#i believe in long haired jason grace

[wipyjun]

Art from halloween last year (i heart valgrace and nico)

[thargelalia]

see you in hell, baby

jason todd x fem!reader

Dick naively expects Jason to help him stay in your good graces as the MVP brother-in-law

-> 1.4k words

-> fluff, poor attempt at humor

-> warnings: none, the dynamic duo being dorks together perhaps?

please, reblog if you like or the author will cry

There's nothing better than to enjoy the vast collection of classics at the Wayne Manor library on a rare peaceful Sunday afternoon.

Or is it?

“Jaybird, hey!” Dick greets his younger brother, a little more excited than usual, as he saunters into the library. “Have you.. uhh, is my BFF around?” 

He’s scanning around the place like you could emerge from behind the couches or bookshelves at any given moment. Judging by his tone, Jason can already tell Dick wants something, but chooses to ignore him, too immersed in his current book to care. 

Dick looks left and right to the hallway before closing the doors, and joining Jason on the leather couch. The latter finally acknowledged his older brother to get this over with, so he can leave and Jason can read in peace. 

“She went to the bathroom.. why?” Jason says, narrowing his eyes inquisitively at Dick’s fidgeting. A fake smile plastered on his face, sweat bidding on the temple. He’s obviously worried about something. “You’re being weirder than usual.. Got your pants stuffed with itching powder again?”

His lips twitch upwards a little at the memory. 

“No, I— please, don’t ever remind me of that day again.” Dick winces, rubbing on his thigh to soothe an imaginary itch. Steph really goes all in on April Fool’s Day.

He clears his throat. “So, uh.. maybe, just maybe… I might’ve accidentally scratched that Beatles record sis-in-law lent to me last week.”

Jason exhales, contemplating whether he should ease Dick’s mind or not. While you were very careful and protective of your vinyl record collection, depending on which one that got damaged – and the extent of it – you might get a little upset, but let it go without much trouble. 

Not before an hour lecture to the culprit about taking better care of other people’s stuff, of course. 

“As long as it’s not Sergeant Pepper’s, you’ll be fine.” Jason shrugs, then chuckles to himself a little as he opens his book again. “Perhaps a kick or two to your shins.”

The silence that follows is pregnant with guilt. Jason can almost smell it in the air at the way his brother blanches next to him. 

“Fuck. Don’t tell me—”

“It was an accident!”

“Dick, you insane?! It was a gift from her grandmother!” Jason chastises, smacking the book shut with a hard thud. “You damaged an original copy from the seventies, you fucking idiot!”

Dick slides down on the couch, a pout taking over his lips. “I know!” 

“Can’t believe she let you borrow it.” Jason huffs, crossing his arms while shaking his head indignantly.

Dick has his hands on his head, about ready to rip his hair out.

“I know! What do I do now??”

“Well… for starters,” Jason begins dead serious, leaning towards Dick, who straightens his posture, desperate to hear a solution, “when was the last time you updated your last will and testament?”

“Shit.” Dick falls into the cushions, a desolated sigh leaving the depths of his soul. “Not helping, man.”

“Maybe Bruce can recycle my gravestone,” Jason continues, tapping his chin in fake thought, “what about an epitaph? Sure you’ve got some ideas.”

As always, any comment remotely related to his death has all the bats squirming or tensing like they’ve been poked by Catwoman’s sharp claws – which most of them have, in fact. They tend to feel uneasy whenever Jason makes his grim jokes. 

And perhaps that’s exactly why he does it. 

“Please, don’t talk like that,” Dick says softly, furrowing his eyebrows. Then, he changes his demeanor completely. “And yes, I do. Here lies Gotham’s hottest piece of ass. S.I.P.”

Jason gives him an unimpressed look, lifting his eyebrow. “S.I.P?”

His brother smiles as if he was dying to be asked that. “Sashay in peace.”

“Hope you make a safe passage, disco queen.” Jason deadpans. “Make sure to head straight to heaven, though. Don’t wanna put up with your glittery ass in hell, too.” 

Dick seems to suddenly remember why he was there in the first place. He grabs his younger brother by the shoulders, and shakes frantically. “This is serious, Jaybird! What now? I’ll lose my ‘favorite brother-in-law’ privileges!”

Jason kisses his teeth in annoyance, immediately releasing himself from Dick’s grasp, and pushing on his chest with zero delicacy. “You never had those.” 

Anyone other than Dick — and Bruce — would’ve splattered themselves on the cushions at being on the receiving end of Jason’s hard shove. But his older brother only tilts back, and recovers his posture like a roly-poly toy. An impressive display of sheer core strength.

“Yes, I did. I do. Remember her last seminar? She only had one other seat aside from yours, and she chose to invite me.” He points at himself, sounding smug. “And what about the wine she got me from her trip to France? Or the tequila from Mexico, huh?”

“The others aren’t old enough to drink.” Jason points out, groaning as he massages his temples. This conversation is getting tiresome. Baby, where are you? He thinks in exasperation. Dealing with his family outside patrol is easier when you’re right next to him.

Dick freezes, his index finger lifted in the air. 

He lowers it, closing his mouth. 

Then, he raises it again, attempting to hide his wounded pride. 

“That’s not the point! The point is—”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” Jason cuts him off, waving impatiently before he adds dryly, “too late for that, though. Replacement joined her Public Health research group last month. She’s invited him to dinner at our place twice now, unfortunately.”  

There’s a shocked gasp. 

“Not to mention the little demon asking her for help with his school projects, even though everyone knows he’s damn well capable of handling himself.”

An even bigger gasp leaves Dick’s lips, this time followed by a dramatic hand to his chest.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Will you fucking stop?”

“I need to amp up my game. Urgently.”

“Good luck with that. Not sure you can—”

Jason’s interrupted by the sound of the doors opening. The scowl on his face immediately dissolves into a relieved look at your return. Meanwhile, his brother appears as if he’s staring at a ghost.

You smile, tipping your head up. “Hey, Dick! What’s up?”

“Heeey, bestie!” He shoots up from the couch, sounding extremely unnatural as he glances at the watch on his wrist. “I–um.. Damn! I gotta pick up Babs at her friend’s house now. See you guys later!”

With a quick kiss to your cheek, he breezes past you and out the doors like he’s suddenly been possessed by Wally West.

“What was that?” You turn from the door to your boyfriend, giving him a puzzled look.

Jason contemplates for a brief moment whether he should tell the truth or not. More out of concern over you, as he’d hate to upset you, than over Dick’s sake obviously. But if you found out later that he knew about this fuckup, he’d join his brother’s body in the graveyard. And Jason is very much enjoying his second chance at life right now.

“Dick ruined your Sergeant Pepper’s record.” Just as predicted, he doesn’t feel the slightest bit of remorse for snitching on his older brother. Jason wishes he’d broken the news in a better way, but he let his eagerness for throwing Dick under the bus override his judgment.

Much to his surprise, you don’t show any expressive reaction aside from the slight purse of your lips. 

“You’re talking about the scratch?” You ask simply, joining him on the burgundy couch as he opens an arm to envelop you in a half embrace.

He tilts his head to rest against yours. “You’ve seen it already?”

“It was there before he got it. Probably happened during my last move out.”

“Oh. Oh.” 

“Poor Dick. I told him my grandma loved that record… He must be feeling like trash.” A sigh escapes your lips as you lean against Jason’s chest. “You should probably tell him when he comes back.”

“Baby, I’m not telling anything.” Jason laughs wickedly, taking your hand in his large one and bringing it up to his lips. The tender kiss offers a stark contrast against the disapproval in his tone. “Serves him right for not being watchful enough.”

“You’re so evil, Jace.” You tilt your head up, so he can see the playful glint in your eyes. “There’s no place for you in heaven, you know that, right?” 

Jason eyes you in disbelief. “Are you planning on telling him?” 

The pressing of your lips together is already enough to answer him – a futile attempt to conceal a mischievous smile. 

“That’s what I thought.” He pulls you to sit sideways on his thighs, arms tightening around your waist as he leans in to kiss your neck. Lips lingering there as his voice lowers in a way that makes you shiver when he says, “guess we’ll both be sharing Satan's throne as you sit on my lap in hell, baby.” 

A/N: I wanna be Jason's boo, and Dick's bestie so bad y'all!!

Remember to reblog, and let me know your thoughts if you liked. It helps me stay motivated to post on here <33

divider is from here

[nofingjustaninchident]

⛧° sleepy nights - hoo boys

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

content: percy jackson, jason grace, leo valdez, frank zhang, luke castellan, charles beckendorf x reader - hcs on how they’d sleep with you

warnings: luke and charlie are 19

a/n: SHE’S BAAAACKK!! i’m finally not sick anymore (very questionable, but i’m definitely better) so i’m back to writing! at least i hope so. you can send your requests, preferably of not so long stuff cause i already have 5 super long drafts lol

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

now playing… sweater weather - the neighborhood

Percy Jackson

i honestly believe that he’s an awesome cuddler.

like, i just know that he likes to be the big spoon and wrap his arms around your waist and never EVER let go.

he’d totally lay his head on your shoulder and drool on it.

he plants a lot of tiny little kisses in your neck before you fall asleep.

i like to believe that he snores

but not like super loud snores and they’re not even annoying

its just super cute

and you feel so safe

he’s not super ripped, but he still has abs

so just leaning against them, warm in the night is just so soothing

he sleeps in two positions only, cuddling with you or as a starfish, with legs and arms thrown all over you and the bed

his body is naturally warm

not an uncommon warm, just normal warm

so sleeping with him is always good

whenever you sleep with him, he doesn’t want to get up to school/college the next day

he’s just too comfy to want to let go of you

and, subconsciously, he likes to trace patterns all over the exposed skin of your stomach

overall, a great person to sleep with

Jason Grace

my personal favorite for, uh, unrelated reasons

totally not because he’s literally my dream man no no

but hear me out, you won’t regret it

he’s canonically tall and muscular right

so just imagine resting against his delicious muscular chest and abs-

sorry i trailed off

ANYWAYS

he’s also a cuddler

but he’s kind of stiff in the beginning

like he’s completely touch starved

so he doesn’t really know how to act in situations like this

but the more you’re together the more he feels comfortable to cuddle and squeeze you

he loves to just pull you as close to himself as he can and bury his nose on your hair

because you just smell to good to not do that

he’s also a sweet talker

he just LOVES to whisper cute words in your ear as you’re about to fall asleep

and the first time he told you he loved you was one of these times

you were almost falling asleep in his arms and he just whispered “i love you”

you couldn’t even understand what happened until the next morning

anyways

he is the best person to sleep with

he absolutely loves when you just curl up in a ball beside him while he’s reading

he gets all fuzzy inside

he’s literally melting

he just loves you too much

Leo Valdez

look, don’t get me wrong, i love leo

but i don’t think he’d be the best cuddler in the world

for the simple reason that i think so

if u don’t like it just sush

BUT he absolutely loves to sleep on top of you with his head in your chest

i just know it

this is like super Leo Valdez of him

and you can’t tell me he doesn’t purr when you caress his hair

cause OF COURSE he does that

he’s the best person to sleep with in winter and fall, cause he keeps you warm and happy

but in the summer… not as good, i’ll have to admit

like, he’s too hot

in both senses of the word

so you just get overheated

not that you’re really complaining tho

it’s worth it

oh, and he LOVES to whisper words in spanish in your ear before sleep

if you can’t speak spanish, he’ll say… not so innocent things

our latino king fr fr

and if you can speak spanish he’ll just say how much you smell good or how pretty you are or how much he loves you-

not a cuddler, but a very good person to sleep with anyways

Frank Zhang

he’s tall and muscular

what more can i ask for my personal pillow?

oh, being a lowkey GENTLEMAN with every living being he interacts with

ok maybe that was a little bit out of context

but whatever

back to sleeping with him

if you want a best human pillow, you won’t find it

especially cause charlie died so-

i’m deeply sorry for that. not really.

he loves loves LOVES when you lay on top of him

it’s his favorite position ever

and he also loves when he can hold you

but not literally cuddle

just you laying with him, curled up against his chest but with your face to him, y’know?

