1-800-writersblock

[1-800-writersblock]

can we as a society bring back complimenting writers on their work bc I’ve noticed recently that there seems to be a drought of people giving these hard-working writers the recognition they deserve and honestly as a writer myself, it gives me a lot of motivation when people send me love on my work & helps me get closer with my readers which I love because feedback is very important and I love making new friends!! :)

[1-800-writersblock]

OP I think we’re brain twins

I feel seen

when jason grace kisses he gets so excited he accidentally gives you an electric shock, send post.

[1-800-writersblock]

normalise being a teenage girl with an unhealthy obsession with the x reader tag

[1-800-writersblock]

clark kent and jason grace are the same person in my head. i love my men sweet guys with glasses.

[1-800-writersblock]

This is me reading this btw:

❝ Awkward is Right... right? ❞ ― j. grace

warnings: cuddling. bf ! jason. kind of awkward jason. reader's pov. it’s actually fluff with sexual/awkward tension. camp jupiter.

words count: 1108. short.

WE HADN'T PLANNED TO fall asleep like this. Honestly, I wasn’t sure Jason ever planned to fall asleep around anyone—especially not curled up on a couch that was way too small for his broad shoulders, blankets tangled around us, the fire in the hearth throwing shadows across the room.

It had been a long week. Being praetor looked good on him—gold armor, Roman discipline, the weight of expectations—but it was exhausting too. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but I saw it in the way his shoulders stayed tense even when he laughed, the way his eyes always scanned for danger even in moments of quiet.

So when he showed up at my door, hair wind-tousled and eyelids heavy, mumbling something about just needing a minute, I didn’t ask questions. I just let him in. Small talk, kissing and two shared blankets later, he was half-asleep behind me, body relaxed in a way it never was during the day.

I tried not to move. I really did. But my arm was dead asleep and my leg was at that weird angle that felt like it was seconds from cramping, so I shifted—just a little.

Bad idea.

The moment I pressed back into him, I realized how close we actually were. His arm was draped over my waist, his chest warm against my back, and now my hips were—oh gods—pressed right up against his.

I froze.

So did he.

For a second, all I could hear was his breathing, soft and slow against the back of my neck. Then a tiny, almost imperceptible gasp slipped from him, like his body had registered the contact before his brain had. His grip on my waist tightened reflexively, and his face nuzzled deeper into the curve where my neck met my shoulder, like he was trying to hide. Or pretend this wasn’t happening.

“Um,” he murmured, voice hoarse with sleep, lips brushing my skin accidentally—or maybe not entirely accidentally. “You, uh... you good?”

I wasn’t sure if he meant physically or emotionally, but neither answer was simple.

I tried to shift again, awkwardly trying to create space, but he groaned—actually groaned—and muttered, “Stop squirming.” His voice was muffled against my skin, low and scratchy and a little too intimate for someone who definitely did not mean to sound that intimate.

“Or I’m gonna—” he cut himself off, jaw tensing. “Just. Don’t move, okay?”

His whole body was stiff behind me now, in every possible way, and I knew—knew—he was very awake.

So was I.

And neither of us knew what to do about it.

The silence stretched between us, thick and a little too loud, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire and the thudding of my heart. I wasn’t breathing normally. I couldn’t. Not with the feel of his hand still splayed on my waist like he didn’t know where else to put it. Not with how his nose was still tucked against my neck, and I could feel—feel—his breath catch every few seconds like he was overthinking even that.

I should’ve said something. Moved. Laughed it off. Anything.

But instead, I just lay there, entirely still, hyper-aware of every inch of contact between us, waiting to see if he’d pretend to fall asleep again.

He didn’t.

“Okay,” he blurted, voice still low but absolutely panicked now. “Okay, that—that wasn’t on purpose.”

I blinked. “You sure?”

His hand jerked back from my waist like I’d burned him. He nearly rolled off the cot trying to put space between us, knocking into the edge of the wooden bunk behind him with a dull thud.

“Yeah! I mean—no! I mean, I wasn’t—I wasn’t trying to...” He trailed off, running a hand through his mess of blond hair, eyes wide and horrified like he’d just committed a war crime instead of accidentally spooning me too enthusiastically.

I sat up slowly, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders, mostly to avoid the awkward stare we’d inevitably have to share. “It’s fine, Jason. I didn’t think you were, like... assaulting me.”

His eyes went even wider. “Gods, no! I—of course not—I would never—”

“I know!” I said quickly, trying not to laugh. “I was joking. Relax.”

He stared at me, mouth open, a soft pink flush creeping up the back of his neck. Then, finally, he let out a long breath and dropped his head into his hands.

“Can I go back to pretending I’m asleep?” he muttered through his fingers.

I bit back a smile. “Only if you promise not to threaten me again.”

“I didn’t mean to threaten you,” he groaned. “I was tired.”

