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pigcowboys · 3 months

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don’t marry him! percy jackson ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

aged up!percy jackson x fem!chase!reader

a love confession like amy and laurie’s from little women with percy and his best friend‘s, annabeth chase’s, sister.

genre; best friends to lovers

warnings; ooc!percy (?)

Percy Jackson had been your best friend since you were fourteen and you had to go with him and the hunters of Artemis on a quest to save Artemis and also your sister, Annabeth.

This was the start of your friendship and you had always thought he was kind of cute, well as cute as a fourteen year old boy going through puberty can be. But the closer you became, the stronger your feelings for him got, but you never said anything because you knew that Annabeth liked him and she was your sister.

Besides, you knew Percy liked Annabeth so he would never return your feelings for him.

Years went by with Percy still being your best friend. During the years, Percy and Annabeth had started dating but they broke up when they realized they were better off as friends. But when that happened, you were already dating someone else, someone who you thought was good enough to make you happy for the rest of your life.

Even though your feelings for him weren’t as strong as your feelings for Percy used to be.

Now you’re 25 and your boyfriend proposed to you. And you said yes.

When Percy heard about it, he felt like his world was crumbling down. You, the girl he had a crush on since he was twelve and saw her at Camp Halfblood for the first time was getting married.

For him it has always been you, but when he was seventeen, he decided to be stupid. He thought that you would never return his feelings, so he thought it was best to move on from you and soon he found himself in a relationship with Annabeth, your sister.

It didn’t take long for the both of them notice that they never really saw each other in a romantic way and decided to stay friends instead. But when they broke up Annabeth told him that she knew about his feelings for you and that you also return those feelings.

When Percy went to talk to you about it, it was already too late. You were in a relationship with someone else, someone else who was not him.

So when Percy heard about your engagement he knew he had to come and see you, he knew he had to speak now or he would loose his one chance of being with you.

You were at your apartment when he came knocking at your door like a mad man, luckily your fiancée was not home, he doesn’t like Percy very much. When you opened the door Percy was breathing heavily and staring at you with such an intensity in his eyes that you had to look to the ground to regain yourself again.

He still had that effect on you, even eleven years later.

“Don’t marry him.” He says.

Your heart drops.

A beat passes.

“What?”

Without your invitation he moved past you into your apartment. You couldn’t do anything but stare at the place he was just standing at, with your back now facing him.

Percy sighs and even though you can’t see it you know exactly the face he’s making right now, he has his eyes squeezed shut and his lips pressed tightly together.

“Don’t marry him.” He speaks again.

This time, you close the door and turn around to face him. Your heart beats so fast you’re afraid he can see it.

“Why?” You ask him, head tilted and eyes squinted so he wouldn’t see what he was actually making you feel, like you were fourteen and in love again. But he sees right through you, because he knows you.

He tilts his head, mimicking your expression, you know he has a habit of doing that, “You know why.”

You shake your head, “No I don’t.” You whisper out. But oh gods you do. You are staring directly into his eyes with such warmth that it makes him feel dizzy.

He stares back. “Yes you do.”

You shake your head once more, pressing your lips together, “No. No. You don’t get to do this to me. Not now.”

He takes a step closer, “Yes.”

You see his hand reaching out for you but you take a step back.

“No. Percy, you’re being mean. Stop it.” Your voice is barely a hoarse whisper and you feel the tears welling up in your eyes. You squeeze them shut so he wouldn’t see you cry. “You don’t get to say that. Not now. Not when I’m engaged damn it. Not when I’m finally happy.”

He brings his hand up to cup your cheek. “You’re lying and we both know it. I know you. I know you when you’re happy. Do you seriously want to spend the rest of your life with someone that only makes you half as happy as you deserve to be?”

You push his hand away and the tears start falling freely. “It’s better than not being happy at all. Gods. Percy you’re just lonely because you’re not with Annabeth, it’s okay to admit that, you don’t want me like that.”

“What? No you don’t get to say that. Not when I’ve been in love with you since you since we were twelve.”

You looked at him like a wounded animal. “Then why were you in a relationship with my sister? Huh? I always saw the way you looked at her, you’ve been in love with her since we were twelve.”

You let out a long sigh, and stare to the ground. "I have been second to Annabeth my whole life, in everything. I will not be second to her in this. And I won't be the person you settle for just because you can not have her.” You lift up your head, meeting his eyes.

“Please, y/n.” He pleads. “I’m in love with you, not with her. You won’t be second to her, because you’ve always come first for me.”

“Stop it. I won't. I can't do it, Percy. Not when I’ve spent almost my entire life loving you.” You turn around and open the door and mention for him to leave.

To your surprise he does without saying anything.

But when he’s out of the door, he turns to look you in the eyes one last time before he’s gone.

You’re dressed in all black and standing in front your fathers grave when Annabeth comes to stand next to you. It’s true, you’ve never had that much of a close relationship like the Stoll brothers for example, but you loved her dearly.

But even though, you’re only one year younger than her you can’t help but feel as though she is centuries older than you.

She has always been so much wiser than you, and that’s mostly because Athena is her mother and not yours, but she always knew things and she knew how to keep her emotions in check.

When you were younger, you were secretly jealous of her friendship with Percy and Grover. The three of them seemed so happy with each other, but you didn’t dare to talk to the three of them because you thought they didn’t want you in their group.

So you chose to watch them from afar.

And then your sister went missing and it felt like your whole world was caving in. So you went on a quest to save her and that’s when you really got to know Percy, and he became your best friend.

When Annabeth returned home, you two became a whole lot closer and soon you found yourself in their friend group.

“I’m going to miss him.” Annabeth’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. Her voice is firm, yet gentle, like an older sisters voice is supposed to be and you want to cuddle into her and make her read her favorite book to you just like she did when you were kids.

Your lips tremble and your hand reaches for hers, “Yeah, me too.”

All of the sudden, Annabeth turns around to face you and she asks, “Why did you turn down Percy?”

“What?” You ask flabbergasted. “How do you know about that?”

She looks you in the eyes, “He told me. So why did you turn him down? I know about your feelings for him, and I know how he feels about you.”

“I was engaged Annabeth. Besides, he only wants me, because he can’t have you. And I’m not gonna go and play second choice just because he’s lonely.” You tell her, and try to avoid your gaze because you know, the second she looks you in the eyes it’s like she can see right through you.

“That’s not true.” She says.

“What?”

“That’s not true. Y/n, that boy has been in love with you since he saw you at Camp Halfblood for the first time. It’s always been you, and I’m not mad about that. Me and him were only together because we had been confused because of the war and all it’s losses.” She says that with so much honesty it makes you almost dizzy. “He loves you. And you’d be an idiot to turn him down when I know you feel the same. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have blown off your engagement.”

She leaves before you can say anything.

But you’re not alone for long, because Percy fills in the space where Annabeth was just standing.

You don’t look at him.

“I came as soon as I heard. I know I didn’t know your father very well, but I didn’t want you to be alone.” He says and you can feel his gaze burning into you.

“I’m not alone, I have Annabeth.” But you knew you also needed Percy, he was still your best friend after all.

Then it’s silent.

“He’s never gonna see me get married one day. He’ll never get to meet his grandchildren.” You manage to get out because suddenly your eyes were filled with tears again. “I’m gonna miss him so much.”

Without saying anything, he pulls you into a hug. And you let him. He smells like the ocean and also mint, he smells like home.

You pull away and he wipes the tears off your cheeks and with his hands.

You take a deep breath and say, “I’m not marrying him.”

He looks down at you, “Yeah, I heard about that.”

