#the second time was when she said she really cares for percy i started crying at that moment

[nomidreams]

god i finally watched new episodes my honest reaction is jgiwoaoKzmxmkwkakkak

[itsnevercasual]

clarisse x reader where y/n had been noticing clarisse like getting distant( like not holding her hand for more then 4 seconds just small stuff that only y/n notices😭) and then the day percy breaks her spear she's mad and y/n trys calming her down but clarisse just yells at her about how clingy she is and to leave her alone and basically she regrets it and apologizes multiple times and after like a week y/n forgives her and it's cute (I NEEDDDD THE PLAYING HARD TO GET PLS I HATE WHEN SHE FORGIVES HER EASILY)

I Miss You, I'm Sorry

pairing: clarisse x apollo!reader

summary: clarisse is distant and cold, and y/n is officially done.

warnings: none?? i don't think?

-

you'd been with clarisse for around three years now. at first, a lot of people were confused. clarisse was, essentially, one big ball of anger, and you were a ball of sunshine. after a while, though, it made sense. you balanced each other out. plus, clarisse was a lot softer with you.

but recently, clarisse had been acting different. ever since percy jackson came to camp, actually. she was a lot more angry. and perhaps it was because you'd welcomed him to camp and generally tried to be nice to him. you couldn't help it, he reminded you of your brother, who had a mortal dad and stayed at home with your mom.

when you'd sneak to the ares table during meals, she'd hardly acknowledge you. when you tried to hold her hand, she'd let you, for all of six seconds. you weren't sure why. you hadn't done anything to personally anger her, had you?

you must have. because even as the two of you got ready for capture the flag, she ignored you.

"hey, claire?" you said, turning to her. you were just about the only one she let give her a nickname, and you'd settled on claire. "can you help me with my armor? i think it's crooked."

"you can do it yourself, i'm sure."

you frowned. she'd usually jump at the opportunity to help you- to touch you, to breathe the same air as you.

what did you do wrong?

you had one of your siblings fix it for you.

-

luke had outrun you with the flag when you heard a scream from the beach. you recognized it.

"clarisse!" you shouted, bolting towards the sound.

when you got there, you saw clarisse sitting before percy, her broken spear between them.

you ran to her side and helped her up as the other team began celebrating their win.

"claire, i am so sorry about your spear. we-- i can fix it! or i can have one of the athena kids do it! someone should know how, right? probably. yeah, we'll have them fix it, and it'll be-"

"can you just leave me alone?" clarisse snapped.

you froze. pulled your hands away, and retreated into yourself.

"oh," you said, clearing your throat.

"gods, you're just so clingy! i just need five minutes of peace."

"oh."

that's when she seemed to realize she hurt your feelings. she sighed, her face softening, "y/n-"

"i'm gonna go."

"i didn't mean it like that-"

"yeah. i'm sure you didn't."

you crossed your arms as you walked away, resisting the urge to cry.

-

DAY 1

during dinner that night, clarisse came up to the apollo table.

"y/n?" she asked.

you kept pushing the food around your plate, ignoring her.

"y/n." she repeated.

she sighed.

"i'm sorry, i didn't mean it-"

without saying anything, you stood up and walked off.

clarisse didn't follow.

-

DAY 2

you were sitting by the lake, your feet in the water. you heard someone come from behind, and you knew who it was.

you sighed.

“y/n..” she started.

“i’m not talking to you,” you stated. you crossed your arms and kicked your feet in the water.

“please, i’m sorry—“

“i don’t care. you really hurt my feelings, clarisse. you could’ve just told me you want space instead of acting like you hate me.”

“i don’t—“

“just go, clarisse.”

she sighed and didn’t fight you anymore.

-

DAY 5

clarisse had done what you asked for the past few days. she didn’t come up to you or try to apologize.

you were getting ready for bed, braiding your younger sister’s hair, when someone knocked on the cabin door.

assuming it was some late night check, you sighed.

“i’ll get it.”

you walked over to the door and opened it, and clarisse was standing there.

you didn’t even let her speak before you shut the door.

“who was that?” lee asked.

“no one,” you shrugged, sitting back on the bed and resuming the braids.

-

DAY 6

“why don’t you just talk to her?” percy asked you. you offered to help him train with the water as best as you could.

“because. i usually do, but she’s been rude to me for a few weeks now. i just wanna makes sure she knows i won’t put up with it.”

percy shrugged, “makes sense, i guess.”

even though you had a poker face around clarisse, it did make you sad every time you shut her down or pushed her away.

you just wanted your girlfriend back.

-

DAY 7

after dinner, you really just wanted to go to your cabin and sleep. however, when you opened the door, a bunch of candles were lit.

“what the—“

clarisse was standing next to your bed with a bouquet of flowers. they were your favorites— hibiscus. they didn’t grow anywhere near long island, so she must have gotten a demeter kid to get her some.

“i’m sorry, y/n. i shouldn’t have snapped at you. i just.. i’ve worked my whole life at camp to be recognized by my dad, and percy gets all this fame and glory in a few weeks. it’s not an excuse, but i just.. wanted to explain myself,” she said, extending the flowers toward you.

you kept your arms crossed.

“i want to be around you all the time. i didn’t mean to act like i don’t wanna be with you, because i do. i mean.. besides, who else is able to calm me down?”

and that made you laugh, “nobody,” you took the flowers. “thank you for the flowers. no one’s ever gotten me these.”

she shrugged, “i figured it was about time you got your favorite flowers.”

you smiled and quickly turned to her.

“so.. we’re good?”

“we’re good,” you nod and plant your lips on hers.

-

a/n: YAYAYAYAT FIRST CLARISSE IMAGINE / BLURB / DRABLE IDK THE CLASSIFICATION!!!!

[number-onekidqueen]

The Seven Times Luke Castellan Said 'I Love You'

Luke Castellan x Apollo!fem!reader

Pure angst.

3.7k words

Warnings: death, injury, insecurities, bad parenting, spoilers for Percy Jackson book series.

One. 

Luke must’ve been four the first time he ever said those three words. 

He’d been at preschool, and it was the second week. He’d missed mommy. He felt different to all the other kids, and there were all these really scary faces that kept popping out of bushes that no one else could see. His mommy had picked him up early when the preschool called, and taken him home to a surprise. She’d baked his favourite: choc chip cookies, and he was even allowed to drink Kool-Aid too! 

“I love you, mommy!!” He’d mumbled, while he stuffed his little mouth with the baked goods, in a sugary daze. 

It made him feel so much better, knowing at least he had mommy to always come home to and rely on. 

If only that had been true. 

Two. 

He was 9 when he said that sentence for the second time. 

Mom wasn’t there for him anymore. 

He was scared to go to school and leave her alone, because every time he got home, she would be insane. It’s like she wasn’t there with him anymore. 

She would scream so loud and her eyes would be bright green, and she’d shake him and cry, wailing about how he was going to die. Usually it would make him so disturbed he’d run into his bedroom and lock the door, hoping she wouldn’t follow. 

She always did. 

It was when she started to pound on his door, begging him to come out, that he’d begin to sob, shaking in fright. 

He’d pray and pray to his dad in desperate tears, asking and asking him to bless his mom, to free her from this curse and to make her better again. It didn’t ever stop. 

She’d still make cookies, sometimes, but she’d forget about them and leave them in for so long they’d always be burnt to cinders. She’d serve Kool-Aid too, but he’d grown out of it. 

Eventually, he couldn’t stand it anymore. His mom wasn’t getting better, but worse. Her fits were getting more frequent, and Luke’s dad wasn’t doing anything to help him. 

Luke couldn’t stay here a second longer. 

“I love you, mum,” he whispered to her curled figure on the couch, a full backpack on his shoulder and all his childhood allowance in his pockets as he softly closed the door. 

He knew they’d be better off without each other. 

Three. 

Luke was fourteen when he said that phrase for the third time. 

He’d finally found his family. 

Sure, it hurt to think of his mother, all alone in his old house, but he had two amazing, brave and funny sisters to make up for that.

Until he didn’t. 

It was all such a blur. 

One second, they’d just been meeting some satyr by the name of Grover, who claimed to be their protector, a safeguard back to a camp for kids like them. 

They’d been on the journey, he, Thalia, Annabeth, wondering what it would be like when they got there, what would happen. 

And then the cyclops had struck. 

It had all gone too quickly from there. They’d been running madly, tripping through the forest scrub, their hearts pumping, their adrenaline pulsing, Grover yelling that the entrance to camp wasn’t far, that they’d be safe there and to keep going. 

The cyclops was still gaining on them,  and Luke was starting to feel an awful sense of dread. 

Then Thalia - brave, amazing, stupid Thalia - had volunteered to fight the monster. She’d told them to run ahead, that she had the sucker and would be right behind them. 

And Luke was scared and thinking of Annabeth and safety, and he agreed, he kept running. 

He left her. 

His sister. 

He swore he blinked once, and then she was dying, crumpled on the dirt, bleeding out and groaning in pain, camp only an ironic few metres away. 

None of them even had time to reach out a hand to help her before she turned golden, vanished into a great big pine tree. 

Gone forever before he could say goodbye. 

“I love you, Thalia,” he whispered that night, not caring that he was breaking curfew rules, getting too close to the dangerous outskirts of camp. 

Not caring he was using present tense. He refused to say ‘loved.’

Because he would love Thalia forever. 

Four

Luke was sixteen the fourth time he uttered those words. 

After all his life he was finally at home. 

He’d grown accustomed and comfortable with camp, accepting it as his home. Even though sometimes it was weird to be at a summer camp all year round, he found happiness in his new place, trying to forget about the bad things. Thalia. His mother. 

He’d found peace in routine, and confidence. Chiron said he was becoming what would be the best swordsman Camp Half-Blood had seen in 300 years. 

There were his friends and siblings. He had Chris and the Stolls, and all the other Hermes kids that made his cabin rowdy and feel homelike. 

Then there was y/n, probably his best friend, an Apollo girl who’d healed him immediately after he got to camp and had been there for him since. 

There were heaps of activities to keep him busy. Training. Capture the flag. Parties, when he was old enough. 

It had been the second of one of the post-curfew parties Luke had been to, and he admitted he had drank too much. Far too much. 

Things had got out of hand when an Ares boy had insulted you, someone who was lovely to everyone. He couldn’t really even remember what the boy had said, only that it enraged him and he’d only seen red after that. 

It all sort of went downhill from there. He’d thrown a punch, received one, and the rest was a sweaty and jagged dance of thrown limbs. 

And now he was here, replaying the events in his mind, sat on the bathroom floor of the Apollo cabin, you kneeling over him with a warm cloth. His fists clenched at the thought of that stupid boy again. 

“Luke,” you whispered, and the thoughts disappeared. “Look at me so I can fix you up.”

He didn’t have to be asked twice. It gave him an excuse to openly stare at you. In this dim light, you were gorgeous. Your skin seemed to glow golden from within, which mirrored the bright warmth of your eyes, and the radiance of your hair that framed your face. It was bittersweet, making him happy yet sick with longing, especially in his drunken state, to think of how you weren’t his. I want you, he wanted to whisper. He nearly did. 

“Thank you. You’re so good.” He said instead. 

“I don’t know about that, but always. That’s what best friends are for,” you reassured, smiling. 

His heart sank. He didn’t want you like a best friend. He wanted you to want him like he wanted you. 

“Yeah,” he said offhandedly. 

There was a long pause. Your touch was soft on the cuts all over him, and although it stung, it was worth it. It was finished all too soon except-

“I’m still hurt,” he tried to explain, but the words wouldn’t form, “like, my chest.”

“He got you there too? Through your shirt?”

“Yeah. Little sucker had a pocketknife and everything.”

“Ok,” you replied. The room stayed silent. Suddenly, he was confused. 

“Um-“

“Yeah, sorry, I just zoned out, um-“

Your hands reached for him almost… shyly. Could it be possible that you were overthinking seeing him like this, flustered, also thinking about him like he was about you? It drew a grin to his face. He decided to play with you. 

“You don’t have to treat me that delicately. I promise it doesn’t hurt that much.” 

You gave a nervous laugh, your hands moving slightly faster as he lifted his arms. 

And then it was time to gauge your reaction. Your eyes were certainly not on him, but his chest, and it almost seemed your cheeks had transitioned from golden to rosy. His grin turned into a smirk. 

“I gather that stare is either in reaction to my amazing abs or really bad cut. Either way, take it all in,” he teased. It occurred to him later he would never have said anything remotely like this if he was sober. 

“Haha, Castellan,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes and continuing your job. But you were smiling. 

Your features were even softer closer up. It took his breath away, and he couldn’t help the words that next escaped from the confines of his heart. 

“I love you,” he whispered. 

You froze, midway through finishing dabbing a cut. Your eyes looked up at his, his earnest, vulnerable irises. And then you looked down at his lips. And dropping the cloth, you took his face into your hands and kissed him. It was the most exhilarating, fantastic five seconds of his life. And then you pulled away, stepping back. 

“There you go. That’s probably all you wanted, since you’re drunk. You’re-you’re healed now.” You stuttered out. 

And he wanted to chase you, have another kiss, try to create a proper response to that, to why he loved you, but you’d ran away from him, and he didn’t want to be snooping through someone else’s cabin, even in his state. 

He was left reeling in the moonlight, stumbling back to his cabin before the harpies found him. Once he was between the sheets, his mind muddled, he found it easy to fall asleep, the image and feel of you still in his mind. 