“You said, and I quote, ‘Stop squirming or I’m gonna—’ and then you just left it there.” I tilted my head. “What exactly were you gonna do, Grace?”

He made a strangled noise, then dramatically flopped back down on the cot, arm thrown over his eyes like the most dramatic Roman demigod in existence.

“Please let lightning strike me,” he mumbled to the ceiling. “Right now. Just—boom. Gone.”

I lay back beside him, careful to leave a bit of space this time, but not too much. Close enough that our shoulders still brushed, and I could feel the heat radiating off his skin.

“You could just say you like cuddling, you know,” I offered gently. “It’s not illegal. Even for praetors.”

He groaned again. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely between us. “Be... normal. Close. Not completely weird about it.”

I turned my head, watching him through the firelight. His cheeks were still flushed, hair sticking out in about six different directions, shirt rumpled from sleep and nerves. But his eyes—when he finally looked at me again—were warm, and unsure, and honest in that Jason Grace kind of way.

“You’re doing fine,” I said softly.

He blinked.

“You’re awkward, yeah,” I added. “But endearingly so. Very Roman. Very noble.”

“I think that was an insult.”

“It was not.”

Jason stared at me a beat longer. Then, very slowly, he shifted back onto his side and reached out—hesitantly, carefully—resting his hand just barely on my arm.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I’m, uh... going back to sleep now. For real this time.”

“Mhm,” I hummed, turning my face into the pillow to hide the grin spreading across my lips. “Sure you are.”

And this time, when he settled behind me again, face pressed against my neck and breath slow and steady, I didn’t move.

And neither did he.

STORMY: sooo, weekly comeback? just jason fluff featuring him being an awkward boyfriend because I love him, like... he’s so dreamy *giggles*. Oh, and a poor attempt at reader pov lol.

masterlist. here reqs info. here

[1-800-writersblock]

do you think you could ragebait raf by doing the sharks are smooth bit

well, anon. i did try!

[1-800-writersblock]

Headcanon that children of Zeus (and Jupiter) get twitchy when they get an intense emotion

Like they get Really Excited™️ about something they like and just start twitching uncontrollably

Or they get Really Pissed Off™️ and start twitching with little lightning zaps (or big lightning zaps depending on how angry) coming from their fingertips/fists to the ground

[1-800-writersblock]

It’s my 18th today and I’m getting that familiar urge to put “mdni” in every bio I have just for the plot

[1-800-writersblock]

Chat I’m gonna be done with my Percy e2l fic soon, send in requests for Luke 🤭

This post tells what I will and won’t write. Don’t see something? Send in an ask!

[1-800-writersblock]

Legally you can’t make a Percy Jackson related playlist without adding riptide. Yea sorry. It’s law. If you don’t, Rick takes you to the labyrinth and lets the Minotaur eat you.

[1-800-writersblock]

How I feel after skipping past all the smut in a fanfic cause I’m only in the mood for fluff

[1-800-writersblock]

Followed!! :D

Book!Percy Jackson x daughter of hades! reader ; enemies to lovers where after the titan war, they kiss and make up? (LOTS OF PINING IF YOU CAN!!)) Have a great day!

Omg this req is so old… I’m SO SORRY I completely forgot about it 😭 if ur still interested I will, in fact, be working on it tonight and hopefully posting soon. I’ll def tag u and link it here too cus oml I feel so bad 😭

[1-800-writersblock]

Omg?? It worked?????? We need to be best friends literally no one else I know has read TKC

Book!Percy Jackson x daughter of hades! reader ; enemies to lovers where after the titan war, they kiss and make up? (LOTS OF PINING IF YOU CAN!!)) Have a great day!

Omg this req is so old… I’m SO SORRY I completely forgot about it 😭 if ur still interested I will, in fact, be working on it tonight and hopefully posting soon. I’ll def tag u and link it here too cus oml I feel so bad 😭

[1-800-writersblock]

I was mid book 1 when I had to turn it back in to qualify for graduation 😖💔

ngl I think Sadie was my fav!

I gotta find somewhere to read it cus I can’t go forever without reading it😔

Book!Percy Jackson x daughter of hades! reader ; enemies to lovers where after the titan war, they kiss and make up? (LOTS OF PINING IF YOU CAN!!)) Have a great day!

Omg this req is so old… I’m SO SORRY I completely forgot about it 😭 if ur still interested I will, in fact, be working on it tonight and hopefully posting soon. I’ll def tag u and link it here too cus oml I feel so bad 😭

[1-800-writersblock]

"still?" "always."