"And you don’t have to say anything or do anything. It just didn't feel right. We don't need to say anything.” You say before he can he can say anything.

But Percy interrupts you by putting his hands on your cheeks, pulling your face to his and laying his lips on yours.

You feel warm and fuzzy inside and it makes you feel like you’re thirteen with a crush again. The kiss is gentle, and you know he puts all his love and adoration for you into it and you return it with just as much love and emotion.

When you pull away for air, you’re both smiling from ear to ear.

“Gods, I love you so much.” He says before pulling you into another kiss. This time, it’s messy and full of smiles you can both barely contain but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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pigcowboys · 3 months

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agent a and agent p, where are your suitcases?

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pigcowboys · 3 months

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RAAHAHHGRGRHRRRR *BITES MY HAND TILL IT BREAKS SKIN* RRRRRRRR

𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 (𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭)

note: guys this wasnt supposed to be my first work here but it came to me the easiest 😔😔 song title is bike dream by rostum 😍this isnt like the meaning of the song tho dw

content: leo valdez x reader, jason x reader; dating hcs

LEO VALDEZ

loves affectionately and openly

he'll peck your lips in front of everyone without a care in the world, as if after he's had a taste of your touch, he can't go a second without it (he'd probably make out with you if you let him)

he follows you everywhere, even trying to go with you while you shower (he'll never go inside the actual shower unless you want to)

"leo, as much as i love you, no. not today at least!"

"i'll just sit on the toilet seat, i swear! and i can talk about all my cool inventions!"

(maybe you'll change your mind?)

has to have a hand on you at all times

even a pinky will do for him

he loves holding pinkies actually, he thinks its so cute

will make you pinky promise not to snitch on him when he blurts out a new prank idea in the works

loves overexaggerating gentlemanly acts?? for the sillies

like he'll bow down to a 90 degree angle and swoop an arm out while the other kisses your hand

opens the car door for you like an escort

"for you, milady!" and does a cheeky little wink as he bows

he loves it when you play along like a rich noble from the 1800s

showers you with the metal work he does

he'll make you cute little rings and necklaces if you like jewelry

or metal flowers that'll never wilt

or something more practical, like a switchblade if you like those

either wakes up at 5am or sleeps in until noon there is no in between

or maybe he stays up until 5am because one time you caught him slipping out of bed to finish up the gift he was making you

"leo? what are you doing up?" you rub your eyes sleepily as you catch him at his desk, the lamp you gifted him glowing dimly

he startles and shoves (gently) the scraps of metal you see behind his arm

he grins sheepishly and rests his hand on his fist, positioning himself so you wouldn't see what he was making

"uh.. nothing! just finishing something!" he doesn't lie per se, but he'd rather not tell you the whole truth just yet (he loves how your face lights up when he presents another gift to you)

being the half-asleep mess you are, you didn't notice much

"alright.. just go to sleep soon, okay?" you yawn and turn back around to head back to bed.

"will do!" he whisper-shouts after you and sighs to himself in relief once you leave. close call!

you find a warm blanket preventing you from getting up the next morning, which just happened to be leo, his arms wrapped around your waist as if you were a pillow

a few more hours of sleep can't hurt, right?

JASON GRACE

he's a bit shy to love

doesn't really do pda, but he'll hold your hand lotsss

if you guys started dating but didn't announce it, no one would catch on until they see you and jason holding hands (that took a lot of courage on his end btw)

after that he was a bit more open about it

i feel like he's kind of awkward at first

he tried to sneak up behind you one time and hug you but you turned around too soon and accidentally rammed your head into his chin

he tried to play it off because he's too cool to be embarrassed (his face was bright red)

can and will pick you up

it all started when you guys were running from monsters but your leg was injured so you couldn't move that fast and he literally just swooped you up bridal style and RAN

ran like the wind, even (haha guys pls laugh)

literally sprinting even as he carries a whole person like you were nothing

you fell in love (again)

he found out you like it when he does that so he'll do it randomly

"so then i said-" you were cut off with a yelp as jason picked you up off the bed and carried you in his arms, swinging you gently with a smile on his face

you pause in your storytelling, blinking at him as you grow increasingly flustered

he merely nods at you, saying, "keep going, i'm listening."

OH MY GOODNESS

tried to do reps with you after but you kept laughing

acts of service is so him

when you complain about it being too hot, he'll send a cool breeze your way

if you ask him if he did that, he'll play dumb

it was sweltering outside, the summer heat even worse as the both of you hiked up a trail

"gods, it's so hot!" you complained, taking a long swig of your water

jason hummed his agreement, and shortly after you felt a weird breeze out of nowhere

you pause, eyeing the demigod in front of you

"jason?"

"yeah?"

"did you do that?" you prod at his back teasingly, the smile evident in your voice

"i have no idea what you're talking about."

#leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #jason grace #jason grace x reader #hoo x reader

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pigcowboys · 3 months

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HELP ME 😭😭

i made percy and annabeth in the sims and percy just walked outside and got struck by lightning

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pigcowboys · 3 months

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ISRAEL HAVE STARTED BOMBING RAFAH! THE PLACE THEY INSISTED WAS A SAFE REFUGE FOR THE PEOPLE OF GAZA! ALL EYES ON RAFAH!

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pigcowboys · 3 months

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pigcowboys · 3 months

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happy womens day to everyones favorite woman

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pigcowboys · 3 months

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Love the new theme

TYSM HAHAH 🙏🙏🙏🗣️🗣️

#blurbs

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pigcowboys · 3 months

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THIS IS SO CUTE 🙁💗💗

Comfort in the Kitchen

> Percy Jackson / demeter!fem!reader

> Percy has been feeling down from his nightmares. To cheer him up, you make his favorite, blue chocolate chip pancakes

> first fanfic woohoo .. ( please don't kill me 🏊🏻‍♂️ )

‿︵‿︵⊹‿︵‿︵⊹‿︵⊹‿︵🌳︵‿⊹︵‿⊹︵‿︵‿⊹︵‿︵

The day had been long and fraught with challenges that seemed to stretch the limits of your patience and strength. As a daughter of Demeter, you found solace in the natural world, the whisper of the wind through the trees, and the soft murmur of the earth beneath your feet. But today, the world seemed a little heavier, the shadows a bit darker, especially for Percy.

You noticed it the moment he trudged into the common area, his shoulders hunched and his eyes shadowed with the remnants of a battle only he could see. Nightmares, you knew. The kind that clung to him, remnants of battles fought and friends lost. It pained you to see him like this, the vibrant, brave Percy Jackson reduced to a shadow of himself by the memories that haunted him.

Without a word, you slipped away to the one place you knew you could make a difference: the kitchen. Cooking had always been your way of nurturing, of healing. There was magic in it, the simple, profound magic of caring for someone through the act of making them a meal.

Tonight, you decided on something special, Percy's favorite: blue chocolate chip pancakes. It was a simple enough dish, but you poured every ounce of your love and care into it, mixing the batter with a touch of your Demeter-given magic to soothe and comfort.

The comforting scent of chocolate and the warm, inviting aroma of cooked pancakes filled the kitchen, weaving a spell of home and hearth and peace.

When everything was ready, you plated the pancakes, drizzling them with extra chocolate chips and a generous dollop of whipped cream. But the final touch, the one that made them distinctly for Percy, was the food coloring that turned them his favorite shade of blue.

Carrying the plate with care, you found Percy exactly where you'd left him, staring off into nothing, lost in thoughts you wished you could banish for him. You sat beside him, the plate in your hands offering up not just food, but an unspoken promise of comfort and understanding.

