#percyxreader

[to-fly-with-clipped-wings]

A Sea of Sorrows Percy Jackson x Traitor! Reader

Series Summary: A chronicle of the moments you fell in love with your enemy, Percy Jackson. An epilogue to your fate and an epitaph to your grave. AKA in a universe where you are a traitor to Camp Half-Blood. This is an ode to the boy that led to your downfall: Percy Jackson. will be divided into five acts, each for one of the first five books, with moments between you and Percy that shaped the end. Also, Luke and Ethan will still be traitors as well, but what they do in canon might change since you are here too!!!

Percy Jackson Masterlist

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Act 1: the Fall of the Gods

Dear Percy. This was the year the Gods fell from Olympus, and I fell from you. I miss the us from that year. I wonder, did either of us know what was in store?

Part 1

Part 2

Act 2: Grains of Sand

Hey Major. This was the year that my quest felt lonely without you. I wish you came back. Why did you need to go?

Act 3: Riptides in a Reef

Percy. This was the year I wanted to come back to you. I mean, I always did. But this was the year it hurt the most. How can we be so close, but so far at the same time?

Act 4: Poisoned Veins

This was the year I wished we could be together forever. Screw the labyrinth, Kronos, Luke, the Gods. Just come back to me. Please. Major?

Act 5: My Sea of Sorrows

I'm sorry, Perce. You are my sea of sorrows, but I am not yours. Love, always and forever, your Major

*characters are aged up one year (so in tlt, yall are 13 and the great prophecy is at 17)

[english-professor-wraith]

Fictober 2022: Day 16

(I am still writing these, yes. They are going very slowly because I have been busy and tragically uninspired. This one ain't perfect but at least it is complete)

Your skirts swirl around your legs, gathered petticoats hidden beneath the finely-embroidered overdress. Your hands, clad in silky gloves, rest gently on your partner’s shoulder and hand. His hand is warm through his white kid leather glove, and your feet move perfectly in time with each other and the music. Though your faces are turned to each other, you look staunchly past him, ignoring the way his eyes behind his corvid mask are pinned on you. This mask is different from his usual, the one you’ve seen a hundred times in the forest staring blankly at you from behind the barrel of his gun and a cloud of smoke. This one maintains most of the crow design, though only the top half of his face is covered, and is formed from delicate silver scrolling instead of black leather. There are no lenses, leaving open gaps through which his cold blue eyes watch you, and some of the wires spiral down to his jaw and into his hair, holding it in place securely. 

Yours is more typical, tied with a simple ribbon behind your head, though moulded slightly to fit your face more securely. The red fur of your mask is smoothed to allow visibility, and the fox’s hue practically shines when paired with your deep green dress. Those green skirts catch the light as you spin in this man’s arms, the embroidered leaves almost shimmering in the candles’ glow. 

“If it was such a punishment to be seen dancing with me, you ought to have turned me down, darling.” His voice almost purrs, and you can’t tell if it was meant to be sincere or  a threat. 

“You know as well as I that that could never happen, Lord Frederick.” You practically spit the title at him, and relish in the momentary satisfaction of his flinch and the subsequent fading of his smug grin. He finally looks away from you, scanning the room before leading you away from the dance floor. No one seems to mark his exit- either they are very well paid (which would not be a surprise) or this man- who is apparently a nobleman, though you’ve only ever seen him tousled and dirty in the forest- pulls women from the ballroom to a side hallway frequently. 

“I was hoping we could speak civilly while dancing, assuming you would prefer the presence of others for safety. It would seem your civility is reserved for…well, I’m not entirely sure where. I’ve certainly never seen you be such. Either way, what do you think you’re doing here?” His fervour surprises you slightly, and you step back before answering, pulling your wrist from his grasp.

“I was following a lead, Freddie- if that really is your name- on a possible threat to the de Rolo family. I heard there was to be an attack tonight and I wanted to ensure that they stay safe.”

“Even if it weren’t my name- which it is, mind you- what would it matter? We’re nothing more than rivals, if that, and we haven’t even seen each other for months until tonight. Why do you care so much for m- for the de Rolo family?” You notice the quick change of subject and hear the slip, but are distracted from any comment by his eyes. Something behind them has changed: no longer do you see contempt or haughtiness in them. Instead, like looking through a shattered window, there is something there that you have never seen before: panic. 

“They’re good people, Frederick. They care for the people of this city- unlike you, apparently, since you are keeping me from my intent of protecting them.” With this, you stalk back towards the ballroom, checking through your open pocket to make sure your thigh sheath is still in place. Just as you touch it, though, a hand comes down on your shoulder. Before you can think, you’ve already pulled out the dagger and slammed the body connected to that hand against the wall, knife held to their throat. Freddie stands in front of you- if you had taken another moment, you would have realised it was his hand- breathing heavily as your blade lightly brushes against his skin, his pulse hammering in his wrist, pinned to the wall by your other hand.

“Please listen to me” His voice is quiet, though you’re not sure if it’s intentional or if you’ve knocked the breath out of him. His mask is crooked from the rush, the beak now tilted at an awkward angle, but it makes it easier for you to get closer and hiss into his face.

“Oh I am, highness. Every word.”

“I’m not who you think I am.” The basic reply earns him a scoff, and you roll your eyes. In doing so, you see another guest coming into the hallway, not looking your way yet but you know they will very soon. You flip your blade around and tuck it against your arm, silently indicating the newcomer to Freddie and his eyes widen.

“Trust me, please”

Before you can even comprehend what he’s said, he has spun the two of you and placed your back against the wall. One hand cradles the back of your head to keep it from hitting the wooden panelling, and the other shoves up his mask in an instant and then hits the wall next to you. Your hands are caught up in his flurry of movement- the one that was holding his wrist is held next to your head, wrapped around his forearm as his fingers lace into your hair. The other, the knife still hidden behind your arm and brushing against the glove, he traps between your bodies to further hide the blade. 