He woke up the next day, baffled that his mind could come up with a dream so lifelike. Even mad that maybe a Hypnos kid has taken note of his crush and decided to create a dream like that as a prank. What assholes. 

Because you would never kiss someone like him, he knew that. 

Like ever. 

Five

Luke was seventeen the fifth time he said that statement. 

He hadn’t known things could get so much worse. 

His father, finally acknowledging him after his claiming, had sent him on a quest. Sure, it was a reused quest from Heracles, but Luke knew just how glorified and contested quests were, and so he accepted happily, choosing two of the older and more experienced campers to assist him in retrieving the golden apples from the dragon. 

You were a bit offended that he hadn’t chose you, and he had no explanation that he could offer you, save for a confession. It made for a parting laced with bitterness. 

The quest started off fine, and they got to their destination smoothly, but it quickly went downhill from there. 

Once they were in the garden, almost immediately the dragon was alerted of their presence. It began to attack, using quick, violent manoeuvres that were hard to keep up with for even the most experienced. 

Too hard for one of his quest mates, who became food for the monster’s jaws. It was a sickening, gruesome sight that Luke could never wipe from his mind. 

The other quest mate became injured soon after that, and then it was Luke on his own. 

At that point, even he knew the quest was lost. He was just defending himself and trying to get out alive. And so he did, with a painful scar from eye to chin as a marking of his forever defeat against the dragon. 

He returned as a failure. 

He was wounded, with a permanent and ugly physical memory, one of his quest mates was dead, the other also mortally wounded, and their fingers hadn’t even grazed the golden flesh of the apples. He couldn’t even finish an already done quest. 

Worse was the pity. 

The moment he stepped past Thalia’s tree and into camp, all he received was pity. Quiet voices, soft glances, stopped conversations, permits, excuses. 

It was as if he were the dragon, and they were afraid that if they did not tread lightly he may begin roaring flames at them. 

He never did. 

Just like y/n never treated him with pity. 

Your eyes were objective, calculating as they surveyed his wounds. Of course your words were soft, but they always were, with your perfect bedside manner. In those moments where you treated him normally, he couldn’t appreciate you more. 

Worst of all probably were the nightmares. He had one awful recurring one: he’d be back in that hellish garden, the dying screams of his dead quest mate and the roaring of the dragon in his ears, the adrenaline and chase all through him, and then every camper he’d ever known would appear, surround him and shake their heads, looking at him in pity and knowing he was a failure. They would chant it, and pelt burning rocks at him, and he would run, run, run, but he could never escape it. 

He couldn’t bear it one hot late July night, and slipped away under the stars. He was always calmer there, where he could put himself and his feelings into perspective. 

And that’s where y/n had found him, sitting on the dew-soaked grass with his knees loosely curled to his chest. 

You didn’t say anything in the beginning, just sat there beside him, breathing, stargazing too. 

“I’ve seen you come out here, every night this week.” You stated, finally looking over at him. “Are the nightmares that bad?”

He nodded, gulping down the fear and tears that submerged at the thought. 

“You should’ve come to me, you know we have dreamless tonic at the infirmary-“

“Yeah I know. But I deserve it, don’t I?” He asked bitterly, turning to you, “I failed and so I get to live with the consequences. The nightmares.”

“No. No, of course not. You don’t have to face consequences-“

“But I do already, don’t I? I feel like I’m not even the same at all, like I’ll never be the same again. I’ve got this stupid, disgusting scar,” he spat, jabbing at his face, “as this reminder and I’ve got to live knowing I wasn’t ever good enough to succeed and my failure led to someone’s death.”

There was silence for a while, where you gazed at him, at his eyes. 

“Stop blaming yourself,” you said softly, “I won’t let you.”

“I can’t help it though,” he whispered, voice cracking, “after training for so long and everyone telling me I’m the best swordsman, I couldn’t save someone, could barely defend myself. And now they’re dead, because of me. And every time I try and forget it- I look in the mirror and see this-this scar and-“

You scooted closer, and one of your hands laid over his. 

“Your scar isn’t a symbol of failure. It should never be. It means you’re brave, that you survived that dragon-“ you reached for his face, and so, so gently began to run your index finger down his scar, “-that you’ve overcome all that horror and emerged stronger.”

You cupped his cheek after you finished tracing. His heart was racing. 

“And you’re still the same to me. You’re still smart, funny, brave, handsome, strong. You’re still you. Don’t let anyone take that away.”

Your hand slowly drew away from his face, but he caught it, keeping you there. 

And he stared. 

Stared at this beautiful, golden girl who was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He could only think of three words. 

“I love you,” he whispered to you, and he slowly leaned in. 

You kissed, his hands in your silky hair and yours on his strong back, and this was the most effective healing Luke had ever had. 

He knew at this moment that the best he would ever be was with you. 

And that would be always, he hoped. 

Six. 

Luke was nineteen the next time he spoke from his heart. 

Things were finally getting better, but they had a long way to go. Luke would be there to see the good change come through. 

Camp was normal. Demigods died, demigods lived. They got claimed, their parents ignored them for months or years. They would train for quests, row, sing at camp fires. He would teach sword classes, rowing, and in his spare time he and y/n would go to their secret spot at the lake and…. Spend some time together in private. 

Flustered and a little ruffled they would return to have dinner, stargaze, play wild games of Capture the Flag. 

Luke was happy enough. But he didn’t know how long this would last, this calm joy. 

He couldn’t live like this, waiting in fear for the other shoe to drop with no help from his dad and the other gods. 

He’d made his decisions, laid his plans, and now he waited. Waited. 

Tangled in your arms, he traced shapes on your hands as you played with his hair. It was a warm environment, like the home he never had. 

The nightmares never really left Luke. Well, unless you were with him. 

It was many a night, after curfew, when snores were in the air that he would sneak into your cabin and join you (There were too many people in Hermes cabin for the alternative to ever happen). 

And there in your bed he would stay. Sometimes you would talk. Sometimes you would make out. And sometimes you would have quiet times like this, all of each other intertwined as you were lost in comforting thoughts. 

Well, you were. 

Luke was lost in guilt and impossible choices. He never wanted to leave you, be apart from you. He didn’t know how he’d live without seeing you, hearing your voice. And he hated to leave you like this.  But he knew you would never join him. Apollo hadn’t been great, but he hadn’t been terrible and he knew his plans would scare you. He wanted the best for half bloods. This was the only way he could think of. When he came back, surely you would understand. 

“You’re so quiet,” you mumbled, from your place under his chin. “What’s wrong?”

“You know what I was thinking about?” And he made up some deep philosophical thought that the two of you quietly discussed and argued about for the next little while, the conversation drifting to other topics before you got drowsy. 

“Good night,” you murmured, lifting your face to kiss his nose, scar and lips softly. You returned your head to its place, your warm lips in a smile against his neck, “see you in the morning.”

His stomach plunged, and he felt sick with guilt. He reached over for you, drawing you in for a long, passionate kiss. You, still half asleep, confusedly frowned, but settled back into him with a grin on your face. It was a goodbye, but you didn’t know that. 

“I love you,” he breathed, while you fell asleep, and he swore he saw your lips turn upwards. You succumbed to sleep quickly, and it made it simple to softly slip away, escape from you. 

As he passed Thalia’s tree, he turned back to look at the cabins, your cabin. 

He’d run away once from a home, and it had hurt him. But it had been worth it in the end, and he didn’t regret it. 

It hurt running away from this home. Was it worth leaving if it tore his heart into two? He supposed only time would tell. Fitting, giving who his new master was. 

——————

And that was the last time Luke ever said I love you. 

Well, there was once more. 

——————————

Seven. 

He didn’t know how old he was when he said that small sentence for the final time. 

All he knew was he obeyed Kronos and that the gods had to be slain. 

The city at least was familiar. A deep, small part of him felt almost… scared and upset that this city was being damaged. 

Oh, and the people. There was a boy he hated, who was powerful and threatening. And a girl with him, who he should hate but he seemed to, well, not. 

It had all unfolded so suddenly, the defeat, and suddenly he remembered bits and pieces. 

He’d betrayed camp half blood, the only home that he had known, but only so the gods would pay attention to them, be better parents. But what he was doing now wasn’t what he had wanted. Not at all. 

He supposed it was an easy decision to make when the boy - ….. Percy - told him to stab himself in the armpit. 

He did and finally, in the deadly silence, he was himself again. He was Luke Castellan. A demigod, a child of Hermes. A lot of other things. 

For a moment all he could see was the blonde girl whose name he couldn’t remember, that stared at him as he began to writhe in pain. The same blonde girl he couldn’t seem to hate, who he seemed to be soft for. 

A lot of other faces stared too, who seemed to be familiar to him but he couldn’t place. 

And then there was screaming. Loud, pained screams and running footsteps and a panic rose inside of him. He knew that scream, although he’d rarely heard it. 

And there was you, y/n. A face and voice he instantly knew, that he would remember half-dead, which ironically reflected the place he was in now. 

You were as beautiful as he remembered, even now, your face contorted, grimy, tears streaming, your hair a sweaty mess. 

“No, I can heal him, I can heal him.” You sobbed, kneeling beside him and trying to staunch the bleeding which he could oddly not feel. 

He hated seeing you like this. So sad, hurt, in pain. Knowing there was nothing he could do to improve it made it even worse. 

He reached for your hand, squeezing it and attempting a weak smile. “I’m sorry,” he croaked, “I’m sorry for everything I ever did to you, because you never deserved it. And-“ he coughed, dust in his lungs. 

“I love you.” He said, loud and clear for the world to hear. He wanted to say more, but his chest was weak. 

It was only them for that moment. You dove in and kissed him, just as passionately as he had that final night. It took his breath away, and he found himself grinning, joyous, at peace. 

It was a goodbye, but he didn’t know that.

[nothankyou543]

Leo Valdez x child of Poseidon reader

Percy is your older brother, you came to camp a month after the war with Kronos and in that time you and Percy got really close

so obviously you were devastated when he went missing

you and annabeth are frantically searching for him in between days of on and off crying

One day she goes searching and you see other people with her you run up thinking one might be percy

its not. Three new demigods are standing in front of you

the first is TALL like skyscraper tall with blonde hair and blue eyes

the second a girl with choppy brown hair and changing eyes standing next to…a child?

At first you didn’t see the third person because he was on his knees panting

he looked like he just ran a 5k

he looked up and holy crap

he has curly brown hair that’s soaked from the lake, with the most beautiful brown eyes youve ever seen

you blush and look towards annabeth who looks at you questioningly

“I’m guessing you didn’t find him” you say solemnly “ no, I’m sorry” you nodded and started to walk back to cabin 3

you can’t stop thinking about the boy you saw

on the other side of things when Leo first saw you all his cheesy pock up line evaporated

he was at a lost for words as a beautiful girl with h/c hair and e/c eyes stared down at him

her face looked like she’d been crying and he had the urge to comfort her but he didn’t even know her name

he turned to annabeth and said “ who was that” she answered saying “ that’s y/n, Percy’s little sister, she’s been a mess since he disappeared

fast forward to after the tour and the claiming to the camp fire

you see the boy from before sitting with Hephaestus cabin so he must have gotten claimed

he looks up at you and you look away

when you look back he is walking towards you

he stops and says “ hi I’m Leo, but you can call me Super Sozed McShizzle”

that made you laugh which was the first time you had laughed in months

The rest goes as follows

“I’m y/n”

“ I couldn’t help but notice that you look a little sad, wanna talk about it”

”not really” you say getting up

you walk back towards your cabin

you didn’t mean to be rude but you felt like you were gonna cry again and you didn’t want to do that in front of everybody

you get back to your cabin and cry yourself to sleep

the next morning a knock wakes you up

when you answer there’s no one there but a rose is on your doormat along with a note

dear y/n I know your bummed about Percy and a little birds told me you like flowers you I took a wild guess at your favorite. - secret admire

you were stunned that anyone would do something so nice for you but the only thing you could think about was that they were probably still there

as a joke you say “ for reference f/f if my favorite flower”

you smile at the joke you made and go back inside

in truth you did feel a lot better now knowing someone cared

also how did he know you liked flowers?

switch perspective

leo had the grin of a mad man on his face

He gave y/n a rose and learned what her favorite flower was He felt like he was making progress at trying to talk with her

in truth he had no idea if she liked flowers or not he just went with it

ok I’m running out of room I’ll post part 2 on my profile comment anything you want to see

[demigodsanswer]

Prompt: Thanksgiving and Percabeth pregnancy!

Set in the same future canon as this fic.

Conceiving Sophia had taken a year of careful, strategic trying, prenatal vitamins, ovulation tests, and a very serious conversation with an OB about potentially looking into fertility tests.

Conceiving their second baby had simply taken Annabeth forgetting to bring her birth control on vacation, and Percy forgetting to pull out once or twice.

They hadn't planned to get pregnant within a year of Sophie being born, but there they were again. And this time, Annabeth had had to suffer the slings and arrows of the first trimester during a New York August. Percy felt terrible for her.

But the temperature had dropped, she'd entered her second trimester, and Percy was pretty sure she'd nearly eaten the entire Thanksgiving turkey herself. At five months pregnant now, she had a sweet little bump and the same beautiful face Percy always wanted to kiss.