i don’t know if it makes much sense

anyways

he likes to braid your hair while you’re falling asleep for you to sleep better

hazel taught him and he absolutely loves to do it in you

in the beginning of the relationship, you usually went to sleep with a dog or a cat

he was too nervous, okay? leave him alone

well, he got over it, thanks to you obviously

but sometimes he still sleeps as a dog

especially if you ask him to do it

he’ll be like “sure, if you want if” but deep down he loves it

it’s just too sooting for him when you curl up against him as a dog and pet his fur

its one of his favorite ways to sleep with you

Luke Castellan

oh, luke

i’ll never admit the uncommonly enormous crush i have on you

he’s just too hot

also i have a thing for blondes (hey jason and annabeth and a lot of other peopleee)

well, enough of me, let’s talk about this walking piece of MEAT

hehehe

he love love loves to sleep cuddled up with you

like, it’s his favorite thing in the world

the only problem (if you consider it a problem. i personally don’t) it’s because he has to sleep holding at least one of your tits

he says it makes him sleep better

technically it does, because his hands are cold and your boobs are warm

but it’s mostly because he really likes ‘em

he’s not gonna tell you that, tho

he loves when you lay on top of him and lets him caress your hair

bros seriously whipped

he’d be damned if you told him you want to sleep alone

he’ll literally become a whiny baby until you surrender

and if you don’t, the next morning he’ll be so grumpy

but that’s obviously until you give him a kiss

if the kiss doesn’t fix, another thing will

cuddles, duh

dirty mind

if you like to wake up early for morning walks, he’ll wake up and watch you get ready

but most likely never join you

Charles Beckendorf

best human pillow EVER

only god knows how much envy i felt from silena for real

he loves cuddling ofc

but it’s not his favorite way of sleeping

he’d rather much more hold you against his chest, arms and legs interlocked

because in that way he can hug, admire and kiss you anytime he wants to

i don’t know if this position makes sense help-

he loves to caress your hair and kiss your head in the process

it’s soothing for him and he knows it’s soothing for you

whenever he comes back from bunker nine super exhausted he just lays down and you hop beside him

and it’s heaven in his eyes

sometimes when things go wrong in a project he's working on he goes straight to your cabin and just stares at you

biggest puppy eyes in the world by the way

he just stares in a way like "please let me sleep here"

and who are you to say no am i right

he LOVES to snuzzle his face in your neck and breath in your scent

he just loves the way you smell

it's just too good to be true

can't take my eyes off of you

sorry i love 10 things i hate about you too much

your smell is one of his favorite things in the whole world

he's just so in love is sickening to anyone who's watching

anyways, cutie pie

a/n pt2: i'm sorry if charlie is short, but im too annoyed right now. i had to rewrite this shit five times because TUMBLR COULDNT SAVE THE FUCKING DRAFT HOLY SHIT- anyways hope u liked

[novaursa]

The Second Daughter

- Summary: You were born as a second daughter under the watchful eye of a full moon. And just like the moon you were beautiful—and cursed to exist only in the dark.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Note: This is a sneak peek into a story that will take over after Between Pride and Fire.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Next part: the princess and the lion

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround

Excerpts from Fire and Blood: The Life of Y/N Targaryen

The Birth of Y/N Targaryen (99 AC)

Grand Maester Mellos writes:

"It was on the night of a full moon, under skies alight with silver, that Lady Aemma Arryn gave birth to her second child at the manse in King's Landing. The labor was long and fraught, though Lady Aemma endured with the stoic grace for which she was known. When the hour of the bat arrived, the child came forth—a girl, pale-haired and lilac-eyed, with all the hallmarks of her Valyrian lineage. The babe, whom her parents would name Y/N, was the picture of perfection save for one cruel twist of fate: she did not see."

Mushroom, the fool, provides his account:

"When the baby first let out her wail, King Viserys (though not yet a king, mind you) burst into the birthing chamber. He had expected a boy, as men often do, but the sight of his daughter softened him at once. I saw him hold her, weeping openly, calling her ‘my little star.’ But the joy turned to sorrow before the sun rose. The maesters whispered their findings to the King and Queen—little Y/N was blind. Her lilac eyes, though beautiful as a spring morn, would never see the world around her. The joy in that room turned as cold as a long winter’s night."

Lady Aemma, overcome with grief, clutched the babe to her chest, her tears mingling with her husband's. Yet despite this sorrow, Y/N was loved fiercely by her parents. "She will never see the world," Viserys said, "but she will feel its love."

The Accession of King Viserys I (103 AC)

Grand Maester Mellos records:

"Upon the passing of the Old King Jaehaerys I in 103 AC, Viserys ascended to the Iron Throne. Y/N, though but four years old, was present at her father’s coronation, sitting quietly beside her elder sister, Rhaenyra, who delighted in the pageantry. Y/N, by contrast, showed little interest in the pomp of court life, even at so young an age. Though blind, she was said to have a preternatural sense of calm, often described as ‘otherworldly.’”

Mushroom recalls:

"Even as a babe, Y/N seemed to find no pleasure in the games of court. She clung to her mother’s skirts or her sister’s hand, never crying, never laughing as the other children did. Her blindness marked her apart, but so too did her gentleness. ‘Aemma’s grace reborn,’ the lords would whisper. Little did they know how much Viserys would favor her, sparing her from the demands placed upon her elder sister. Rhaenyra learned to charm and command, while Y/N was left to dream in her quiet world of dark."

The Bonding with Silverwing (108 AC)

Grand Maester Mellos writes:

"It was during the royal family’s visit to Dragonstone in 108 AC that Y/N Targaryen, then but nine years of age, performed a feat that astonished even the most seasoned Dragonkeepers. Drawn to the abandoned dragon Silverwing, once ridden by Queen Alysanne, Y/N approached her in Dragonmont. Those who witnessed it spoke of how the child sang to the dragon in High Valyrian, her voice carrying a melody so hauntingly beautiful that it seemed the dragon wept. Silverwing, known for her gentle nature, bent her great head to the blind girl, allowing her to touch her snout. From that moment forth, Y/N was counted as a dragonrider, though she could not see the skies she now commanded."

Mushroom, ever dramatic, adds:

"When Y/N sang, even the stones seemed to shiver. I swear on my twisted back, I saw Silverwing shed a tear as she lowered herself to the girl. ‘She knows her rider,’ said the Dragonkeepers, and I believed it. How could I not? Y/N could not see, but she felt the dragon’s heart, and that was enough."

Her Life at Court

Grand Maester Mellos writes:

"As Y/N grew, her beauty became a topic of much admiration. Her pale hair, always intricately braided by her own hand, and her serene demeanor earned her the adoration of lords and ladies alike. Yet, she remained a rare sight at court, preferring the solitude of the gardens or the companionship of her sister, Rhaenyra. King Viserys, protective of his second daughter, seldom required her presence at formal functions. When she did appear, her soft-spoken nature and gentle grace captivated all who met her."

Ser Lorent Marbrand, her sworn shield since childhood, was ever at her side, guiding her through the halls of the Red Keep and beyond. “She has no need of sight,” Ser Lorent once said. “She sees with her heart, and that is sharper than any blade.”

Mushroom, however, whispers of her loneliness:

"Though the court praised her beauty and grace, Y/N was no fool. She knew she was overlooked in favor of her elder sister. Rhaenyra, the Realm’s Delight, drew suitors like moths to a flame, while Y/N’s blindness and quiet demeanor made her an afterthought to many. Yet, those who truly knew her—her sister, her father, and even her dragon—held her in the highest regard."

The Princess and the Black Mare

Grand Maester Mellos writes:

"When Princess Y/N turned ten, her father, King Viserys, gifted her a black mare of remarkable intelligence. The horse, trained by the finest horsemasters in the realm, was taught to respond to subtle cues, guiding her blind rider with unmatched care. Though Y/N was hesitant at first, under the watchful eye of Ser Lorent Marbrand, her sworn shield, she quickly took to riding. The sight of the younger princess atop the sleek black mare became a source of wonder in King’s Landing. Lords and ladies alike would lean from their windows to catch a glimpse of her as she rode through the city with her knight."

Mushroom recounts:

"I remember the day the younger princess first rode through the streets of King's Landing. Her hair, pale as the moon, trailed behind her like a banner, and her lilac eyes stared forward as if she could see clearer than the rest of us. The people marveled, saying she was a dragon in human form, radiant even in her blindness. Courtiers, who should have been attending to their duties, would abandon their posts just to watch her ride. One minor lord—whose name I will not sully this account with—rushed out of the Great Sept mid-chant to witness her. He tripped, fell into a distillery of summerberry wine, and drowned. It took three days to find his body, and when they did, Septa Rhaedis claimed he looked like ‘a pickled egg.’ The court spoke of little else for weeks.”

The Art of Touch

Grand Maester Mellos records:

"In addition to her accomplishments as a rider, Y/N Targaryen also became skilled in embroidery, a talent few believed possible for one without sight. Guided by her Septa, Rhaedis, she learned to identify patterns by touch, stitching elaborate designs into fabrics with a precision that amazed even the most experienced needleworkers at court."

When asked how she knew what she was embroidering, the princess is said to have replied:

"I see it in my dreams. The threads whisper to me as the stars whisper to the skies."

Mushroom, of course, adds his own embellishment:

"The court marveled at her works, and some claimed she was blessed by the Seven or perhaps cursed by the Old Gods. Whatever the truth, her hands created beauty beyond compare. One such tapestry, depicting dragons in flight, hung in the Great Hall of the Red Keep for many years until it was destroyed during the Black Council."

Her Bond with Prince Daemon

Grand Maester Mellos writes:

"Among those closest to the princess, none held a more unique bond with her than Prince Daemon Targaryen, her uncle. Daemon, often described as brash and hot-tempered, was uncharacteristically gentle in her presence. He called her ‘little star,’ a name that echoed her father’s first words upon her birth. It was said that he would sit with her for hours, recounting tales of his travels and victories in the Stepstones, always mindful to paint vivid pictures with his words so that she might see the world through his voice."

Mushroom offers a more colorful account:

"Daemon adored the girl, perhaps more than he did his own ambitions. He’d sit beside her, polishing Dark Sister while she listened to his tales. ‘Do you dream of dragons, little star?’ he’d ask her. ‘I dream of them always,’ she’d reply. I daresay the Rogue Prince would have brought her the moon if she asked for it. He once told me that the gods gave her blindness so she might better see the truths the rest of us are too blind to notice."

Despite their closeness, some whispered that Daemon’s affection for Y/N was an act of defiance against Viserys, a way to provoke the King. Yet others believed it was genuine—a rare display of softness from a man known for his sharp edges.

The Death of Queen Aemma and the Naming of Rhaenyra (105 AC)

Grand Maester Mellos writes:

"The year 105 AC marked a time of profound sorrow and upheaval for House Targaryen. Queen Aemma Arryn, beloved by all, passed away in childbirth, her body unable to endure the strain of delivering the long-awaited male heir. The child, a boy named Baelon, survived but a day, his life as brief as a candle in the wind. The Red Keep was plunged into mourning, for the King had not only lost his queen but his hope for a son to secure the succession."

Mushroom, ever the dramatist, recounts:

"I was there when the Queen’s screams echoed through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, haunting us all. The maesters whispered of the impossible choice the King had made—save the babe or save the mother. In the end, neither survived. When King Viserys emerged from the chamber, his face was as pale as bone, and in his arms, he carried the lifeless child. The court fell silent as he whispered, ‘Aemma is gone.’ Yet, in his grief, his gaze fell upon his daughters, Rhaenyra and Y/N, as if to remind himself of what remained."

Y/N, only six years old, was said to have clung to her elder sister during the days of mourning. Blind though she was, she is said to have been acutely aware of the grief that permeated the Red Keep. “I heard her tears,” she later told her Septa, “and they sounded like rain upon stone.”

It was in the wake of Aemma’s death that Viserys made the momentous decision to name Rhaenyra his heir. Grand Maester Mellos writes:

"The King, bereft of sons, gathered his council and declared his eldest daughter, Rhaenyra, the Princess of Dragonstone and his chosen successor. The proclamation was met with mixed reactions, though none dared speak against it openly. Y/N, still a child, sat beside her sister during the ceremony, her small hand clutching Rhaenyra’s, as if to lend her strength. The court whispered of the younger princess’s quiet courage, though few noticed the tears that slipped from her unseeing eyes as the crown was placed upon Rhaenyra’s head."

The Marriage to Alicent Hightower (106 AC)

Grand Maester Mellos writes:

"In the year following Queen Aemma’s death, King Viserys shocked the realm by announcing his intention to marry Alicent Hightower, daughter of Ser Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King. The match, though politically advantageous, was seen by many as a betrayal of Aemma’s memory. None felt this more keenly than the King’s daughters, Rhaenyra and Y/N, who had grown close to Alicent during her time at court."

Mushroom provides his usual flair:

"The whispers began long before the announcement. I saw Lady Alicent visiting the King’s chambers more often than a lady ought. Some said she was there to comfort him, others to ensnare him. When the match was declared, Rhaenyra stormed from the Small Council chamber, her fury unmistakable. Y/N, by contrast, said nothing. She simply withdrew to her chambers, though I later heard her weeping through the walls. ‘She feels too deeply,’ Ser Lorent said. ‘Her heart sees what her eyes cannot.’”