And then-

His lips are on yours.

The beak on his mask was too long to allow it, but the short muzzle of your fox mask barely even makes him turn his head to reach your mouth.

Gods above, his lips are soft

Your eyes drift shut on instinct, though you catch a short glimpse of the newcomer shuffling quickly past your pairing, their arm now around their own partner’s shoulders protectively. 

He’s so warm, I thought for sure he would be cold…

You try to listen carefully to make sure they have left before opening your eyes, but between Freddie’s shallow breaths and your heartbeat pounding in your ears, there is little chance of you being able to hear the quiet footsteps as the other pair leaves the hallway.

Is this what it’s always like?

A sudden rush of coldness as he steps back, and you gasp in a breath that you try to stifle with little success. The two of you stare for a moment, blushing and stunned, until Freddie shakes himself a bit and replaces his mask.

“Come on, we need to find a more private place to talk.”

“And the de Rolos? What if there’s an attack?”

“I have some friends here- extra muscle in case of emergency. Trouble seems to follow me”, he chuckles, turning towards the other end of the hallway from the ballroom.

You follow, though uncertain, and replace your dagger in its sheath (though you keep a hand in that open pocket, just in case). Eventually he stops in front of a door- different from the others, metal and heavy looking.

“We’ll be safe and undisturbed here, this is my workshop. No one comes in without my invitation, so it will stay quiet.” He stands by the door as you enter, then pulls the heavy door closed with a surprising lack of sound. He steps past you to sit on the stool by the workbench and gestures at a chair in the corner. “Grab that and pull it closer if you like, or sit over there. Whatever you like.” His face is still red, and you’re not sure what you’re hoping the reason to be. 

“Your workshop? Do you work for the de Rolos or what? You’re nobility- so many people recognized you in that ballroom- but you still have this-”, gesturing at the grimy walls as you sit on the chair he had indicated, “workshop here. What’s going on?”

He sighs, as if he had hoped not to have to explain it. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? Look at me.” He pulls off his mask and looks squarely at you, expectation in his eyes. 

You stare at him, confused. “I see you, Frederick, I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”

“You’re looking at me, but you don’t really see.” He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and reaches towards the shelf to grab a pair of glasses that are sitting there. As he puts them on, he takes another look at the handkerchief and then hands it to you. Looking down at the monogram, you see the de Rolo crest embroidered on it. As you look back up at him, his glasses now in place, a glimmer of recognition appears in your mind. 

“Are you- but his name isn’t Frederick- or Freddie-”

“One of my names is. Yes, I am one of the de Rolos- My full name is Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III; Percy to my friends, and Freddie to those who don’t treat me like some prissy aristocrat upon first meeting.”

Percival de Rolo kissed me

What? Why is that my first thought?

“What the FUCK, Freddie?” He winces at the sudden exclamation, then nods brusquely before pushing on. 

“I know I shouldn’t have lied, and I’m sorry for it, but-” Before he can even finish his sentence you are already continuing your tirade, standing from your chair to pace across the workshop. 

“No, you don’t know. You couldn’t! Look, we were rivals, enemies somewhat, but I trusted you. Stupid, I know, to trust one’s rival, but I knew who you were, at least- or so I thought. You’re nobility! Do you know what having injured you will do to my life if anyone ever learns of it? It’s only now that I find out that the person I’ve been arguing with, fighting with, falling in-UGH”. You finally cut yourself off with a sound of disgust, burying your face in your hands as you collapse back onto the chair, ignoring the ominous creaking of the wooden legs beneath you. 

Past the fingers which now block your eyes, Freddie- Percy- cocks his head, looking like nothing so much as the crows after which his mask- laying on the bench beside him- is patterned. He leans forward, his gaze dropping from you as his head falls towards his chest. His hands are limp, his elbows settled on his knees as he stares at the stone beneath him.

“You’re right.”

You look up at this quiet admittance, so different from the haughty persona he had been half-maintaining this whole time. His voice is barely audible, hardly louder than the muffled string music still creeping beneath the door.  

“You’re right”, he repeats, “I should have told you. I should have been honest. I know it’s not a proper excuse, but I just- I suppose I simply wanted something in my life that wasn’t tied up in the cords of nobility and expectation. I am-” He looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours and showing you again that broken, panicked expression. “I’m deeply sorry for having lied to you. I don’t expect you to trust me. I won’t ask you to stay. But I hope you know that I never held any bad intentions toward you- only selfish ones.”

You carefully steel your expression, disguising the tangled hurricane of emotions coursing through your soul. You stand, taking a step towards him and handing his handkerchief back to him. He takes it, then looks up at you with confusion as you continue to hold out your hand towards him.

“A truce, Frederick. I accept your apology, and I hope you will accept mine for my actions, both intentionally harmful and not.” 

As he reaches up and wraps his hand around your wrist in a knight’s shake, the sound of chaos comes from down the hallway, screams and crashes echoing into the workshop. The two of you release each other quickly and Percival sweeps a gun from the bench into his holster and sweeps up his silver mask, scowling at its impracticality before striding towards the door, reaching behind him for your hand to lead you down the hallway and towards the sound of the battle. The two of you run towards the ballroom, pushing through the fleeing crowd. Shots of blazing light shine through the doorways, voices shouting with intent as Frederick quickly explains who his ‘extra muscle’ is and finally pushes into the main room. You gaze around in horror at the carnage already spread about the room, and your hand tightens around Percy’s until you realise you’re still holding him, then drop his hand and pull your daggers from your pockets. He chuckles as he looks over at you, knowing that those two are only the beginning of all the weapons you’ve stashed on your person, then strides away from the door towards the centre of the room, watching the fights occurring along the walls. You follow, carefully watching to gather insight on the pattern of creatures and heroes. You stand with Freddie, back to back, and fling your first dagger as you hear the click of his gun about to shoot. 

