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hiii your blog is beautiful! if your requests are open, can I please request dating ethan nakamura headcanons for fem!reader? thank you!

Hii!! Yes, of course I can do that. This is actually my first time writing for Ethan and doing headcanons, I’m sorry it took a little while to do. my apologies if this is shite btw

𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

⊹ Ethan nakamura x fem!reader

ethan is such a “you don’t have to say thank you” kind of boyfriend. he’ll walk you to your cabin in the rain and act like he was headed that way anyway. always brushing it off. never wants credit. always hoping you’ll notice.

he doesn’t smile a lot but when he does? it’s the soft, tired kind. like the world went quiet for a second and you were the reason.

definitely has some kind of beat-up little leather journal where he writes down things you’ve said. not even romantic ones. just like “she said she likes honeysuckle. why the hell would anyone like honeysuckle.” ← lies. he thought about that for 3 days.

so touch-starved. and doesn’t know what to do with it. like the first time you kissed him, he stood completely still. blinked. and whispered, “...can you do that again?”

looks scary to people who don’t know him, but he’s literally your little guard dog. walks on the side of the road closest to traffic. stands behind you at campfires. fixes your necklace without saying a word.

eye contact?? criminal. if ethan looks at you during an argument it’s over. you’re melting. it’s that intense, still, slightly-squinting look like he’s memorizing you.

ethan does that “leaning in close to hand you something” thing. you don’t know why. like yeah. thank you for this pencil. but now i can’t breathe.

he doesn’t like being touched when he’s upset. except by you. you lay a hand on his chest and he just exhales. whole body relaxing like a pulled string.

very much a “i’ll go with you” boyfriend. no matter where you’re going. even if he doesn’t say much, he’s there. walking beside you. quiet loyalty in motion.

you call him “e” and he acts like it’s annoying but secretly he loves it. he doesn’t let anyone else shorten his name.

only calls you your real name when he’s serious. or scared. otherwise it’s “sunshine.” “trouble.”

has memorized your camp schedule. knows when you get tired. reminds you to eat.

ethan does not like the gods. but if you ever get claimed by one? he never says a word. just holds your hand a little tighter. makes sure you know it doesn’t change a thing.

when you cry, he looks like he’s physically in pain. you say “i’m fine” and he says “you don’t have to be.”

he kisses you like it might be the last time. every time. like he’s always a little scared you’ll leave, and always stunned when you don’t.

─────── ⊹ posting this feels weird idk why though!! i’m going on vacation soon no clue for how long tbh. do i even know anything omg. but i’ve got drafts queued to post while i’m gone

─────── ⊹ i wrote this all then accidentally deleted it all. i am not having this omfg

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𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

⊹ Leo Valdez

⊹ — wc + pairing: around 1.k Leo Valdez x GN!Reader ⊹ — notes: Birthday chaos, domestic fluff, Leo being annoying, toaster violence, surprise party antics

THE MORNING SUN SPILLED in through the apartment windows in sleepy golden shafts, softening the chaotic state of the kitchen. There was flour on the counter. On the floor. In the air. Something that used to resemble frosting had crusted onto the toaster. And in the middle of it all stood you. your hair that was tied up was quickly unraveling, wearing one of Leo’s old t-shirts, a streak of chocolate on your cheek, and a look of intense concentration as you tried to salvage a slightly-too-browned cake.

From the doorway, Leo Valdez watched, arms crossed, hair sticking in every direction like he'd wrestled a lightning bolt in his sleep. Shirtless, still in sweatpants, he rubbed the heel of his hand into one eye and smiled.

“Whatcha doin’, mi corazón?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin. “Leo!”

He lifted a brow, already grinning.

“Nope—no! Out! You can’t be in here yet!” You darted toward him, flailing slightly as you tried to block his view of the chaos.

He took one look at the burned oven mitt, the batter on the ceiling, and the suspicious smell coming from somewhere near the sink. “You sure? Looks like a pretty standard Monday”

“Leo.”