Despite her youth, Y/N was said to have been torn between her affection for Alicent and her loyalty to her late mother and sister. Alicent, aware of the tension her marriage caused, reportedly sought to win over the younger princess. Mushroom recounts:

"Alicent would visit Y/N often, bringing her gifts of perfumes and silks, hoping to mend the rift. ‘I am still your friend,’ she would say. But Y/N, though polite, grew distant. She would not speak against Alicent, but neither did she embrace her. When asked by her Septa why she avoided the Queen, she simply replied, ‘I dream of Mother, and in my dreams, she is crying.’”

The Court’s Reaction

Grand Maester Mellos records:

"The court, ever a cauldron of intrigue, buzzed with speculation over the King’s remarriage. While some saw Alicent as a stabilizing influence, others whispered of her ambition. Rhaenyra’s displeasure was evident, and though Y/N’s feelings remained a mystery to many, her absence from court functions spoke volumes. It was said that the younger princess spent more time in the gardens or with her dragon, Silverwing, seeking solace in the quiet places of the Red Keep."

Mushroom, in his usual irreverence, concludes:

"If the King’s marriage to Alicent Hightower was a political move, it was a clumsy one. It drove a wedge between father and daughters, a rift that would only grow wider in the years to come. As for Y/N, the court often wondered what went on behind her lilac eyes, for she remained silent, even as the storm clouds gathered. ‘A storm is coming,’ she once told her Septa. ‘And when it breaks, none will escape the rain.’”

Thus began a new chapter for the Targaryen family, one marked by tension and the seeds of division that would later engulf the realm.

The Birth of Prince Aegon (107 AC)

Grand Maester Mellos writes:

"In the year 107 AC, Queen Alicent Hightower gave birth to her first child, a son named Aegon. The boy’s safe delivery was met with great celebration throughout the realm. King Viserys, whose grief over the loss of his firstborn son had lingered like a shadow, was said to have wept with joy at the sight of his living heir. The court rejoiced, though not all shared the King’s unbridled happiness."

Mushroom adds, with his usual candor:

"The King threw a grand feast for the birth of his son, lavishing praise upon Alicent as if she had brought forth a dragon herself. Rhaenyra sat stiffly at the high table, her face pale as milk, while Y/N, ever the quiet one, simply lowered her head. When the King raised a goblet and declared Aegon his 'future pride,' the Realm's Delight left the hall in silence. Y/N, as always, followed her sister like a shadow. The court murmured, but none dared speak their thoughts aloud."

The younger princess, blind though she was, seemed to sense the shifting tides. Septa Rhaedis later claimed that Y/N confided in her, saying, “The boy’s cries are like thunder. I hear storms in his wake.”

The Suitors of Rhaenyra

Grand Maester Mellos writes:

"Following the birth of Prince Aegon, the King turned his attention to securing alliances through marriage. Rhaenyra, now in her tenth year of life, had grown into a striking young woman, admired by all for her beauty and fiery spirit. Suitors from every corner of the realm descended upon King’s Landing, eager to win the hand of the Princess of Dragonstone."

The accounts of the court speak of endless gatherings in the throne room, where lords presented gifts and pledges of loyalty. Mushroom, who was privy to these events, recounts:

"The lords came with jewels, horses, and promises of wealth, each one more desperate than the last. The Princess, seated beside her father, bore it all with a grace that belied her young age. Y/N, though often absent from such displays, was occasionally seen by her sister’s side, her unseeing lilac eyes lending an ethereal air to the proceedings. Some whispered that her presence was a silent rebuke to the King, a reminder of the family’s losses and the fragility of alliances forged by marriage."

The Shadow of the Younger Princess

Grand Maester Mellos writes:

"Amidst the fanfare surrounding Rhaenyra’s suitors and the birth of Prince Aegon, Y/N remained largely in the background, a deliberate choice by her father. The King, ever protective of his younger daughter, sought to shield her from the court’s scrutiny. Unlike her sister, Y/N was spared the endless parade of lords and their gifts. Instead, she spent her days in the gardens, on the back of her black mare, or in the company of her dragon, Silverwing."

Septa Rhaedis later wrote:

"The younger princess was not overlooked out of neglect, but out of love. The King feared that her blindness, though it inspired awe in some, would make her a target for others. He believed that by keeping her out of the court’s spotlight, he was protecting her. Yet, Y/N, for all her quiet demeanor, was no fool. She knew her father’s intentions, and though she did not voice her objections, her distance from court life created a rift between her and her family that would never fully heal."

Mushroom, ever irreverent, offers his perspective:

"While Rhaenyra was paraded before the realm like a dragon ready to take flight, Y/N was kept hidden, a jewel locked away in a vault. But jewels cannot stay hidden forever. I heard whispers even then—lords asking about the 'blind beauty' and whether the King had plans for her. Viserys, blind in his own way, dismissed such inquiries with a wave of his hand. 'She is too young,' he would say. But the court knew better. He feared what they might see in her, and what ambitions she might awaken."

The Bonds of Sisterhood

Despite the growing tension in the court, Rhaenyra and Y/N’s bond remained strong. Mushroom writes:

"The two sisters were as different as fire and moonlight, yet they shared a closeness that no storm could break. Rhaenyra often brought her suitors’ gifts to Y/N, describing them in vivid detail so her sister might share in the spectacle. Y/N, for her part, offered quiet counsel to Rhaenyra, soothing her elder sister’s frustrations with her gentle words."

Grand Maester Mellos records:

"Though the court focused its attention on Rhaenyra, it was said that she confided more in her younger sister than in anyone else. Y/N, with her serene demeanor, provided a calming presence in the storm of Rhaenyra’s life. The Realm’s Delight, for all her strength, leaned on her blind sister as one might lean on a crutch. Together, they weathered the growing tensions of the Red Keep, their bond a rare light in a darkening world."

Thus, the stage was set for the years to come, as the lines between duty, family, and ambition grew ever more tangled. While Rhaenyra shone brightly before the court, Y/N remained in the shadows, a quiet flame that many would underestimate to their peril.

The Festivities of Prince Aegon’s Eighth Nameday (115 AC)

Grand Maester Mellos writes:

"In the year 115 AC, the Red Keep hosted a grand celebration in honor of Prince Aegon’s eighth nameday. Lords and ladies from across the realm gathered to pay homage to the young prince and revel in the accompanying festivities. Among the notable attendees was Lord Jason Lannister, the proud and ambitious Lord of Casterly Rock, whose presence stirred no small amount of intrigue. It was widely known that Jason had set his sights on the hand of Princess Rhaenyra, and his bold attempts to court her became a point of great amusement—and anxiety—during the celebrations."

Mushroom, in his irreverent style, recounts:

"Lord Jason, as proud as the lions on his banners, approached the Princess of Dragonstone with the subtlety of a hammer striking an anvil. He presented her with a golden spear—a finely crafted thing, no doubt—and boasted of the hunts they might share at Casterly Rock. Rhaenyra, unimpressed, replied that she had no need for a spear, as her dragon could handle any beast that might trouble her. The court erupted in laughter, leaving Lord Jason red-faced and sputtering."

Having been rebuffed by Rhaenyra, Jason sought out King Viserys, hoping to gain the monarch’s favor. Grand Maester Mellos writes:

"Lord Jason approached the King with a proposal as blunt as it was ambitious: a marriage alliance between House Targaryen and House Lannister. King Viserys, still devoted to his plan to wed Rhaenyra to Laenor Velaryon, dismissed the offer with a firm but polite refusal. Jason left the King’s presence visibly frustrated, his composure shaken by the double rejection."

The Collision That Almost Was

It was as Lord Jason retreated from the King’s chambers, nursing his wounded pride, that he first encountered Y/N Targaryen. Grand Maester Mellos records:

"At the request of her father, Princess Y/N, seldom seen at court in recent years, made an unexpected appearance at the festivities. Her arrival, though quiet, caused a ripple of curiosity among the assembled lords and ladies. Clad in silver and black, with her pale hair braided intricately about her head, the blind princess moved through the throng with a serenity that belied the chaos of the celebrations. Ser Lorent Marbrand, her sworn shield, guided her with care."

Mushroom describes the moment with his usual flair:

"Imagine it! Lord Jason, storming through the halls like a lion with a thorn in his paw, nearly barreled into the younger princess. If not for Ser Lorent’s quick hand, the two would have collided. As it was, Jason stopped short, staring at the blind princess as if she were a ghost. I swear by the Seven, his jaw dropped so low I thought he might swallow his own pride."

It was the first time Jason Lannister laid eyes upon Y/N, and the effect was immediate. Tyland Lannister, Jason’s younger twin and a sharp observer of human folly, later recounted the scene with amusement:

"Jason, ever the picture of confidence, found himself utterly out of his element. The blind princess, serene and unflinching, greeted him with a quiet grace that seemed to rob him of speech. For a man so accustomed to admiration, it was a humbling moment. I, for one, enjoyed every second of it."

Jason, regaining his composure, offered a hasty apology, which Y/N accepted with her usual gentleness. Grand Maester Mellos writes:

"The encounter was brief, but those who witnessed it spoke of how the Lord of Casterly Rock seemed momentarily unmoored, as if the blind princess had seen through him in a way that others could not. Whether by fate or chance, it was a meeting that would linger in Jason’s mind for years to come."

Reflections and Whispers

The court, ever quick to seize upon any moment of intrigue, buzzed with speculation about Jason’s reaction to Y/N. Mushroom, always eager to stir the pot, writes:

"Some said the Lord of Casterly Rock left the festivities with more than his pride bruised. Others whispered that he had found a new prize to pursue, though how one courts a woman who cannot see their fine clothes or lavish gifts, I cannot say. Still, I’d wager Jason would find a way—lions are nothing if not persistent."

Tyland, reflecting on the event years later, remarked:

"That day marked the first time I saw my brother truly at a loss for words. Princess Y/N Targaryen, with her quiet grace and unseeing eyes, had a way of disarming even the most self-assured of men. Jason was no exception. It was as if the gods themselves had decided to humble him, and they chose her to do it."

Though the moment passed quickly, it became a tale retold in the halls of Casterly Rock and King’s Landing alike, a small but significant thread in the tapestry of Y/N’s life and the ever-turning wheel of power in the realm.

[bumblesimagines]

you have no reason to worry.

did you two have a nice chat?

Alicent Hightower

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: None really

Happy holidays y'all!

Envy was a feeling Alicent had been long aquatinted with. Her girlhood had been full of it, especially after the death of her mother and subsequent betrothal to the king after Lady Aemma's tragic passing.  She always swallowed it down, forced it away into the depths of her mind where it'd inevitably rear its ugly head again in an unsuspecting moment. But as much as she tried willing it away this time, it lingered, filling her mouth with bitterness as she stared down at the training yard below. 

Her nails scraped against the rough texture of the stone railing, her gaze wholly fixated on the knight dividing his attention between the sparring lordlings and the keen lady at his side. The Lady Brinna Wylde was young and beautiful, with golden hair cascading down her back and eyes so pale they nearly looked gray. She was of a gentler disposition and exceptional at needlework thus making her one of the more tolerable ladies of the keep. Alicent had little issue with her apart from the fact she was eligible and rather taken with Ser (Y/N), evident by how she lingered around him with a meek smile. 

There was little reason for her to be opposed to the match, in fact, she should've been encouraging the idea of a wedding to lift the somber mood that so often enveloped the Keep. But Alicent hardly believed herself capable of urging Ser (Y/N) to wed another, to deprive herself of the attention and care he so often bestowed upon her. Guilt crept up in her stomach frequently, especially when she tended to her husband who languished away in his bedchambers with the flesh-rotting disease he'd developed over the past years. She'd never allow herself to stoop low enough to step outside of her marriage, let alone commit the act of treason, but his light flirting and soothing words were enough for her. 

Until now, she supposed as she curled her fingers inward when Ser (Y/N) took Lady Brinna's hand into his and ghosted his lips over her knuckles. "Ser Criston," Alicent glanced over her shoulder at the knight, his dark eyes immediately darting toward her questioningly. "What have you heard of Lord Tyland and his search to find a wife?"

"The Lannister name may be the only thing granting him any attention, Your Grace. I do not indulge in court gossip but it appears he is not doing.. quite well." A hint of amusement seeped into Ser Criston's voice. While the Lannister twins were dashing young men, Lord Jason proved to be the more confident of the two but he'd already received Johanna Westerling's hand in marriage.

"His kindness would suit Lady Brinna, don't you think?"

Ser Criston's lips pressed together, briefly peering down at the courtyard. "Would she not suit Ser (Y/N), Your Grace?"