Their toddler was a different story. Turns out, a fifteen-month-old mini-Annabeth has a lot in common with drunk Annabeth: a lot to say, but with less-than-great communication skills, prone to running off without warning, and plenty of crying. At least drunk Annabeth was potty trained. Sophie might have started manipulating plumbing at three months and talking at eight months, but she didn't seem to be in any rush to the next milestone. Not that they'd be free of diaper bags any time soon anyway.

Sophie had spent most of dinner combining handfuls of potatoes with cranberry sauce and making a great mess. That her doting grandparents only cooed at, as Percy tried to wipe her down

But now Sophie was down on the couch between Grandpa Paul and Grandpa Fred, watching The Godfather II.

"Is this appropriate for her?" Fred had asked.

"We let Nico babysit a lot. She might find it comforting. All these old school Italians," Percy joked. Nico was taller than him now, and he looked like a young Al Pacino. Whatever. Percy had a beautiful wife and perfect baby.

He walked back into the kitchen to help his mom clean and found her in a battle of kindness with Annabeth.

"--Sweetie, we've got it. Go sit --"

"--Sally, really, I'm fine. Let me help --"

"--That's what my two kids are here for --"

"--They helped cook --"

"--So they can help clean."

His mom looked at him, pleading as if to ask: Can you talk some sense into her?

Percy smiled and shook his head. As if he'd ever been able to do anything of the sort.

"Come on," he said, wrapping his arms around her from behind and resting his hands on her belly. He felt their baby kick against his hands, and Annabeth made a small opmh noise. The baby had started kicking last month, and she always seemed extra active after Annabeth ate, or (Percy argued) when he was around.

"See, even she wants you to sit down and relax," Percy said. Another girl. He couldn't wait. Maybe it was sooner than they expected, but he wouldn't trade this little girl for anything.

"Is she kicking?" Sally asked. Annabeth nodded. "Can I?"

Percy moved his hands, and Annabeth guided Sally to where she could feel.

"i can't believe this was me only ten years ago," Sally said. "Now I have two more babies!"

"Grandbabies," Percy corrected.

"Oh, shush," Sally said. She still hadn't made peace with being a grandma. "I can't be a grandma. I have a middle schooler."

"Maybe by baby four or five, you'll be more comfortable," Annabeth joked.

"Five?!" Sally said. Percy and Annabeth just shrugged. They hadn't planned a final count. They'd just ... see where nature took them. "Well sweetie, if you're planning on doing this three more times, then you should really get your rest in now," Sally said, shooing them both to the living room.

They both came to a dead stop when they reached the living room. Both gradnpas and Sophie had fallen asleep, all with their heads tilted back, mouths open.

"Food coma," Percy whispered.

"I'll say," Annabeth said, before snapping a few pictures. 'Want to lay down in the guest room?" She asked.

"Sure," Percy said, giving her a gentle kiss. When the door closed behind them, he asked: "Should we get a head start on babies three and four?"

"Cheeky. But I feel like a stuffed turkey," she said, climbing under the covers.

"You're a turkey I'd love to -- actually I'm just going to apologize immediately for that," he said as she laughed, rolling onto her side away from him. "Just snuggles?" He asked as he wrapped an arm around her and resting a protective hand on her belly.

"Yep," she said. Their baby kicked in agreement.

[vioartemis]

I love her so much... (part 2 [au])

(Jenna Ortega x fem! reader)

Summary: What if Jenna had followed you that night, and tried to hold you back? Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 2 [au] Warnings: angst (just a little bit I swear) (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

Emma waited until your sobs stopped to take a step back and lead you to her car. Your eyes were red and puffy from crying that much.

"Where are we going...?"

"To my apartment. I'm not letting you alone after this"

"Y/n, wait...!"

Jenna's voice made you freeze just as you were about to get in Emma's car. You turned around slowly, trying to hold back your tears.

"I'm sorry...! I'm so sorry, for everything! I love you more than anything...I'm sorry I've been neglecting you lately... work had been overwhelming for everyone, and Percy asked me to help him- I'm not trying to find myself excuses...! I- I should have talked to you about it instead of keeping it all to myself... I'm sorry Y/n..."

She seemed genuinely sorry. You wanted to give ger a second chance, you really did. But the little voice in your head was telling you that she might hurt you again.

Taking your silence as a negative reaction, she started to walk away. Your heart ached at the sight, and you found yourself taking a step forward, almost instinctively.

"Go." Emma told you "Follow her"

You look at your friend and nodded.

"Thank you. For everything" you said with a grateful smile, before running after the brunette

"Jenna!"

She froze, not certain she really heard you call her, and turned around hesitantly, eyes full of hope when you stopped in front of her.

"I... I don't want it to stop... us, I mean"

"Are you.... are you giving me a second chance...? Y-you still love me, even after what I did...?"

"Of course I still love you..." you reassured her "Now let's go home, hm...?"

"Wait I- here..." she started, handing you the box you gave her earlier "I don't deserve it..."

"Jenna-"

"No, Y/n... I- I've been such a bad girlfriend, I don't deserve any gift... But I promise I'll get better, to be worth your love..."

You stayed silent for a second, before nodding and taking the box. Your fingers brushed over hers.

"We can go now" she said quietly

You nodded again, and you both walked back to your shared apartment.

Once you got there, you got ready to go to bed. You had put on your pajamas, and slipped under the covers, soon followed by Jenna. She stayed on her side of the bed, not sure you would want her close.

That caused your lips to curl up slightly, touched by her thoughtfulness, and you moved closer to her, snuggling in her arms. It was the first time in weeks that you really slept together, in each other's arms.

It had been so long that you melted in her embrace. Her arms felt so nice around you, her perfume invading your nostrils felt so right, and so did her whole body pressed against yours.

It didn't take you long to fall asleep, a smile on your face.

At the sight of your sleeping figure, Jenna felt a wave of relief wash over her; she was afraid she'd never get to see you like that again.

"I missed you, I'm sorry..." she whispered, placing a soft kiss on your forehead "I love you..."

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

A few months had passed since that night, and everything was back to normal. Your relationship with Jenna was doing better; she was here - as much as her job allowed her - and she was doing her best to show you how much she loved you, how much she cared for you.

Tonight, you were supposed to have dinner together at 8. It was now 11, and she was still not here. You had texted her, called her, but didn't get any answer.

Your stomach flipped at the thought of things turning out like it did months ago. You couldn't do it again.

You decided to wait for her, determined to talk to her, and when she finally arrived - around 1am - you sat up in your shared bed. You waited for her to enter the room; she seemed surprised to see you were still awake.

"I thought we would spend the night together..." you said "What happened?"

"... Nothing" she replied, shaking her head

"No, it's not nothing. I called you, I texted you... you're doing it again, Jenna..."

The look in your eyes made her realize she fucked up again. Her worst fear was becoming real, again.

"I- it's just..." she sighed "I'm a bit overwhelmed... with work, with the responsibilities, with Percy..."

At the sight of tears forming in her eyes, you took her hand in yours.

"I'm here for you, you can vent if you need to..." you gave her hand a reassuring squeeze

"It's just... there always are unexpected problems at work, we're under a lot of pressure lately, more than usually... and I need to come up with important things for next week, and I still don't have anything... and Percy's always asking me for help for stupid things...! And even if I want to say no, he always manages to convince me, and I don't even notice it! I'm so tired, Y/n..."

You pulled her in for a warm, comforting hug, rubbing her back gently.

"It's gonna be okay... I'm here, I'll do my best to help you with that... You should have talked to me about it..."

"I'm sorry I- I didn't want to bother you with that..."

"You never bother me Jenna, I-"

You got cut off by your girlfriend's phone suddenly buzzing. She gave you an apologetic look as she picked up.

"Hello? ... ... What? No listen Percy, I- ... ..."

She looked up at you, biting her nails nervously. The concern in your eyes, as well as the warmth of your hand on hers, and your love for her gave her the courage she needed.

"No, stop. I'm not available right now. ... ... It's 1 in the morning, Percy. I'm not at your disposal, nor your personal helper. ... ... Find someone else to help you. Bye."

She hung up with a sigh, and when her gaze met yours again, your eyes were full of pride, love, and relief. You were proud she was able to stand up for herself, to stop getting 'controlled' by him. And you didn't miss the opportunity to let her know that.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to do it sooner... I- I'm sorry I almost fucked everything up between us because of that... But I won't make the mistake again. From now on, I'll try not to keep everything for myself. I- I don't want to lose you. I don't see my life without you..."

You felt you heart flutter at her words. Hearing her say that made you so happy... so happy, and so relieved.

The few doubts that had popped in your head earlier had completely disappeared now. You were sure you could trust her not to hurt you anymore.

You reached in your bedside table for the box you had given her on your anniversary and handed it to her again. She gave you a questioning look, visibly confused.

"When you gave it back to me, you said you didn't deserve it. Well, I think you deserve it now" you said gently, as she took the box "I've been wanting to give it to you for a little while, actually..."

Her eyes were shining when she looked at you after opening the box, and she had a big smile on her face.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it! I- it's so beautiful...!" she threw her arms around your neck and pulled you in for a tight hug "Thank you... Thank you so much!" she pulled away to give you a sweet smile "Can you help me putting it on?"

"Of course!"

You carefully took the necklace out of the box and waited for her to turn around, before moving her hair to the side. You were quick to attach the jewelry around her neck, and placed a gentle kiss on her soft skin once you were finished.

"Here you go, my love"

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

Almost a year and a half later, you found yourself in a quite familiar position: crying in Emma's arms.

"It's okay... just- try to breathe, please"

"I- I'm just... I'm so..."

"I know, I know. Everything's gonna be okay"

You pulled away at her words, taking a deep breath and wiping your tears carefully.

"Yeah, you're right... Everything's gonna be perfectly fine"

"That's what I want to hear!"

Suddenly, the door of the room opened, revealing a nervous Hunter.

"What are you doing?" he yelled-whispered "We're waiting for you...!"

"She's ready, don't panic!" Emma replied, before turning to you "Just breathe, and it will be fine, okay?"

You nodded, and she gave you a brief hug, before exiting the room to join the others, leaving you with Hunter.

"Are you ready?" he asked gently, offering you his arm

"Y-yeah, I think..."

You both made your way to the main room and waited behind the door. When the music started, you took a deep breath.

All eyes were on you walking down the aisle, arm hooked under Hunter's. Yours, however, were glued to the gorgeous brunette ahead of you: your soon to be wife, Jenna Ortega.

[Previous part] || [Other ending]

[happyk44]

i started writing this in my drafts weeks ago but didn't continue much farther than the first sentence - probably put it down to do something else and then passed out lmao. anyway after scrolling past last night wanted to continue it but can't be effed to scroll through my drafts rn (i save everything to my drafts to tag and queue later and my drafts ar like over 250+ rn)

anyway percy who becomes obsessed with finding this grim reaper he saw the night his mom killed his step-dad. he was an abusive asshole and percy helped his mom stage the scene to look like someone gabe owed money to came knocking. they don't have much in terms of expensive shit - just the TV and playstation. it's an old old model that one of percy's classmates was going to throw out as he wasn't into the games he had with it anymore and was getting the latest version for christmas.

it was nice that he gave it to percy with only a fraction of the cost in hand and a promise to give him the rest over time. percy paid him off every monday. it took sally weeks to pay it off, percy chipping in by donating cans and glass bottles he found lying around. the games were old and a little childish, but it was the only entertainment percy had aside from sally's old and crappy laptop that gabe hogged with online poker games.

so it sucked to watch sally dump it into an empty trash bag. it's small, she'd said. the tv would be too big to carry out without causing suspicion, even in mind-your-business new york city, but the playstation, her shitty laptop, and gabe's cell and wallet were things that could be dumped into a bag with no one giving a second look. percy crawls out the fire-escape grateful their shitty apartment building doesn't have cameras. he has to use a couple boxes to really rise himself enough to stuff the bag under the other bags. sally walks out the front door and they go have a late dinner at a nearby cafe.

then go home an hour later and scream in surprise at gabe's dead body in the bedroom, still warm from the heater in the corner boiling up the room that sally promptly unplugs.

percy doesn't think much about WHY his mom was so specific about how to clean his blood off the kitchen floor, about how to stage the scene, about moving gabe's body into the bedroom, about pulling him like he had been then letting him fall flat. heating up the room to keep him warm and fresh, while keeping the window cracked open so the heat doesn't stay by the time the police arrive.

he writes it away as her being a reader, a writer. maybe murder mysteries had been on her mind lately. maybe she watched too many cop shows. maybe she'd thought about this so many times she perfected it. his mom was not a repeat killer. gabe was her first time. her only time. and it was fine.

he sucked.

it's sitting in the chair, feigning distress but not too much, talking to a cop about the scene while he stares off into the air when he sees him. the boy is young, dark-haired and pale-skinned. he's startled by the presence, cutting off in his explanation about how people often came banging on the door for money gabe owed them. how he kept his poker winnings in the now open and empty safe in the bedroom. he wants to draw attention to the boy, but no one else seems to notice him.

he watches idly as gabe is carried out the front door in a body bag. then disappears towards the bedroom.

percy stands and mutters something about wanting to see his mom. the cop guides him to where she's sat on the bed crying thick tears. the boy is there. no one else cares that he's there. the boy reaches out and gabe's body shimmers into view. he's a visage of how he'd looked right before he died - the wide-eyed shock, tensing of his shoulders, mouth open wide because he'd been shouting at percy, threatening him.

he didn't realize how much like his mom he was until gabe fell flat with a knife sticking out of his throat. his mom standing behind him breathing hard. she'd squatted beside his head, pulled out the knife. stared at it. then stabbed stabbed stabbed until gabe's chokes turned to wispy gasps and his wispy gasps disappeared.