“I’m goin’, I’m goin’!” he laughed, backing up into the hall. “But I’m eavesdropping. That’s my right as the birthday boy.”

“You didn’t even remember your birthday.”

He winked. “Didn’t I?”

─── ✦ ───

You had two plans. Technically. The first was a cute, small surprise party with just your inner circle. The second was backup, in case the first went up in smoke. Which, considering who your boyfriend was, wasn’t an if. It was a when.

The plan: decorate the apartment with tiny mechanical suns (made with Leo’s leftover materials), cook his favorite food (or try to), and invite a few friends to yell happy birthday.

What actually happened: Hazel got glitter in the frosting. Nico glared at the balloons until they deflated. Jason accidentally dropped the gift bag in a puddle outside and blamed the gods. Piper tried to help fix the broken toaster and nearly caused a small explosion. The fire alarm went off three times.

And Leo? Leo knew.

Of course he knew. You’d been weird all week, sneaking around. He wasn’t a son of Hephaestus for nothing he noticed things. You kept trying to hide your phone when he came in the room. And, weirdest of all, you’d been quiet.

So he faked ignorance. And waited. And tried not to explode from how freaking sweet you were.

─── ✦ ───

By the time the sun was fully up, the apartment had been transformed.

Little spinning gears hung from the ceiling. The table was set with slightly mismatched plates. Piper had managed to salvage the cake and hide the glitter with extra frosting. Jason handed you a wrapped box that was now mysteriously damp, and you shoved it under the table.

“Okay!” you said, catching your breath. “We’re… kind of ready.”

Leo was ushered in with his eyes closed, guided by you with your hands over his.

“Can I open them yet?” he mumbled.

“Three… two… one!”

He opened his eyes.

And froze.

A cake that read you've aged. awesome job not dying in shaky frosting sat in the center. The room glowed with warm, imperfect light from your DIY sun decorations. His friends—his family—stood waiting, already smiling at the stunned look on his face.

For one long, long moment, Leo didn’t speak.

You reached for his hand. “Leo?”

His eyes were shiny.

“No one’s ever done this for me before,” he said, voice barely a whisper.

You cupped his face. “Well, get used to it, birthday boy.”

He grinned through the emotion and buried his face into your neck. “You’re gonna make me cry and I haven’t even had cake yet.”

The party was chaotic. Of course it was.

The toaster did shoot toast across the room at one point. Jason caught it with terrifying reflexes—if only he’d had that kind of timing with the brick... Percy dropped a cup of blue colored who-knows-what and tried to mop it up with his shirt. Annabeth took a picture and threatened (promised) to frame it.

You gave Leo a shirt that said Built Different (and also really hot) and he put it on over his bare chest immediately.

When he tried to kiss you during cleanup, he accidentally knocked the cake off the table. It landed frosting-first on both of you.

Everyone stared.

Leo stared.

Then he burst into laughter so hard he wheezed and collapsed to the floor, holding his stomach.

You sat beside him, sticky and covered in cake, laughing until your cheeks hurt.

Later, after everyone had gone and the apartment was quiet again, you sat on the couch curled up with Leo.

He traced lazy patterns on your arm, breath warm against your skin.

He murmured against your neck, voice barely more than a whisper.

“This was the best birthday of my life.”

You kissed his cheek, smiling. “Just wait till next year. I’m already planning a parade.”

He groaned. “Please don’t let Jason design the float.”

“No promises.”

He yawned, content. “I love you."

You kissed the top of his head. “Happy birthday, Leo.”

─── ⊹Leo Valdez is 31 today?? i don't think i've seen any posts for his birthday yet ─── ⊹ hope this fic isn’t buns. ily birthday boy.