"Ser Tyland has been keen on finding a wife for some time, Ser Criston. When Ser (Y/N) makes his desire for a bride known, a match can be arranged." Alicent responded swiftly, sparing him another glance before she peeled herself away from the railing and made her way toward the stairs, carefully clutching her skirts so as to not trip on them. "We have not hosted a wedding in many moons. It may lift spirits to bring House Wylde and House Lannister together." 

"I'm certain Ironrod and Ser Tyland will be forever grateful, Your Grace." 

With her head lifted high, she barely looked in the direction of the servants and courtiers who bowed as she stepped past them. It felt as if with each passing day she and her father ruled in King Visery's stead, she garnered more respect from those around her. She doubted those living on Dragonstone felt similarly but none of them had bothered to visit the ill man in recent times, much less contested their joint rule. Rhaenyra would have a hard time ruling without the respect and loyalty of King's Landing residents. 

"My Queen," Ser (Y/N) smiled upon seeing her, lowering his head and bidding Lady Brinna farewell when she bowed and stepped away. 

"Did you two have a nice chat?" Alicent questioned, her head tilting ever so slightly to the side. 

Ser (Y/N)'s smile turned into an amused grin. "Ah, you have no reason to worry, Your Grace. Lady Brinna is beautiful but I've never been keen on blondes."

Alicent fought against the way the corners of her lips threatened to move upward. "That's good, then. In due time, she'll be wed to Tyland Lannister once I arrange their match. They will make a handsome couple, won't they?"

"Indeed, Your Grace. Indeed."

[confused-wanderer]

I know we all talk about Jason finding out Dick killed the Joker from Tim or one of the other batfam members, but what if:

One day he’s searching for blackmail material on a member just for fun and knows Damian keeps a list of all of them so he backs into the files and realised the folder with the heaviest inscription to unlock is one labelled “Contingencies”.

He opens it to find every single person in their family is on there and starts surfing through them. When he sees Tim’s he freezes, mentally filing away some horrific details for checking up on him later, Jason’s list is impressive but not much he didn’t expect…still concerned how he got the evidence though.

His fingers hesitate over Batman’s, and after thinking screw it what the hell clicks on it just to realise most of them are psychological, and had to do with Jason. One video showed Bruce as Jason remembered him from his robin days. He was pacing furiously in the Manor, tugging on his pocket square which for him was a high level of distress, before he went upstairs - to Jason’s room when he stayed there - and looked in. The change was sudden, Bruce’s shoulders sagged and his face grew into one of fondness, one he’d rarely seen before.

“I cant help it Alfred.. Scarecrow’s toxin.. I KNOW it isn’t real but.. I can’t stop thinking about it. What if -“ and Jason can’t really believe his ears, that was a fucking quiver in his voice- “What if one day it comes true?” “What was your worst fear Master Bruce?”.

“Jason..” and Jason flinches. “I.. I saw him die, and I was powerless. I cant lose him Alfred. I just cant.”

The recording ends, and it takes a while for Jason to realise he can’t breathe. He sends the file to himself and laughs bitterly, remembering what the fear toxin had shown him. Lucifer. It had shown him falling from Bruce’s grace, being his greatest disappointment. “Guess we both failed each other didnt we old man?”

After what feels like forever, when he can feel his fingers stop shaking his eyes drift over to Dicks.

Damian sure does adore him, wonder what the brats got in store for him.

Most of them were things he was sure Dick could handle, until a glitched file appeared which read “for EXTREME situations only.”

When he heard Joker laugh, Jason could’ve sworn he was in the cave. “Hello there old friend! Aww why the long face?”

Dick wasn’t facing the camera, but the sheer aura of destruction radiating off of him was enough for Jason to know Joker was in danger. Judging by his outfit and well- hair- this must’ve been years ago.

“Didn’t you like my..ah.. gift? It was quite the blast I hear!”

Dicks fists clenched. His usual smile was gone, replaced by a hatred so vile it could’ve rivalled batman’s glare. It was so odd.. seeing him so pissed.

“Well that’s what happens.. when birds get hit. They never see what’s right in front of them and then BAM!”

As his laughter rang out Jason heard Dick whisper something. It was so soft, quieter than he’d ever heard him and he found himself leaning forward.

“What’s that? How long he lasted? Well I counted everytime he screamed when I broke his bones so-“

“SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP!”

Jason stumbled back, nearly falling to the floor himself. Dicks voice was thundering, echoing across the cave.

What the hell had happened? Why was Dick so mad? Why wasn’t he smiling?

“You..killed him.”

And that’s when it hit Jason. Oh. This was after he’d died.

The joker was trying to say something, but Jason couldn’t hear him. All he could focus on was how Dick was behaving, how he was walking upto Joker. Jason had seen that before.

The intent to kill.

SLAM

The fight was brutal, and blood flew everywhere, mixed with the laughter and cries of the Joker while Dick yelled, YELLED so loudly he could’ve sworn the cave was shaking before the sound of a wet snap ricocheted and Dick went limp.

No.. no no no no.

He watched in horror as Dick stood up, drenched in blood and heaving. Dick had gone- no BEATEN- the joker for Jason.

But the longer he looked, the more he felt the Lazarus pit burning inside him.

The joker wasn’t moving.

Dick walked away, and in the shadows, with bloody fists and face of hatred could not see him as the Dick he knew.

“Dead.”

He looked up to hear Dick whisper to the thundering sky outside.

“I killed him Jason. The joker is dead. Rest in peace little wing.”

Jason’s feet gave out under him, and he crashed to the ground gasping for breath.

Never in his wildest dreams had he thought he had been avenged.

Never did he even think that Dick had only killed once… and only for him.

Part two of related series where Jason finds out Bruce nearly killed the Joker:

[jjenthusee]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Angst, hurt no comfort

The sun was blinding. White light that burned against the skin of your eyelids trying to shield your eyes.

A couple blinks helped to adjust your senses, but you could only squint long enough to try to look at your surroundings.

Trees. Seats. The inside of a truck?

You sat up straighter. Your fast movements disorienting your mind, but you swiveled your head nonetheless. Pushing away the sudden motion sickness.

It was the interior of a truck. Your family pickup.

You hadn’t seen it in ages after your family sold it off when you were thirteen.

A sickening nostalgic feeling constricting your throat. You turned your head to look out the window of the backseat.

You were moving.

Endless trees were passing you, almost in a blur. It was home like you were back driving through the backroads, but this looked like a freeway.

You were sitting with the windows rolled up, but you could practically smell the outside. The smell of the almost red dirt and the sound of the trees wiggling against the wind.

It reminded you of when your life was only about getting dirt in your shoes and your mom would nag about the stains on them.

“—ug.”

Huh? Dad?

“Bug, can you feel the air?”

Your dad’s voice reverberated through you. Your throat burning as you listened to the familiar nickname. The way his voice was delicate whenever he used it.

You looked forward expecting to see the front of the vehicle, but it was more fog. You wanted to rub your eyes hoping they would readjust and you could see your dad rather than only hear him.

But the blurriness stayed.

“It’s too hot, I can’t believe you forgot the cooler.”

Your mother’s voice echoed from the passenger seat, finally stabilizing when she finished talking.

The firmness still familiar and prominent.

“I told you that I’m sorry, I thought I put it in the backseat.”

You smiled hearing your parents bicker. It never failed that a roadtrip started with them arguing with each other. It was harmless banter, but it warmed your chest to hear both of their voices intertwined again.

Like a fog had cleared, the backs of your parents became more visible. Their silhouettes morphing into their all too familiar clothes and hair. Your dad driving and your mom sitting next to him with the usual grace she carried.

So many memories spent watching your parents from the backseat. You remembered you would move to the middle of the seats to perfectly balance seeing both of your parents, the sides of their faces barely visible, but it was also the perfect spot to get the best wave of cool air from the AC.

You saw the endless road through the front windshield. No traffic and the road closed in by the trees. It was just you and your parents like old times.

A sudden chill ran through you. Your arms shivered.

The truck was old, but it was sturdy. Your dad was very particular about the maintenance, so it kept kicking through the years. Maybe the AC was just strong?

“—u’re okay. You’ll be fine.”

Another voice chimed in, but when you turned to your parents they were still going back and forth, not paying attention to you.

A sharp sting pricked your right shoulder. The pain felt like a needle poling you, but it started to burn and the pain took over. It traveled down to your arm and fingers.

Your cries alerted your parents and your mom looked over her shoulder with concern.

“What’s wrong—“

You couldn’t form an answer as you clenched your shoulder with your left hand. Trying your best to somehow lessen the pain.

You looked down to assess the injury. You were in a GCPD vest and a red hoodie? What an interesting combo.

“Don’t you close your eyes, you fucking idiot.”

A harsh voice floated around you. It made your head hurt.

What in the world was going on?

Sweat formed on your forehead ready to drop down to your eyebrow.

Your entire right arm going numb. Well, now that was bad.

“I can’t feel my arm.”

You looked up to your mom. Slow panic blooming on her face.

“Shit, honey, you have to pull over.”

“There’s a semi behind us, we have to let it pass then—“

“Just put on the hazards! We have to pull over.”

They were arguing again, more about their concern for you, but you wanted to laugh at the situation. How long has it been since someone had reacted to you in this way?

Your mom unbuckled herself and maneuvered her body to wipe the sweat off your face. Her eyes looking at you. She was worried, but you saw as she fought against it.

She was never one to comfort with words, but you felt better as she dabbed at your sweat.

“Don’t touch her, dickhead!”

You winced. The distant voice had such a foul mouth.

You looked up again, there was no reaction from your mom. She was a stickler for bad language, so if she wasn’t ready to threaten you with cleaning your mouth with soap, she didn’t hear the voice yelling.

“Jaybird, I’m trying to help.”

Another faceless voice. It didn’t contain the same venom as the first one.

“Then help her. She’s losing too much blood and this fucking rain is not helping.”

The irritation was growing from the distant echo. The anger felt familiar.

Instantly, you shivered again.

Your dad successfully pulled off the road bringing the truck to a complete stop. Now he was able to look back at you. His eyebrows pulled together in concern at your messy state.

You were in so much pain, but you were happy. Your parents were doting on you. You missed this feeling, being cared for.

“She still has a pulse, but it’s weak—so we have to act fast. B isn’t that far, we can make it. Just trust me, Jay.”

You shivered again.

“She’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.”

The voice sounded like it was trying to convince himself more than you.

“You’ll be fine, sweetheart.”

The sudden change of anger to tender twisted something inside of you.

A strange wave of sadness itched at you. Why did his voice affect you?

“You said you wanted to cook me a ‘real’ dinner. You promised me.”

You felt like crying.

“You have to take back your DVD.”

People still use those?

“I can’t believe you still buy those ancient things and your stupid puzzle is still on my table. I haven’t moved it, but I bought you the glue you’ve been talking about.”

“Jaybird—“ The other voice tried to interrupt.

“You need to glue it.”

Flashes of memories started to enter your mind.

Red Hood pointing a gun in your face. Sitting in his safe house together. Removing his helmet. Watching Jason, your Jason, make a shitty dinner. Then your sadness when you realized he only ate to live. Teaching him about the mundane things about life.

You put a stamp onto his life and he had his stamp on yours.

Using his shampoo, wearing his clothes, blushing when he told you how good you looked in red.

“Fuck!”

The yell made you flinch. Your dad reaching past the seat to pet your head. A silent comfort.

You remembered.

Remembered that you followed Jason to stop the new drug that infested the schools across Gotham. You ended up going into the warehouse by yourself and as you were aiming your pistol, the drug lord aimed back at you. There were four shots. You each got a good hit on the other, but you managed to limp yourself out to the open smoggy air with the drug lord still slumped on the concrete. You did your job. Months of work was finally done. Except paper work, but that could be dealt with.

A couple steps into the rain and more gunshots had fired behind you. A flash of red moved at the corner of your eye, but your body fell forward.

You didn’t finish the job. The drug lord had been barely breathing and still shot you.

Jay had to clean up after you. Again.

You couldn’t do anything right. Now you were full of bullet holes, face plastered against the rough pavement.

It was too late.

Your body shifted, lifted like you weighed nothing. Your face feeling pouring rain when a red silhouette shielded your face.

“You idiot!” Jason’s voice booming above you.

Your body felt so heavy.

You slowly blinked up at his helmet. You always hated that it blocked you from seeing his actual face. You loved looking at him, but when he had it on, you wanted take it off and throw it.

You closed your eyes. When they reopened you could see your mom holding your face.

“I’m dying.”

“Oh, stop being dramatic. It’s probably cause you spent all weekend running around and strained yourself. I’ll give you some medicine and then you’ll rest more when we get home.”