"four stab marks," his mom had said. "hopefully that won't look like overkill. but make sure to mention how many times people came screaming at the door just in case."

gabe's white glowing form dissipates into a ball in the boy's hands. he pulls out a baggie from his shoulder bag, then dumps gabe into it with a grimace.

he does suck, percy thinks. be annoyed.

the boy steps away. his eyes catch percy's. percy's arm tightens around his mom's shoulders as he looks into the endless void that is the other boy's eyes. flashes of his own death catch his mind. lying flat on the ground, weakly asking for help, and a dark-skinned man with black angel wings standing above him whispering, i'm sorry, but it's time to go.

then the boy looks away and disappears into a shadow.

grover believes him when he tells him about it. that's the thing percy loves about grover. the mystical and paranormal are easily believed. grover's parents are hippie-like green witches. percy doesn't really get it but has surmised from grover and visiting their house it means they really, really like plants.

"grim reaper," grover calls him. "or a psychopomp. collectors of the dead."

he lists a bunch of names from various cultures until percy cuts him off. "are any young boys?"

grover shrugs. "i mean life is bigger than what the stories tell. there's more people, more humanity. atheists even. where do they go? who collects them? there's definitely more gods and spirits than we think these days. it's not like they all stopped fucking just because the stories ended. there are definitely more gods than we think."

percy doesn't know what to do with that. grover asks him a lot of questions about the boy. but it's hard to answer them. they can't find a culture he could belong to, a way to summon someone without a name. the kid was young, dressed normal in black clothes with a normal black messenger bag. there were no signs of culture, religion, belonging.

he could've blended into a primary school playground easily.

"maybe you need to kill someone," annabeth suggests. the conversation arises a year or so after they first met and befriended her - a new addition halfway through the school year, a few months after gabe's unfortunate death. following a CPS check, her biological mother decided to take charge of her. annabeth spent a lot of time grumbling about her family in california while also missing california ("it's familiar, new york is not, i don't miss my step-mom, i miss the comfort of routine") and bitching about her bio mom's obsession with her grades and extracurriculars.

it takes some campaigning but the three of them manage to create an afterschool club in the new school year for her to find some time to chill and relax and get school work done. it took a lot longer to convince her mom to let her join their "magics and mystics club" - some nonsense about how it'll make her stand-out in college applications.

percy highly doubts any college is looking too closely at middle school extracurriculars, but what does he know? he's either lasting until graduation with grover and annabeth, or getting his GED and dropping out to immediately book it to the first basic entry-level job he can find. school already sucks ass, but his barely medicated ADHD and severely dyslexic ass already twaddles the line of a C average. What's the use of hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt that's only growing frantically from interest and a degree he barely achieved with the lowest grades required to shake the hand of someone he's never interacted with?

annabeth spends most of her time in the club doing her homework, while percy gets reeducated on grover's witchy stuff. their club advisor is the drama teacher who only checked in at the beginning of that first meeting then dipped for the drama club. grover's putting together a presentation on the history of mysticism while percy glues pictures to poster board. annabeth will present their stuff. the three of them doubt anyone will care if they did anything productive with their club, but annabeth's mom will so they do their best to make it fancy as fuck.

she already doesn't like either of them.

in the spare times that annabeth isn't doing homework or studying for another class, they talk about the spiritual and paranormal, magic and whatnot. so percy mentions his experience with the reaper.

and annabeth's first suggestion is murder. it's hilarious. grover knows the truth but annabeth only knows the lie. percy makes a note of it in his head. maybe he'll hint around the truth. they're close, but there's still time needed between the two of them. the worst she's told him is about the spiders in her bedroom. but nothing about what kickstarted a CPS investigation and her subsequent arrival into his life.

"maybe he's a murder reaper," she says. she's intellectual, doesn't believe in the mystic magic stuff but tolerates it for grover. "so he only comes around when there's been a murder."

"i don't think reapers are split up by types of death," grover argues. "and even if they were, why would a little kid be sent to deal with murders?"

annabeth crosses her arms. "maybe he's not a kid. maybe he just chooses to look like that."

they get into a weird half-argument, half-civil discussion. to her credit, annabeth doesn't bring science into it. they both descend to the computers and the books grover brought in from his house to search through to prove whatever point they've landed on.

percy is too busy cutting out paper to glue to poster board. and thinking about the murder aspect. he doubts that murder matters. he's pretty sure grover's right, but he likes keeping his balls so he doesn't say. annabeth is probably right too. magical beings are always capable of changing form. maybe little kid is just easy. who would be afraid of going somewhere with a little kid. or a dog.

but death is needed to see the reaper again. percy doesn't live with anyone dying. and he's too young to volunteer at the hospital. besides death is random isn't it? everyone was convinced that their classmate who got diagnosed with stage four cancer was going to die but she returned a year and a half later missing a leg but recovering. and the gym teacher who ran marathons and was known for his obsessively healthy eating habits died of a heart attack over the summer.

and even if he hovered around people on the verge of death, it didn't mean he was going to be there when they died.

but murder? definitely. he'd be right there because it would be his fault.

at that, he dashes the thought away. murder is wrong. he can't kill people just to see a reaper he saw but never spoke to. it's not like he has any questions about his death. he'll die when he dies. dying isn't scary to him. what's scary is dying before his mom and leaving her childless and mourning. but death itself? he's unafraid.

but inside burns a deep need to see the reaper again. not even to talk to him. just to lay his eyes on that night sky hair and porcelain skin. then he'd be satisfied and the need would go away.

maybe.

probably.

hopefully.

it's on his sixteenth birthday that he sees another reaper. it's not the boy he's looking for. he's disappointed. he shouldn't be. he should be more concerned with the dead man lying in front of him.

the letter opener is sticking out just below luke's left armpit. it hadn't killed him. it was too delicate for that, and the spot wasn't vital enough. but it had shocked him enough for annabeth to shove him away in disgust. he fell back, tripping over annabeth's shoes, and smashed into the glass coffee table.

"shit," annabeth breathes. she doesn't notice the reaper - a slender arabic man appear from the darkness and pull luke's soul of his chest with thin hands. he pushes his hands together and the soul vanishes. then he turns into a dog, or... something like a dog, and disappears back into the shadows.

it's take a few minutes to figure out how to stage the scene. they get rid of the letter opener and shove a piece of broken glass into the spot. this time he doesn't escape through the window. just walks out of the room, calm and detached, and sits in his mom's car. when the police arrive, annabeth, crying thick tears, tells them that he had fallen over while she was getting her things ready after percy came to pick her up.

it's not technically a lie. the police wish him a happy birthday when he says he came by to pick annabeth up from her study session because they were going to do laser tag for his birthday that afternoon. when they don't arrest him in the weeks that follow, he relaxes. and considers his options. he googles arab dogs which is an odd search term but brings up jackals and anubis. cool, he thinks. he tells them both about it afterwards. despite the death, grover is excited. annabeth is less impressed.

"i would've noticed, i was there too," she huffs.

"maybe they don't like you because you're a nonbeliever," grover fires back.

is percy a believer? he's not sure. he knows that what he sees is real. if he was suffering from delusions or hallucinations, surely he'd be seeing them a lot more than twice over the course of four years.

"what if i asked them?" he suggests. "to make themselves visible to you?"

"planning on being around another newly dead guy soon?" annabeth asks with a laugh. grover snorts. but percy remains silent and serious so their amusement shifts to concern

grover leans in close. "percy-"

"just bad people," he cuts in with a solemn whisper.

"you can't be judge, jury and executioner," annabeth hisses. "what you think is bad is not always universal? think about jim crow laws or slavery-"

"annabeth," he cuts in before she can go on an historical tangent. "i was hoping you'd help actually."

it doesn't take long for her to click together what he wants out of her. she glares at him. "percy," she snarls through clenched teeth. "i'm not swishing my ass to entice seedy men for you to murder so you can maybe have a hallucination to process death."

"okay, okay." conceding, he raises his hands. "it was dumb, i'm sorry. i just... really wanna see this kid again. sorry."

annabeth watches him carefully the rest of the day. grover doesn't. he knows what percy is, even if he doesn't agree. so it's not too surprising to start seeing grover scrolling through the newspaper on his phone. he startles every time percy spooks him when he's reading. then laughs it off, swats at percy, and keeps reading. it's the obituaries that percy sees the most, but sometimes articles about a death.

whatever he's looking for, some kind of proof it's percy, he must not find because he doesn't say anything. but it's grover, percy's soulmate. so he's sure the slow side-eye that he gets some mornings are a knowing side-eye.

percy doesn't look at the newspapers. if he's gonna get caught, he'd rather be surprised about it other than worrying and getting sloppy.

it's hard to find truly shitty people from first glance. he doesn't have the patience to observe. just slight insomnia that keeps him up until one in the morning prowling the streets. he hovers around in his old neighborhood, where the cameras are for show and shitty people live. it's still difficult. he doesn't want to go around hurting innocent people. less so because he cares, but more because it would disappoint grover and annabeth and his mom. he can't disappoint them.

he does see reapers, including the one who will one day take him, but never the boy. percy tries to envision him older, but even then none of them match. he does try to speak to them, but they ignore him. he wonders if it's some kind of weird curse. he can see them but they can't. sometimes the ignorance seems intentional, but he can't really tell so other than a few short sentences that always go ignored, he gives up and heads home.

some days he wakes up and is certain the police will come for him. but they never do and so he gives it a few days or a couple weeks and head back out again. they're opportunity kills. random and haphazard. he keeps mittens on, which looks normal in the fall and winter, but sketchy over the summer. to counteract his want to see that reaper, he signs up to be a counselor for a summer camp. grover joins him. annabeth is dragged off to university summer classes by her mom. her emails are miserable. percy wonders aloud to grover if annabeth would be happier if her mom was dead. grover eyes him flatly and says he doubts it.

percy gets assigned to the little kids who tell him all kinds of family secrets. some are funny. some are not.

it's not that hard to get into the camp's directory and write down in poor handwriting and with tons of struggle the names and addresses of these secrets. it's not a lot, which is great. but it's more than it should be and come summer's end, he has his start for the fall.

it's clear grover knows what percy's planning. he was there after all when a little secret got whispered too loudly. but all he says is, "sometimes kids get things wrong." the newspaper on his phone comes back into play after summer ends. but he still says nothing, even when glances at percy from the corner of his eyes.

it's two years of scattered kills before he sees him again. the kid is older now. he looks about fourteen, maybe fifteen. but percy knows it's him. he's the only one who makes eye contact. this time percy doesn't see his death. but he sees the endless void.

purgatory, he thinks, before he blurts out, "i've been looking for you." the teen tilts his head and smiles, small, gentle. the sight of it slams hard into percy's ribcage and sinks messy into his heart. "what's your name?"

"what's yours?" the teen fires back, turning away from percy and collecting the pulsing orb into a little baggie like before. his voice is enchanting, smooth and crystalline. there's an edge of an italian accent in it.

"percy," he says without hesitation. "jackon. percy jackson." he shakes his head. "perseus, actually, but everyone calls me percy."

the teen laughs gently. the sound is haunting. somewhere in percy's subconscious he knows the sound should scare him. but instead he just craves it more. "well, perseus jackson, my name is nico."

nico, percy thinks. in his head, the name is surrounded by hearts like a schoolgirl writing out the name of their crush in a movie. "that's really pretty," he says aloud. mentally he slaps himself. that's really pretty? that's stupid.

but nico just laughs again. "thank you." he steps over the dead body and touches percy's face. "perseus was a quite the soul when he was collected." his fingertip ghosts down percy's cheek, leaving light phantom tingles behind. "will you be?"

then he dissipates into shadows, leaving percy with a heavy craving for his ghostly touch and hauntingly enchanted voice.

[hislittleraincloud]

I just know Wednesday s2 is gonna blow (and not in a good way lol)

This be the one, see the previous Anon.

S2 is going to be shitty in terms of continuity and bloated cast. I'm sure they'll ✨hyde✨ the big names, but I think Ortega said that it would be more episodic than what it was this time around, that each episode is "like a movie". Which irritates me because that's kind of what S1 was. Each ep had a theme of some sort, leading up to the finale. Its episodes already being cinematic is the treat that makes the show decent.

Someone in Asks asked me about my calling Ortega dumb, but

The Addams Family IS lighthearted. It's comedy. It's satire. The whole point is that it ISN'T too dark, and that its visual joke-violence doesn't turn into gratuitous gore.

(My answers are getting long these days...)

She says it's great to ditch romantic interest, which means no romance for the main character in a teen coming-of-age show. Uhm. Ricci's Wednesday was totally into Joel (and the musical Wednesday had Lucas/that was the central plot point to the musical), and this whole "let's cut out the love/romance/sex!" is just contributing more to Purity Culture and making young adolescents more confused and isolated/afraid to DO anything, even if it's a simple date with no physicality. Remember what I said yesterday? Fucking VIOLENCE is okay, yet SEX is not? *flicks Gizmo on her stupid sunglasses*

I fucking hate that line of thought for anything/everything. Think about it...if we behaved more like bonobos than chimps (because humans behave like goddamn chimpanzees). Chimp conflict includes violence and tearing of limbs. Bonobos settle conflict by having sex.