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So, hi, I love ur vibe

omg hiiii! that means so much coming from you because i LOVE your vibe and your writing too. like actually obsessed

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im so obsessed with ur fics omg😭😭😭 as a pro jason lover

OKAY FIRST THE USERNAME???? iconic. and second AHHH THANK YOU i’m a pro jason lover til the end too so you’re in the right place

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heeelllpp i am eating up all of these jason fics !!!! it’s literally such a treat pls never stop 🙏

When I first got on here, I noticed a shortage of Jason fics and knew something had to be done lmao. I really enjoy writing for him, so it’s perfect

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WOAH i love you writing. anything jason angst x apollo reader? preferably the reader is on the argo II with the crew

𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒆

⊹ jason grace

⊹ pairing + wc: ~2.8k Jason Grace x child of Apollo!reader ⊹ notes: set post-Son of Neptune, during Mark of Athena. Jason has a crush he doesn’t feel worthy of. You’re a little sunbeam, but even you have problems.

JASON AVOIDS YOUR EYES when he says it.

“I think it’s better if we don’t… do this. Whatever this is.”

You blink once, then twice, like maybe the ship’s swaying got to you wrong. Like maybe you heard him wrong. But Jason Grace — golden boy, demigod, hero of Camp Jupiter — stands stiffly at the railing of the Argo II, arms folded like it’s the only way he won’t unravel. His jaw is tight.

You wait for the smile. The joke. The just kidding.

It never comes.

“Oh,” you say softly. Your voice catches in your throat like sunlight through smoke. “Right. Yeah. Sure.”

You manage a nod and excuse yourself before he can see the way your hands shake.

He doesn’t stop you. That’s what stings.

You're not sure what hurts more the rejection, or the fact that you believed him when he looked at you like you were something.

You don’t blame him. Not really. You’ve always known your brightness could be blinding. You’re Apollo’s child — sunlight, poetry, prophecy — born to stand in the light. Jason Grace, for all his glory, lives in its absence.

You sit in the Argo’s lower deck that night, fingers resting against your temple, feeling the echo of a migraine you can’t heal. Your powers flicker when your heart hurts. You could ask someone for something, but you don’t want their pity. You don’t want anyone’s.

You just wanted Jason.

And Jason doesn’t want you.

⋆ ˚｡ ˚｡ ⋆

But oh if only you knew what he was thinking.

Jason punches through the training dummy’s chest with a little too much force.

The wooden torso cracks clean in half. He curses under his breath and wipes sweat off his brow, jaw clenched so tight it aches. His heart hasn’t stopped pounding since he pushed you away.

Gods, he’s a coward.

He told himself it was to protect you. That you deserved someone softer, lighter, better. But the truth is uglier: he’s scared. Scared of being seen. Scared of needing. Scared of you, because you look at him like he’s worthy and he’s not.

So he lies. To you. To himself. Again and again and again.

⋆ ˚｡ ˚｡ ⋆

When the ship docks for the night near a sleepy hilltop town, most of the crew disembarks. You don’t. You say you’re tired.

Jason sees you sitting alone on the deck, legs folded, fingers weaving tiny beams of light between your hands. You’re glowing. Not just from your powers — from you.

He can’t take it.

He turns to walk away, but you catch him.

“Jason.”

He freezes.

You stand, slower than usual, like your chest is heavy. You don’t smile.

“I don’t want to make anything harder,” you say carefully, “but I need to know the truth.”

He doesn’t move.

You step closer.

“Why did you push me away?”

He hesitates. “I told you—”

“Yeah. You said it was better. But you didn’t say why.”

Jason looks down. At his hands. At his shoes. Anywhere but you. “Because I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not hurting me by being close to me,” you say. “You’re hurting me by acting like I’m a burden.”

His breath catches.

“I know I’m not Piper,” you continue. “I know I’m… too much sometimes. Too bright. Too loud. I know I love too easily. But I thought you wanted that.”

“I do,” he says, fast, almost involuntary. His eyes shoot up. “I do. Gods, I do.”

You pause.

His shoulders shake. “You don’t get it.”

“Then explain it.”

He runs a hand through his hair, eyes burning. “You make me feel safe. Like maybe I’m allowed to want things. Like maybe I could have a future and not just a mission. And that terrifies me.”

You don’t speak.