“Mom, I don’t want to die.”

“Hush, you just need to rest. You look tired.”

You were tired. So tired.

Your father reached for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“It’s alright bug, you can rest.”

He was right. It was okay.

It won’t hurt to close your eyes for a little while. Maybe Jay will be there when you wake up. You’ll be in his arms and he’ll complain about you hogging the blanket all night, then kiss the sleepiness off of you.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be here when you wake up. We love you.”

The pain had stopped.

You closed your eyes.

Maybe you would rest for a bit.

Car drives always did make you sleepy.

…

Jason held your hand. Your body was soaked from the rain, water dripping off the sides of your face as you laid in front of him.

He was afraid to move you any further, so he sat on the ground. His helmet lulled next to his feet, thrown to the ground.

All the noise around him stopped. He couldn’t hear anything.

He had a lot of fuck-ups in his life, but this was by far the worse one.

Your pulse had stopped. You were cold.

Jason shakily reached for your face. You looked like you were going to wake at any moment to move the hair out of your face and you would ask him what all the fuss was about.

But you laid there. Hair still in your face, moved from the rain.

He stopped himself from touching you, throwing off his gloves with the same carelessness as his helmet.

Jason inched towards your face, using his bare fingers to move the wet hair. He watched the cold beauty you radiated.

But it wasn’t you.

It wasn’t the person who judged his bad eating habits, complained about his old leather jacket, yet still sewed close the new holes that formed.

“You idiot.”

His voice eerie and calm.

He reached for your body, gently scooping you up into his embrace. Holding you as close as he can get you.

He couldn’t feel any heartbeat. No familiar thump that calmed him, that lulled him to sleep on those nights it was too difficult to rest.

“You fucking idiot.”

Jason whispered into your hair. None of his earlier panic or malice heard in his voice.

Lines of tears fell from his eyes. A quiet sob as he touched his forehead to yours.

“Don’t leave me.”

His voice broke.

He held you tighter. Intertwining his hand and yours together like he could bring back life into you.

“Please.”

[ssparksflyy]

Hi, I just saw that request are open so can you do a boyfriend headcanon with Jason Grace please?

ask and thou shall recieve ༉‧₊˚.

jason grace dating hcs! ✮⋆˙ pairing : jason grace x gn!reader warning(s) : none ♡ an : tysm for ur request <3! hope u enjoy thisss! also why the heck did it take me 20 mins to make that little pic collab bcs nothing was matching so i js went 'screw it' anyway, enjoy!

jason grace how i love you my sweet golden retriever boyfriend

im not even lying though

ive got a golden and she's very affectionate and he'd literally be the same

absolutely loves being around you 24/7, 365

ive seen some people say jason is like kinda tense, like he was raised to be a fighter, his guard is always up, and like he builds just a few walls to keep himself safe

but nahh best believe those walls are comin right down for you

he's only himself when he's with you !!

he literally feels so comfortable and trusts you with his life

definitely tells you EVERYTHING

not gonna lie i think jason is chismoso asf

( gossiper , nosy )

BUT LIKE secretively

like people think he doesnt care or isnt listening so they just gossip all care free when he's around cause they think he wont tell anybody

but in reality he's super invested

so like after a long day when your cuddled up in the zeus cabin he's not only telling you about his day but also updating you on the drama he's found out about

NOW I KNOW that may seem ooc, but im telling you, the walls are coming DOWN

jason literally adores it when you play with his hair

like it really just calms him down, especially after a rough day

bro just melts 🫠

i think jason is like in between with pda

yes of course he loves holding your hand and hugging you

but theres definitely a difference from when youre around people and when youre alone

dont know if that came out wrong

but he just feels more comfortable when its just you two

speaking of hand holding

he's literally a hand holding king

its literally just a habit at this point

i feel like he's a hands interlocked kinda guy

like hes just walks up to you, gives you a big ol smile ofc, and plop, slips his fingers in between yours. just like that. super casual about it.

OH MY GOD IF YOU WEAR GLASSES

he literally intentionally makes you bump glasses when youre kissing

dont know if that made sense i dont wear glasses

but he thinks its the funniest thing ever and laughs every time

lemme tell you somethin

literally even before you started dating

you haven't opened a single door while jason's around

even if youre like about to reach the door and he's a few feet away he'll literally sprint captain-america-on-your-left style to open the door for you

and then stands there looking stupid after you give him a kiss on his cheek

never fails to be left absolutely dumbfounded after you kiss him

which is probably why he isnt the biggest on pda

he knows he'll never be allowed to forget how stupid he looks

HE LOVES SLEEPOVERS

winkity wonkty

but actually he makes them so much fun

starts a pillow fight but loses

A SUCKER for karaoke

nah cause why do i think he'd be like "omg lets play spin the bottle" and youre just like "jason.. it's only me and you" and hes all like "your point??"

always ends his night with cuddles

youre literally his personal teddy bear sorry not sorry

not gonna lie i don't think jason's a jewelry fella

but get this

matching converse

they dont even have to be converse they can literally be any shoes

i just like converse

you guys got them custom made and everything ouuuu

even though he doesn't seem like he'd be too big on jewelry i feel like he has a silver necklace with your initials on it

i want to wear his initial on his chain round my neck not because he owns me but cause he really knows me

he's always wearing it, whether its like under his shirt (CLOSER TO HIS HEARTTTT) or over it and shining proudly

definitely has a playlist just titled '(name)' with a heart and its just a bunch of love songs that remind him of you ♡

he's literally so in love and makes sure you know that multiple times a day

where can i get me a jason grace :(

[mediumgayitalian]

“Man overboard!”

Annabeth does, in fact, understand that such a cry warrants hastiness. Hurry, even.

“Man overboard! Man overboard!”

Most men, after all, cannot swim, and if the whispers are to be believed then this particular man is not even conscious to try. He is no doubt in peril, and the Fates have a stronger hold on his thread with every passing moment.

“Make way! Man overboard!”

If she is jostled one more time, however.

“Man overboard! Lower the ladder, man overboard!”

Should even one more crew yank her back away from the walls of the ship, patting her on the arm as they shove her ‘somewhere more befitting for such a finely dressed lady’.

“Hook it around him, for the gods’ sake, man overboard!”

There are going to be several more men joining him.

“Clear a path! Clear a path!”

She makes it, finally, to the rail unimpeded enough to lean over and see the man who, she has heard, has fallen overboard. He clings like dark-haired Danaë on the waterlogged hope of a wine barrel, bare back burned from the sun, nose nearly dragging along the friendly swirling waves. His dignity is covered, barely, by a torn, bloodstained cloth, and his tanned skin is crisscrossed with raised white scars.

He is handsome.

She stumbles back from the hull, face burning. And absurd thought to have. She seeks out deliberately a close-cropped head of blond hair, smiling tersely when Captain Grace meets her eyes, offering her a nod.

“Straight line,” she murmurs to herself, pulling back her shoulders.

She gives the men plenty of distance as they haul the downed sailor up from the depths. It irks her, really, to be following their orders, but to help or to offer it would mean more of the jostling, the pushing. More grimey hands irreparably staining the fine silk of the new dress Mother had sent her with.

It takes the crew an embarrassingly long time to haul the man up, even though Annabeth can see, as one of the bulkier men wraps a limp arm around his shoulders, that he is slight. He has the shoulders of a swimmer and the leanness of a scavenger, but his frame is small. In fact she is almost sure that upright, they would stand shoulder to shoulder. Perhaps an inch on his part, nothing more.

She realises, with a start, that the crew is staring at her, and forces her second blush of the day back from whence it came. She meets the expectant states with a tilted chin and hard eyes, drawing her skirts and clicking her heels against the groaning deck.

“What,” she snaps.

“He’s unconscious, my lady.”

“So? Place him out of the sun, have someone monitor him.”

The crewman supporting the unconscious man — truly, Annabeth needs to learn these men’s names; it would be easier if any of them spoke to her at any time other than to ask if the sun was making her feel faint — shifts from foot to foot.

Well.

Foot to peg.

“Yes,” he says eventually. He makes some sort of vague gesture with his hand, stepping forward. “Er — our thoughts exactly, my lady.”

Still, no one moves. The unconscious man’s head lolls, pitching his whole weight forward. Another sailor lunges forward to catch him, readjusting him so he’s steady.

Still, no one moves.

Annabeth shifts to face her betrothed. He winces under her sharp look, hand coming up to run the back of his neck.

“He may fare best under your care,” Captain Grace says hesitantly. “The bunks are unfit for someone in his condition. And my men can be…rough.”

“Choose your words carefully, Jason,” she warns.

Grimacing, Captain Grace plows on. “I mean no offense, my lady. We have no other women on the ship. Your cabin is cool and sheltered and I know you enjoy those weaving projects in idle time. He will not require much more than an eye to ensure he does not pass in his sleep. I can think of no one more capable to watch over him.”

The doctor, for starters, Annabeth thinks. Drunk as he is, the sickly rescue should be his charge; nursing him should be his task.

The crew doesn’t even glance at him, though. He stands happily to the side, red-faced and cross-eyed, bottle dribbling from his trouser pockets, and Annabeth fights the urge to bare her teeth.

“Whatever you believe is best, Captain,” she grits out. She glares at the crew, pausing on each man until he squirms under her gaze. “Do not leave him to soak my sheets.”

They leave him, instead, sprawled on the wooden floorboards.

Annabeth scowls.

A four week journey, her mother had told her. Barely a month at sea, with plenty of stops on the islands dotting the paths and a stack of journals for her research. Captain Grace’s vessel is exceptionally well-stocked and custom built by the brightest of his father’s engineers; so smoothly is it claimed to flow through the water that all aboard her will scarcely feel even the roughest rock of the waves.

A sharp veer to the side has Annabeth stumbling, nearly crushing herself under the man’s dead weight.

“Smooth,” she grumbles to herself, huffing as she drags him back upright. His skin is alarmingly cool from the bite of the water, and still slick. It takes her four tries to force his arm back over her shoulder, slippery as it is. “Top model, they say. Well, what a purse of lies that is. I could design a better ship in my —” she huffs, yanking him the last few feet towards her bed — “sleep.”

She could be more gentle with him, she supposes. If his head or spine is injured then her rough handling will doom him. But, well, penny, pound, et cetera. If he has a head injury and the waves haven’t killed him, her light tossing won’t, either.

Probably.

She deposits him on top of her quilt and then stands at the foot of her bed, hands on her hips, toes tapping. She tilts her head slightly to the right. Narrowing her eyes, she tilts it to the right. She wrinkles her nose and squints her eyes.

She can’t be faulted for her earlier thoughts, she decides.

He has a strange kind of charm to him. The same magnetism present in the performers of her mother’s court; men and women who gather in bright clothing and perform tricks and tease the audience, riding the thin line between furious huffing and uproarious laughter. Troublemakers, with enough skill to balance the line. Thin, twitching fingers and smile lines in the corner of his eyes, thick but maintained brows and dramatically bowed lips.

With a sound so great it rivals the billowing coal engines down billow, the man snores, trail of saliva trickling down his chin.

How revolting. Annabeth finds her lips twitching upwards and resets them deliberately into a graceful line.

Yes, he is the alluring kind. She wouldn’t be surprised if he turns out to be some kind of thief, or a cast-out stowaway. A wisecracker who pushed the envelope an inch too far.

She stalks over to the windowed wall of her tiny cabin, wrestling it open. The immediate relief of the sea breeze has her gasping, resisting the urge to stick her head out and bask in the cool air. That would be undignified, even if her room as become unbearably stifling with the presence of another person in it.

Gods, she is lonely.

She had hoped at least to have one of her ladies accompanying her. It would have been a little more bearable, the company, cramped as her cabin would be. On this ship now she is bored nearly to tears from sunup to sundown every day, barred from even the most menial of tasks that could upset her delicate womanliness and bereft of even a child to argue with. The crew tiptoes around her like she may crack to fine shards should they so much as offer her more than a fine morning, my lady, or the sun suits you quite beautifully, did you know, and Captain Grace loves nothing more than extended silences. In all honesty she only gets to talk to the ship’s mechanic, who, vulgar as he is, at least talks to her as he would anyone else on the ship. Sure, she can only stand so much of him at a time, and he’s been banned from breathing in her direction since the very first day of their expedition, but if she happens to be in the ship’s engine room as the same time as he is, then it would simply be impolite to ignore her.

Not that Valdez cares much for rules. Or her preferences.

Desperate times, et cetera, et cetera.