"Percy," you said softly, drawing his attention. "I made you something."

He blinked, focusing on you for the first time, and when his eyes landed on the plate of blue pancakes, a small, genuine smile broke through the shadows. "You made these for me?"

"Of course," you replied, your heart warming at the sight of his smile. "I thought they might help, even just a little."

Percy took the plate from you, his smile growing as he took his first bite. "They're perfect" he said after a moment, his voice filled with something like wonder, like maybe he couldn't believe someone would do this just for him.

You watched him eat, saw the tension ease from his shoulders with every bite, and knew that, for now, this was enough. You couldn't fight his battles for him or chase away his nightmares, but you could give him this: a moment of peace, a taste of home, and the knowledge that he wasn't alone.

"Thank you" Percy said when he was done, his eyes meeting yours with a depth of gratitude that left you breathless.

"You're welcome" you replied, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

And in that moment, with the kitchen still warm from cooking and the night's shadows held at bay, you knew that this—this simple act of making pancakes—was its own kind of magic, the kind that healed, that comforted, that said 'I'm here for you' in a way words never could.

#percy jackson x reader #percy x reader #percy jackson fluff #pjo x reader #percy jackson x you

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pigcowboys · 3 months

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THEEEE

TYSM FOR 300 FOLLOWERS WHAT THE FUCK 😭😭😭💗💗

(haha this is reminding me i need to start posting more. . .)

more content coming soon hopefully!! 🫶🫶

#percy jackson #tysm!!!

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pigcowboys · 3 months

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THIS WAS SO GOODDD 😭😭🙏🙏

☆ BACK TO THE OLD HOUSE

percy jackson is a nuisance. a nuisance you have always been fond of, some way, somehow. (5.6k)

contains: percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite! reader. post tlo (spoilers). kind of melancholy but it gets better (kind of). book percy.

kashaf’s note: guess whos alive!

TO QUESTION, to ponder, to seek out the gods is sacrilegious. the gods preferred their divinity to be kept strictly within the confines of worship — whether by completing their ‘menial’ tasks or by committing sacrifices, they, in their infinite wisdom, are not allowed to be objected to.

“so, my mom’s a god? of love?”

you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, and mentally counted to three. opening your eyes, you make eye contact with the newest addition to camp, and your newest responsibility. bruised and scuffed, the poor kid blinks back at you confusedly as you mull your options. “yes, and no,” you decide.

“our mom’s a goddess, and love is just the most common of her jurisdictions.”

the new camper looks around the cabin, taking it in, you follow their gaze, lingering on the painted swans on the wall behind you, and bouncing to the pearls adorning the vanity, littered with various seashell trays holding gold jewelry (the first time you had entered these very walls, your throat had tightened at the pure ostentatiousness of it all).

they glance back at you, confused. you sighed again, “yes, our mom is the goddess of love.”

“oh.”

the candles residing in conches flicker as if waiting to pass judgment, and silence blankets you and the new camper once more (this is potentially your fiftieth time attempting to explain the same concept, yet you’re no better at it than when you first started — shaking and solemn).

needless to say, it’s more than just difficult to explain this tacit rule to new campers — after whatever tragic event transpired for them to realize that the greek gods of myth and legend indeed exist, they simply don’t have the mental capacity to learn the unspoken rules of the whole being a demigod thing.

you could be warmer, somehow, you suppose, with your mother being the goddess of love and all — in all honesty, you’re still not sure how you became the aphrodite cabin counselor, over selina (the entirety of camp half-blood’s favorite daughter of aphrodite) but the counselorship would have ended up in your hands anyway, after everything (the sight of her once-beautiful face as she coughed up blood in clarisse’s lap swims across your memories).

you pinched the bridge of your nose again, sighing as the candles snuffed out all at once of their own accord (judgment has been passed), “take the empty bed in the corner, we get up at like the ass crack of dawn so you might wanna catch up on your sleep.”

you watched the kid sit on the bed (looking every bit out of place as you did when you first arrived amidst the sheer indulgence the cabin is), and you can’t help but feel a pang in your chest as the child (the entire camp is full of children, but the vast majority of you have never gotten the chance to be the children that you are) stared wide-eyed at posters of movie stars, like tristan mclean, adorning the walls.

with one last glance and forlorn smile at the kid, you walked out of your cabin, your expression hardening at the sight of other campers. the walk to the arena is a short yet bleak one, in the silence you can hear drew’s screaming ringing in your ear (drew is preferable to hearing your other half-siblings, ethan, or even luke; drew is alive).

in the middle of the sword-fighting lesson being taught, you slipped into the arena, undetected for the most part except for the pair of sea-green eyes trained on your figure as you came and stood next to him, clearly hanging back.

“this is usually your shit, jackson,” you say, ignoring how pitiful your racing heart is, and watching clarisse at the helm, steam blowing out of her ears as new campers fell over themselves trying to parry and block with wooden swords.

percy turns to look at you, and from the corner of your eye, you can sense the storm brewing across his face. “maybe i’m not the attention whore you think i am,” he snorts, and there is a small trace of bile in his voice, but you don’t focus on that.

instead, your face burns at the memory of your last argument after you dove in front of ethan’s knife (you still wince when you remember the way his visible eye widened when he realized it was you who caught the blow), and percy’s bitterness as will patched you up, what the fuck is wrong with you, you could’ve gotten yourself killed.

and your weak but indignant reply, i literally saved your life, asshole. are you that much of an attention-whore that you need to be the one on their deathbed right now?

“i’d say you kind of are,” you say, turning to meet his gaze (for a brief, stupid, second you wonder if somehow he was a son of zeus because of how the air suddenly became charged with electricity), arms folding across your chest. “the whole making the gods pay child support is a bit attention-whore-esque.”

percy laughed, a sound you and the other campers haven’t heard in a while (it’s different from before but it is still a sound that in your weaker moments, you admit to craving to hear). “someone had to do it,” he says, sobering up immediately.

“luke tried,” you whispered (the name is still taboo around camp), shivering as you felt percy stiffen beside you. a beat passes and the resulting silence is suffocating.

percy offers you a sad, tight smile before walking out of the arena. you watch him go with a strange pain in your chest and a longing for the before, the laughter leaping across the sun-drenched strawberry fields, the joking i told you so’s during meals, and the softness of the campfire sing-a-longs.

it’s hard not to blame the gods, for that is blasphemy, but on most nights, you find yourself uttering your mother’s name with a tangible acidity, and you find that you’re not alone in this sentiment. the once-reverent echoes of aphrodite, promise me true love, promise me victory, promise me beauty, have now faded to lifeless whispers — formalities instead of prayers.

even your own prayers are different now, you pray for the sea — if your mother is allowed to be ambiguous with her gifts (curses) then she must expect the same ambiguity in your prayers in return. when you’re done half-heartedly muttering your prayers and sacrificing your food, your gaze meets a familiar pair of sea-green eyes across the campfire, glowing like a beacon in the dark.

standing up, you find drew, looking every bit as perfect as ever. you lean down to whisper, “lights out at eleven, i’ll be back.”

drew nods, squeezing your hand before she begins herding the rest of your half-siblings back to your cabin, solemn and toneless (an empty shell compared to the once vibrant and snarky drew from before).

the walk to the beach is silent, although you know that you’re being followed — you didn’t survive the war being complacent. when you finally do arrive, the mysterious figure reveals himself in the moonlight (again, you’d be a fool to not recognize the son of poseidon’s careful footsteps).

percy looks every bit of a character straight out of a tragic romance novel that your mother probably inspired, and again your heart squeezes painfully at the sight of him — under the scars and the jaded attitude, he is still the same percy jackson with stars in his eyes when he first introduced you to his mother.