Jason’s voice drops. “When you look at me, it’s like you see someone I don’t even recognize. Someone kind. Someone whole.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know who I am. Half the time I feel like I’m stitched together out of other people’s expectations. I was Praetor. I was a weapon. I’m supposed to be a hero. But when I’m with you, none of that works. You look at me like I’m enough. And I don’t think I am.”

There it is.

The crack in his voice. The quake under the calm. You step toward him, barely breathing.

“I didn’t fall for the hero,” you say gently. “I fell for the boy who reads by lamplight when no one’s watching. The one who brings Leo extra tools and never asks for thanks.”

Jason looks at you like he’s drowning.

“I fell for the boy who made me laugh when I thought I couldn’t anymore. You don’t have to be good for me, Jason. You just have to be you.”

You raise a hand. Slowly. Carefully. And touch his jaw.

He doesn’t pull away.

“You don’t have to earn love,” you whisper. “You just have to let it in.”

Jason trembles.

And then he breaks.

His arms are around you in seconds, burying his face into your shoulder, gripping your back like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. You hold him just as tightly. You feel him exhale like it’s the first breath he’s allowed himself in weeks.

“I’m so tired of pretending I don’t need anyone,” he whispers.

“I know,” you say, threading your fingers through his hair. “You don’t have to, not with me.”

You don’t kiss. Not right away.

You just hold each other on the deck of the Argo II, as the stars burn overhead.

But eventually, as the silence softens, Jason tilts your chin. His hands are gentler now. More sure.

“I’m still scared,” he says. “But I think I’d rather be scared with you than brave without you.”

You smile, a little watery.

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve ever said, Grace.”

He laughs quietly, and then finally he kisses you.

And you taste the truth in it.

Because light doesn’t lie.

✧─── I hope this was what you were looking for!! Thank you so much for the request this was so fun to write.

✧─── Also just realized it’s Leo’s birthday tomorrow or is it today??

for some reason i had like a thousand problems posting this so if something's off that is why!!

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𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒆𝒍𝒔𝒆

⊹ jason grace

⊹ word count + pairing: 2.2k, jason grace x f!reader

⊹ notes: Jason picks you up from a party. You're drunk, clingy, and more than a little touchy. He's gentle and so clearly in love with you. Suggestive but not explicit. Consent-centered.

JASON'S JAW IS TIGHT when he spots you.

You’re swaying slightly on the sidewalk, arms crossed over your chest for warmth, eyes distant. There’s pink glitter on your cheekbones. A red Solo cup abandoned at your feet. You’re laughing at something Connor Stoll says as he helps keep you steady but the second Jason calls your name, your head whips around like it’s instinct.

He watches your whole face light up.

“Jason!” you yell, arms immediately outstretched like he’s a prize you’ve won.

His heart aches.

You’re clearly drunk. Your smile is dizzy and open, your mascara smudged at the corners of your eyes. He’s at your side in seconds, letting you drape yourself over him as he nods a silent thank you to Connor.

“Had a little too much ambrosia punch, huh?” he murmurs, brushing hair from your face.

You nuzzle your cheek into his chest. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” He ducks to catch your eye. “C’mon. Let’s get you home.”

You hum, content. “You’re warm.”

Jason wraps an arm around your waist and starts guiding you away. “You’re freezing. Let’s move, okay?”

You let him walk you back to the cabins, occasionally stumbling, occasionally giggling. You don’t stop touching him once. Your hands tug at his jacket, your mouth babbles half-formed words. At one point, you call him your husband and that nearly kills him.

You reek of sugar and fake fruit. He presses a kiss to your temple anyway.

By the time he gets you inside his cabin, you’re more sleepy than tipsy.

“Water,” he says gently, helping you sit on the edge of his bed. “Then makeup off. Then sleep.”

You pout. “Why do you always take care of me?”

He gives you a look, handing you the water bottle. “Because I love you.”

You take the water, sip it obediently. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

“You’ll mess up your mascara even more.”

“Don’t care.” You crawl into his lap instead. “Can I kiss you?”

Jason freezes.