[innocent-cat]

Hello darling! Is it okay to request a Vax x F!Reader x Percy (love triangle) one-shot? Where the reader is a human sorcereress from a noble family and somehow ends up with Vox Machina, only for Percy and Vax to develop feelings for her (or them, if you are more comfortable) a year later and become rivals and try to impress her.

I hope this isn't too weird! And it's fine if you don't want to do it! Have a wonderful day/night! Stay safe! 🤗💖

OH MY GOD YESSSSSSSSS i actually love this idea so much

Sorceress and noble????? OF COURSE SHE HAS TIESSS WITH THE DE ROLOSSS AND THATS WHY SHE JOINSNSMNNSNS

It's awesome you clarified gender! i only do non-b pronouns when someone doesn't specify the gender. Otherwise I am happy to write for male or female!

sorry im getting excited

Vax'ildan x Reader x Percival

Warnings - idk probably gonna lean towards my bbg percy, not so obvious love triangle, swearing, im literally gonna be using f/n and shit, I'm literally rewatching to remember how to write them as I write this so good luck reading my poor memory of characters, I will use she/her, FUCK I HAD TO USE [name] IM SO SORRY, timeskip because oh my god this is so long,

"Vox Machina's (least) favorite Sorcerer.", Vax x Reader x Percy

.·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻

[F/N] - Family Name

Lady Mystra - Goddess of magic/The weave

[Name] - I was too embarrassed to use y/n

Envonium - The name of the city you are a noble to (Sorry, couldn’t avoid it)

Twinned spell - A sorcery thing that allows a sorcerer to make one spell turn into two to attack two targets, never the same one twice in a row.

You come from a very rich cultured, religious, well mannered, prestigious and otherwise very dependent on magic kingdom. It only makes sense for such a huge part of the culture surrounding the beautiful city known as "The city of the weave", purely for its well known prestigious academies of magic, to have a generally magical culture. Many everyday tasks require magic, or it is commonly frowned upon to do some actions without it.

As a noble sorcerer yourself, your parents couldn't help themselves but give you the education you needed to become stronger as a magic wielder. They began your education at a young age, which proved a struggle for you to connect with companions and school partners who surrounded you. You were always disconnected from the reality of the lives of non-nobles. Other students seemed to feel the same way, and instead of adapting for you or explaining culture to you, they excluded you, making you an outcast in your own kingdom.

Lucky for you, your parents had many allies and peace treaties with those they were more powerful than or equal to, which happened to include the de Rolos. Once they learned of their children, one of which happened to be your age, Percy, they urged them to allow you, their only daughter, to meet Percival and his siblings.

Sadly, your exclusion in school made you awkward around him, and the two of you had trouble holding conversation for a very long time during your visit to Whitestone. It wasn't until your parents mentioned to Lady and Lord de Rolo the education they put you through so you could become a stronger sorcerer, that Percy warmed up to you and began to ramble about sorcery and wizardry, of which you knew much of both.

His curious personality led to conversations that lasted hours only asking the weave, which was tiring. When you began asking him questions back, he could not help himself but go on rants about science, history, and anything he remembered learning, which was a lot. The two of you had a rivaled education.

"That's... not really how the weave works. Where did you even hear that? That's absurd." You'd quip back at his stupid questions(At least, to you, they were stupid.), that you assumed were common knowledge.

"Well- in this book- it speaks of manipulating and changing the weave to cast spells." He was always defensive, quoting books directly and going as far as showing you the page.

With a sigh, "That book is decades old. You don't manipulate the weave, you pull it. Not even pull! It is a very delicate process." You knew it would be hard to explain, because you didn't quite understand it yourself yet.

Every summer, you would visit Whitestone until they suddenly stopped responding to letters, in which your parents cautiously chose to cut ties with the kingdom, without telling you. Whenever you'd ask about it, they'd hush you or change the topic. It confused you, but deep down, you knew they knew something about it.

Of course, this lets you down. You had begun to develop feelings for the boy who showed you kindness and bonded with you over something you were very prideful in. However, you eventually had to give up asking your parents questions about this, and continued your education in the weave.

Of course, your demanding parents practically begged you to practice your magic in real world experiences so you could be truly prepared. When you showed hesitation in doing such a thing, they only pushed harder- in fact, they packed your bags for you. They gave you a lot of gold for the road, a magic bag to hold everything needed, a change of clothes, food for a few days(Bread, cheese, water.), and a map. Not much, but they knew you were more than capable of making due.

Obviously, being a noble of the [F/N] family gave you a target on your back, but it wasn't much of a problem. It seems people underestimate you because you aren't armed with anything but a quarterstaff, but it takes no less than a chromatic orb or a fireball to kill them within seconds.

With background check over, you sit in a tavern.. :3

A group of loud, drunken, lowly mercenaries are shouting across the bar and asking for trouble with several strong looking city dwellers. You can tell they have no real experience in fighting other than bullying people for their money based on their muscles and lack of scars.

You try to ignore the banter, trying to get lost in a pint of beer as you sip on it, the woozy drunk feeling freeing you from an emotional state you get late into the night when left alone to think of your family, your people, and more importantly, all the books you had to leave behind to come here.

You're brought out of your thoughts as a table goes flying over your head, followed by a mug that hits your head, wetting you with the remaining alcoholic liquid left in the cup.

You quickly snap around, rubbing your now pounding head. You ready yourself to cast a spell strong enough to rival the sun against the dirty drunken party, but you realize it was one of the burly men who like to pretend to be tough who threw the table at you. You quickly change the direction of your twinned spell, making quick work of both of them as they fall stunned to the floor. The bar fight ensues as you knock the two of them out, an elf with dark and long hair defends you as another drunken man swings at you with a makeshift weapon. It seemed like it was a leg to a chair, but you couldn't tell in the blur of the quick paced fighting.