I need my Make Love Not War pin back, especially now.

Romance for Wednesday was also a central conflict; teen years is when you start to bloom and fuck around. At least it used to be. It was one of the things she was supposed to learn how to navigate, given what her parents said, though she was terrified of becoming her parents (as I stated in my pinned post about Wednesday mimicking Gomez romantically).

They are bringing ALL the elements of that central struggle back for S2 except for Percy White/Xavier. It's going to be fucked, however they write him off.

Wednesday needs more of what we loved from both the TV series and the 90s movies. Does that include cute romance? Yes, yes it does. I suspect they might fill that void with Enjax.

Am I tryna say I want to see more Euphoria in this, no. But something sweet like a sweet coupling/banter, especially during these godawful times, would be nice.

I don't care for gratuitous violence or gore, but yes I do want to see more of the vampires and gorgons. It's real cute that she mentions the fucking vampires when they didn't ask Naomi back (say what you will about her IG post, her April '24 podcast says more about "recently" losing something big and crying about it). Scheduling/"not much progression with Yoko's journey" my ass. Do you know what Naomi was doing this past summer when W2 was filming? Traveling. She was posting a lot of travel stories throughout the time they were all filming.

So yeah. I have little faith in this given the mess with PHW getting kicked. From a writer's perspective, and thinking about M&G's Bible for the show, I would be really pissed if one of my main characters was suddenly gone. Think about that for a second. You have a vision for what your show is like, you have your characters all plotted out, etc. AND the show does amazingly well in its first month ...and then a bunch of little cunts come along and scream (false) RAPE! allegations, uncovering some unsavory comments that no one gave a shit about until the cunts screamed and now your company/boss is telling you that they need to drop the actor/character. Say what?

Beh. While I disagree with Ortega about infusing more horror and shoving the romance aside for Wednesday, I really think the Wenclairs need to look at this again: Ortega is so put off by what y'all did that she is NOT going to reward your shitty behavior by laying any foundations for Wenclair in S2 for S3 (if there IS a S3). And I think she realizes that if Wednesday does have another male love interest that y'all will fuck with him too, so we get NOTHING. 😭

I can't imagine what Millar & Gough think about this and about the Wenclairs who did this and who celebrate it/brag about doing it. These Wenclairs have made the cast (and writers) unhappy because they all get wet for Ortega/Myers. It's fucking grotesque, and it's gone and made the show even more inconsistent than it already is. They — full on adults, not just teens, some of these fucking turds are in their late 20s and 30s — helped ruin the show that they purport to love for selfish fucking parasocial reasons.

Because let's face it...one of the main cast whose arc was meant to be for/towards Wednesday suddenly gone for S2 ruins things. We could have seen more character development of Xavier, and the strife with his father (as well as expanded use of his powers...he is telekinetic like Rowan, he can more inanimate drawings, etc.). Y'all can say you hate Xavier and that he's "creepy" for drawing/painting Wednesday, but that's normal tortured artist behavior. Look at the "creepy" fucking shit you all do with your drawings. Half of you can't draw Enid for shit/she ends up looking more masculine than she is (she is a girly fucking girl, she looks like a pixy/elf).

I wanted to see more telekinesis and visions.

And speaking of visions, what's in store for Wednesday's? I really think that the season should've ended with Wednesday having a vision of Tyler escaping, rather than how it was written/filmed. That would've kept the focus on Wednesday/not Tyler. But that's just me. I hope they keep her visions relevant in S2, and it would be nice if another power did show up. I mean, ABW has 4 LOL But the Seers (Xavier and Rowan) seem to have two powers/features to their status as Seer — visions and telekinesis. So why the Hell isn't Wednesday telekinetic?

I hate this show. 🫠

[pjoxreader]

Hii!! Omg I literally love your writing so much!

I was wondering if I could request some platonic headcanons for Percy, Will, and Annabeth? Maybe where Reader is their sibling and she leaves camp to go home to her mortal parent, but ends up having to run away cause said parent is a horrible person and Reader has to call their sibling from a payphone for help?

I really hope that's coherent, feel free to ignore, and make sure you take care of yourself!!<33

Sibling Reader Calls For Help

((I'm so glad you love my writing! Everyone has been so kind it's heartwarming. I'm glad I got to join this fandom even if I'm late!))

Percy Jackson 

-Percy takes being your sibling very seriously, even if it is just through your father. He’s very protective over you so he ensures you’re ready to head back to the real world when it was time. He takes a nervous breath helping you get your backpack filled with questing supplies, as if you were heading out on a deadly quest and not just to visit your mom.

-”Always look both ways when crossing the road and remember, I’m just a call away.” Percy was heading back to visit his mom too and you can’t help but laugh at his worrying. “I’ll be alright Percy, If I can fight monsters I can handle my mom.” you promise, You honestly believed that too at the time.

-Percy smiles fondly at that and ruffles your hair. “I don’t doubt it.” he says. You really thought you could handle your mom. You honestly thought you stood a chance to her after all of your training, but when it came to it and you were at her doorway you froze. 

-She started screaming at you, yelling that you were a demon child and that you’d get her killed by some monster. You knew she was drunk but still her words hurt. What hurt worse was the bottle she threw at you that shattered over your eye. -You have to stumble down the street as blood drips down over your eye, no one even bothering to help you. Your mind races to the worst possible option, did you lose your eye? Through the tears in your good eyes you see a pain phone punching in the numbers you slide against it, trying to take shaky breaths to keep yourself calm. -Percy picks up on the second ring thankfully. “Hello?” there's a tense silence as he hears you crying. “I… My mom she…” you manage to choke out between tears. “Where are you?” Percy demands his voice darkening right away. You tell him where he was and in less than ten minutes he drives across New York which was a feat in itself. He picks you up with a sad smile not caring that you were a bit too old to be carried around. “It’s ok. I’ve got you.” he soothes but under that smile you knew Percy was seething in anger. You were just glad to have Percy… He was more of your family than your mom ever could be. 

Will Solace

-Will was a great big brother, he knew when to give you space and when you needed help. Right now he could tell you were nervous so he gently rubs your back with a gentle and kind smile. “It’ll be alright. You have my number.” he reassures you. -”R-Right…” You say softly but you were still nervous. Sure you could face down monsters but trying to face down your mother..? That was a different story. Will seems to notice your hesitance and places his cowboy hat on your head with a proud grin when he sees your surprised face.

-”For good luck. That hat has been with me through a lot, so take good care of it.” You can’t help but tear up giving Will a tight hug, making him laugh. Part of you wish you had never left after that…

-It was supposed to be a good luck charm… So… So why did you feel so unlucky? You had tears in your eyes as you made your way down the street. Your mom had dumped you on the side of the road in a muddy puddle and drove off without you. 

-You were holding Will’s hat close to your chest, feeling guilty for having coated it in mud. But that’s when you see it. A payphone. You make your way in digging through your jeans for loose change and make the call. It takes a few seconds that feel like forever but Will picks up. “Hello?” he asks. “I… I… Your hat I’m… Sorry I didn’t mean…” you couldn’t help but sob when he picks up all the emotions you bottled up pouring out. -Will was there in minutes, it turns out he wasn’t far from where you were. He frowns sadly, hugging you close “hey, hey, It’s ok.” he soothes you gently, rubbing your back and smiles sadly. “You’re not hurt?” he asks worriedly. You sob and offer him his hat back “I’m sorry…” he laughs sadly at that, placing the muddy hat onto his head with a little grin. “It’s alright, A little mud never hurt no one!” he lets his thick Texas accent slip out with that and you can’t help but laugh a little. Will always knew how to cheer you up. 

Annabeth Chase

-Annabeth had a hard time getting along with her siblings when she was younger, she felt unwanted and that her family didn’t care for her. But then she got older and met you, she felt an instant connection as if you were her real sibling. Which, you weren’t but she acted like it.

-She could tell you had a lot of potential and so she worked with you to help train you for the real world. For fighting all the monsters and sometimes even worse, the people. She takes a breath helping adjust the straps of your backpack. “Are you sure you can do this?” she asks hesitantly, seeing the determination in your eyes she couldn’t help but think back to how you were exactly like her when she was younger.

-”I’m sure. I can do this Annabeth.” you promise. She smiles softly at that and nods. “If you need anything, and I mean anything just give me a call.” She says gently, making you laugh; she was like a worried mom. “I will, I will.” you say giving her a wave with a grin as you run off. You wish she was your mom. Or at least your full sibling. Because you had never felt more alone than in that moment. There at your childhood home was a sold sign, Your family had moved on without you.

-You had wandered the streets for a while, working through your own thoughts unsure of what to do next but that’s when you saw it. An old payphone. You dig through your backpack and pull out the coins that you had there and punch in Annabeth’s numbers with shaky hands trying to keep your composure. You were a child of Athena, you were supposed to be better than this. 

-But as you wait for Annabeth to pick up you couldn’t stop the tears that start to stream down your face. “Annabeth… T-They… They moved on without me… They left me… And didn’t even leave a note.” as you speak you break into sobs as you're forced to realize what had happened too. “Where are you?” Annabeth demands sternly. Before you knew it she was right outside the payphone and pulled you into a hug.

-You sob into her as you cling to her in a hug. Annabeth just soothingly rubs your back letting you cry into her shoulder. It hurt her to see you like this, it was all too familiar to her. To be abandoned by your family… But… but she wasn’t going to let you go through the things she did. Not anymore. She’d be there for you and protect you. She’d do a better job than Luke. She swore that to herself right there and then as she held you close.

~Masterlist & Rules~

Like my writing? Please consider sending me a Ko-fi! ☕

[bey0nd-1he-stars]

You owe me at least three days of rest in the infirmary - Solangelo

Masterlists

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Pairing: Nico di Angelo x Will Solace

Wanings: nightmares, insomnia, crying, implications of death (Bianca)

Word count: 890

Summary: The three says in the infirmary with some change.

 SIX | NICO

- You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know dear, how much I love you

Please don't take my sunshine away -

The sleep had taken him back once again, but this time for just a few hours. When he sat up the blankets fell off him and landed in a pile in his lap. Nico rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked around in the room. It was still a strange feeling to be there in the infirmary to get treated but with Will as doctor... Maybe it wasn't so bad after all. He shook his head at himself, he'd know the guys properly for a barley a week. Two days being on the battlefield, the two days coming after that Nico was holding the funeral ceremonies since all the half bloods insisted on dying heroically, and the two days after that he'd been stuck here, in the infirmary, sleeping most of the time. Nico had never had an easy time sleeping, he grew up with insomnia and after going through Tartarus alone, things didn't get better. After that he couldn't even close his eyes without seeing the terrible things he'd seen down there. Nico had never talked to anyone about it. He didn't want to, either. The only one who'd understand would be Percy and Annabeth and they were scarred enough so Nico really didn't want to bring it up.

The sound of scratching a pencil against paper made him step up from the bed he'd been borrowing the last two days. Will sat in his chair with his back turned towards Nico, his head down, concentration on something. He sang lowly and when Nico got closer he heard that it was lyrics from 'Your are my sunshine'. He smiled, Will had admitted that he wasn't much of a singer. At all. But to Nico, it was soothing and comforting, the sound of his voice reminding him that Will was still around, he hadn't left. When Nico was so close to Will that he could see over his shoulder and what he was doing, he realized that Will hadn't even noticed him yet. He smirked at the thought but let his gaze travel down to the paper. A pencil in Will's right hand created something Nico couldn't believe. He didn't see the whole picture, Will was leaning over half of it but it was just like the green hat she used to wear and her blank, dark curls.

All of a sudden, Will turned around in his chair, knocking Nico off his feet. He stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet. A warm hand gripped Nico's in the last second, stopping him from falling over towards the floor. A shock of electricity went through his spine. He smiled a soft smile as he gained his balance once again. Will's hand was still in his, but for once, Nico didn't care. Actually, he enjoyed it a bit. The soft, warm hand in his made him, once again, remember that the son of Apollo still hadn't left him. 

"Oh gods, sorry Nico! I didn't mean to push you, I didn't even know you were there at all," Will said hastily. He shook his head and let go of Will's hand.

"It's fine, really. What are you-" he stopped when he saw the whole picture. Will had turned around to face him and at the same time he left the journal uncovered. There, covering the page, was a picture drawn by Will. A perfect picture of Bianca. It was just like he remembered her. With the green hat that casted a shadow over her brown eyes and the freckles that were splashed over her nose and cheeks. The brown shirt and a long skirt that flew in the wind. He couldn't take his eyes from the drawing, Will had done it with every single detail right. 

"It’s so-  It looks just like her," he said softly and smiled a little at the picture but tears started pooling in his eyes. Will's answer made him tear his eyes from the drawing and meet Will's blue gaze with wide eyes. 

"You can have it, if you want to," he spoke softly and Nico could't believe him. But something in him didn't feel right. Will had spent hours on this drawing, it was his. His glory to take and his to look at for admiration. Not Nico's. 

"I don't know Will. It's yours and you spent your time on it and-" Nico did come further into his protests before Will had ripped the page out of the journal. He gave it to Nico and that was enough to make Nico's tears fall over and roll down his cheeks. 