Your arms are around his neck. You’re warm and soft and blinking up at him like he hung the godsdamn stars. You smell like champagne and vanilla and trouble.

His throat works. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“You are that drunk.”

You lean in anyway slow, careful, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. You kiss him once, soft and syrupy, and he lets you. But when your hand drifts beneath the hem of his shirt, his breath hitches.

And then he’s pulling back.

Your eyes flutter open.

“Jason?” you whisper, blinking.

He brushes your cheek with the back of his hand, thumb grazing your jaw.

“Not like this,” he murmurs. “Not when you’ve been drinking.”

“But—”

“You’re not in your right mind,” he says gently. “And I want it to be real. You—real. With me.”

You go quiet.

For a second, all you do is stare at him.

“You’re a good man, Jason Grace,” you mumble finally, dragging your finger across his chest like it’s a secret. “Even when I try to be a little hazard.”

He smiles, a little sheepishly. “You’re not a hazard. You’re just a very flirty drunk.”

“You don’t want me?” you ask, small, slurring now from exhaustion. “Like, in that way?”

Jason looks at you like it physically hurts him to even let you ask that.

“Of course I want you. Gods, I want you all the time. But I want you when you know you want me. Not when you’re drunk and flushed and full of party dust.”

You look down at his chest, cheeks heating. “Okay.”

“I’m still gonna kiss you,” he says quietly, tipping your chin. “I just want the rest of you to feel safe first.”

He kisses your forehead first. Then your nose. Then your mouth—soft and slow and completely unfair.

You sigh into it. ���I think I’m in love with you.”

Jason chuckles. “You’ve told me that twice tonight already.”

“Okay, well. Third time’s the charm.”

─── ⊹ Ayeee, more Jason fluff! He’s just so much fun to write for. ─── ⊹ I wrote this awhile ago, but honestly, I think I should start posting a bunch. I have so many drafts sitting in my docs it’s insane.

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omg i’m so obsessed with your jason fic !!! and the fact that it’s your first one???? immediate follow oml

nooo stop i’m smiling so hard rn!! thank you sm for reading & following you’ve just made my whole day <3

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babes that jason grace fic was AMAZING ! already love ur writing 🥹🥹 !

NOOO SHUT UP YOU’RE SO SWEET 😭 i was actually so nervous to post that, this means so much to me 🩷

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𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒆

⊹ jason grace

⊹ wc + pairing: 1.1k, jason grace x f!reader

⊹ notes: this is jason post-nightmare. a little soft angst, mostly fluff. jason doesn’t want to sleep alone and neither do you. heavy on comfort, light on plot. all set at camp (because of course).

JASON DOESNT KNOCK. He never does when it’s this late.

The first thing you hear is your door creaking open and the familiar rhythm of his footsteps quiet, careful, like he’s trying not to wake you. Which is ironic, since you’re already sitting up, blinking blearily at the boy standing in your doorway, bathed in blue light and shadow.

You know the look on his face. You've seen it before.

“Bad dream?” you murmur, voice rough from sleep.

He nods, once. Doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to.

“Come here.”

You lift the blanket. He doesn’t hesitate.

The mattress shifts as he slides in beside you, his skin cool from the night air. He smells like pine, like electricity, like rain in the middle of a dry season. His arms find you fast—like they always do—one circling your waist, the other slotting under your neck, pulling you flush to his chest like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

He doesn’t say anything for a while. Neither do you.

His heartbeat is rapid beneath your palm, still recovering. You trace circles there gently, wordlessly. He exhales like he’s been holding his breath since he left his cabin.

“It was stupid.” His voice is hoarse. “It wasn’t even real.”

“Still scared you.”

He swallows. You feel the movement under your cheek.

“I hate that it gets to me,” he admits, low. “I hate waking up like that. Alone.”

You lift your head enough to look at him. His hair’s a mess, sticking up on one side, his jaw tense even in the dark. There’s something about this version of Jason—the quiet 2am version—that hits you in the chest every time.

You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’re not alone.”

“I know.” He glances at you, lips curling into something small. “That’s why I came here.”