“why do the naiads call you that?” percy asks abruptly, tilting his head to the side as if studying you as he approaches.

barely audible accusations of apatu’ria bubble at the surface of the lake like seafoam; the whispers have followed you since you arrived at camp, and you have never known why.

“call me what?” you ask, feigning ignorance as iterations of deceitful replay across your mind.

percy blinks, confused, “isn’t your mother related to the sea somehow? don’t you know they call you apatu’ria?”

you fiddle with the gold bracelet on your wrist (a gift from selina), percy’s gaze follows the movement as you hesitate. “well, yeah, like i know what it means but i don’t know why they call me that.”

percy shrugged, shoving his hands into the pocket of his jeans. “they call me ‘prosklystios’ a lot,” he said (in the way that he knows you, better than you know yourself).

“so what, we’re just reduced to epithets of our parents? what an honor,” you mumbled sarcastically, staring out at the lake, watching its surface ripple as the accusations grew more fervent. you paid it no mind however, the burden of being a daughter of aphrodite had already claimed its weight on your shoulders.

“careful,” percy sighed, his gaze focusing on you instead of the water, “might’ve just won a war but that won’t stop either of us from being smited if big guy in the sky thinks we’re being impertinent.”

distant thunder rumbled overhead as if proving his point.

“speak for yourself, pretty boy,” you say, eyes looking toward the firmament littered with stars, incognizant of your admission, “if i got the gods to basically pay child support without being sent to tartarus, i would do whatever the fuck i wanted.”

percy being percy, of course, did not register that last bit of your sentence, a shit-eating grin forming across his face, a slight red hue tinging his cheeks, “you think i’m pretty.”

you turn to look at him, ignoring how your heart hammers at the way he’s smiling down at you, you roll your eyes. “percy,” you say slowly. “my mom is the goddess of love, everyone’s gorgeous in her eyes.”

“yeah, but not everyone’s gorgeous in your eyes.”

gods, he was so aggravating but the way his eyes twinkled and the genuine elation on his face almost made you admit defeat.

you crossed your arms over your chest, narrowing your eyes at him, “this is why i never compliment you, you always let it go to your head.”

“aw, c’mon, you love me for it though,” percy says, still grinning widely, his unruly black hair falling into place perfectly.

“you’re an actual attention-whore,” you say, spinning around on your heels and trekking across the sand, leaving percy alone to stare out at the water. you walk back to camp, ignoring percy’s calls of wait punctuated by his laughter as he jogs up behind you.

“i hope mr. d catches you out past curfew and the harpies eat you,” you say deadpan, once percy has caught up to you.

“you’d miss me too much and would come to be my hero, again,” percy smirks at you, following along as you head toward aphrodite cabin (you’re secretly very glad for his presence, you hate walking around camp when it’s this deserted — the memories that you tried so desperately to bury try to claw their way to the surface).

“just because i caught a knife for you, once, does not mean that i’ll ever do it again,” you say, folding your arms across your chest as you stand outside the door of your cabin. “getting stabbed is not a ten out of ten experience.”

percy softens, his impish grin still there, but the intensity of his gaze is enough to make you melt, “good, can’t have you dying on me.”

you snorted, “even if i did die, i’d tell nico to raise my ghost so i could haunt you forever.”

percy’s still smiling, his eyes are still soft, and he’s so close to you right now. “go out with me,” he says, suddenly, earnestly.

blood rushes to your ears. “what?” you blinked, staring at him as if he’d grown another head.

percy shrugged, leaning forward to press a feather-light kiss to the crown of your head. you barely registered the action in your mind, trying to regain your ability to form coherent sentences as you watched him. percy looked away from your questioning gaze. “better go before the harpies eat me,” he said before jogging in the direction of his cabin.

he leaves you standing in front of your cabin door, frozen in shock for another five minutes, before you shake it off, and head inside, convincing yourself that you had imagined the entire encounter. the familiar scent of jasmine envelops you as you linger in the doorway. drew is still awake on her bed, her back pressed against the wall and her head in her arms. she doesn’t bother to look up at your entry until you’re sat next to her, curling an arm around her bony shoulders and pulling her into an embrace.

the two of you sit in silence as drew attempts to calm her heartbeats to sync with yours, her head resting on your shoulder as you rub soothing circles into the planes of her shoulder. you fall asleep in a tangled mess of limbs, a desperate attempt to close the gaping hole selina left in her wake. this is sisterhood, you think when you wake up and drew’s head weighs like lead on your shoulder.

the bright morning does little to assuage your burdens — you know it’s going to be a long day as soon as you hear campers giggling. rule number one of being a camp counselor: no matter how benign, giggling is the number one sign of trouble.

you took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before turning to the younger half of your half-siblings currently in the process of attempting arts and crafts. “what the fuck do you guys keep giggling about?”

your half-siblings only giggle harder.

after what seemed like eons, the new camper finally comes up to you — a kid no older than eight, who motions for you to bend down before they begin stage-whispering in your ear, “is percy jackson your boyfriend?”

you immediately feel scandalized, jerking away like you’ve been burned, “no, who said that?”

(when you’re being lulled to sleep by the sound of drew’s imperceptible snoring in your ear, your subconscious spends its time lingering, dwelling on could’ve been’s, and should’ve been’s, the obsession as stubborn as when you refused to believe that percy had actually died on mount st helens.)

the kid continues to smile ‘innocently’, “everyone says that you guys hold hands at campfires.”

sudden flashes of percy’s unyielding grip on your hand and his broad smile, as he forced you into a sing-a-long with him, rise to the forefront of your mind, but that was before — when annabeth still had a steely look in her eyes, when travis and connor’s antics still garnered laughs from everyone (and a rare amused glance from mr. d). now (the after), there is no such jocularity, and percy is kept at arm’s length, reduced to offering you sad smiles across the campfire.

“we do not hold hands at campfires,” you say, struggling to keep the disdain out of your voice.

“but there’s a ‘we’,” the kid says, scrutinizing you up and down.

you have to mentally count to three so that you don’t end up arguing with a literal child (it’s not a great way to prove that your sanctity is still intact). “there’s no we.”

the kid shrugs in an if you say so gesture, giving you one last weirdly knowing look before turning back to their arts and crafts. a weighty silence settles, punctuated only by the sounds of scissors and rustling papers.

stares and loud whispers follow you around camp, more so than usual for an aphrodite kid — clarisse finds you in the midst of it all, lost in thought when her cabin is supposed to be pulverizing apollo cabin at volleyball, a sharp glint in her eye.

“you’d tell if me you were dating prissy, right?” she says, her hand faintly closing around your elbow, pulling you out of your reverie.

“what are you talking about?” you say, eyebrows raising in shock. this wasn’t your first rodeo — just before the war this summer, camp gossip had credited you to be going out with connor stoll, but this was different. clarisse was the fifth person today who had asked you if you were dating percy.

“so you are dating him?” clarisse looks offended, or well, as offended as clarisse can be, “and you didn’t tell me.”

you can feel eyes on you, watching your every move as other campers subtly pause their activities to listen in.