Once the quick turned fight ends, a female ranger announces to the barkeeper that 'Vox Machina' will pay back their tab in due time. You roll your eyes, and with a groan, you begrudgingly hand up a small bag of gold to cover their tab and look at the elven woman with an extremely annoyed face. She looks back, surprised you paid their tab, and even more so surprised you have the audacity to look at her with such a face.

A white haired, taller man looks at you with extreme shock. His face is familiar, but you know better than to stare, something he must have forgotten. Your face shifts into a less disgruntled face as the barkeeper speaks to you, thanking you for kindly paying the group's tab.

With the showy smile you were taught, you give him a soft and polite 'You're very welcome. Thank you for your hospitality.'

Your conversation with the barkeeper is cut short when the brunette, elven woman loudly asks you "And who the fuck are you?"

It sounded much more like actual curiosity than impoliteness, so you choose to not respond with the same tone, instead introducing yourself.

"[Name] [F/N]." (Guys im actually so sorry for having to do that, it feels taboo bc no one likes it) One side of you hoped they knew your family name for the sake of fear or authority, but the other hoped they didn't for the sake of having new beginnings.

Their gnome cleric seemed to be working your name out, familiarity reading on her face. You can tell it clicks when she looks up at you thinking of what to say, but she instead introduces herself and the rest of the party.

"Hi.. I'm Pike, this is Grog, the two similar looking elves are twins, Vex and Vax. The druid is Keyleth, and.. Scanlan is the guy pissing on the sign right now." As she speaks you can hear the encouraging smile on her face in her voice, her friendly introduction and personality persuading you to not judge or speak ill of Vox Machina.

You smile at all of them as she introduces them, except for Scanlan, your face rests in disgust watching the half nude gnome piss on a sign, then accidentally piss on a guard of the kingdom.

You turn expectantly to the one Pike seemingly forgot to introduce, the look of disgust still on your face. He seems startled you gave him the sour face, and you quickly fix it. You wave a beckoning motion at him to introduce himself.

"My name is Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III'' You finally realize who he is, and your face contorts to curiosity, but there's a small amount of disgust evident in it as well.

You have no clue what his family might have done to your’s for them to cut ties with his, but it couldn't have been good. Your mother always fought your father to keep as many allies as possible, and it was very rare for them to both agree on cutting ties.

Rolling your eyes at his long introduction, you cross your arms. The wisp of cold night wind swishes through your hair, as you feel it on your neck. You look up at him like scum under your foot, standing a distance of around 4 feet away from him.

"Do.. you guys know each other?" Pike asks you awkwardly, the rest of the party staring at the two of you awkwardly as well, noticing your repulsed face and Percy's face of surprise.

You scoff. "Know each other? No no.. we're only childhood best friends of neighboring kingdoms." Your voice seethes in sarcasm, your gaze not leaving Percy.

A new voice enters the awkward situation, the elven rogue, Vax, who protected you earlier.

"Yeah, you two really seem to be bonded to the core." His sarcasm matches your's, and you laugh softly, finally turning away from the silent Percy.

Walking towards him to converse, your face changes to a more smug than angry expression, your eyebrows still turned downward. The two of you banter for a moment before Scanlan awkwardly reveals a request for mercenaries.

"You guys wouldn't mind if I joined you, right? It's been a long while since I've been part of a party, and even longer since I’ve seen Percy." You ask Pike, who you assume is the leader of the party as she seems most responsible.

"It never hurts to have a few extra hands!" You can tell she's still dwelling on your interaction with Percy, as her tone is sensitive and her words practically dance around what just happened.

(Timeskip because theres literally a gap in writing in the show BECAUSE I DONT FUKCING KNOW WHAT TO DO HELP)

Waking up in the morning and climbing the stairs up to the ruler of Emon was a struggle, and you couldn't help but cast an ice spell to soothe the headache you currently had. Percy had tried to talk to you a few times, but you had shrugged him off at every opportunity. He opted to walk in the front of the group, conversing lightly with Vex and Keyleth.

It was nice talking to Vax so casually, as it wasn't an opportunity given to you often to speak informally. He gave you a few confused glances whenever you slipped up and started speaking formally, and you'd let out an awkward laugh and wave your hand in front of your face to try and get him to ignore it.

"So- what brings you to Emon?"

"My mother and father pushed me out of the kingg..domm.. I just want to practice my sorcery. I haven't really used it outside of learning it in practice." You trail off, when he gives you a weird look after mentioning your home.

"Oh. Really? That sounds.. wonderful. You seem a truly powerful sorcerer." He replies to you with an awkward smile on his face, trying to keep the conversation flowing with you as best as possible.

Once the party reaches the doors, Trinket, Vex's pet bear, stays on the outside of the doors with the guards. The party all make an awkward introduction, and you attempt to quip that you aren’t part of Vox Machina perse, but Scanlan quickly spoke over you in song, and went over you quite quickly, introducing you as “The sorcerer princess of the city of the weave!” And honestly? You had to admit it was better than anything you were expecting him to say about you, even if he had gotten some facts wrong.

A ‘punch in the gut’ feeling washed over you as you remember that you are a high status noble walking among a group of barfing, hungover mercenaries, and you look just as hungover as the rest of them. You quickly straighten yourself out and push around Vax with a soft ‘Sorry..’ and stand next to Percy, hoping to look better next to him, another noble. He seems surprised but ignores it, letting Scanlan bullshit you guys through the ‘meeting’ you had interrupted by walking in. Eventually, Emon’s ruler and a few advisers approve of your group saving the kingdom, in exchange for a very large box presumably full of gold coins.

You all quickly board the boat like aircraft, shuffling to stand near the railing, you find yourself standing next to Percy after not wanting to interrupt whatever was going on between Vex and Vax, opting to not seem rude or nosy. You of course, keep your space between you and him, and lean on the rail, debating on starting the conversation.

And you do.