"Thank you Will, really. Thank you," he said as he whipped away the tears. Nico placed the paper on the desk behind Will again, not wanting it to get damaged. Then he carefully wrapped his arms around Will in a hug. He felt the son of Apollo stiffen under his touch but soon he wrapped his arms around Nico's waist, hugging him back. Nico relaxed at the warmth Will spread and the comfort. The smell of sunshine filled his senses again and made Nico realize that he was still wearing Will's clothes. But at that moment he didn't care. He just felt like he belonged for the first time in many years. He belonged at Camp Half-Blood for the first time ever. And he definitely didn't mind.

[papadoupoulous-lester]

Loneliest person on earth// p1

loneliest person on earth// leo valdez x gn!apollo!reader

summary: when leo's s/o acts distant and doesn't come out of their cabin for meals, he starts to worry.

tw: self deprecating thoughts, suicide, trauma, mental illness

notes: its my first time writing a x reader oneshot so have mercy

(readers pov)

hot tears streamed down my face nonstop as I buried my face in my pillow. I didn't know why I was crying, it was stupid really. One little comment. That's all it took for me to crack. One silly little joke about my appearance caused me to have a full-blown meltdown. all my emotions had been pent up inside me for so long that I just cracked. I hated how sensitive I was. I was ashamed, really. how could a child of Apollo, a deity looked up to and worshipped because of his great beauty be so repulsive? I hate myself. The way I act, the way I look, the way I sound, the way I smile, the way I laugh, the way I walk, the way that I knew I'd never be able to fit in anywhere. In the mortal world, monsters would chase me if I dared come close to technology. In the demigod world, no matter what camp, I'd be thought of as a tool, a piece of equipment. Like a piece of Leo's machinery, not yet perfected. I was a senior camper, head of the Apollo cabin. I had been at camp since I was ten, I was now 16. People look up to Annabeth, as she's been at camp for the longest, being Chiron's favorite and all. But now, with her and Percy gone at college, I was the one that was forced to show around new campers, I was the one that had to help out the little kids, and i was the one that was expected to act PERFECT. like an emotionless ragdoll, hell, I'd kill myself if someone told me to. I felt like I was the one holding up the sky. with the weight of all of these things on my back on top of the fact that my dad was now a puny teenager named Lester and the fact that Julius Ceaser is trying to replace him as the sun god, I could never be okay. I could never be at peace. I always had to do SOMETHING. I wasn't even a social person anyway. I'd rather sit in a corner and wallow up in self pity or read The Song of Achilles than do whatever this was called. it was not ideal. I just wanted to be left alone, to be a normal demigod. I'd trade anything to not be known as the kid that makes hyacinth bloom where they walk. I wish I wasn't so sensitive, I wish I wasn't the way I was. My fatal flaw was fear. I was so afraid to disappoint the people around me, to hurt them, that i put aside my own needs and wants for them. That's why i was like this. I hate myself. I'm the loneliest person on earth. I'm surrounded by those that love me yet i don't feel loved. I'm surrounded by people that care for me and i know it yet I'm like well, this. My sobs grew louder as i removed my head from my pillow as i coughed and hiccupped. I lay flat on my stomach as i close my eyes and hide under the covers. I was freezing cold, yet i couldn't even get the motivation to get up. I hadn't come out of my cabin all day and i knew my siblings were worried. Will had come in about 4 times today to check on me but i acted like i was asleep to avoid conversation. I felt bad, i really did, but i just couldn't bring myself to do anything. I hiccuped and coughed as my cabin door creaked open. I froze in fear as i hold in my coughs, losing oxygen by the second. I heard soft footsteps approaching my bed. It was leo. the rest of my siblings were too loud to go unnoticed. I shivered as the covers were lifted over my head. I squeezed my eyes shut even though i knew it was of no use. "Hermosa?" Leo softly said. I opened my eyes as i sighed in defeat, "h-hi." I stammered, hiccuping. I could see Leo's face fill with concern as he saw my bloodshot eyes and my saddened expression. I sat up, brushing my hair out of my face so i didn't look like such a disaster. I looked at him and saw he was glancing upwards. I followed his glance and saw an entanglement of hyacinth flowers blooming all over my side of the cabin. "oh." i said,as my cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. he glanced down back at me and we made eye contact. "hey, whats wrong?" he softly said, wiping a tear from off my cheek. He sat down on my bed and i practically flew into his lap, head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around me gently. I relaxed in his warm, comforting embrace.

[ittybxttykxttytxtty]

Hello, fair warning. This chapter gave me deep feelings. Please understand that my feelings are required to be in capital letters.

He'd heard the way you'd slammed the door on your way out of his apartment that night. He knew how hurt and upset you’d been. But when you’d started crying because he had been planning to go out again, he'd wanted to comfort you– tried to–but you'd rejected him so easily instead. And that hurt him deeply. Because Matt had always thought you were different, that you understood him. That you loved him for who he was–you'd certainly always assured him that you did. 

I HAVE NO WORDS. MATTHEW. MICHAEL. MURDOCK YOU IDIOT. YOU MASSIVE BARELY FUNCTIONING ADULT. YOU DOLT. IDEK WHAT TO SAY.

But you’d made that choice, he reminded himself. You had walked out on him. That thought only had Matt grinding his teeth together, anger coursing through him.

YOU WALKED OUT FIRST, YOU STALE BAGUETTE.

You weren’t the woman he’d thought you were after all. And that hurt.

AND WHAT ABOUT YOU?!?!?! BAILING ON DATES, NOT TAKING CARE OF YOURSELF, TAKING THE READER FOR GRANTED. ALWAYS EXPECTING HER TO BE AT YOUR BECK AND CALL LIKE A FUCKING DOORMAT. BELLA, ISTG. COME GET UR MAN. I AM TURNING FERAL

Also, sidenote. I think this is a common trope in superhero stories??? The difficulty of living a double life, like in this context for example. He should always be Matthew Michael Murdock, first and Daredevil, second. Matt can live without Daredevil but Daredevil can't exist/live without Matt. That's how it should be,anyways. Am I making sense?

Anyways, point is....he managed to live a life without Daredevil most of his existence. So why put being Matt on the back burner?!?! Take care of the host body, ya know? Without it there wont be a Daredevil. Dont let your alter ego take control of your life.

“ She left me ,” Matt snarled back. “Why the hell is that so difficult for you to understand, Fog? Why must you always assume that I did something? Clearly she wasn’t who I thought she was because she couldn’t accept me and what I do. Who I am .”

SHE ACCEPTED YOU. BRAIN DEAD AND ALL. WHY CANT YOU AT LEAST MAKE AM EFFORT AND MEET HER HALFWAY????!!!!!! MATTHEW. PLEASE. I AM BEGGING YOU. 🥹🥹🥹

“Ahh,” Foggy said, pushing off the counter. “This is because of Daredevil. I figured as much. So tell me what happened then, because I’m about to slap you upside the head and tell you you’re wrong.”

Daredevil works hard ... but Foggy works harder ..by cleaning up Matt's mess. Foggy, baby, I'm sorry that this trick ass hoe is messing with your schedule. It will never happen again 😩😩😩

“Okay, so,” Foggy continued carefully, “if I’m understanding this right, you’ve been canceling plans on your girl for a while now and she’d been upset about that. And then she comes and says she really needs to talk to you, and you what? Bail on her again? Quite aggressively, I’m gathering?”

✨ IN FRANKLIN PERCY NELSON WE TRUST, YALL. ✨ 🕊️

He’d hurt you, too. Long before you’d hurt him.

Matt scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m sure Daredevil showing up on her fire escape would go over real well with her right now.”

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

please tell me he does that and he hears the lil baby devil's heart beat and mistakes it for the reader moving on with another person. MAKE IT LONG AND ANGSTY THAT IT MAKES ME SICK TO MY STOMACH HURLING CRYING SCREAMING. Please and thank you 💕

additional thots:

- Karen and Foggy are working over time, they should be paid for it honestly.

- Cannot wait for Matt to to grovel, ik ive been saying this since ch.01 but listen...I AM WEAK FOR A MAN GROVELING. KNOWING THEY WERE WRONG. THERE'S JUST SOMETHING ABOUT IT, OKAY?!?!

- also........I CANNOT WAIT FOR THE MAKE UP SEX THAT WILL EVENTUALLY HAPPEN. IDC IF ITS ROUGH AND HARD OR TENDER AND SOFT. BUT PLEASE PLEASE MAKE THEM CRY OUT OF PLEASURE, PAIN, AND RELIEF. 😌😌😌

This fic is so good. I've been waiting to read every update after work so I can focus on feeling the angst ✨

Seeking Forgiveness [Part Three]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3k

[Full summary and installment list for this series can be found here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader

a/n: This one is entirely in Matt's POV and I'm curious to see how y'all react to his side of things! Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @mattmurdocksstarlight @just-going-through-the-motions @paracosmic-murdock @yeonalie @auroraslibrary @1988-fiend @will-delete-this-later-probably@two-unbeatable-beaters @danzer8705 @ragamuffin285 @callmebrooklynbabes @spookyboogyuniverse @peachy-aisha @stevenknightmarc @nerdytreeflower @fucktthisworld @remuslupinwifee @kmc1989 @mywellspringoflife @thornbushrose @yarrystyleeza @shiorimakibawrites @thychuvaluswife @marvelcinematiquniverse @vallovesthedilfs @scoliobean @this--is--music

The ear-splitting and repeated honking of car horns on the street below harshly woke Matt, the sound shrill and piercing first thing in the morning. Seconds later the continuing noise drew forth a pounding headache that reverberated painfully in his head. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he rolled onto his side with a groan, his entire body loudly protesting the movement. He could feel a few new bruises he'd added to the others already scattered around his body, the new ones violently throbbing along his lower back and his left shoulder as consciousness abruptly returned to him.

Matt had been out well into the early morning hours running around Hell’s Kitchen tracking a man by the name of Petrov. He was the man that Matt had recently come to learn was the current leader of the Russian mafia now settled in his city. All of last night he had been trying to figure out where the new shipment of drugs would be coming into Hell's Kitchen at, but he'd yet again come home without the information he'd wanted. In a sour mood, he'd taken his anger out on a mugger while returning to his apartment, leaving the man more battered than he probably should have. 

And his sour mood quickly returned when he realized he was alone in his bed again, the cold from the lack of you often curled under the sheets with him exceptionally noticeable this morning–more than it had been for the past few weeks. Because you had left him, deciding not to stay and wait for him to return the other night. Leaving him like everyone else always did, unable to accept that he and the Devil were the same man. That he needed to let that other side of himself out to protect Hell’s Kitchen.

He'd heard the way you'd slammed the door on your way out of his apartment that night. He knew how hurt and upset you’d been. But when you’d started crying because he had been planning to go out again, he'd wanted to comfort you– tried to–but you'd rejected him so easily instead. And that hurt him deeply. Because Matt had always thought you were different, that you understood him. That you loved him for who he was–you'd certainly always assured him that you did. 

But it sure as hell hadn’t felt like that to him the other night. Not with how quick you were to reject him and walk out on him. You’d never tried to reach out to him all of Friday, either. Whatever important thing you’d wanted to discuss with him the other night must’ve been what he’d initially suspected it to be. That you wanted to end the relationship. Truthfully he hadn’t wanted to hear you say the words out loud which was partially why he didn’t want to give you a chance to speak.

Matt knew he'd been canceling plans on you repeatedly, though he admittedly hadn't realized just for how long he'd been doing it with the way his days had been blurring together from his lack of proper sleep. But it hadn't been intentional. He hadn't meant to hurt you and he'd felt terrible every single time he had. It always nagged at him while he was out, the memory of the way your heart stuttered each and every time you saw him in his suit never far from his mind as he tried to focus on his late night task. 

And it wasn't like he was out cheating on you or ditching you for his friends. What he was doing was the equivalent of being needed at a job–because that's how he saw what he did. As a responsibility he had to the people of Hell’s Kitchen. He'd honestly thought he'd be able to make it up to you once he'd gotten the situation with the Russians under control, but apparently he wasn't important enough for you to wait for him. And sure, he had to admit that he'd been awful to you the other night with the way he'd spoken to you, but the judgment and rejection from you had really upset him, as did the fear of hearing you tell him you were done with him. So he'd closed himself off to you, hoping to lessen how much you leaving him would hurt.

But Matt didn’t want to think about that this morning. His head ached enough from all the physical exertion last night and from not getting enough sleep. Those damn cars honking had ruined whatever sleeping in he hoped he’d have this Saturday morning, the sound of the city far too loud for him to lay back down and fall asleep now. 

Though if you’d been here–

With a growl Matt tore the sheets off of himself, tossing his legs over the side of his bed and shoving all thoughts of you to the side. He didn’t want to think about you right now. He wanted coffee, desperately hoping that would wake him up and help the throbbing of his head.

Shuffling out of his bedroom, half limping in pain as he walked, he navigated his way through his living room and into the kitchen. He went straight for his coffee maker, turning it on and preparing a pot of coffee. He knew he was going to need a few cups already. 

As the coffee brewed, Matt leant his back against the kitchen counter. His eyes closed as he ran a hand over his tired face, aware that his apartment seemed noticeably quieter and lonelier without you here. He’d been noticing that for weeks now, and every time he did he felt his heart sink a bit in his chest. Though this morning he almost felt sick at the emptiness here, as if someone had punched him right in the gut when he realized you were never coming back.

But you’d made that choice, he reminded himself. You had walked out on him. That thought only had Matt grinding his teeth together, anger coursing through him.

You weren’t the woman he’d thought you were after all. And that hurt.