“clarisse,” you say slowly, reaching out to hold her forearms and looking her in the eye, “i’m not dating percy.” when she opens her mouth to interrupt, you add, “and i would definitely tell you if i was.”

clarisse exhales, shooting you a disbelieving look, but mercifully leaving you alone with a quiet, “okay.”

you know what she’s thinking, so you offer her a taut smile, patting her on her shoulder as you brush past her. you headed toward the lake, with a feeling that you’d find the answers you were searching for.

the lake is empty except for one solitary figure on the sand, facing the horizon with his hands in his pockets. you hang back for a minute or two, taking in the sight of percy with his eyes closed, and the peaceful look on his face.

a grin settled across his face as he addressed you, his eyes still closed, “i know you think i’m pretty, you don’t have to stare to prove it.”

you ignored his words, and he opened his eyes to watch you angrily march across the sand to stand face to face with him.

“are you the reason why everyone thinks we’re seeing each other?”

“yeah, why?”

to say that you’re taken aback is an understatement — you had anticipated some more denial but this was unexpected. and sudden.

you jab a finger at his chest, “everyone’s getting the wrong idea, so you need to stop whatever it is you’re doing like right now.”

“but they could have the right idea,” percy says, looking amused.

your heart scrapes painfully against your chest, “what the fuck are you talking about?”

“we could be dating, forreal,” percy says, excruciatingly slow, elongating each word.

the earth stops spinning on its axis for a minute, and time seems to freeze — for a split second you worry kronos has risen again before you calm your racing heartbeat and exhale slowly.

“i need you to be so forreal right now,” you say, your eyebrows furrowing.

“i’m being so deadass right now.”

“no, you’re not,” you say, turning and walking away. your heart squeezes pitifully in your chest, as you call out, “find me when you stop joking,” before leaving him alone on the shore.

when percy approaches you again, you think he’s finally come back to his senses, though a weaker, more primitive urge inside you hopes that he hasn’t (it’s for the better, you try and fail to convince yourself).

he interrupts your conversation with drew (though the two of you weren’t doing much talking), smiling charmingly at her before asking if he could steal you away for a minute during breakfast. drew shot you a concerned look, waiting for your reassuring smile before assenting.

“you’ve come to your senses?” you ask after percy leads you away from the mess hall.

“i’ve always had my senses, thank you very much,” percy grins.

you roll your eyes, trying not to smile, “oh yeah, i could totally tell when you played rock, paper, scissors with a hundred-handed one last summer.”

“hey,” percy says, throwing his hands up in the air defensively, “i won that one.”

“on a gamble,” you countered, smiling (you missed this, missed him, and the feeling that everything will be alright enduring).

“not the point.”

“then what is?”

“go out with me,” he repeats, sudden, and earnest.

your heart stuttered pitifully. “not this again,” you sighed.

“why not?”

“why?”

“you know why,” percy tries to make eye contact with you. still, you avoid his gaze, watching the other campers heading into the mess hall give the two of you weird looks.

“no, i don’t,” you say firmly, before walking away, ignoring his protests, leaving behind a group of onlookers that you could care less about, and percy, who was staring at the spot you had just been standing in.

you returned to your cabin, to the familiar jasmine scent and pearl adornments, and promptly collapsed on your bed. more than anything, you just wanted your mother. you wanted your mother to smooth out your hair as you cried, offer you advice, and get rid of the stupid curse.

the door opens quietly and you immediately sit up, dabbing at your face and hoping that your eyes haven’t turned red and swollen already. drew shut the door gently behind her, her expression softening the slightest fraction at the sight of you.

“do i look that bad?” you ask, trying not to sniffle (and failing miserably).

a whirlwind of emotions cross drew’s face and you manage a watery grin. “okay, y’know what, don’t tell me then.”

drew sits next to you on the bed, handing you a box of tissues, “wasn’t planning to.”

the two of you sit shoulder to shoulder as she lets you have a minute to clean up before going straight for the jugular. “i heard what happened.”

you laughed, a choking noise that dissolved into weak coughing. drew patted your back. “so, the entire camp knows now?”

“no,” she says, before changing her mind, “well, yeah.”

“great,” you groaned, “my life is so over.”

drew tensed, tearing her gaze from the posters of hot people on the wall, to look at you, her brown eyes ablaze with fury and her silver earrings (also a gift from silena) jangle, “shut up, you’re the senior counselor of aphrodite cabin, and they’re all losers unworthy of your time. your life so isn’t over.”

(this is the drew from before, the drew that comes and goes in flashes so sudden that you try to piece her together like a puzzle that never seems to connect.)

“the curse,” you say, your throat tight.

drew’s eyes widen imperceptibly, her blue eyeshadow sparkling in the candlelit cabin, before her expression settles into a scowl. “what about the gift?” her voice sharpens as she stresses the last word, sparing the smallest glance toward the roof of the cabin.

you can’t continue, and you don’t have to — she knows what it is that you’re thinking of (she always has, from the minute you met her, two cold and shaking children alone in the dark).

she shakes her head emphatically. “silena,” her voice chokes, before dropping to a whisper, “silena left us — you can’t leave us too.”

“i know,” you whisper back, your eyes filling with tears. “i know.”

“oh, honey,” drew says sympathetically, drawing you into her arms, and smoothing your hair away from your face as you let out a sob against her shoulder. “break his heart,” she says.

“i can’t,” you mumble.

“you have to. he��ll die if you don’t, and a broken heart is better than dying.”

“i can’t do that to him, he’s so unbelievably good, drew, he deserves everything and more.”

“ignoring how ridiculously sappy that sounded, look at what happened to beckendorf,” you pretend not to notice how drew stumbles through his name (he looked at silena as if she had personally hung the stars in the night sky), “maybe he wouldn’t have gotten over it, but he would’ve been alive.”

you remember how silena had proudly said she was going to put an end to the archaic rite of passage your cabin was infamous for around camp; beautiful, idealistic silena with stars in her eyes (who liked beckendorf to the point she’d blush profusely at the mention of his name), who had no idea that this would all come crashing down around her some short months later.

at your silence, drew continues, still stroking your hair, “look, not to make this harder, but even i’ll admit jackson’s one of those guys you meet once in a lifetime—”

“thanks, drew, that was really helpful,” you interrupt, chuckling dryly.

“oh, shut up, i had a point,” drew says, swatting your shoulder playfully.

you sigh, letting her continue.

“so, like i was saying before i was so rudely interrupted, because jackson’s one of those once-in-a-lifetime type of guys—” here, you coughed pointedly, making drew glare at you before continuing, “—you should be like more willing to see him happy and like living a long ass life because you’re so in love with him.”

“so what, either i reject him and ruin our friendship irreversibly or we date and i break his heart and ruin our friendship irreversibly, or we date and i don’t break his heart and he dies tragically and there’s a possibility that i die tragically too?”

drew shrugged, making a tiny braid in your hair, “pretty much.”

you turned your head in her lap to look her in the eye, “how are you so apathetic about this?”

“someone has to be because you’re not thinking this through rationally.”

you groaned, “aphrodite has to hate us.” (you haven’t called her ‘mom’ genuinely except to her face during the winter solstices.)

“no, she lives for this kind of thing,” drew rolled her eyes, braiding another piece of your hair, “she definitely thinks she’s doing us a favor.”

you groaned again, “what if i just avoid him until summer ends and he goes back to school and forgets this happened.”

“i didn’t think love made you this stupid,” drew says, amused.

“shut up, i can’t wait until you have the same dilemma, and you’re the one asking for advice.”

“doubt it,” drew says, wryly.

you rolled your eyes, “okay, but what if i tell him about the ‘gift’,” you make air-quotes, “and let him decide?”

“yeah, but what if that just makes it backfire and makes you die tragically either way.”