“So.. what could the de Rolos have done to have angered the [F/N]s?” You ask, sarcastically, but genuinely curious.

Percy turns and looks at you with a face of bewilderment. “What did we do? What are you talking about?” Percy’s voice has anger lacing through it, and he wasn’t trying to hide it, but it’s not like he was trying to show it either.

“I mean, what did you guys do? Lord de Rolo stopped responding to my mother’s letters, and one day both mother and father refused to speak of Whitestone. It was like you guys did some horrible offense against lady Mystra, or, I don’t know, maybe betrayed one of our stronger alliances?” You dig deeper under his skin unknowingly, your face only showing confusion.

Percy’s stance changed, and he turned his body to face you. “My father stopped responding to your mother’s letters because he was murdered. They.. were all murdered. I ran from my kingdom, barely escaping my attackers, and I assumed you did your’s?”

Your mouth drops ever so slightly in shock, but you quickly close it. “I’m so sorry, Percy. I had no clue. I wish I could have convinced my parents to do something.. And no, I didn’t run from Evonium. My parents sent me away to become stronger.. I finally graduated from my academy.” Your eyes are glossy, as if hurt for Percy for what happened to his family. Your expression was soft, and pitiful. It almost completely contrasted the look you gave him at the bar, if it weren’t for that same pitiful look that knitted in your eyebrows as the wind blew against your face.

He turns away, unwilling to think about the look you had given him. He sighs. “It’s quite alright. I don’t blame you for assuming our families crossed one another. If I was in your position I would have done the same.”

You scoot closer to him, but leave room to breathe. You felt selfish for wanting to heal your relationship so fast, so you would let him choose when the wound was closed.

You felt eyes burning into the back of your head, but you tried ignoring it. Unaware it was Vax, you choose not to turn, and hope it was nothing. It seems he doesn’t want the wound to close at all, and he has a face that reads jealousy. He turns back to Vex, continuing their conversation and trying to shake off the feeling he had about you and Percy.

The ship shakes, and quickly levitates to the ground, a small wooden town ahead of you. The tents were torn, and burns were evident in the wood that kept the cloth up. It didn’t look like the work of a reckless wizard or sorcerer, and it seemed like it came haphazardly from above. You slowly walk down the aircraft beside Percy in silence. Scanlan makes some kind of sexual comment to the woman who brought us here, to which she ignores and promptly leaves without a word. You can’t help but roll your eyes at him.

You and Percy walk awkwardly behind everyone else, as Vax walks beside Keyleth, Pike next to Grog, and Vex next to Scanlan, which she was visibly upset about. However, she didn’t seem too upset as the two bantered sarcastically back and forth. The trail to the tents begins to go down hill, the path muddy and slippery. You try to hold onto Percy’s shoulder as you walk down, in which he drapes an arm around your waist in response to, trying to help support you, but it only brings you flashes of your childhood crush on him, and you fail to pay attention to the floor, despite having a staring contest with it.

You slip, falling backwards for only moments before Percy’s hand grips your hip, his arm already behind your back to support you, and pulls you back up. It was a pull with quick strength that was more of a reflex than an action, and it pulls you nearly face to face. You blush, and mutter a quick ‘Thanks, Percy.’, and he looks away with a quickly spoken, flustered, “Yeah! Yes. Of course.” as if he was trying to pull himself together. You pull away, but keep your hand on Percy’s shoulder until fully down the slope.

Vax turns around to look at the commotion, and he catches a glimpse of you blushing at Percy. He can’t help but scoff at it, and turns back around to talk to Keyleth, only really half talking to her, and her only really half talking to him.

[timelessdisasters]

Scars 

By timelessdisasters

Critical Role/TLOVM, Rated: G, Percy/Reader

wc: 1474

Percy doesn't like to show himself often because of the painful reminders of the torture he endured still marred across his skin, self-conscious of them when others can see. You try and help him see that they're not all bad.

[haileygarciasunshine]

Camp Half-Blood

Pairing: Percy Jackson x Reader

Word Count:  2,472 (oops lol😅😬🤣)

Summary:  Some violence, One swear word.

Author’s Note: This is written as adults.I was thinking of making more parts to this? What do you guys think?🥺😬 

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*Since my writings haven’t been showing up please head over to my wattpad to read my latest works! 

"Grover?" You called from your bedroom as you fumbled around your room, in search of your lanyard.

"What's up?" He asked making his way to stand outside of your room.

"Have you seen my name tag?" You asked frantically searching.

He chuckled in response. Before you could respond he told you where it was - in its usual place beside the door.

"Oh!" You exclaimed quickly, making your way to the door. Putting it on, you glanced at him.

"What would I do without you?"

"Die probably." He joked, smiling.

"Most likely." You agreed laughing.

"Be safe." He spoke as you were halfway out of the front door.

"Always am!" You replied.

---------------------------------------------

"This statue is of the Greek goddess Athena." You gestured to the porcelain statue beside you. "Does anyone know what she is the goddess of?"

The group of tourists in front of you, gazed at the statue that you were standing next to. Flashes of light from cameras capturing the statue bounced around the room.

"Y/N." Your co-worker spoke walking toward you. "You have some visitors." He spoke gesturing to the two men behind him.

Frowning you glanced at the group of tourists behind you.

"I'm in the middle of a tour."

"Don't worry." He spoke placing a hand on your bicep. "I'll take over." He winked, before approaching the group.

"Grover?" You asked with a slight smile. "What're you doing here?"

He tugged you in for a hug. "Y/N, you remember Percy?" He spoke as you pulled apart.You nodded your head.

"How could I not?" A giggle fell from your lips. "He's usually at our apartment."

Percy awkwardly gazed at you, unsure of what to do. Scoffing you tugged him into a hug feeling him tense underneath you. Just as you were about to pull away, he wrapped his arms around your waist reciprocating your hug.