Knowing the deck will be too crowded for her to slip down below unnoticed, she settles down onto the old, rickety corner-desk with a sigh, cracking open her journal. Except for a string of blotty doodles along the edges, the paper is devoid of anything, as barren and numb as her mind feels. She understands, dramatic as it is, why so many sailors return from their voyages mad; why pirates and navies alike sail with crews. Even a day on the empty, open ocean without someone to talk to is maddening. She feels as if words flee from her vocabulary with every minute she doesn’t use them. What is there to do, on this stupid boat, besides sleep and eat and mope? She wishes she was allowed to steer the vessel, or watch from the nest. Not stimulating jobs, true, but jobs, at least. She has not sunk so low as to long for a deck-scrubber, but she is dangerously close. She can feel it. Another week at sea without much more than a loom and a needle and her mind will leap into the waves, she’s sure, abandoning her to the dull tedium of the stagnant clouds. The knowledge that she has three weeks left until they reach Lord Dyeus’ kingdom could make her break down into weeping, should she dwell on it long enough. By the time she returns to civilization she may no longer be suited for it.

A rustle sounds behind her, followed by a cut-off snort.

“…Somehow, I don’t think I’m at sea anymore.”

Annabeth yelps, nearly falling right off her chair. She scrambles upright, or tries to, but her stupid petticoats get caught up around her ankles and nearly send her toppling again, this time with even less of her dignity. It is only with sheer force of will that she manages to force her spine straight and upright in perfect time to meet the most gorgeous, sea green eyes she has ever seen.

“You drool when you sleep,” she informs him, darkly satisfied when the amused twinkle fades from his eyes in favour of a flat glare, hand coming up to swipe at his chin.

“I don’t suppose you could tell me where I am,” he mutters as the minutes stretch on.

Annabeth snaps her gaze back up to his face, wishing desperately her cabin had a second window.

“Captain Grace’s ship.” She swallows stiffly, collarbone suddenly itchy. “On route to the Kingdom of Lightning.”

The man’s face pales, long, calloused fingers twitching into fists.

“The ship carrying Princess Annabeth?”

Her mouth dries even further. “…Yes.”

“Someone needs to summon her, quickly. I have news. I — I come from Pirate Jackson’s ship — they threw me off board to drown.”

She knows, immediately, why he tells her this. Why his eyes go round with desperation, why his hands twist, why he has developed a sudden, scrutinizing interest in the view of the sea from outside her window, throat bobbing with every heavy suggestion.

But all hypotheses must be tested.

“Why?”

He meets her gaze, green eyes an exact mirror of the roiling sea around them; layered, stormy, and deeper than the darkest of trenches, wider than the night sky.

“Because they want to know her location. And I refused to give it up.”

———

next

[aphroditeinthesea]

“ guilty as sin ii ”

jason grace x fem!reader

part two of guilty as sin | pt. 1

a/n the vote was split, so there’s no intense smut but insinuation and make out (overly descriptive bc i didnt want it to be just smutty)

. ݁₊ ⚡︎ . ݁ ⁺₊

Death seemed like a nice concept that night. Everything that had happened seemed like too much. Either Piper was going to kill her or Jason and Piper make up and kill her together. Which was worse? She laid awake in bed that night fantasizing about throwing herself to the wolves or the ocean rocks. These were different from her regular fatal fantasies of Jason, the ones that left her feeling as though her bed sheets were ablaze and all she wanted to do was scream his name. She bit her lip as she looked around the cabin at her sleeping siblings. She was absolutely envious of the peace they all felt.

She never could’ve imagined that Jason felt the same towards her. She started wondering the options, if she did go for him, would she be bad? If she didn't, would she be mad? Or wise? Not wise. She decided she could never be wise. Someone wise wouldn't have let this go one for so long. Someone wise wouldn't be thinking about guys during everything going on. There were so many things to worry about, and instead, she was worrying about a love affair.

She felt her stomach turn and decided to stand up. She walked into the bathroom just to check her hair. It was frizzy from her pillow, so she urgently tried to brush it down, but in a panic, threw down her brush. Unfortunately for her, she did so too aggressively, causing it to slip off and into the toilet.

“Oh my gods,” she whispered, she looked up to the ceiling, “good one, Aphrodite.” She huffed, deciding to leave it there. She slowly walked out of the bathroom, to the cabin door. She took a deep breath as she left her cabin. She tried to be quick, so no one saw her.

She reached cabin one, knocking on the door. There was a shuffle of noise inside before the son of Jupiter opened the door for her. There he stood, wearing nothing but blue pajama pants that were low enough to sow the band of his boxers. She swore that her heart stopped at the sight.

“Y/N,” he spoke, his voice cracking, “I was just thinking about you.”

She walked in. She swallowed before breathing out questioningly, “Piper?”

He shut the door behind her. He bit his lip just next to his scar, “I broke up with her,” he led her over to his bed to sit with him, “she took it well. She told me that she could feel that I was in love with someone else, she just didn't want to believe it.”

“Did you tell her that it was because of me?”

“She knew before I even had a chance to tell her.”

“I feel awful,” she frowned as she thought of how she must have one of her best friends to feel so low.

“It’s not your fault, it’s mine,” he responded, “I shouldn't have kissed you. I couldn't live with that guilt if I had stayed with her.”

“I shouldn't have thrown that all at you like that,” she admitted, “Annabeth was right.”

“What did Annabeth say?”

She sighed, “that I shouldn't go after you because of Piper. But you have no idea how you’ve haunted me so stunningly.”

“The feelings would’ve killed one of us.”

She chuckled, “what a way to die.”

He smiled, lightly resting a hand on her back. She looked up at him, cupping the smooth skin of his face with her hands, she hesitated before pressing her lips against his. His muscular arms wrapped around her to pull her onto his lap to straddle him. His hands wandered to grip onto the bottom of her.

“Jason,” she hummed as she let her hands move down to now be feeling his abdomen.

He smiled into the kiss before his tongue carved its way into her mouth. He leaned back, letting her hover him. Their kisses got sloppier as they both grew impatient. The way his lips felt was so different from her dreams and fantasies of him. His lips weren’t as soft as she imagined, they were chapped but she couldn't even pay attention to that as they were slowly pulling at her own. His calloused fingers trailed up her shirt, drawing circles on her back.

Her body tensed as she felt an electric shock course through her.

He froze, quickly pulling his hand away, “I’m sorry, my gods, are you okay?”

She nodded, “I’m fine,” she leaned back into him, “do that again.”

“What?”

“Do it again,” she mumbled against his lips.

His hand traced her stomach, he locked his eyes with hers waiting for a signal. When she nodded, he took a deep breath before gently shocking her again.

She let out a soft groan, “oh my gods.”

He worriedly looked up at her, “was that okay?”

She brushed her lips against his, “yeah, thanks.”

He smirked, “thanks?”

She laughed, bringing her hands to brush along his cheekbones, “you know what I mean.” She rolled off of him, she awkwardly scooted to now be leaning on the headboard of his bed.

He smiled at her before crawling up to be in front of her. He connected their lips once again, her body now pressed against his pillows, which cushioned her as he pinned her further into his mattress.

His lips suddenly stopped moving. He opened his eyes just to look at her and really examine every inch of her face.

“What?”

“Sorry,” he whispered, “you're just beautiful.”

She felt blood rush to her cheeks, “thank you.”

He wetly kissed her jaw, “it’s true.”

“Hm,” she grinned as she began to thread her fingers through his hair, “you're not too bad either, Grace.”

He nibbled at the skin of her neck, carefully marking her up, blowing on the skin after leaving his mark. She knew in the morning she would be playing with her concealer, trying to figure out how to cover it up, but that was a problem for future her. Right now her entire world revolved around the boy who was on top of her.

He reached her chest with his lips. His blue eyes looked up at her like a doe, “is this okay?” he asked as he held onto the edge of her shirt.

“Yes, Jason,” she replied, moving up her arms so he could easily peel it off of her. He slowly did so, making sure she was comfortable the whole time. He threw the shirt onto the floor before turning his attention back to Y/N. Her breath hitched at the cool air of the cabin, but was too distracted by the body heat radiating off of Jason to care.

He continued to softly kiss down her chest and stomach. He began to carefully pull down her pajama pants. “Y/N?”

She looked down at him, “yeah, Jase?”

“You're okay, right?”

She insistently nodded, “of course,” she desperately wanted to follow up with please, please, please touch me, but that seemed a little embarrassing, so she restrained herself.

He hesitated to speak again, “I’ve never done this before,” he admitted, “so I don't really know what I’m doing.”

She giggled, “that’s okay, Jason,” she responded, “me neither.”

She felt hair tickling her jaw and arms around her. She turned to see the blond holding tightly onto her as he slept soundly. She grinned, gently brushing her fingers along his bicep.

He looked up, opening his eyes, “good morning,” he smiled. He pressed a kiss to her jaw, his hand felt down her body that was covered by one of his t-shirts, “how are you feeling?”

She moved around to now be facing him, “I’m amazing, what about you?”

“I”m good,” he kissed her lips, a feeling that she could never get enough of, “I just wanted to make sure that you're not in pain or anything.”

“I’m okay,” she held onto his jaw, “I promise.”

He nodded, “I believe you, Y/N.”

She realized then that everything she had been feeling was finally fresh out the slammer.

—

corny ending, sorry

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Hi again! Can't pass the opportunity of suggesting a prompt either ^w^ Thanks so much!

V. "I'm a little disappointed. I expected a bit more of a struggle." for the Vampire / Werewolf AU

Thank you so much! I always love your comments, so I hope this is to your taste as well! ❤️

Leader of the pack

Rated: T

Words: 996

Tags: Vampire & Werewolf AU; Vampire Eddie; Kas!Eddie; Werewolf Steve; Eddie Munson Whump; Jason Carver being an asshole; Blood and violence; Nudity; Eddie is having a bad day

“You know,” the hunter says, and his companions snicker. “I'm a little disappointed. I expected a bit more of a struggle.” 

“Well, what can I say?” Kas retorts. “You have very convincing arguments.” 

He tries to struggle free, but his skin burns at each contact with the net. It’s woven of delicate silver thread. It might as well be made of steel. His grin turns into a pained snarl, lips peeling back to reveal his fangs. 

“You flash those all you want,” the hunter drawls. “You won't be able to for long.” 

“What?” Kas sneers at him. “You gonna kill me? I'm terrified.” 

The hunter smiles sharply.

“Oh, no. I won't kill you yet. I know there's more of you wretched bloodsuckers lurking in the mountains, and you …” One of his hands grabs Kas by the jaw. “You are going to tell me where to find them.” 

Kas snaps at him. The man laughs.

“Patrick,” he says to one of his companions. “Give me the pliers. Let's see how he likes biting once we pull out his-”

He doesn't get any further. 

Something rustles and before he has a chance to fully turn, a giant, snarling shadow flies out of the darkness and latches on to his throat. 

Kas hits the ground. His skull connects with a rock, and the world descends into a blur of teeth and fur and terrified shouts as more shadows lunge from the forest.

When the fog lifts, the hunters are gone. Their cries mingle with the sounds of howls and snarls in the darkness. 

In front of him, staring at him with eyes like liquid gold, is a giant, furry beast. 

Kas groans, head thunking back against the ground. 

“Fucking mutts.”

The wolf huffs something that might be a laugh. Then, it hunches in on itself and the sound turns into a whine. Kas screws his eyes shut to block out the sight of the shift while the wolf’s pained noises mingle with the crunch and slide of muscles and bones rearranging themselves. 

“The polite thing to say would’ve been thank you. I thought your kind was known for their good manners.” 

When Kas blinks his eyes back open, the wolf is gone. In its place is a young man. His eyes are more hazel than gold, but still sparkling with smug amusement. His hair is the same caramel color as the fur of his other form. 

He’s also bumfuck naked. 

“Yeah, well,” Kas says, “I thought yours was known for keeping your noses out of the affairs of other races.” 

The stranger huffs again. He stands and stretches - a long, graceful ripple of lean muscle - before he twists around to unsling the leather bag strapped to his back. 

“We do, usually,” he says, sitting back on his haunches and rifling through its contents. “However, we tend to take it personal when strangers wander into our territory and hunt down our prey. Animals don't grow on trees, y’know?” 

Kas stares at him, because … what? Surely this is a joke, because who'd say something like that with a straight face? The answer to that question, evidently, is naked wolf boy right here, because he refuses to even crack a grin. 

“Wha-?” is what he finally says. “What animals? I haven't touched any of your precious prey.” 

Wolf boy measures him with a long, doubtful look, like he's trying to figure out whether or not to believe him. Finally, he sighs and pulls his hand from the bag. Glinting between his fingers is a long, jagged knife.

Kas hisses. 

Wolf boy rolls his eyes. “Are you always that dramatic? I was only gonna cut you loose.” 