“well, at least he’ll know about the possibility? it’s better than just being like ‘oh i can’t date you even though i’ve liked you since i was twelve’ with like zero explanation whatsoever.”

you hear muffled footsteps coming from outside of the cabin, and the door swings open loudly to admit lacy, who looks flustered and out of breath. you and drew quickly sprang up off your bed at her arrival.

“your boyfriend’s asking for you,” she says, looking at you.

drew raises her eyebrows at you, an unspoken are you going to see him? behind it.

you furrowed your eyebrows back at her, conveying no, shut up.

drew shrugged at you as if saying if you say so.

lacy looks between the two of you, confusion apparent before cautiously interrupting, “he’s waiting outside, by the way.”

you panicked at the thought of possibly confronting percy, “lacy, whatever you do, don’t tell him i’m in here.” you paused, “wait, tell him i’m taking a nap or something, please.”

more shuffling noises can be heard from outside, and drew groans, smacking her forehead with her palm, “what is wrong with you?”

you ignored her, focusing on lacy, whose confusion intensified as she looked between the two of you. “tell him i’m sleeping and he should try coming back later.”

she nodded, before opening the door and stepping outside.

drew stared at you, “y’know, i thought people were exaggerating when they said love makes you stupid but after looking at you, they were so right.”

you scowled at drew. she raised her arms in surrender, “just calling it like i see it.”

lacy returned a second later, “um, he wasn’t outside when i went to tell him.”

that was decidedly odd, but you chalked it up to him being busy or something, and shrugged, “i’ll see him later, it’s fine.”

it was actually not fine, because you didn’t see him later. or the next day. or the day after. well, you saw him but you didn’t see him. percy had somehow uncovered a hidden talent for making himself appear everywhere and nowhere all at once. he was there at meals, laughing with tyson or grover, he was at sword fighting practices, leading the class or giving clarisse a partner, he was at campfires, sitting next to annabeth and connor. yet, the minute you tried to approach him, it was almost as if he’d vanish, like an immortal was running interference.

you’ve taken to wandering by the lake on most nights — your only company the voices of silena (go talk to him, her urging is as present as if she was really there, memories of the time the two of you hadn’t been talking for a week resurging) and luke (what’re you doing out this late, kid? a phantom hand reaching out to ruffle your hair, and the feeling of ice being poured down your back envelops you).

as the sun sets, the tall and lanky figure — a figure you could recognize on the darkest nights — stands overlooking the lake in true jay gatsby fashion, his hands dug deep into the pockets of his baggy jeans. you stop and stare for a second (maybe a minute, an hour, time has truly escaped you), and suddenly you’re small and shivering in the dark again.

percy doesn’t look at you when you approach, though he fidgets with his camp necklace.

“hi,” you say, unsure of where to begin.

percy sighs, “look, if you’re here to ask for space, i get it, i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable the other day.” he doesn’t turn to look at you or even glance at you through the corner of his eye once.

“what?” you ask. “what are you talking about?”

“trust me, i get it, you don’t have to try to spare my feelings,” percy says. you want to will him to spare you just a glance. still, he avoids your gaze, focused on the horizon before you. “we’ve been friends for so long, i thought you could be honest with me.”

his words, though not said harshly (percy isn’t capable of being harsh, not to you at least) cut through you like a knife.

“you heard me when i was talking to lacy, then,” you say, with horror as the realization dawns on you slowly.

percy finally looks at you, and the sheer hurt in his iridescent eyes makes you inhale sharply. a lump forms in your throat.

“i did,” he confirms quietly. “why didn’t you say something earlier?”

fighting in a war hadn’t prepared you for man’s greatest folly, something that you, arguably, should’ve been good at. the lump in your throat is difficult to dislodge, yet percy is patient as you swallow uncomfortably.

“i never meant it like that.”

percy’s eyes flash, and you feel sick to your stomach. “have you ever wondered why so many of the other cabins hate us?”

his previously pained expression morphed into a look of confusion. you continued, “in aphrodite cabin, our rite of passage is to break your first love’s heart. silena—” your voice breaks. “—silena tried to put an end to it, and then both she and beckendorf—” you choke up again, and percy’s expression becomes solemn, “died tragically. we didn’t know the consequences of not doing it were real until then, and we realized it was a curse.”

you watch percy seemingly wrestle with his thoughts, taking a step toward you.

“why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” there is no judgment in his voice, yet you still feel embarrassment pooling in your stomach.

“can you honestly tell me that you’re okay with this? with the gods dictating another aspect of your life?” (somewhere in the back of your mind, you can hear luke’s voice repeating the same sentence.)

“you didn’t ask for this either.”

“it’s not our job to question them,” you say, trying not to let a tear slip.

“maybe we should,” percy says, still looking straight at you.

“careful,” you say, as thunder rumbled distantly overhead, “this is what luke was saying.”

“i don’t care,” percy says, “if you or i die a tragic death, we’ll just have to go through tartarus.”

he said it so simply, so matter-of-factly that your breath catches in your throat.

“so, you’re okay with this?” you ask, trying to suppress the tinge of hopefulness in your voice.

percy looked at you in disbelief, his face was so earnest, “why wouldn’t i be?”

you laughed, more out of shock than anything else. percy continued, “i think your mother would think we’d make a cute couple, so maybe she won’t curse us with a tragic end.”

you’re grinning now, tears forgotten, “more like she’ll give us a tragic end because she likes us.”

percy shrugged, “i think we’ll be fine as long as we’re together.”

he kissed you, finally, which was long over-due, and you felt like everything was finally falling into place.

“took you guys long enough.”

you turned around to find the source of the interruption, making eye-contact with clarisse, her arms folded and a smug expression on her face. beside her stands most of your friends, all adorning matching wicked expressions. your heart stops beating for a second before your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“how much of that did you guys hear?” percy asked, suddenly looking bashful.

“most of it,” drew replied with a smirk.

percy looked at you, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement on his face as your friends surrounded the both of you, hoisting you on their shoulders.

“maybe the two of you need to cool off,” annabeth said with a laugh.

connor grinned at her, before calling out, “dump them in the lake!”

you groaned, begging, “annabeth, please.”

“this is payback for all the pining i had to witness over the years,” she said with a laugh.

percy shrugged at you, a grin on his face as if saying accept your fate. you gave in, shaking your head as you laughed at their antics.

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader

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pigcowboys · 3 months

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im a Jason defender till I DIE he did nothing wrong ever.

Character development is opening the lost hero for the first time and thinking “who tf is Jason?” And then years later being obsessed with him and constantly being in the trenches defending him from the fandom

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pigcowboys · 4 months

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Percabeth shippers like to make everything Percy does about Annabeth romantically when no? His life doesn't revolve around her (at least not until Rick butched him in cotg).

Anyways, so here's your daily reminder that, no:

Percy did not reject godhood for Annabeth. He rejected it for himself and to help: all unclaimed demigods, Nico di Angelo, Calypso and Rachel. (Annabeth would have loved to be immortal/a god beside Percy).

Percy did not remember Annabeth because of some stupidly romantic reason; Hera let Percy remember her and used his fatal flaw (personal loyalty) to string him along like a donkey following a carrot to do exactly what she wanted.

Annabeth is not the only one Percy would have gone to Tartarus for. Look me in the eye and tell me he wouldn't have done the same if it was Grover or Sally getting pulled down. He would not have hesitated.

Percy did not drop everything and rush to rescue Annabeth in ttc. There was nothing romantic about that (until Aphrodite crashed the quest, and even then it's questionable). Need I remind you that 1. Percy literally did the same thing for Grover 6 months prior and 2. Percy only left after he got permission from Sally to go.