Finnick Odair x hijacked!reader who asks what's real or not real [2k words]

summary: a District Thirteen reunion story heavily inspired by the brilliant @ervotica's fic 'a life of our own' & @/ilguna's 'hijacked'! Reader was tortured much like Peeta was into fearing Finnick, finding her playing the game 'real or not real'

CW: fem!reader, discussion of past torture [not described], reader tortured into believing Finnick did abhorrent and disgusting things to her [not described], medical personnel acting as villains sort of, hurt/comfort, hopeful/open ending

Finnick drummed his fingers against the paperback book that he brought with him to your hospital room every day which acted as nothing more than a glorified prop. 

Routine was a word that came to dictate much of Finnick’s life recently; stability. Ritualized schedules were the norm in District Thirteen. But more importantly, routine, stability, and ritualized schedules were deemed necessary and important to your recovery. 

Thus, Finnick drummed his fingers against the paperback book - the same paperback book - that he brought with him to your hospital room every day - at the exact same time - which acted as nothing more than a glorified prop. 

He’d been following more or less the same routine ever since you’d been rescued from the Capitol a few weeks ago, though Finnick could admit visiting you felt slightly better now than it had in the beginning. 

The beginning had been nothing short of heartbreaking for him. The beginning had been nothing short of torturous for you. 

There’d been a hunch in place of hard evidence that the lot of you were being tortured in the Capitol, though to what extent no one knew. And absolutely no one was prepared for what awaited them by the time the three of you were safe in District Thirteen.

Peeta had promptly tried to off Katniss which was very off brand of him; Johanna’s head had been shaved, she was emaciated, and had a plethora of evidence of gruesome physical torture, and you…

You weren’t filled with the same loathing, hatred, and disgust that Peeta seemed to carry for Katniss. No, you were completely and utterly terrified. 

Medics had to sedate you when Finnick rushed into the room upon hearing of your arrival because you’d thrown yourself against the wall so violently you’d split your head open, then nearly ripped your nails clean off your fingers in your desperation to open a locked door in an attempt to escape from him. And if that hadn’t been devastating enough, the sounds of your guttural screams and desperate cries caused by him still haunted many of Finnick’s nightmares.

Finnick had been hesitant to return to you after that; he didn’t want to ever cause you that much distress again. 

Haymitch tried to reason with him; Finnick wasn’t the one causing you this much distress, it was the Capitol. The medics tried to reason with him; it was to be considered exposure therapy, they hoped that - over time - as you regained some familiarity and comfort with him and worked through your memories and trauma with the doctors that you’d start to remember.

He reluctantly agreed. So, he was horrified when, the first day he returned, you’d been strapped down to your bed in preparation for his meeting. 

“This is sick!” He’d shouted at the medics as he gestured at your current state. “This isn’t exposure therapy, this is torture!”

“Mr. Odair, the hope is that once she begins to realize there’s no need to fight or run, we’ll be able to take the restraints off.” One of them explained in a bored manner. 

“Fuck whatever you’re hoping for! You’re torturing her; she’s not going to feel any safer here than she did in the Capitol!” 

They’d tried calling after him, but he simply looked over at you and offered a pathetic “I’m sorry, honey” that you probably hadn’t heard over your own desperate wails before he fled.

The next day he returned, you hadn’t been strapped down, but you had been heavily medicated with some kind of sedative before his arrival. He swallowed around the bile in his throat as he took a seat in one of the chairs, pretended to read his book and tried his hardest to ignore the extremely wary and haunted gaze that stayed glued to his side for the entirety of his visit. 

The third visit went much the same, except about halfway through his scheduled ‘visit’, he noticed that your eyes seemed to fall extremely heavy. 

“Are you tired, sweetheart?” He murmured quietly, though you would have thought he’d screamed at you with the way you bodily flinched and your eyes snapped open. 

He just continued watching you as you fought to convince your heart to return to its normal tempo, slowly, cautiously nodding your head yes to his question when you seemed to realize he was earnest in his question. 

“Would you like me to leave so you can get some rest?” 

Your brows furrowed ever so subtly, eyes darting across his face as you searched for any hidden meaning or potential threat. 

You must not have found one. 

“Please.” You whispered, and - though it was still but a whisper -  it was the first time he had heard your voice since the Quarter Quell that wasn’t shrieking and sobbing in fear, causing a lump to form in his throat.

“Okay, honey, I’ll go.” He whispered back, smiling at you through tears as he stood and swiftly left the room, hardly closing the door fully behind him before he let out a sob. 

Over the weeks, you began finding your own routine and schedule outside of the time you spent working with doctors and medics. You were hardly ever seen without your journal on your person, and one of your doctors explained to Finnick that you were beginning to compile notes to differentiate between things you knew, things that you didn’t know, and what was real or not real. Many times, Finnick could find you working in your journal when he arrived, and though you still managed to keep a concerned eye on him at any given point and your body never fully relaxed while he was there, he was grateful you were becoming more or less accustomed to his company. 