Pulling away, you resumed your spot in front of both men. The feeling of nervousness washed over you. Smoothing over your black pencil skirt, you attempted to fidget with your blouse even though it was neatly tucked in underneath your skirt. Your hair cascading over your shoulders. With the height of your heels, you were almost as tall as Percy.

"What're you guys doing here?" You were the first to break the silence.

"How much do you know about your father?" Grover asked in a blunt way.

Frowning, your eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

"Not much. Why?"

Both men exchanged a knowing glance.

"Come with us." Grover spoke leading you towards the exit.

"Grover, I can't just leave." You spoke crossing your arms over your chest. "My shift isn't over." Firmly staring at both men.

"Fine." Percy spoke nonchalantly. "We'll stay with you."

"Percy..." You rolled your eyes. "That's not how this works. You can't just stay here while I finish my shift."

"Sure we can." Grover chimed in.

You groaned in frustration.True to their word, Grover and Percy waited in the museum during your shift.

-------------------------------------------------

"Where are we going?" You asked from the back seat, checking your phone.

Neither of them bothered to respond. They were emersed in their conversation that, they frantically bickered back and forth.

Percy slammed on the breaks, causing you to slide forward thankfully your seat belt caught you.

"Black Jack?" You questioned leaning over to look out of the windshield. Both men turned and gazed at you in confusion.

Without another word, you quickly unbuckled and exited the car.

"Y/N!" Grover yelled in panic.

Rolling your eyes, a smile made it's way across your lips as you made your way to Black Jack.

"Hey, Black Jack." You spoke, greeting the horse. His face nuzzled yours as giggles fell from your lips.

"I missed you too, buddy." You replied.

"You...You can understand him?" Grover questioned in shock as he stood beside Percy.

Continuing to pet Black Jack, you glanced at both men. "Well, understand what I think he's saying." You muttered.

Percy and Grover exchanged a knowing look.Black Jack let out an unfamiliar noise, as he shook his head.

Furrowing your brows together you looked at him. "What is it?"

The sound of branches and leafs rustling startled you. Gazing toward the noise, ice coursed through your veins.

"Guys?" You whispered, not daring to remove your focus from the direction of the noise.

"Y/N, get behind us." Grover spoke in a protective manner. Frowning you turned to look at him.

"No." You spoke.

"What do you mean no?" He asked in shock, both men looking at you as their expression was etched with confusion.

Making your way towards the car, you gazed at them over your shoulder.

"Exactly what I said." You muttered.Leaning in the back seat, you began searching for a button you had. Finding it, the middle console of the back seat fell open. Reaching inside, you pulled out two swords. You walked back towards your friends.

"What the hell is that?" Grover questioned.

"Where did you get those?"

"I've had them in my car." You responded nonchalantly.

"In case of an emergency." You handed Percy one of the swords as you, stood in front of them.

"How do you know the thing doesn't have a gun?" Grover asked.

Raising an eyebrow you looked at him.

"Grover." You started, gazing at Percy in the process. "You do realize my job is knowing about Greek Mythology right?"

"What're you saying?" He asked as his eyebrows furrowed together.

"I'm saying." You stated. "That this road is notorious for having 'animal' attacks on it."

"She's right." A female voice spoke behind you. "I'd listen to her if I were you."

Whirling around, you could make out the details of the woman's face.

"Give us the girl." She spoke again.

Percy reached out grabbing your wrist, gently pulling you beside him and Grover.

"No." Grover shot back.

"Give. Us. The girl." Another female spoke joining the first one.

"No." Percy responded this time.

"We won't ask again." They spoke in unison. "He wants her home."

Hearing their words, made you frown. Before you had a chance to process, one of the woman had grown wings landing above you. She had knocked you to the ground, causing your sword to skid out of reach.

"Come with us." She snarled above you. "Come with us and we'll spare your friends."

"Don't do it Y/N!" Grover yelled.

Gazing toward his voice, you then saw Grover standing on his own with fur covering his legs.

"Grover?" You asked in disbelief.

The sound of a horse naying, could be heard. Black jack, kicked the winged woman off of you, allowing you to get to your feet and grab your sword.

"She's a feisty one." The other woman taunted. "This'll be fun."

She flew at you attempting to knock you down. A strong arm wrapped around your waist yanking you in the direction of their body. Colliding with a broad chest, the smell of sea salt filled your senses.

"Are you okay?" Percy's husky voice asked full of concern.

Gazing at him, the close proximity causing heat to rise in your cheeks, as his piercing blue eyes bore into y/e/c.

Nodding you placed a hand on his chest, gently pushing yourself away. Percy was quickly yanked away from you, as one of the women ripped him away. Raising your sword, you sung it coming in contact with arm. She let out a shrill scream. The sound was something that you had never heard before.

"Percy!" Grover yelled.

Swinging your sword, you were able to defend yourself against the woman attempting to advance at you. Her claws came in contact with your cheek, causing pain to course through your body. Hitting her with your sword, she let out the same shrill scream as the other woman had.

"Get her to camp!"

Nodding Percy wrapped an arm around your waist, yanking you to him. Your back collided with his chest. Lifting you onto Blackjack, you were quickly flown through the forest. Blackjack let out a sound of agony, as he collided with the ground causing you and Percy to tumble onto the ground.

Groaning your side had a harsh impact with a large rock as you fell to the ground. One of the women had followed you into the forest flying after Blackjack.

"You didn't think we would let you get away that easy did you?" She sneered.

Crawling backwards, you gaped at the woman flying above you.

"Percy?" You asked panic evident in your voice.

When you didn't get a response, you frantically looked around until your gaze fell on him. He had hit his head on a large rock, causing him to be out cold.

"It's just you and me now girl." She taunted. "You can't even work a sword. How do you expect to save your friends?"

Flying down, she attempted to attack you. Rolling out of the way, you had successfully dodged her attack. Exhaustion began setting in, as your chest rose and fell at a rapid pace.