The knife slices through the thin thread with ridiculous ease, but it still takes a while to free him. Wolf boy needs to be careful to not touch the silver himself, after all - not the easiest of tasks without even a shred of fabric on his body. 

“What’s your name?” 

This must be the most bizarre conversation of his long, tedious un-life, he thinks. Exchanging smalltalk and platitudes with a naked werewolf while being cut out of a hunter’s net. 

“Kas.” 

“Bless you,” wolf boy says. Kas can’t see his face, having turned his back to give him better access to the net there, but he doesn’t need to. He can practically see the dorky grin. “What’s it with you vampires and your stupid, made-up fantasy names, huh?” 

“It’s a question of style, alright?” he grumbles. “Not like I’d expect you to get it. What’s your pack leader called again? Otis?” 

Wolf boy’s hands freeze, but only for a second. Then, the knife gives one final, brisk tug, and Kas can feel the last of the net fall away from his blistered skin. He can’t quite help the relieved sigh that escapes him. 

“Anyhow, it was nice meeting you,” he mumbles, rolling his neck and reveling in the feeling of his powers slowly seeping back in. “Have a nice rest of your life, I guess.” 

“Huh?” Wolf boy asks. “Oh no, you got that wrong. You’re coming with us.” 

Before he even has a chance to ask what that means, something closes around his wrists. This time, the silver is encased in a thick layer of leather, so it doesn’t make his skin blister and burn. It still draws all of his strength right back out, leaving him weak and harmless like a kitten. 

“What the actual fuck?” he snarls as wolf boy hoists him to his feet. “Who the hell do you think you are?” 

“Funny that you should mention grandpa Otis,” wolf boy says merrily. “He’s been dead for ten years. My name’s Steve, by the way. Sorry if it’s not fancy enough for your taste. Come on now, I hate making my pack wait.”

Kas is powerless to resist as he grabs him by the elbow and walks him towards the myriad of glowing eyes staring at them from the treeline. 

More celebration ficlets

Steve said "I'm the alpha" 😅

Part 2

[poppitron360]

*raises hand slowly* Did… Did anyone want some fluffy Grace Siblings set to the backdrop of my Married Valgrace AU??

— — — — — — — — —

“Do you need any help with that?” Jason asked, looking down at where his sister was crouching, “Reyna’s pretty good at this stuff having lived on Circe’s island-“

“I can handle it on my own,” Thalia said, her tone not quite irritable, but a little flustered. She fumbled the long sheet of silk that hung around Jason’s legs, trying to hoist it up in the customary fashion.

She took a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket and studied it. It was a printed-out screenshot of a Pinterest board, taken from a demigod-safe computer in a New Rome Public Library.

“I’ve fought countless untold horrors,” she muttered to herself, “I’ve slain the unslayable. I’ve completed feats no mortal could possibly accomplish. I should be able to handle a frickin’ toga.”

Despite her frustrations, Thalia was doing very well- all things considered.

She went about pinning down the garment, smoothing the folds perfectly crisp, tucking and pressing the delicate fabric- she was being uncharacteristically gentle as she ran her fingers along the gold embroidery on the hem.

Jason helped where he could- holding the silk in place with his fingers, directing Thalia on where and what to adjust. Eventually they fell into the rhythm of it. There was a quiet sadness to this ritual. Jason could feel his sister grieving for all the moments she had lost with him. All the school uniform collars never smoothed down. All the medals never pinned to lapels. All the ties never tied. She was mourning the loss of a childhood. One they could’ve had together. Where she got to be a big sister.

She clipped the gold broach at Jason’s shoulder to hold the silk in place, and stood back to admire her handiwork.

Jason turned so he was standing in front of the mirror and adjusted the garment.

“Does it look okay?” Thalia asked, glancing at her reference pictures, “I’ve never even worn a toga before, you have more experience than me.“

“It looks great,” Jason assured her.

He turned to his sister. There was so many things he wanted to tell her. So many emotions it was hard to put into words.

Thalia reached a tender, almost motherly hand up to Jason’s cheek, the back of it brushing against the stubble on his chin.

“I can’t believe how much you’ve grown,” Thalia whispered, “It seems you came into this world only yesterday, and now… gods… married?”

She cupped his chin in her palms, and stood on her tiptoes and pressed her forehead against his. A little spark of electricity jumped between their hair. “I am so proud of you, Jason.”

Funny- Jason had worked his whole life trying to make people proud. His father. His friends. Camp Jupiter. They’d awarded him Praetorship and Pontifex Maximus, given him medals and wreaths and titles- but never had anyone said “I’m proud of you.”

And here Thalia was, staring in wonderment of him just standing there, just… existing. Jason hadn’t done anything to make her proud, and yet she was proud all the same. He’d worked his whole life for the approval of others only to realise the love he needed could be given to him unconditionally, by Thalia, by Leo, by the hundreds of friends and found family waiting out there- all for just being himself.

“Oh gods, I’m gonna cry-“ Jason said, hiding his face and wiping his eyes.

Thalia rubbed his back. “Let it out, brother,” she told him.

He fell into her shoulder and buried his nose in her padded suit jacket, letting his face sink into the warmth of his sister’s earthy smell.

“I love you.”

“Love you too,” she patted his arm, soothingly, “Now we should probably get going. You’ve got a man to marry.”

“You’re right,” Jason stood up. Thalia handed him a tissue, which he accepted and used to wipe his eyes.

Then he took a deep breath, and grabbed the door handle.

— — — — — — — — —

So! You all apparently loved my Married Valgrace AU. And if you didn’t… I loved my Married Valgrace AU. This is another little vignette set in the same world, or in any other world where Jason gets married! The fact that it’s Leo he’s marrying only comes up once, so feel free to swap it out for whoever you want in your head. This is just a short little bit of Grace Siblings fluff to keep the gremlins fed while I’m away for the holidays. Their siblingship is everything to me.

Also, for the record, Leo is doing the exact same thing with Nyssa in the other room.

Basically tagging my usual tags + anyone who left a nice comment on the Married Valgrace AU:

@ottpopfic @ginnyluna @groverapologist @echo-stimmingrose @demigod-shenanigans @lavenderfairiez @keefessketchbook @sleepyycapybara @euryvices-deactivated20241019 @123letsgobestie @kaleidoskuls @fairytalesociology @four-leafed-queer-gal @child-of-helios @green-tea217 @puzzled-pegasus @ollieisanerd @twomanyfandomshelp @lokiwiiiiiii @yoshuko-ew @keefessketchbook @xixovart @frayna-of-the-hollow @via-rant @daonedaonlyskh @hadeslegacyhephgirl @siimplyapril @pjowasmy1stfandom

[thethirdtriplet]

Head cannon for the Batkids:

So, we’re all aware that out of all Bruce’s kid Tim is the only one that’s ever gotten away with lying to him on more than one occasion.

And we know how smart he is, right, so if over the years he just keep doing it, lying to Bruce, about small things that wouldn’t really harm anyone. Just so he could observe and keep track of how much he can get a way with, for future reference of course.

But he gets so good at it that Bruce, Bat “the most paranoid person on the planet” man, immediately trusts his words, just like that.

Honestly why wouldn’t he? Tim hasn’t given him anything to doubt. He’d been carful over the years. 1-Hiding his tracks, 2-being overly truthful, 3-keeping his reputation as clean as possible.

1-He breaks something? Bruce wouldn’t know, cause he hid the evidence, bought a replica or straight up gaslights Bruce into thinking it never existed.

2-He stirs up trouble with the YJ, he’d tell Bruce with all honesty what happened, to the point where Bruce just expects the truth when Tim reports a mission to him, unbeknownst to him, that half of it is lies.

3-He keeps this up in his years as Robin to stay in his good graces, obviously, he’s polite, diligent, reliable and responsible, who wouldn’t trust a boy that’s so mature for his age?

Of course then his sibling find out about this certain skill of his and employ him to lie for them.

——————————

Dick, broke a chandelier he was not supposed to be swinging on? No problem; Timmy’s on it:

Dick: *tries giving Tim the puppy dog eyes that have virtually no effect on him*

Tim: *sends him an unimpressed look*

Tim: Bruce, just look at that ancient looking chandelier and tell me it wasn’t going to fall on someone’s head one day or the other?

Bruce: …

Tim: *sighs exasperatedly*

Tim: Do you have such little faith in your own son that you would believe he would endanger himself doing something that could potentially injure him, that you specifically told him not to do.

Tim: *sends a pointed look towards dick*

Dick: *sends him a sheepish smile*

Bruce: …

Bruce: *relents*

Bruce: I guess you’re right.., and the chandelier is quite old,..I’ll have to buy a replacement..

Bruce: *walks away*

Tim: You owe me, for this.

Dick: Yeah, I know, but thanks anyway Timmy!

——————————

Jason, scratched the Batmobile, he wasn’t permitted to drive? Bribe Tim; to deal with Bruce:

Jason: I’ll cook for you, anything you want, as payment.

Tim: *sighs*

Tim: Bruce, are you really sure you were careful with the Batmobile, last nigh? I seem to remember, you were in quite a rush to catch up to two-face, who was escaping in his getaway car.

Bruce: I checked on it last night, and don’t remember any scratches…

Tim: You were dead on your feet last night, barley even able to change out of your gear, write a full report, then head to bed, it shouldn’t be surprising that you missed a few scratches on the car.

Bruce: …

Bruce: I guess so… I’ll just have to keep a more attentive eye on it, next time…

Bruce: *walks away*

Tim: I’ll be expecting breakfast burritos, to appear on my plate, in the morning.

Jason: You can expect anything you want, and I’ll make it happen, after that save, nerd-bird.

——————————

Damian, snuck in an injured cat to take care of, before sending them off to the shelter? ‘Force’ Drake, to help:

Damian: While I usually wouldn’t resort to you for assistance, Drake, I must reluctantly admit, I am in need of it.

Tim: I’ll only agree, if you name the cat Drake.

Damian, who already named the long haired, black furred, blue eyed cat, after Tim: Very well.

Later on:

Bruce: *spots the new cat*

Bruce: Tim, is it just me or does Alfred the cat look.. different.

Tim: I’m not sure what you’re talking about, B.

Bruce: I could have sworn his eyes were yellow, not blue?..

Tim: Are you sure, though? Perhaps you’re mistaken. Maybe it’s a trick of the light? There’s a lot of reasons, as to why you could have mistaken the cat’s eye colour.

Bruce: …

Bruce: I guess… if you say so…

Later, later on:

Damian: Drake, Drake, the cat, has been adopted, as of late, by a loving and nurturing family (as loving and nurturing a family can be, in Gotham).

Tim: Cool.

——————————

Cassandra wants Bruce to attend her recital, but he’s busy? Ask Tim for help:

Bruce: Odd, I remember I had a few more cases to finish today…

Tim: Ohhh, those? Yeah, you gave them to me, not long ago.

Bruce: …I did?

Tim: Yeah! Just last night, when you told me you promised cass, you’d attend her recital, tonight. So I suggested, to handle those cases for you.

Bruce: …

Bruce: That does seem like something I’d do, thanks for reminding me, Tim, I’m glad I can count on you.

Tim: Of course, B.

Later on:

Cass, hugging Tim; to show her appreciation.

——————————

Duke, may or may not have skipped school after first period? Get Tim to help:

Tim: Bruce, is the school absolutely sure, he hadn’t attended his classes, I mean you can obviously see, from the security camera, that he entered the school gates this morning.

Bruce: The teachers stated that he didn’t answer when his name was called in class, and that they didn’t see him all day, on school grounds. None of the security cameras captured any sight of him, other than when he entered, through the gates.

Tim: Ohhh, I see, he must’ve been honing his bat-skills, you know sneaking around, undetected, in school, that must be why no one noticed him, not even the security cameras.

Bruce: …

Bruce: You’re right. I’ll be speaking to the principal about the staff’s inability to locate him, when he was obviously on school grounds.

Bruce: Then, I’ll talk to Duke about refraining from using his bat-skills in our civilian lives. Even if it’s for training purposes. Although I’ll have to commend him, for attending the whole day, undetected.

Later on:

Duke: Are you sure I can’t do something to repay you, I mean, you saved my hide, just now.

Tim: Well.. there is this new juice bar I’ve been wanting to check out, I could use the company.

Duke: No way! I heard about it too, hold on let my grab my phone, then we can head out.

[nofingjustaninchident]

Hi, I just read your two Jason fics and I love them. Could you write a daughter of Poseidon x Jason and maybe Percy being a overprotective brother. Thanks. Love you

⛧° jason grace x daughter of poseidon! reader hcs °⛧

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

content: jason grace x daughter of poseidon! reader, platonic!percy jackson x reader

warnings:

a/n: guys, i reached 100 likes with just two posts omg you're amazing!!! so, i kinda got a few other requests waiting, but they’re TOO good to make just headcannons or to be poorly written, so they’ll take a little while longer to be posted. nothing much, tho (i hope). enjoy!

