assurance of every breath he took, and the breaths that tickled your side, you couldn't find it in you to want to sleep.
If you closed your eyes you'd see bloodshed and gnashing teeth and the flash of bronze. If you listened to anything other than your or his breathing you'd hear roars, of either the raging wind or the hordes of monsters in front of you, or the screams of your companions.
If you looked to the side you'd start picturing red eyes watching you through the window, hungrily waiting for you to let your guard down. If you looked to the other side you'd see your brother Nico's empty bed. You knew it was his, even though he hadn't left a trace.
You wondered how he was doing, but that made a lump grow in your throat and your eyes started to sting and something ugly burned in the pit of your stomach. Fuck! Why did you agree to go on that stupid quest anyway? Quest...no, it wasn't a quest. It was a mistake, that's what it was. A mistake that led you into being separated from your half-siblings—who knows where they are or what they're doing, definitely not you; or if they were still alive—no. No, you told yourself firmly. You would've felt it if it happened. And you have not felt anything. You refused to even entertain the thought.
Your mind started to cloud with worry. Even though you couldn't remember much, the feeling was still there. Nico's eyes genuinely looked like those of a cornered animal; it was the first time you'd ever seen him like that. And then after that, you were on the shores of Long Island, battered and bruised and barely coherent. It was a bad ambush and Nico had shadow traveled you back to camp.
You didn't want to think about him. Because you'd end up crying, and you didn't like crying. And you didn't want to end up crying about everything else, like the burden on your shoulders and possible survivor's guilt, the weight Nico and Hazel would be carrying right now, the responsibility, the lack of your siblings' whereabouts, the primordial deity Gaea waking up...
Fuck. You were spiraling again. In the literal sense of the word, your head wasn't spinning, but it did feel quite loud.
You bit your lip. It's here again.
You didn't want to move. You were afraid you'd explode if you did. Your fingertips tingled. Electricity tickled at the callouses, calling for the hilt of a blade, the surface of a stone to throw, the sinew of a bowstring, the shaft of a spear, even the trigger of a gun.
It's the bloodlust and jitters you'd been feeling these past few weeks, when traveling with Nico, defending the Argo II when attacks struck or yourself when you were out alone. And it didn't help much now, now that you were thinking about all these things and sleep deprived, dehydrated, hungry, and possibly delirious. You were afraid that if you got up and moved your body like how a puppeteer would work his marionette you wouldn't be satisfied with anything until you were able to destroy something completely.
The ugly feeling in your stomach was close to bubbling over the brim. You had parted your lips to sigh, but nothing came out. A jolt of horror went through you. Were you turning into a shadow?
You did the first thing you could do to ground yourself—squeeze Connor's arm which was draped over your body.
He grunted in his sleep and stirred, but didn't wake. You couldn't turn your head to look at him.
This time, when you sighed, you heard your shaky breath. That calmed you down a bit. But Connor moved again beside you, and this time you could hear a faint whisper come out of his mouth.
When you finally look over at him, he's clammy. Sweat is beading at his temples and his brows are furrowed. It takes you a second to snap out of it, a second and the feeling of his hand twitch against your midriff.
"No. I won't..." He's mumbling things, and you wonder whether you should wake him up or not. You've seen and heard of incidents where demigods are woken up in the middle of their nightmares and it springs them into action, triggering their battle skills and having them attack the person who woke them up. Then again, you weren't afraid of that happening with him.
Oh, so now you trusted him enough to think that he wouldn't attack you on instinct?
But then again, no matter what happened when you woke him up, you'd forgive any reaction, violent or not. After all, you yourself stayed up to avoid your own bad dreams.
You didn't want to see him thrash around and you didn't want him to suffer in his dreams for any longer. And you didn't care if it risked your face to wake him up. So you give his arm a little shake.
He doesn't wake, so you do it harder. You use your voice this time. "Connor." It sounds hoarse. It breaks through the silence like a jagged blade.