And then one day he showed up to your room to find one wall completely transformed into a giant drawing board. The board was divided into two equal sides; one side was labelled REAL and one side was labelled NOT REAL. The only thing that had been written down so far was on the NOT REAL side, which read “Finnick did not set you up and leave you there to die.”

“She’s been struggling to sleep without the aid of sedatives; she wakes up quite violently from nightmares, struggling to differentiate between what is real and what is not, even when we’re standing right there in front of her.” One of the medics told him. “We tried once to have her look through her journal, but she threw it across the room and told us to get away from her. We thought maybe having a very large visualization in front of her in her own writing would be helpful to tether her to reality upon waking.” 

And that seemed all well in good, but Finnick found himself sick over some of the things the Capitol had convinced you he was guilty of more than once. 

But, if this is what you needed, if this was helping you, Finnick would stomach it, no questions asked. 

So, Finnick drummed his fingers against the paperback book that he brought with him to your hospital room every day which acted as nothing more than a glorified prop. 

He knocked twice gently on your door before stepping inside, watching as you stepped quickly away from the board and hid the marker and eraser behind your back as if you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to, watching Finnick as though you were waiting for him to attack. 

“Hi, honey.” He greeted quietly, nodding politely at you before he pulled out his chair and took his place, flipping his book open to an arbitrary page as he pretended to read. 

You didn’t move; your feet seemed to be glued to the spot as you watched Finnick pretend to not be watching you. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had missed your gaze, quite selfishly, and found that while the atmosphere wasn’t exactly relaxed, he was happy enough just to have your eyes on him again. 

Finnick wasn’t sure how much time had passed before you ended up breaking the silence.

“F…Finnick?” You asked, barely above a whisper; question so quiet that Finnick was sure if he hadn’t only been pretending to read, he would have missed it entirely.

You sounded as though you were trying his name out for size, just to see how it felt on your tongue. Finnick missed the days when you used to squeal his name in laughter, or groan his name in frustration, or call his name in excitement. But even though it came out cautious and stilted, he didn’t think he’d ever heard as pretty a sound as the sound of his name falling from your lips. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” He asked eagerly, fighting to keep his tone, face, and body language calm as he saved his ‘place’ with a finger and leaned forward in his chair, resting his knees on his elbows. 

You swallowed thickly and fiddled with the marker in your hands as you stole yourself to speak. “Can I ask you something?” 

He wanted to be an ass; he wanted to say ‘you just asked me two things’, he wanted to whoop and holler at finally having an actual conversation with you after weeks of finally having you back, yet not really having you back at all. 

Instead, all he said was “of course.”

You cleared your throat before gaining the courage to ask what he heard as “you love me; real, or not real?” 

Finnick wasn’t sure an answer had ever come to him so fast. “Real.”

You seemed somewhat surprised by his answer even though it was clearly the answer you’d been expecting. After a few moments, you simply nodded at him before turning back to your drawing board’s REAL side. 

Finnick loved me you wrote, adding bullet points underneath it...

He told me so

He acts like it

Gut feeling

...is what you cited as proof to this revelation. Finnick wanted to weep. A gut feeling; you were still in there, somewhere. There was still a version of you that knew deep down that Finnick loved you.

“It’s not quite right, honey.” He offered softly, fighting the urge to smile when you turned at his interruption, yet didn’t flinch at the sound of his voice as you often did. You simply looked at him in confusion. 

“Do you mind if I make a minor adjustment?” He asked as he carefully placed his book on your empty bed and slowly stood, holding his hands out in ask. 

You looked between him and the marker and eraser in your hands before holding them out for him; an invitation. 

Finnick smiled at you as he slowly walked towards you, hyper focused on remaining as unthreatening as possible as he gently took the items from you, careful not to touch you unnecessarily. 

He moved to the REAL side of the board, using the edge of the eraser to remove the d from the end of loved and replacing it with an s. The sentence now - properly - read Finnick loves me. 

“There, now it’s perfect.” He offered you with another smile as he held the items back out to you, gently placing them in your hands when you held them open for him before he turned back towards his chair, retrieved his book, and sat back down. 

Your eyes stayed glued on the correction he made to your board as the marker and eraser hovered uselessly midair; moments dragging on before your arms finally lowered to your sides. 

Finnick didn’t bother pretending to read, so when you turned to look at him - face full of confusion, curiosity, concern, and what looked to be devastation - you found him already looking at you. 

“Still?” You asked, voice cracking painfully as a heavy tear fell down your face. 

And if Finnick thought that no answer had ever come faster to him before, he was sorely mistaken. 

“Always.” He promised.

© ellecdc; do not copy, translate, or repost my work anywhere under any circumstances.

[1-800-writersblock]

Would you accept it?

[1-800-writersblock]

Guys I’m so concerningly obsessed with Epic I wanna write but at the same time idk if I should but I don’t have any real reason not to other than no ideas what do I do also I am in fact still trying to write that Percy oneshot