Percy let out a low groan, as he became conscious again.

"Leave her alone!" He yelled stumbling to his feet.

"Who's going to make me?" She continued to taunt him. "Surely not you."

Before you could think, you lifted your hand preventing the winged woman from furthering her attack on Percy. Turning her attention back towards you, she stared at you with confusion.

"I am." You spoke with confidence, rising to your feet.

Grover rushed over to where you and Percy were fighting the last winged woman. Both men stared at you with a confused expression.

The woman cackled, turning towards you she attempted to lunge at you. Blocking her actions, you lifted your other hand allowing you to hold her still. Your eyes grew heavy, as you let the anger you had race through your veins.She continued to attempt her movements, but you were able to block them. Before you could think you had turned her to dust.Falling to your knees, your hands shot out in front of you holding you up as you leaned forward. Your chest was rising and falling faster than before, as you gasped for air.

"Y/N..." Grover muttered kneeling beside you, as he rubbed your back attempting to comfort you. "What...." His voice trailing off not processing what he saw.

"My mother." You gasped out. "Is a witch."

Pushing off of the ground Grover and Percy helped you to your feet. Percy had wrapped an arm around your waist helping you walk through the forest. Wincing in pain, silence fell over the group. There was a sudden entrance in the middle of the forest.

Looking at the arch, it was written in greek. Frowning your gaze dropped to the ground in front of you realizing you couldn't read it. Gazing at the arch again you were able to read it. 'Camp Half-Blood.' it read.The sound of a whining filled the air.

"Wait." You stopped stepping away from both men.

"What?" Grover asked in panic.

"Blackjack!" You yelled running toward the horse laying on it's side, in pain.

"It'll be okay. You're okay." You whispered.

"Y/N..." Grover began. "There's nothing you can do."

Looking over your shoulder you shot them a confused look.

Lifting your hands, placing them palm down, you focused as a glow began shining. You began healing Blackjack. Exhaustion set in, as your eyes grew heavier and heavier. Not being able to fight it off any longer, you fell to the ground with a thud. The last thing you remembered was Percy yelling you name, before his strong arms lifted you up.

Groaning, you opened your eyes. Blinking you looked at the ceiling. Flashbacks of the fight, filled your mind. It felt like a weird dream. Attempting to sit up, a sharp pain shot through your side.

"Woah, woah." A husky voice sounded as they helped you to sit up.

"Thank you." You muttered.

Looking up to see who helped you, y/e/c was met with the blue ones.

"Percy?"

"Hey." He smiled, sitting back in his chair beside your bed. "Thanks for...Uhm..Saving me."

A light pink tint danced along his cheeks.

----------------------------------------------------

"Y/N!" One of the campers called. "Come on we're going to be late for dinner!" Giggling you nodded your head. It had been a long few months at camp. Percy and Grover had taught you extensively how to fight using a sword.

At some point during the summer, Percy had begun spending more and more time with you. He had quickly become your best friend besides Grover.

You still hadn't been claimed by your godly parent yet. You had tried to shake the sad feeling that came along with it. Walking into the pavilion, you were greeted by your fellow campers. Everyone was friendly towards you and went to you for advice. Most of the girls did anyway, while most of the guys went to Percy for advice. It was no secret that almost all the girls had a crush on Percy. You didn't blame them, he was one of the most attractive guys you had seen, even in the human world.

Since you hadn't been claimed yet, you slept in the Hermes cabin for the time being. Usually, during meals, you bounced around sitting at different tables.Today you opted to sit with your friends.

"Y/N!" Grover exclaimed happily, pulling you in for a hug before sitting down. "I've missed you."

Giggling you smiled. "I missed you too Grover."

"Hey!" Percy pouted, sticking his bottom lip out.

Rolling your eyes, you chuckled. "I saw you all day."

"So."

"I missed you too Percy."

"You better."

"Are you two done flirting?" Grover interrupted irritation evident in his voice. "Some of us would like to eat."

His reaction caused you to burst into laughter making Percy and Grover laugh too. Wiping a few tears from your eyes, you caught your breath.Since becoming close friends with Percy, your feelings you had developed for him in the human world, began bubbling up.

Standing up, you were attempting to get something to drink. Silence fell upon the pavilion, as you the hair on the back of your neck stood up. Glancing up, everyones eyes were on you. Looking around, you furrowed your eyebrows together in confusion. Turning toward Percy and Grover, they gazed at you with shock.

Looking upward, you were able to catch a luminated symbol above you. You could feel the color drain from your face as the realization dawned on you. It was one of the 'Big Three.'

Hades.

[cabinofimagines]

Amends

Request: taking place in the Trials of Apollo timeline? Reader is a daughter of Apollo who is dating Percy. For some reason, the reader had a fallout with her father and has distanced herself from the demigod life. But when Apollo comes to find Percy at the beginning of The Hidden Oracle (in his mortal form), Percy calls the reader and Apollo tries to make amends with her.

Word count: 1129

Happy Birthday to this Sea Boi! A request long overdue, but a request done nonetheless. Feedback is welcome, hope you enjoy!

-Asnyox

Being a demigod is obviously a difficult life. Hard times come and go, and the stronger your parent the harder your own life. Fortunately, your father was only Apollo, god of music, the sun, plague and much more. He was well known -that’s for sure – but he was not, let’s say, the most important god. Children of Apollo had easier lives than children of Poseidon. Percy and you often compared your lives, and his was significantly harder. Two big quests before he was allowed to even drink – I mean that is something alright.

Yet, you could not deal with the demigod life. After your father had left, your mom had taken a turn for the worst. At a moment when she was not entirely in her right mind, she had sent you away to Camp Half-Blood. You did not blame her for doing so, because camp had taught you many things.

Camp had taught you early on how to survive. How to fight monsters, how to treat the sick and wounded. Camp taught you heartbreak when you lost yet another friend or sibling. Heartbreak when your next crush started dating someone else. However, camp taught you love, when Percy came to you and helped you. Percy had taught you what was holding you back, and that was camp.