The coffee machine began to sputter out his coffee, the noise loud and irritating to his ears this morning. Matt turned around, reaching a hand up to grab a mug from the open shelf on the wall. But a round of knocks coming from his apartment door rang out and he hesitated, his hand hovering just before the row of coffee cups. Brows furrowing together, his head shifted over his shoulder as he wondered how he’d been so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn’t realized someone had approached his door. Though after a few seconds he soon realized that it was Foggy standing in the hallway and flipping through some paperwork that he’d brought with him.

Matt’s hand dropped to his side and he turned, a frown settling on his lips as he made his way through his kitchen and down his entryway hall. He unlocked the door, briskly swinging it open. It didn’t escape his notice how Foggy had startled in the hall at the abruptness.

“Fog,” Matt greeted flatly.

He could practically feel the way his friend’s eyes scanned over him, the sound of Foggy’s face shifting into a frown not lost on Matt. He imagined the bruises were quite visible, especially since he hadn’t managed to put a shirt on.

“You look like shit, Matt,” Foggy stated bluntly. “How long were you out last night?”

Matt turned, leaving the door open as he half-limped, half-shuffled his way back down the entryway hall. He listened as Foggy stepped inside, closing the door after himself before slipping out of his shoes. By the time Foggy had followed Matt into the kitchen, Matt had already managed to pour himself a cup of coffee, drinking a sip of it black.

“You want some coffee?” Matt asked him, avoiding the initial question.

“No, I’m good,” Foggy answered slowly, resting his arms on the kitchen counter and leaning over it. “I had some earlier before I left to come deliver the documents I told you I was bringing over this morning. Which I’m guessing…you forgot about, judging by the fact that it looks like you just rolled out of a dumpster that you used for a bed.”

Matt’s lips pursed together at Foggy as he drew his mug back up to his mouth, his eyes narrowing in obvious irritation. “Not a morning for jokes, Fog.”

“Is there ever with you lately?” Foggy grumbled. 

Matt drank down more of his coffee, the throbbing of his head not helped by the way Foggy was drumming his fingers along the countertop. He could hear the way his friend was looking around his apartment, probably noticing the way it had looked neater than usual. Which was due to the fact that neither of you had been in his apartment much for the past few weeks. The moment he heard Foggy’s mouth open, inhaling that small bit of breath, Matt knew what he was going to say. And it wasn’t a subject he wanted to discuss.

“Where’s your other half?” Foggy asked, glancing back towards the closed bedroom door, entirely missing the way Matt had winced at the question. “Thought she usually spent the weekends with you. Is she still asleep?”

Matt ground his teeth together, roughly exhaling a sharp breath. He knew he’d ask about you.

“No, she’s not here,” Matt replied coldly.

He heard the way Foggy had stiffened against the counter at his words and the tone of his voice. Slowly, Foggy’s head turned back towards Matt. Matt’s lips thinned out in irritation, not liking the minute shift in Foggy’s posture.

“So the documents–”

“What’d you do, Matt?” Foggy asked sharply, cutting him off.

Matt’s hand gripped his coffee mug tighter in his fist, surprising even himself when it didn’t break in his grip. His jaw clenched at the question and the accusation from his best friend.

“What makes you think this was my fault?” he growled back, voice low and dangerous.

Foggy was nodding swiftly as if he’d known something had happened. He didn’t seem remotely affected by Matt’s obvious anger, clearly prepared to discuss this more. That only annoyed Matt further.

“So you two broke up? Karen and I thought as much with the way you’d been mopey and snippy around the office yesterday,” Foggy said. “What happened? Because one minute you’re telling me she’s the one, that she’s going to move in with you soon, and the next–” he waved a hand around the apartment, “–you’re a damn bachelor again. So what’d you do? Because I know damn well she didn’t end things, not with the way she always looked at you like the sun rises and falls out of your ass, Matt.”

“ She left me ,” Matt snarled back. “Why the hell is that so difficult for you to understand, Fog? Why must you always assume that I did something? Clearly she wasn’t who I thought she was because she couldn’t accept me and what I do. Who I am .”

“Ahh,” Foggy said, pushing off the counter. “This is because of Daredevil. I figured as much. So tell me what happened then, because I’m about to slap you upside the head and tell you you’re wrong.”

Matt stalked across the kitchen in aggravation, slamming his mug down onto the counter that separated him from Foggy. The hot liquid splashed over his hand as Foggy briefly jumped at his outburst. The faint scent of fear soon hitting his nose was what had Matt’s eyes snapping shut, aware he was getting too riled up at this topic. That his anger was finally starting to make Foggy nervous.

Because it was about you and it hurt.

“She said she had something she needed to tell me,” Matt replied through clenched teeth, trying to rein in his frustration and heartache. “But I needed to go out as Daredevil. I was planning to interrupt a meeting with the Russians. The ones I’d been telling you about.” He exhaled a sharp breath, his left hand clamping onto the kitchen counter as he continued, hoping to ground himself and control his rage. “She was upset that I was going out again when we’d had plans. Said she really needed to talk to me. So I told her she could tell me afterwards when I came back and she got upset.”

There was a brief silence following his explanation, Matt hearing the way Foggy’s head had shifted to the side.

“And you were…growly Devil when you were talking with her weren’t you?” Foggy asked, gesturing a hand at Matt. “Like you are now?”

Matt grunted, shame burning through him as his eyes once again fell shut. Yes. 

“Maybe,” he grumbled.

“Okay, so,” Foggy continued carefully, “if I’m understanding this right, you’ve been canceling plans on your girl for a while now and she’d been upset about that. And then she comes and says she really needs to talk to you, and you what? Bail on her again? Quite aggressively, I’m gathering?”

“That’s–that’s not exactly right,” Matt said, shaking his head. “I didn’t bail on her. The city needed me, Fog.”

“Sounds like she needed you more, buddy,” Foggy countered.

Matt’s eyes snapped open, his sightless gaze landing somewhere near Foggy in a glare. “I gave her the option to stay and wait for me to come back. To tell me what she needed to then. She chose to leave. I haven’t heard from her since, so I’m guessing her important talk was about her wanting to tell me that she wanted to end things. That she couldn’t handle me being Daredevil after all.”

Foggy scoffed, shaking his head at Matt. He could hear the way his friend’s mouth had yet again curved into a frown. Something like guilt twisted in Matt’s stomach at the way that night had played out but he quickly buried it under his anger and hurt. 

“Why do you do that?” Foggy asked softly.

“ What ?” Matt snapped.

“This,” Foggy answered, waving a hand frantically at Matt. “That self-sabotaging thing you do. Things were good with you both. Great, actually. You were happy , Matt. And then you go diving into your hero bullshit and push people away. Making assumptions about her wanting to end things like you know that’s exactly what she wanted to talk to you about.”

“I do not self-sabotage,” Matt shot back. 

“Then why’d you push her away?” Foggy countered.

“Because the city needs me!” Matt exclaimed in exasperation, throwing his hands on his hips. “You know that and she knew that!”

A glaring silence settled in Matt’s apartment after his loud outburst. Matt’s tongue slipped out, wetting his lips repeatedly in his agitation. He heard the very faint sigh Foggy emitted, even with the way his headache had worsened.

“I think you’re reading things entirely wrong, man,” Foggy said, tone softer. “I don’t think she was trying to break up with you. I think you fucked up. Big time. And judging by the way you’re incredibly defensive and angry, you really, really love her.”

Matt’s nostrils flared, his eyes still glaring sharply in the direction of his friend. Though a part of himself was beginning to wonder if maybe, just maybe, Foggy was onto something. At least, about him fucking up. He was still pretty certain you’d wanted to break up with him. Because he had been canceling plans on you for weeks now. And you’d been getting hurt by him doing that pretty quickly, too. And he’d noticed, but he kept on putting off making things up to you because he’d been too focused on prioritizing the Russians. He’d hurt you, too. Long before you’d hurt him.

That guilt and shame stirred in Matt’s stomach again, threatening to overtake his own rage and heartache. But he couldn’t have been wrong about what you’d wanted to talk to him about, right? Because what else could it possibly have been besides an ultimatum for him to quit being Daredevil and to choose you instead?

“I think,” Foggy continued slowly, “that you need to go call her up. Put your tail between your legs and go beg for her forgiveness, Matt. Because you fucked up, admit it. I can see that realization dawning on your face right now, buddy. Talk to her. Apologize on your goddamn knees every day until she takes you back. Because we both know she was the best damn thing that ever happened to you.”

“She was,” Matt whispered, his gaze dropping down to the floor. “She always was.”

“Then go get her!” Foggy exclaimed, slamming his fist onto Matt’s countertop. “Fix things!”

He stepped around the kitchen counter, reaching out to slap Matt good-naturedly on the shoulder. Matt winced at the gesture when Foggy’s hand landed on a bruise and Foggy quickly muttered out an apology. 

Rubbing his arm, Matt let out a sigh. “How am I supposed to fix things, Fog?” he asked. “What if she really doesn’t love the part of me that is Daredevil like she thought she did? I can’t give this up. I’m not going to.”

“There’s no way that bullshit is the reason,” Foggy told him. “Not with all the different ways she’s been there for you and your vigilante ass this whole time, Matt. She loves Daredevil just as much as you. But as for fixing things?” Foggy shrugged, shaking his head. “I don’t know, man. I think your first step is to reach out to her, though. Try to get her to talk to you. Apologize and maybe find out what it was she needed to tell you. Because I’m guessing knowing what that was will tell you how royally you fucked up here.”

“Yeah,” Matt said with a sigh. “You’re probably right. Though I have a feeling she’s not going to want to talk to me.”

“You just keep trying until she does,” Foggy told him. “And if all else fails, maybe you can romantically show up on her fire escape and profess your love to her or something?”

Matt scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m sure Daredevil showing up on her fire escape would go over real well with her right now.”

[percontaion-points]

TOWB chapters 45-48

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 45

“Ghosts. The people that leave us too soon. The people we can’t let go of.” He paused. “You need to let her go, Ranka. May I?”

It’s rich considering that the entire premise of Ranka’s magic hinges on her inability to move past trauma. 

“One day at a time. One hour at a time. One minute at a time,” he said, not unkindly. “I expect I’ll always be dealing with it.”

It’s okay to grieve after somebody you love dies. 

But the problem is, as I’ve said, Ranka literally turned her entire personality into her trauma. 

I hope that I don’t have to explain to people how unhealthy that it is. Magic or otherwise, people are more than their traumas. 

For the whole evening, Percy talked about the Star Isles.

Not even the author cares about this! So it makes it hard for the characters to give a shit.

“Let’s go,” he said. “We’ve all had enough misery. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Chapter 45 summary: Ranka’s magic is now gone, reduced to a heavy thing inside of her that she can feel but not access. She mopes around until it’s 2 days left until Galen’s coronation, more mourning her own upcoming death than the slaughter of innocent witches, but whatever. 

Percy finds her as she’s brooding on a cliff by the sea. He forces her to take off the bracelet Yeva made for her, and tells her about his own shitty life. However, his life is glossed over, so nobody gives a shit about it. 

In the end, Ranka stands up and chucks the bracelet into the sea. 

Chapter 46

Galen and Aramis glanced at each other, and Galen turned to Percy with a twinkle in his eye. “I might have somewhere in mind.”

Chapter 46 summary: Percy takes Ranka to Galen’s room, which is filled with windchimes and books. The wondertwins show up a moment later; Galen is upset because he’d gotten a note from Percy stating that Galen’s room had been lit on fire. 

A second later, a bunch of servants bring three cakes in. Percy explains that they don’t know when Ranka’s birthday is, but figured that they could celebrate it along with the twin’s birthday. 

Ranka thinks about how her 17th birthday was 4 months before shit started to get real. Yeva had shown up in her tent early in the morning, her hands full of strawberries. So much had changed in such a short amount of time. Ranka starts to cry thinking about how thoughtful it is that Percy would have them make a cake for her. 

Chapter 47

“I failed them,” she whispered. “I will not fail you.”

Chapter 47 summary: The four of them get shit-faced drunk, and go hang out on the roof. The clock chimes that it’s midnight, and they know that in the morning, the city will celebrate Galen’s coming of age day. 

They start to joke around, but like… can we please get back to the plot? I literally do not care about them having one last good moment. This book has not made me care about these assholes at all. I’m still low-key rooting for the cult to win. 

Percy and Galen pass out drunk. Aramis and Ranka ask each other what they would do if they weren’t who they are. Aramis says that she’d be a healer; it’s literally her only hobby that doesn’t involve her mom’s research. Ranka has no such hobby, having been forced from a really young age to learn survival skills. So she’d build a cabin in the middle of the woods and stay there forever, being isolated. Aramis says that she’ll join her, and they’ll sing and paint and teach Ranka how to read. 

Chapter 48

The Murknen came first, dour and scowling, with moss woven through their wild hair. Ongrum had always said the Murknen hailed from a territory of swamps and little sunlight—and they had the personalities to match.

Again, I feel like the author created all of these tribes, but ended up never actually using them. 

But she was determined to shove in all of the info that she made, so she ended up dumping it on us. So the end result is this really long scene that pauses the plot simply so that she can describe these groups of people that the readers don’t fucking care about!

“The humans want to support the twins…”

Do they though?

Ranka could not find Ongrum. 