Protective is an understatement.

Percy is literally the most protective brother ever, even if you're just one year younger than him.

He feels as if he's job to protect you from everything and everyone that could possibly think about hurting you.

So when you started hanging out more with him and his friends, he couldn't have made it more clear to all of them that you were completely and totally off limits.

But did this silly little rule stop Jason to date you?

Of course it did!

My baby is just too obedient and such a rule follower... poor boy

Anyways, you had to make the first move.

Even with that, he was pretty hesitant to do anything such as holding hands in public.

In reality, he wasn't afraid of Percy, he just didn't want the other boy to get mad with him.

So, one day, you called both Percy and Jason to have a very serious conversation in the Poseidon cabin.

Percy was, as usual, completely clueless about anything, so he just babbled with Jason.

Who, by the way, was a complete mess of blushing and stuttering.

You obviously thought it as endearing, cause it really was.

"You're probably wondering why i called you here today." you said, a wicked smile on your face.

Percy was hugged with his plushie (you had matching shark plushies, Dory and Nemo) while Jason wanted to dig a hole in the floor and never come back from it.

"What's up, sis? If it's something to do with missing chocolate, i have nothing to do with it." The dark haired boy said, smiling.

Little did he knew that smile was gonna fade in three seconds.

"Me and Jason, we're dating." You said, quickly.

Percy's face fell.

"W-what?" He asked, his eyes darkening.

"We're dating. Like, boyfriend and girlfriend."

"So... you're dating Jason. Not Leo?" Percy asked.

"No, why would i date Leo-" You were cut off by a grateful sigh coming from your brother's mouth.

"Thanks the gods. As long as it's not Leo, i can handle it."

Jason turned to him for the first time, as if he wasn't even believing the words he just heard.

"Just... break her heart and i'll break your neck." Percy said with a threatening smile and patted Jason's back, leaving the cabin.

Alright, enough of the Jackson drama, back to Blond Superman.

He's the literal sweetest person alive.

He👏🏼learnt👏🏼 how 👏🏼to 👏🏼swim👏🏼 for👏🏼 ya

Bro's whipped

And he took Percy's words as his life rules

He made his best to make you happy whenever you're with him

Like, literally anytime

Once you cried next to him cause a fish didn't talk to you (it was a plastic fish, but you were on ur period, okay?)

He literally took you to the beach so you could chat and gossip with the real fishes

And you were so happy he nearly melt at that sight

That's when he knew he had fell in love with you

Romantic dates EVERY WEEK

He bribes the Demeter kids to give him your favorite flowers every once in a while

He always keeps some sort of physical touch, doesn't matter if he's holding your waist, your hands, touching pinkies

You got the point

He's just too madly in love

For him, you're the most beatiful, unique, hot, perfect, powerful, hot, smart, hot, strong, HAVE I MENTIONED HOT, person in the whole world

Literally, he would kiss your feet if you asked him to

He's glad you don't, actually

He stopped eating anything that comes from the marine animals after you got together.

Like, absolutely anything

Oh, and i've mentioned this on a previous hc, but he literally pays for absolutely ✨everything✨

Like, honey, don't even come near your wallet

Oh, and he buys you lots of gifts constantly

From plushies to books to makeup to sketch books in case you like drawing

And he's totally a languages guy

And with your ADHD and dyslexia, he helps you a lot

And you help him with maths.

Of course, he always has a nickname for you.

"Hey, mermaid?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

[enehana]

Sleepless Nights

Married Jason Grace x Reader

Female Reader/Feminine Pronouns

It was a silent night at Camp Jupiter. The sky twinkled with tiny stars and detailed constellations. Jason Grace laid awake in his bed, next to his sleeping wife. His rough hands ran through your hair, careful not to disturb you.

He pulled away, looking back up at the plain, white ceiling of their bedroom. He did this many nights. As much as he wanted it, their bed was just not a place he felt at home.

Jason slowly pushed himself up, his eyes having adjusted to the dark long ago. His glasses were left on his nightstand as the door creaked open and shut behind him. His feet were planted on the cold, hardwood floors as his back pressed against the entrance to their room. The hallway always felt a little less suffocating to him, though not good enough.

The lock on the front door clicked open, revealing their grand wrap around porch and roomy yard to Jason. The air was chilly with winter and snow shimmered all around, the moonlight reflecting off of the white powder.

The simple porch swing creaked under his weight. He leaned back and tilted his head towards the sky, taking a deep breath as if he had been drowning since his mother first left him. Just two years old.

The icy air swirled along his skin, reaching through his gray sweatpants and baby blue t-shirt, turning him to frost. He flexed his hands as they moved behind his head, giving it something to rest on as his eyes drifted shut, heavy with exhaustion.

Then, the thoughts came flooding in. Every soldier he watched die, unable to do anything. Every child that died because he made a mistake. Every injury and screw up and grudge that he believed were his fault.

Jason liked to walk the entire length of New Rome on nights like these. Tonight, he couldn't even bring himself to stand. His eyes flicked around. The neighbors were dead asleep, all lights and life invisible from his seat at his own home. He could've spent all night out there, guilt ridden and drained, never taking a break.

However long it had been, his wife had woken up to him missing from their bed. You stepped outside into the cold, adorned in your regular pajama shorts and tank top, along with a heavy winter coat suitable for the current weather.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Jason glances over to you. You didn't look happy to be up this late.

"You didn't," you stepped closer sitting down next to him, the cold air bristling against your skin. Jason threw his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side. Neither of your bodies gave off very much heat.

"Come back to bed, Jason."

"I can't sleep."

"I know."

Silence enveloped the world once more. Jason's hand slowly moved along your arm, creating some sort of friction, some sort of warmth, some sort of love.

You tilted your head and placed a gentle kiss to his jawline, "Please, Jason, come back to bed. We don't have to sleep. Just be there with me."

"Of course, love."

And with that, Jason swooped you into his arms and carried you back into the house. Inside was much warmer. Your muscles relaxed, partially from relief that you were no longer freezing, partially from relief that Jason wasn't going to intentionally freeze to death.

He laid you down on your bed, peppering sweet kisses all over your neck. One arm trailed down your side, caressing your waist, while the other cupped the back of your head, keeping you close to him.

"Jason," You giggled.

"I love you so much, my darling."

"I love you too, Jason Grace."

[sarastellasari]

Hi!! I saw a post before abt Jason grace that he either doesn’t move and anything when he sleeeps or he growls and shit. I was thinking if u could make a fic related to that. Sorry if this doesn’t make sense

Jasons Sleep Issue

Jason’s humiliation started one night when the seven were having a sleepover on the ship. It had been a tradition that they had started to bond better. Coach Hedge had instructed them to, insisting they were worse than kids forced to work together in a group project. Originally, he had been met with some resistance, but now all of them had come to enjoy them.

Typically, at these “sleepovers��, Jason was the last to fall asleep. But on that particular day, he had been feeling quite exhausted. 

He had quickly drifted off, lying between Leo and Piper, lulled to sleep by the sound of his friends chatting. 

Jason was having a lovely dreamless sleep, until suddenly he was jolted awake by someone shaking him. He sat up with a start, to see Leo looking at him, stifling his laughter. 

“What?” he asked, a little bit disoriented. 

“Uh, are you ok?” the curly-haired boy asked. 

“Yeah?” Jason responded, frowning. “Why wouldn't I be?” He glanced around and realized that his friends were looking at him slightly concerned. 

“What happened?” He asked. 

“Dude,” Percy snorted. “You were like… Barking and growling, like a dog or something!” 

“What?” Jason asked, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment. “You guys are messing with me , right?”

“You were,” Leo confirmed, grinning at his friend.

“Jason, do you need a doctor?” Hazel asked worriedly, gnawing on her lip. Jason sighed, putting his glasses back on. There was no way in hell he was about to go back to sleep after this. 

“Guys, I don't think I was barking.”

“Was it a nightmare?” Piper asked sympathetically. 

“No?”

“Was it a dirty-” 

“NO!” Jason interrupted Leo, scowling. Leo laughed. 

“Anyways… anyone wanna play UNO?” Frank interjected quickly. Jason sent him a grateful look. Soon enough, his barking problem was forgotten.

—

The second time it happened (in front of people at least), It was only Jason, Piper, and Leo, hanging out in Leo's room, nearly a month after the first incident. Leo was working on some mechanical thing for the ship, and Jason and Piper were sprawled out across his bed talking about their pasts. Well, mainly Piper was talking about all of her friends who were only friends with her because of her dad, and Leo and Jason were listening. Eventually, they all fell into a comfortable silence. Jason couldn't believe that he had known these people for so little time, yet felt so comfortable with them. The last thing he saw before drifting off was Leo waving his wrench in the air. The last thing he heard was Piper laughing at Leo. 

The first thing Jason heard when he woke up was laughter. His eyes flew open, and he realized that Piper and Leo were both nearly in tears. 

“What happened?” He asked them, glancing back and forth. Leo was struggling to breathe, and Piper was clutching her midsection, rolling around next to Jason on the bed, and messing up Leo's (Very comfortable) gray comforter. 

“What happened?” He repeated. Piper managed to stop laughing long enough to shake her head, her brown hair flying back and forth.

“You fell asleep and then- and then-”

“It happened again,” Leo finished.

“You started barking in your sleep Again” Piper giggled. Jason groaned.

“Oh no.” 

“Seriously dude,” Leo said. 

“You sounded like-” and then he did what Jason assumed was supposed to be an imitation of his barking. Jason buried his head in his arms. 

“Neither of you mention this again. Seriously.” Leo simply barked again, sending Piper into another fit of hysterics. 

—

The third time it happened was probably the most embarrassing of all. It had been a while since the second incident– Jason had worked hard to hide his interesting… quirk. 

Jason had been sleeping peacefully in his room when suddenly he was woken up by a sudden burst of light. Groaning, he pulled his gray covers over his head, wincing at his lights. 

“Go away!” he grumbled under his breath. 

“Uh kid?” an adult male voice said. “Are you ok?” Jason sat up, frowning when he realized it was Coach Hedge

“What’s wrong?” he asked the satyr. 

“I was walking past your room, normal patrol stuff, you know, and I heard barking. Do you have an animal in here? Is it a monster? Are you getting attacked?” he asked, looking around suspiciously and entering the small room.  Jason shook his head, wanting to die on the spot.

“No, uh-”

“You sure?” 

“You see, it's um…” Jason grimaced, looking around for an excuse. Because the gods hadn’t humiliated him enough, Frank chose that exact moment to walk past his cabin. 

“Jason, you good?” He asked, casting an uncomfortable look at Coach Hedge. Jason nodded. 

“Just making sure he doesn't have any animals on board!” coach Hedge called, waving his hands to emphasize his point. 

“Any… oh!” Frank said, his eyes widening. 

“Ok guys, I don't have any animals in here. You can leave.” 

“Yeah, it's just your sleep thing, right?” Frank asked obviously, leaning on the door frame. Jason internally groaned when Coach Hedge turned to him, eyes alight with interest.

“Sleep thing?” 

“It's nothing, really.”

“If a kid on my ship has a sleep condition, I need to know, kid.”

“It's not a condition!” 

Jason buried his face in his hands, his cheeks flaming

Coach Hedge tilted his head, his eyes wide with curiosity. “I’m sorry... what?”

Frank, clearly thinking he was being helpful, offered, “He barks in his sleep.”

Jason shot him a desperate look. “Frank, stop.”

“Wait, wait.” Coach Hedge leaned closer as if Jason had just revealed a life-altering secret. “Kid, are you part dog?”

Jason groaned. “No! And everyone, get out of my room!” Sensing his annoyance, coach Hedge snorted, before exiting the room. Frank hesitated for a second. 

“Sorry. I was just trying to help” 

“It's okay, Frank.” Jason sighed, rolling out of his bed. Now everyone knew about his barking. Great.

— 

It took a while, but eventually, Jason got used to his friend’s constant teasing.

“Maybe it's from growing up with a wolf!” Piper suggested one night over dinner on the ship.

“Maybe you just snore weirdly,” Annabeth said, shrugging.

“Maybe,” Jason said, rolling his eyes.

“It’s ok buddy, we accept you, barking included!” Leo said, leaning across the table to pat Jason’s arm. Jason snorted and rolled his eyes, feeling oddly fond of his friends. In the beginning, he probably would’ve been mortified about the factthat they would discuss his odd sleeping quirk over dinner, but now he didn't care. As long as they accepted him, right?