#this post is brought to you by the terms ‘seaweed brain’ and ‘wise girl��

[thesaintofnevergettingitright]

Watching the Percy Jackson series has made me empathize with Aphrodite more than I ever thought possible.

Cuz these kids are TWELVE and are out here just trying to SURVIVE, but every time Percy and Annabeth interact I’m giggling and kicking my feet like “Hehehe you don’t know it yet, but that is the love of your life. Yes, yes, there’s a big scary monster but what about the slow-burn romance?”

And I always found it so annoying in the books when Aphrodite would show up and only be interested in the romantic dynamics between the characters and otherwise be kinda useless. But now??? I’m totally on the same page with her. Cuz I know they’re going to fight a million monsters and win, and at the end of the day one fight looks just like the next. But they only fall in love ONCE and it’s AMAZING.

Like damn. Apologies the goddess Aphrodite. I suddenly get it.

[hllfireclub]

here’s a random lil percabeth drabble i wrote last night. please forgive any spelling errors, i wrote this while half asleep lmao

(fluff, a little bit of sexy times, post-hoo)

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When Percy had told her that he was taking the day off for their anniversary, Annabeth hadn’t believed him. Sure, she would love having him to herself for an entire day, especially on their wedding anniversary, but being the director of a camp of demigods wasn’t really something you could take the day off from. She couldn’t fault him for that, not when she knows how important his job is to him, and she had come to terms with the fact that she would probably only get him all to herself after the sun went down.

So it comes as quite the surprise when she wakes to familiar lips placing soft kisses along the back of her neck. When she stirs, strong arms tighten around her waist and the kisses make a path down across the span of her freckled shoulders.

“G’morning, beautiful,” Percy murmurs against her skin, his voice still thick and gravelly from hours of not being in use. With a soft sigh, Annabeth rolls over so she can rest her forehead against his chest. Percy immediately switches his positioning to make her more comfortable, arms circling around her torso and his hand resting on the small of her back. His fingers brush against her bare skin, and her still sleep fogged mind recognizes that he’s drawing something into her skin with the tips of his fingers. It’s a simple touch, nothing incredibly intimate or significant, but it fills Annabeth with a warmth that starts at the top of her head and trickles all the way down to her toes and a flutter to erupt in her stomach.

“What time is it?” She mumbles, though her mouth doesn’t seem to get the message that she’s supposed to be awake, because it comes out more like ‘whatimeisit?’ Percy laughs quietly, the sound sending a rumble through his chest beneath her cheek.

“Almost 8:30.”

Annabeth frowns. No, that can’t be right. Percy’s usually out of bed and the house for the day by at least 7:45, and her alarm clock for the past fourteen months has been their daughter’s cries over the baby monitor. She lifts her head from his chest, blinking sleep and fog from her eyes.

“8:30? Why are you still in bed?” He laughs again, running his fingers through her curls and twirling one around his finger absentmindedly.

“I told you I was taking the day off, ‘Beth. Remember?” He nudges her side gently, giving her a teasing look that says ‘come on now.’

That warm feeling from earlier returns, only growing in intensity. Her skin tingles and grows hot under his touch, making every nerve ending he brushes against sing in joy. With the warm morning light shining through the linen curtains and illuminating Percy in all the right ways, he looks almost ethereal. The shadows falling on his jaw make it look even more defined and precise than usual, like he’s a marble statue carved by the hands of an artist, and Annabeth is hit with an overwhelming wave of butterflies. She remembers him the way he was when they first met, and it’s almost impossible to imagine that the 12 year old boy she had nursed back to health and the proud, strong and overwhelmingly good man holding her were the same person. He could have had anyone he wanted, and yet he chose her. Over and over again, he had chosen her, and she suddenly feels the urge to thank Aphrodite for deciding she was worthy of Percy loving her.

She thinks of telling him how she longed for something permanent, something that could endure hundreds and hundreds of years of battering and destruction but remain unchanged by the hands of time. Annabeth had once thought that the only way she could complete that goal was with her architecture, but she suddenly realized that she had already achieved that desire. Not in the redesigned cabin, not in the battles she’d fought, but in Percy and their daughter. If she was to be remembered only by the love that her and Percy had, the love that had brought Alexandria into the world, she was more than okay with that.

Annabeth leans into his touch, tilting her head up to kiss him softly, hoping that she could convey everything she wanted to say to him through the warmth and gentleness of their lips moving against each other. He seems to understand, nodding almost imperceptibly — so subtle she’s not even sure that he knows he did it. But its meaning is clear enough; I know. Me too.

The kiss is everything she needs it to be; soft, warm, and understanding. It makes her feel more like she’s being hugged rather than kissed, and she thinks that she could spend an eternity kissing Percy Jackson.

Percy is the one to pull back to catch his breath, resting his forehead against hers and cradling the back of her head in one large hand. Soft lips find their way to the cut of her jaw and then the crook of her neck, brushing oh-so-softly against her pulse point. With every kiss, he leaves a trail of pleasant electricity across the expanse of her skin.

“The whole day?” Annabeth asks, voice soft and yet still deafening in the sanctuary of their bedroom. She almost regrets speaking at all, afraid of shattering the illusion. But Percy doesn’t disappear, doesn’t dissolve into a cloud of mist. His hands rest on her hips, brushing his thumbs along the soft skin underneath the hem of her shirt.

“The whole day,” he confirms, and Annabeth’s heart skips far too many beats to be considered normal when he looks up at her through his eyelashes. Percy looked at her with such intense adoration sometimes that she almost feels like she’s suffocating. His lips are curved into that soft smile that hooked her in all those years ago, and the light reflecting in his eyes makes them look like sunlight hitting the waves. “Alex is having a sleepover with my mom and Paul. I’m yours, ‘Beth.”

And gods if that’s not the best thing she’s ever heard. With Percy running Camp Half-Blood and Alex requiring constant attention, it was a luxury these days if they could spend any time together outside of their bedroom at night. Having him for the entire day, all to herself, feels like a dream. She brushes a few strands of hair out of his eyes, and Percy turns his head to kiss her palm. And I’m yours. Always.

“I love you,” Annabeth breathes out, hand coming up to rest at the nape of his neck where she can card her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Percy doesn’t answer; he doesn’t have to. When he captures her lips in another kiss, he tells her everything she’s ever wanted to know. The world around them fades to black, the only thing existing in this moment being Annabeth and Percy. Nothing else matters anymore.

And then suddenly, the chaste, lazy kisses aren’t enough. Their rhythm becomes more heated, hands mapping out every curve of each other’s bodies, desperate to feel closer. More, more, more. Clothes are discarded and scattered across the room. Percy makes Annabeth see constellations and stars she’s never seen before, makes her body sing in pleasure and warmth and love. They don’t need words for this, they never have — they’ve always understood each other in unexplainable ways, knowing exactly what to do to make the other lose their breath without ever having to be told. It’s a dance of pushing and pulling and ‘I love you’s’ gasped out in between sighs and moans and names uttered as if they were prayers.

Annabeth curls into his chest when they’re done, hair sticking to the back of her neck with sweat. They lie in comfortable silence while they both catch their breath, and all she can think about is how she deserved a man like Percy Jackson. She places soft kisses across the flat planes of his chest, and his hands run up and down her sides comfortingly. When she speaks, her voice is quiet and raw from the noises he pulled from her.

“Happy anniversary, Seaweed Brain.” Again, Annabeth can feel the vibrations of his laugh reverberate inside his chest. Her eyes are closed, but she can tell he’s smiling — can hear it in his voice.

“Happy anniversary, Wise Girl.”