She’d searched for her for the better part of an hour, but the Skra leader was nowhere to be found. When Ranka questioned her coven mates, they’d simply shrugged and said something about her having business to attend to. They were lying, and it stung. She’d asked them as a Skra—and they’d responded as strangers. Even the witches she knew well—Tafa, Sigrid, Nadya, and so many she’d trained alongside, gave her the cold shoulder. 

You are not one of us, their eyes said. We do not recognize you. You will have to earn us back.

Their rejection of Ranka probably happened the absolute millisecond the gate closed behind Ranka. 

Ranka steeled her nerves and stepped into the crowd. It was time to stop a coup.

Chapter 48 summary: Our four heroes stand and watch as the city is filled with the different witch tribes. Percy assures Ranka that their plan is perfect, and that it will work. 

Later, Ranka goes in search of her tribe leader, but her former clans-women literally lie to Ranka’s face about Ongrum’s whereabouts. She hates it, and hates them even more. 

But forget about that. Let’s talk about how fancy Galen looks now! This is clearly the more important plot point!

[nochi-quinn]

legend of vox machina season 2 episode 7: the fey realm OR mmmmmmmmakinmway

the way I keep typing "campaign" instead of "season"

BUNNY LUCK DRAGON

I will forgive Amazon all their terrible merch crimes if they give me a bunny luck dragon plushie

"at least we're together" fey realm double date

vax comforting keyleth and talking her through her panic attack

keyleth does not have a good track record with magic animals

legitimately wonder how many times they said "feywild" and had to re-record

"shademurk" was at least easy to copyright dodge

keyleth broke the mountain

everyone's faces are really good this episode, I love them

percy's feywild hyperfixation

I already made my feywild anti-vax joke

I cannot believe Diplomacy has a lawnmower pull-start

"it's like they can't understand me!" her feywild plant accent (plantcent) is terrible

pike understanding that the sword was the problem, not grog

pikelan crumbs

this whole batch of episodes is pikelan crumbs. pikelan panko.

tfw you're in a toxic relationship with your sword

grog making every blacksmith cry

craven edge:

the screamer is slightly less high-pitched this time and is therefore less terrible

"whatcha doin :D"

seeing people on

skinny grog isn't real, he can't hurt you

"keyleth, you really need to learn your spells" tonight scanlan will be playing the part of the youtube comment section

seeing non-critters* on twitter going "BILLY BOYD???"

*people who watch the show but don't care enough to follow cast announcements

my kid came to give me a hug literally fifteen seconds before the sketchbook bit

percy's little :( when vax made fun of his books

they can now legally continue the "makinmyway" bit

grograft

album drop when

travis willingham does not get enough credit for the range he is capable of

grog rug in the critrole shop when

it is nice seeing the part of scanlan that actually cares about his friends

aaaand then Early Scanlan comes back out

"they're pretty! which probably means they're super-deadly." she's learning

I enjoy that percy's gun only fires when it's going to be completely ineffectual

gelatinous Non-Euclidian Shape

the animators either hated every minute of this or had the time of their lives, no middle sliders

return of jackalope keyleth!

I played this level of psychonauts 2, I did my time

and now we know why cheech marin was cast as trinket

and that was all the cheech marin we could afford

I did like this little scene of the boys working together again

not the anime glasses

"that's the thing with nobles, we're rather stubborn" p sure that might be mostly you, freddie

"where I'm going, I don't think you can follow" :(

this is my third time watching this and I still refuse to watch the rainbow puke

"garmelie was merely the traveler on this journey" fuck OFF

dragon holograms DRAGON HOLORGAMS

I swear they put "baubles" in the script for every thordak scene entirely bc lance reddick says it like that

mala: I didn't think scanlan HAD a strength score

the fact that "with our father" got the end-of-episode scare chord cliffhanger

[demigodsanswer]

I can't help but think that the dynamic between percy, annabeth and luke as a family, co parents is similar to what we saw in ant man hahaha.

Absolutely loved the idea of percy asking sophie first if she wants him to marry annabeth, sophie just wanted percy to be her second official dad.

Sophie reacts well to annabeth's pregnancy? I know you said she's taking advantage of her 3 parents not wanting to leave her out, but sibling jealousy is healthy sometimes, surely it's a change for her to go from being the only child to having a baby at home?

I've never seen Ant Man, but they figure out a good balance eventually. Things have to shift a few times between the new babies and Sophia getting older, but thankfully, Luke does end up moving about two blocks away so he can see her more often, and more casually.

Sophia does have a hard time adjusting to the first baby. Annabeth suspects she won't take it super easy, and she's right. When Annabeth and Percy tell her, she just gets so overwhelmed, she starts crying (which is what I did when my mom told me she was pregnant with my brother ha). But she does enjoy parts of the pregnancy, like finding out it's a girl, buying the baby toys and clothes, helping her parents find a bigger space (thankfully their building had a three-bedroom available, so they just need to move floors).

But she also has days where she's really anxious and unhappy. Because she is Annabeth's total mini-me, she does run away once to her dad's place (probably during the baby shower). She asks if she can live with him full time now. She's there for thirty seconds, desperately making her plea, when Luke stops her, makes her sit down, and he says: "We need to call your mom." "She probably doesn't even know I'm gone." And then, on cue, Annabeth calls him. Luke answers: "Sophia is here, she just arrived, and I was about to call you."

Annabeth gives Sophia about an hour to calm down with her dad before going over. Sophia asks Annabeth if she can live with her dad, and Annabeth is just doing everything she can not to completely break down. This is when Luke steps in and finally says no, she can't. For once, he really takes the fall, does not let himself be the cool, no rules parent and takes the heat off of Annabeth.

And truth be told, he loves his daughter, but he knows he's not cut out to be the full-time care taker. He's only just discovered Grindr hookups. Plus, there is a legal custody agreement in place. No matter what the eight-year-old wants, no judge is going to let Sophia leave her mom.

Things do end up working out. Instead of doing a baby-moon with Percy (they did just have a honeymoon not too long ago), she does a baby-moon just her a Sophia, and once she recovers from the birth, she always makes sure Sophia's got her own time with her.

Once the baby is there, though, Sophia loves it. She wants to help however she can. Her baby sister is basically like the coolest doll in the world to her (which is how me and my sister treated my baby brother; she was nine and I was eleven when he was born. He got all the attention in the world).

[samstree]

Just a Little Pretense

Jaskier and Geralt stage a fake breakup. Someone’s feelings get hurt for real.

The reverse trope series: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

AO3

“… It would be to take you off my hands!”

Geralt’s voice echoes in the ballroom, between the tall walls and the high ceiling. Everyone on the dance floor has fallen into silence. Even the band has stopped playing, their lead singer gaping with round eyes.

Jaskier blinks, impressed.

All the eyes are on the two of them. Jaskier’s back prickles with the gazes. As the fight escalated, more and more guests have stopped dancing just to eavesdrop on the witcher and the bard, the most peculiar couple in the room.

Which is just perfect. The more people witnessing their breakup, the more awkward it will be afterward, and the easier it will be to get out of this tedious party. And here Jaskier is, regretting ever having doubted his dear witcher’s ability to perform.

Who would have thought Geralt is a method actor? Drawing inspiration from a past argument is ingenious.

His old acting professor back in Oxenfurt would approve of this. The show is going swimmingly and he is pumped with adrenaline—maybe he should go back on stage one day, do a play or two.

But alas, he can muse the idea later. The show must go on.

“Really? Just like that?” Jaskier croaks, seemingly on the verge of crying. He’s not so bad himself, classically trained and everything. “Thirty years, Geralt. I followed you for thirty years, and just like that, you will kick me out of your life? Did I ever—” he breaks off with a whimper. “Did I ever mean anything to you? Or were you ready to cast me aside this whole time?”

A tear rolls down. His lips wobble. The crowd erupts in hushed murmurs and sympathetic sighs. The set-up, the build, everything has been perfect. Now the only thing left is for Geralt to break things off, and the two of them can ride into the metaphorical sunset and never see this court again.

Jaskier waits in anticipation, but his witcher opens his mouth.

And closes it.

Geralt looks as upset as he should, angry and torn and equally shocked, his golden eyes wide and his jaw clenched tight. It’s a nice picture to paint for the audience. They are supposedly having the biggest fight in their lives and his body language is very convincing.

More than convincing.

Except, it just might be … too convincing.

Wait—

Jaskier focuses on Geralt, who looks as if he wants to shrink into himself, his shoulders slumped and arms drawn in. He looks as if he’s waiting to be struck. Wait, something’s not right.

“I can’t do this.” A whisper leaves Geralt’s lips, small and achingly sad.

It’s not the line he’s supposed to say.

Geralt’s eyebrows droop ever so slightly, and there’s a flash of distress behind the molten gold. It’s gone in a second, hidden behind a façade of indifference.

The tells are subtle, near imperceivable to the untrained eye, but to Jaskier, they are clear as day—Geralt is hurt. For real.

Oh.

Fuck.

“Geralt,” Jaskier tries, instantly snapped out of his character.

And yet, there’s no reply. Geralt lowers his head, turns around, and flees the scene within one heartbeat and the next. The crowd is too eager to make way for him.

“Shit,” Jaskier curses, ready to chase after Geralt, but the Countess de Stael appears out of nowhere with a flock of maids and positively blocks him in all directions. She’s eager to lament the loss of love and companionship, and to offer Jaskier a place at her court once again. Oh, shit.

Jaskier brushes her off, all the while painfully remembering he and Geralt’s goal from the beginning—to use the breakup as an excuse to get out of this place.

Well, the plan is shit. Is it too late to notice?

Weaving through dozens of nobles is a lot more difficult when they all want to extend sympathy, and Jaskier is only placating them absent-mindedly, faking regret and heartbreak. His mind is full of his witcher, who is either brooding or spiraling over the venom he spewed earlier.

The truth is, Jaskier has long forgotten about the mountain—not because it didn’t hurt. To be shunned by Geralt, blamed for everything, and denied friendship, was the worst thing to have happened to him at the time. It’s just that Jaskier has forgiven it, so long ago and so completely.

Jaskier cannot get to their room fast enough, and when he pushes open the door, the sight of Geralt’s dejected face is a stab through the chest. The witcher is perched on the bed, somehow looking a lot smaller than he is.

Jaskier never should have come up with the stupid fake breakup thing, never should have inadvertently reopened the old wound. They healed, together. They shouldn’t be hurting anymore.

“I explained. We can leave now,” Jaskier tires, but in fairness, he doesn’t remember what he said to the Countess. “Geralt?”

The witcher himself crosses his arms, hugging his midriff and avoiding Jaskier’s gaze. “Good,” he answers curtly, shoulders still tense.

He looks angry, and when Geralt is angry, it’s most likely with himself. Oh, whatever heartbreak Jaskier acted out earlier, it’s not a match to a fraction of what he’s feeling now. It must be the one millionth time Geralt’s self-loathing has broken Jaskier’s heart, and it never gets easier, not when Jaskier caused it himself.

“Hey.” Jaskier desperately wants to wrap his arms around Geralt. So he does. He sits down on the bed and pulls his witcher into the biggest bear hug, which is returned immediately and so very tightly. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I fucked up, Geralt. I’m—”

“Don’t be.” Geralt buries his nose into Jaskier’s neck and shakes his head. “I never should have said those things, Jask. I should be the one apologizing. It was wrong and untrue and I would never abandon you. You are my best friend. How can I ever? Please, believe me…”

Geralt trails off, his hands rubbing circles into Jaskier’s back. Although it’s unclear who he’s trying to soothe.

“I know. It’s okay. I know,” Jaskier murmurs, over and over again, sealing each reassurance with a kiss pressed into silver hair.

“I never meant it, Jask.”

“I know. It was fake. We were pretending.”

Geralt pulls away, golden eyes dead serious, pausing between every word. “I never meant it.”

Jaskier meets his gaze unwaveringly, with not an ounce of doubt. “I know.”

They stay there for a while, just holding each other. Geralt keeps sniffing Jaskier’s scent the same way he always does to check for injury or distress. He thinks he’s subtle, the sweet man, so Jaskier never mentions it.

Despite what an outsider might assume, Geralt is the sensitive one between the two. He’s so careful when it comes to their relationship, especially after the mountain and sometimes to his own detriment.

He’s so scared of hurting Jaskier again.

“I was an idiot for suggesting it,” Jaskier breaks the silence, nudging Geralt in the knee.

Geralt hums, lips pursed.

“Fake breakup is a terrible idea. Next time we’ll just grit our teeth and sit through the month-long party.”

Still, no smile.

“Alright, you win. Next time I won’t take you to a month-long party to start with.” Jaskier gently pats Geralt on the cheek. “For your delicate sensibilities, darling.”

Finally, finally, Geralt’s lips turn upwards, just a smidge.

“You are an idiot,” Geralt says, the crease between his brows fading. “Just…don’t make me make you cry again.”

Melting into the warmth welling up between his ribcage, Jaskier leans forward and presses a tiny kiss at his witcher’s forehead, so softly as if he’d break with any more force.

“Yes, dear.”

Being careless with Geralt’s heart is a mistake that Jaskier never wants to repeat. As he put a hand over his witcher’s languid heartbeat, Jaskier feels the soft thrumming against his palm, and realizes just how terribly he needs to guard it with the same care too. Against his frivolous self, and against the past that never seems to stop haunting them.

Because Jaskier needs this thing between them to work. If a faked breakup already seems unbearable, he shudders to imagine a real one.

A witcher’s life is already riddled with pain and sadness and could-have-beens. A poet would hate it if he added himself to the list.

---

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