He stirs again, and you can see his irises move under his eyelids. He blinks awake a few moments later, arms moving confusedly as if he was still, quite literally, half asleep.
When his gaze landed on you, he flinched, but then he realized it was you, so he turned away, embarrassed. Clapping a hand over his mouth, he almost fell off the bed, swinging his legs over the edge.
"I-I can't...oh, Y/N, I'm sorry, sweetie, shit, was I keeping you up?" He looks over his shoulder at you and you slowly shake your head, not sure how to respond to him.
"You were having a bad dream," You explained. "Did I do you a favor or...?"
Connor stayed silent. He put his elbows on his thighs and bent over, cradling his head in his hands. "I don't understand, I don't understand, why did he show up again, I thought—shit." He murmured a string of Greek curses.
Carefully, you scooted over to him. You put a shaking hand on his shoulder. "Do you...uhm..."
"It's...Luke." His voice was strained, like he forced himself to utter the name. The name of his older half-brother who taught him all the best tricks, taught him how to swim, showed him all the best hiding spots in camp, explained all the best ways to pickpocket someone, and also betrayed the camp years ago, becoming the vessel of Kronos, the god who took part in causing the Second Titan War.
You didn't really know much about him. But you could tell that he meant a lot to Connor and Travis. And you could only imagine their pain having to take over Cabin 11 for someone who now had gold eyes and was leading an army to his previous (and their) home.
Connor was shaking his head, and you awkwardly rubbed his shoulder. "I don't want him to come back, I thought I was done with that. He's dead," he said loudly, and for a second you thought he was telling it to himself and not you.
"Gods, I don't want him to come back. I miss him, yeah, no shit, but I don't want him back, I have my own big brother—"
"One that isn't a douchebag, yeah," You blurted out without thinking. You were too groggy to care about his reaction, but to your great surprise, his shoulders trembled with a small laugh.
He sighed and turned to face you. His bottom lip looked red and bitten, the skin punctured, and there were marks on his forehead where he must've dug his nails into. But he was smiling softly, with trembling lips. Smiling like you were the only thing that mattered to him at that moment.
He opened his arms, and when you didn't move closer, remaining curled up on the other edge of the bed like that, he was the one who scooted over, attaching himself to your body as a source of comfort.
He heaved a sigh and murmured something you couldn't understand, but you followed his lead and wrapped an arm around him, too. You would never get over how warm he was, especially in contrast to how naturally cold you were.
Eventually you ended up with both your arms around him, one hand in his hair, the other patting his back. You trusted yourself enough to finally close your eyes. The darkness wasn't so bad when you could feel Connor in your embrace.
You could still feel his brows which were knit together, his tense shoulders and his pursed lips. And yet you were willing to hold him like this until he was all better.
"I'm here," you whispered. "It's alright. It was just a dream. Luke is..." You paused, running your hand through his hair. You were never good with words. "He's not here. He's never coming back anymore, you're safe." Your breath almost got caught in your throat. In the general sense, that was an obvious lie, but you hoped he understood what you meant.
"It's just me, Connor. It's okay."
You felt him bite his lip again, but then eventually he released his balled fists and hugged you back, finally relaxing. The both of you adjusted so you were leaning against pillows propped up, and when Connor finally sat up from pressing his face into you there were lines on his face and he was a bit flushed.
You stared at him, taking in his features and his slight frown. "Are...you okay?" You asked tentatively. He nodded, looking down. You could see his eyelashes were wet. His breath still trembled, but only for a moment. The best you could do was give him a supportive squeeze.
"Thanks." There was a rustle as he pulled the blanket over the both of you, getting back into a comfortable position. "Thank you, for...yeah. I'll try not to think about it." He leaned on the wall and laced his fingers through yours, sighing against your neck. "What would I do without you?"
When you didn't answer, unsure of what to respond with, he chuckled lightly and kissed your cheek. "It's a rhetorical question. I love you."
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