I can't remember what other BS percabeth stans love to claim, but I'm sure there's more. Lemme know in the tags/comments and I'll add it to the list.

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pigcowboys · 4 months

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THE WRITING?? THE DYNAMICC?!?.! THIS FIC IS SOSOSO GOODDD OMGG 😭😭🙏🙏

☆ AND I KNOW IT’S OVER (STILL I CLING)

percy jackson, who never seems to know when to quit, keeps coming back. (2.9k)

contains: percy jackson x daughter of minor god! reader. post tlo (alt universe - everyone lives). book percy descriptions. apollo (derogatory).

kashaf’s note: book percy descriptions bc that was my first love. (sry if i get some of the words wrong, english isnt my first language pls be patient!!)

SUMMER BURNS. at camp half-blood, the scorching heat has dwindled to soft caresses, from the heat of the fire during sing-alongs where your cabin joins hands and toasts marshmallows to the cool breeze balming the sun’s glare at its zenith in the sprawling strawberry fields. at home, the scorching heat leaves marks — the biker with flames for pupils who clutched an openly bleeding wound as he thrust a first-aid kit at you, and the girl not much older than yourself with tears marring her face as she handed you a pregnancy test to ring up, avoiding your curious (sympathetic) gaze.

however, despite it all — you stand infallible, much like your grandfather’s part convenience store and part pharmacy, a poor man’s family heirloom.

you stand idly, flipping through an edition of seventeen when the rusty door swings open to admit a familiar face — with unruly black hair and an equally reckless grin (you know exactly who it is from the ba-dum of your heartbeat), the infamous son of poseidon (with the same smile as shawn hunter from boy meets world) is easily recognizable.

you glance at the crimson blooming around the crevices of his knuckles, tightly gripping a faded and worn-out skateboard, his scruffy converse squeaking across the tiled floor, raising an eyebrow as you coolly say, “band-aids are in the back, on the right.”

jackson laughs, an all-consuming sound (the wind-blown half-blood hill where apollo seemed to smile down at you, the laughter, like the memory, evanescent), “thanks, doc.”

you discreetly watch him perusing the aisles, before stopping in front of the ancient fridge — your grandfather’s store was something of an 80s pompeii with the peeling posters of back to the future and motley crue and the antiquated maroon and cream color scheme — and pulling out an arizona green tea.

when he finally goes to look for band-aids, you attempt to fix your attention back on the magazine in your hands, but like a moth driven to a flame, percy jackson was unbelievably hard to look away from (a magnet among mortals and immortals alike).

jackson’s hands are on his hips, his tupac t-shirt creasing, thick brows furrowed as he decides between different types of candy with the same intensity as a single mother with two children and a nine-to-five (even in the mortal world, there is something else entirely about him, something that made it so that you could never truly write him off).

when he approaches the register again, it’s hard not to look up and watch his ascent. when he finally does come to a stop in front of you, he looks the same as he did the last summer, though the tiny silver trident earring is new, the camp beads resting peacefully atop his collarbones aren’t.

you ring up his items: a box of band-aids, the arizona green tea, and a pack of blue gummy sharks, looking away from him all the while.

“good to see ya, doc,” jackson says, a wry grin on his face, and his eyes are so green — as green as they were at twelve.

“it’s never good to see you, jackson,” you snark back, reciting his total, “four ninety-five, by the way.”

he laughs again (your heart goes ba-dum again), and hands you a five dollar bill, shoving his things into the seemingly bottomless pockets of his baggy jeans, with a salute on his way out (his turning back was a sight far more innocuous than the last time).

the next time jackson breaks whatever tacit agreement lies between the two of you, your hands are similarly stained. reds and purples line your palms, much like the burgundy seemingly permanently staining your grandmother’s fingertips; the culprit (the bowl of pomegranate seeds) sits innocently beside you.

“back again?” you say, glancing at the familiar scarlet stains adorning jackson’s hands (a familiar blue friendship bracelet sits on his wrist, edges frayed with five years of wear, and there’s a lump in your throat).

“why, did you miss me?” jackson asks, again with that wry grin of his, skateboard in hand.

“you’re the one who came back,” you say, crossing your arms across your chest, willing the constricting feeling to disappear.

“doc, i’m sorry to have to be the one that has to break this to you,” he sighs sympathetically, putting a bleeding hand over his heart, “but the sun doesn’t revolve around you.”

“actually, jackson, the sun kind of does revolve around me, ‘cause y’know apollo, the sun god apollo? my grandpa apollo? my grandpa, the sun god, apollo?”

“going by your logic, that would mean time revolves around me, ‘cause y’know kronos, the time titan kronos? my grandpa kronos? my grandpa, the time titan, kronos?” jackson says, a shit-eating grin on his face as he sets down another band-aid box, an arizona green tea, and a pack of blue gummy sharks on the counter.

“y’know, if you cared this much, you might’ve passed greek,” you say, referring to the progress report cards you were handed at the end of summer.

he shrugged, handing you another five dollar bill, and proceeding to shove everything into his black holes of jean pockets, “yeah, well — wait, are those pomegranates?”

“yeah,” you say, “i peeled them myself — do you want some?”

(your father liked these, your grandmother had said earlier this afternoon, your mother liked to peel them for him, as i peeled them for her, and your grandfather.)

jackson suddenly looked bashful, fidgeting with the hem of his a tribe called quest t-shirt, “i’ve never had pomegranates before,” he confessed.

you blinked, taken aback, “you’re seventeen years old and you’ve never eaten a pomegranate before?” you pushed the china bowl toward him, “now you have to eat it.”

“my mom liked telling me the myths when i was younger,” he begins, setting down his skateboard, and reaching for the spoon before halting, like he was shocked, “she told me about persephone —”

“jackson,” you say, sardonically, leaning over the register to look him in the eye (there was always a storm brewing in his eyes), “i promise you, hades won’t come out of the ground and drag you to the underworld if you eat the pomegranate seeds i peeled.”

“i know what my next sleep paralysis demon is gonna be — thanks to you,” jackson says, looking down at the bowl and its floral blue pattern around the edges, playing with the spoon, and shifting the seeds from side to side.

“percy jackson, i swear to asclepius, you’re missing out on pomegranates,” you say, coming out from behind the register, and looking percy in the eye again, and there is something so earnest, so raw about your next sentence that his breath catches, “and, i swear on the styx, if hades does somehow come out of the ground to drag you down to the underworld, i’ll come down myself to drag you out, even if it’s tartarus.”

a rumble of thunder can be heard overhead despite the clear sky and scalding sun; percy blinks, before breaking out into a slow grin (your stomach seems to grow wings of its own, on the verge of flight.)

“invoking your dad, huh, doc? these pomegranates must be serious,” percy says, finally taking a bite — stepping around the bomb you just dropped.

you watch him intently, studying him as you studied tennyson and homer, “they are that serious.” there is something innocent about the way he eats, starved like every other teenage boy with black holes for stomachs.

“y’know, i can put that into a tupperware container and you can take it with you, right?” you offer.

“really?” percy asks through a mouthful of seeds, looking up from the bowl at you, “won’t you think i’ll steal it or something?”

“not really,” you shrugged, “i trust ms. jackson.”

percy nods solemnly — sally jackson is sally jackson after all, a queen among women, and an achilles of sorts, with her soft smile and steely eyes.

steeling your nerves, this is already the longest conversation you’ve had (ignoring the forever-ago late-night debriefs under a firmament of stars), you step up to the plate and take a swing, “how is she, by the way, haven’t seen her in a while.”

percy swallowed, eyebrows furrowing, “great — oh, wait, did i tell you she was seeing someone new now?”