He tugs you closer until there’s barely any space between you, one leg hooked over yours, his hand splayed across your back. His touch isn’t desperate, it’s steady. Reassuring. You realize he’s grounding himself now, like you’re the thing that’ll keep him tethered if the nightmares come back.

You’re okay with that. More than okay.

“Want to tell me about it?” you ask softly, fingers brushing over the back of his neck.

He hesitates. “You weren’t there.”

“What?”

“In the dream. We were on some mission. Something went wrong. And you were just… gone.” His voice wavers slightly. “I couldn’t find you.”

Your heart twists. “Jason…”

“I know it wasn’t real. I do.” He’s staring at the ceiling now, jaw tight. “But I woke up and you weren’t next to me and I—”

“You didn’t even knock,” you reason gently, resting your forehead against his.

“Would you have answered if I had?”

“No. But still. Rude.”

He huffs a laugh, finally. Some of the tension drains from his body, and you exhale with him, your limbs tangling naturally again.

You fall quiet for a while after that. His breathing slows. Yours does too. The window’s cracked open and the cicadas outside hum.

Just when you’re on the edge of sleep, Jason shifts again.

“You know I love you, right?”

The words are so quiet they almost slip past you. But you catch them.

You freeze. Blink your eyes open. You’ve said it before, sure. But never like this. Never in the dead of night, tangled in sheets, said like a confession. Like a promise.

You pull back just enough to see his face.

His cheeks are flushed. His brows furrowed slightly like he’s nervous.

You lean in slowly. “I know,” you whisper. “I love you too.”

His shoulders relax. He kisses you soft, sleepy, grateful.

You stay like that for a while, mouths brushing lazily, hands trailing over bare skin like you’ve got nowhere else to be (because you don’t). It’s not heated. It’s not even about the kiss. It’s about being here, being real, being safe.

You feel his hand stroke down your back.

“You’re staying here tonight,” you say into his mouth. It’s not a question.

He nods. “I wasn’t planning on leaving.”

“Good.”

When you both finally collapse back onto the pillows, your legs are tangled and his hand is on your waist and you’re pretty sure you’ve never felt this warm in your life.

And when Jason finally falls asleep—with his head tucked into your neck and your fingers running through his hair—you know the nightmares won’t touch him.

─── ⊹ reblogs + comments = amazingness ─── ⊹ requests always open || tysm for reading !!

this is my first time posting a fic on here. lets see how this goes.

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introduction

"paralysis again. how i waste my days."

—𝐌𝐈𝐌𝐒 || october 28th ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅                                          she/her. scorpio. cabin 20. full-time nobody. films and books. percy jackson... and, oh, more percy jackson! aspiring author. sylvia plath enthusiast.  

—jason grace’s lawfully wedded wife ♡︎

⊹ i love to talk ‼ so i’m always open for that

⊹ i've never really used tumblr b4, so i have no clue what i'm doing

request rules ⊹ master list ⊹

જ⁀➴ "i am not an evil old man"

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✦ requests !

❝ Put the fucking sword down and get out! ❞ — Tart (2001) — 𝑴𝑰𝑴𝑺' Requests !!! ⚔️

(Only writing for PJO / HOO characters rn ‧₊˚)

✦ Mims' Request Rules ⚠ — No incest, no yandere, no threesomes — No age gap stuff. no thank you. — No polygamy or male reader POV. (Neutral reader is fine with me though!) — Smut/NSFW = characters will be aged up. — If the character is canon LGBTQ+, I won’t change their orientation. — NSFW is soft + emotional unless you tell me otherwise. — Fluff is fastest. Angst & smut take me longer. Be patient pls. — I try to be fast, but I’m busy and dramatic so no promises. — If you send a req while they’re closed, I’ll just say “they’re closed” — I do oneshots, headcanons, and blurbs: specify what you want

✦ i like it like this — No hate. Blocked right away. — Wanna be mutuals? I love to talk.

✦ Who I’ll Write For → Anyone from Percy Jackson / Heroes of Olympus (main focus rn!)