“no way, really? good for her, honestly. i know, poseidon’s a god and all, but like, she’s always deserved just, so much more.” (you manage to make contact with the change-up thrown your way.)

there is something so sincere about your words, that percy can’t help but grin back, finally reaching the depths of his sea-green eyes, and there is something still so boyish about him, that you can hardly believe any time has passed at all, and that somewhere within this demigod who successfully defeated kronos, while saving luke, there is still a semblance of your percy.

“yeah, the guy, paul blofis, he’s an english teacher — absolutely worships the ground she walks on.”

“sounds perfect for her.”

“you should come over some time — see her, meet paul, y’know,” percy offers, still funneling spoonfuls of pomegranates, meeting your gaze head-on (this is the home run you were waiting on).

you grinned, a slow smile overtaking your face, pushing your hands in the pockets of your jeans, “might just take you up on that, before you change your mind.” (you’re leaving the ball in his hands now; it’s up to him to tag you out or let you reach home base safely.)

“nah, i won’t change my mind, unlike someone else i know.”

you ignore the jab (a smaller, suppressed part of you itches to shoot a reply back), instead choosing to focus on the hesitant hand of friendship being offered — as your father liked to say, keep moving forward.

you shrugged, and you swear, for a second you think the intensity of his gaze has lessened, almost as if disappointed. almost as if mentally shaking it off, percy hands you the china bowl back, empty, running a hand through his shaggy hair with a sheepish grin.

you smiled wryly, glancing down at the bowl and back to his face. “fatass,” you say, affectionately, and then almost freezing, wondering if you somehow overstepped the invisible lines constricting you.

percy laughs — a green light.

“lucky for you, though,” you say, disappearing behind the register for a moment before reappearing with a tupperware container filled with peeled pomegranates, “i peeled more.”

you hold it out to him, and he glances down at your outstretched hand, then at your face, before seemingly making up his mind, and accepting the olive branch, “you’re really committed to seeing my mom, huh?”

“well, obviously — the other alternative would be seeing you, wouldn’t it?”

“aw, c’mon, doc, i know you missed me,” percy says, a bit smug, picking up his skateboard, the tupperware container in his other hand (the one he still wears your bracelet on).

“in your dreams, jackson.” there is a peal of odd laughter in your voice as if you were unused to this kind of jocularity when fumbling over his name.

“in my dreams, we do more than just argue,” percy says, with one last smug smile and salute, before walking out the door, leaving you behind in the worst state of confusion you’ve possibly suffered (percy jackson: 1, you: 0).

(your grandmother admonishes you later that evening as you stand beside her stooped figure at your kitchen counter, peeling pomegranates, you gave the rest of it to that boy, didn’t you? her voice is not scolding, but you feel like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar once more. your immortal grandfather, the nuisance that he is, stands in the doorway, hands in an 80s leather jacket and matching sunglasses, waiting to be welcomed in. in contrast, his son — your father — brushes past him, grumbling, and takes on your grandmother’s burden.)

the analog clock reads ten fifty-five as you start mopping the floor, yawning when the front door swings open with a jingling bell, and a sharp metallic smell wafts into the store.

you whirl around, gripping the mop in your hand as a baseball bat, immediately alert as your demigod reflexes come into play. you physically relax at the sight of percy clutching his side, crimson pooling on the edges of his white t-shirt.

“of course you would attack a man when he’s injured,” percy says with a grin, blood dripping from a gash over his eye (luke had returned to camp some years ago, with a similar scar), and a split lip, collecting like rust on his t-shirt collar.

you scowled, dropping the mop and immediately rushing toward him, your healing instincts kicking in. lifting one of his arms and letting it curl around you, you shouldered him to the register, cringing with every audible wince percy let out.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked, as you sat him on your stool, reaching for the ambrosia and nectar you kept hidden under the counter for emergencies (one could never be too careful).

percy grinned — it came out more of a grimace, “what isn’t wrong with me — that’s the question you should be asking, doc.” he nodded to himself, and then immediately cringed at the action.

you glared at him, shoving an ambrosia square in his mouth, before turning away from him to put antiseptic on cotton pads. “does ms. jackson know you’re here?”

“no?” percy says. you walk over to the fridge, grab a water bottle, unscrew the cap, and drench the part of his t-shirt covered in blood.

“ow? in case you forgot, i’m still injured here, doc?” percy clutches at his side.

“you dumbfuck, your mom is probably worried out of her mind right now,” you say, scowling, stepping closer to percy (he still towers over you, even when sitting down).

“i iris messaged her,” he shrugs, looking at you as you shift even closer to him, cotton pad in your hand, “she just knows i’m with you — pretty relieved at that, dunno why.”

reaching out to grasp his jaw in your hand, you begin dabbing at the bruises on his cheekbones, his eyes fluttering shut as you try to ignore the way his hot breath is fanning across your face right now. “you didn’t tell her what happened?”

percy opened his eyes, staring at you. “no, how could i?” he says, slowly, “you were her favorite — still are, by the way.”

you don’t say anything for a moment — after all, how could you? (sally jackson’s homemade cookies drift to the front of your treacherous mind — the sunny afternoons with her kind voice, and percy’s loutish laughter.)

“you didn’t come to see her,” percy says, the statement not accusatory, his eyes fluttering shut again (you try not to let the way his eyelashes sit so prettily distract you) as you dab at the gash over his eye.

“i didn’t think i was welcome,” you say gruffly, turning away to grab bandages. “after everything.”

while the deeper wounds have eased into far easier, superficial ones, you still make sure to wrap and bandage everything — percy had a penchant for getting into trouble (one that you knew all too well), so it was the least you could do.

“i just told you that you were welcome, last time i was here, didn’t i?” percy says, an accusation.

“yeah, well, it was hardly an invitation was it?” you say, turning away from him, packing your supplies up.

“doc, you didn’t even come to take your tupperware back.”

you ignore him, moving to walk away when his hand is enclosed around your wrist (the hand that wears your blue friendship bracelet), tugging you around to face him.

percy’s standing up now, his green eyes looking more like a swirling storm with each passing second — he still hasn’t let your wrist go.

“what do you want from me?” you ask, trying to snatch your hand back from him, to no avail — his grip is ironclad.

“i can’t let you walk away with your back turned to me again,” he says (the dim, lantern-lit night comes back into focus, and you wonder if you were too consumed by your own pride, if you had just turned around, if you had just stayed).

you realize too late that tears are pricking in the corners of your eyes, and you manage to successfully wrench your hand out of his grasp, a watery, sarcastic laugh escaping, “you’re a couple years too late, asshole.”

“i know that,” percy says, earnest, reaching out to cup your cheek, and wipe a stray tear (the action stuns you into paralysis), “but i miss you, and my mom misses you, and she hasn’t gotten off my case about you, yet.”

the thought of tender-hearted sally jackson scolding percy is an amusing one, and draws a laugh out of you against your will (percy’s smile grows a little brighter, and asclepius knows you’ve never been able to resist that smile of his), “i’ll come over for ms. jackson, not you.”

percy’s smile is even wider now (his hand is still ghosting your cheek), “same thing.”

“shut up,” you say swatting at his shoulder, trying to duck out from under his arms.

percy avoids your attempts to escape him, instead latching onto your hand, and pulling you out of the store. “c’mon, she’s expecting us for dinner.”

you let out an incredulous laugh, and let yourself be dragged out anyway (you would follow this boy anywhere, even to the depths of tartarus).

(your grandmother watches from the apartment window above the store, a soft smile gracing her lined features.)

#percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson fluff

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