Not many halfbloods are in a good relationship with their godly parent. Most are brought to camp, claimed and then left alone. Some get a favour every now and then, or a present or a quest. About a year and a half ago a whole lot of demigods tried to destroy the gods, fighting alongside Kronos. You were never tempted to join them, because they would bring harm to the only place you ever considered much of a home. However, in all of that, you never considered what you thought of your father, but you never liked him for sure. He had ruined your mother; he had ignored you when you needed him. Your father, the god of healing had broken you more than anything.

Percy helped you see this, and you officially distanced yourself from camp. After the first great war you went back to your mom, to help her heal. It was rough, but you would work it out. Then Percy disappeared and you searched and searched. Forgetting why you had removed yourself from the demigod life. You called to your dad to help you, to do anything, but he never replied.

The second war came and went, and it left you in pieces. People died, got injured and ignored. You would never – never ever- forgive your father. All your life you needed him to do anything, to show you a sign and all that time he had only claimed you. You weren’t worth his time, so he would never be worth yours.

Time went on, you moved on, back to your mom and back to a mortal life. The only demigod pieces you kept were your friends -although you didn’t refer to them as your siblings anymore- and your boyfriend Percy Jackson. He understood why you had left camp behind and showed sympathy. He never pressured you to come back, but he did warn you not to start a second demigod revolution, which brought a smile to your face.

‘You called?’ you said as you entered Percy’s home.

‘Yeah, (Y/n), uhm there is someone who wanted to speak with you.’ Percy said as he pressed a kiss on your cheek. A small smile graced his face as he closed the door behind you. You looked slightly up to him

‘And who might this be? A certain Perseus Jackson?’ you joked slyly as you put off your coat. You turned around to but the coat away and felt a pressure around your waist. Percy’s hair tickled your neck as he pressed a soft kiss on your shoulder.

‘You may not like it, I’m sorry’ Percy whispered into your ear. You turned around fast, looking into Percy’s eyes. A bit of pressure came on your stomach.

‘What do you mean?’ Percy stepped away, looking at Percy as your brows furrowed. 

‘Your dad. But let me explain-’ You pulled yourself out of his embrace, not believing this. Your heart picked up it’s pace. ‘Percy! You know I left that behind me!’ You exclaimed as you angrily gestured your hands. ‘I know, just, look.’ Percy dragged you into his living room. You looked out for you dad, however you just found some teen sitting there. ‘Is this a joke? Percy, this is not funny.’ You shot a look to your boyfriend. He wouldn’t joke about this would he? 

‘Hey, (Y/n), my daughter!’ the teen spoke up. The curly haired teen stood op from the couch and opened his arms as to give you a hug, or present himself. ‘What?’ You looked from the teen to Percy and Percy nodded. You shook your head. This couldn’t be Apollo, god of music? ‘I don’t believe this. Apollo?’ The teen nodded with a awkward smile on his face. ‘The one and only!’ His smile seemed to brighten ever so slightly.

‘Why did you want to talk to me?’ you asked him, still not entirely sure why he looked the way he looked. Not that you wanted to know, it is probably some godly business which you didn’t want to intervene with. 

‘I-uhm, well- yeah-’ Apollo started to stumble over his words. ‘Dude, just get it over with. I am sure (Y/n) doesn’t have all day.’ Percy said from behind you. He was still standing in the door opening, perhaps to prevent you from leaving as soon as you saw your dad. Perhaps to give your dad and you some kind of privacy without actually leaving you alone. 

‘Geez, this is hard. Normally I wouldn’t have to do this.’ Percy shot Apollo a glare and Apollo visibly stiffened. ‘Okay, okay.’ Apollo paused and fumbled with his hands. He whispered something under his breath -a prayer?- and looked you in the eye.

‘(Y/n), I am sorry for neglecting you, and your mom. I am sorry for all this time. Please, forgive me.’ Apollo confidences faltered at the ending of his sentence. You just stared at him. ‘No. I will not forgive you, not like that.’ you said sternly. What was he thinking? That just saying sorry would better everything? Apollo genuinely looked surprised with your answer. ‘But- I-’ ‘No. Apollo, you’ve treated me like nothing all my life. Saying sorry is not going to fix that. Sure it is a beginning, but it won’t change anything. Try again after you’ve earned it.’ You turned around, kissed Percy on his cheek and left. 

Apollo just got one more quest to fulfill.  

[jordanbakeraa]

Percy Jackson Imagines

Imagine this being Percy's reaction to you having a boyfriend

“Yeah, My boyfriend name is Ian”

“Wait, you have a boyfriend”

“Wow is that such a surprise”

[pcvensies]

I love your blog and writing! I’ve recently gotten back into PJO and was wondering if you would write a fic where Percy was jealous. If you don’t mind writing PercyxReader.

Secret handshake

In which Percy gets jealous of his partner’s friendship with Jason

word count: 1600

trigger warnings: none

DISCLAIMER: this happens in some kind of au where jason d-words but is brought back because baby. pls bare with me. also, gender neutral!

also hUH logan is my percy. in my mind he is ,, idk man. i just love him sm. ur welcome for the gif ✌🏼😚

Jason was his friend. You were his partner. And you were all friends, it was all cool. Yet there he was, annoyedly sat on the floor, watching you both train with a frown drawn on his face.

Jason was a great fighter, as so were you, and you had this stupid ability to sincronize all your movements without even trying, which made you two an amazing team. Always effective, always on everyone’s mouth. And that fact alone could ruin Percy’s day, that you and Jason were so good together, and you and him were not.

“C’mon, Jay, you can do so much better”, you spoke, and Jason chuckled, turning around fast enough to hit you with his shoulder.

“Like that, you mean?”.

Your laugh made Percy’s heart flutter, as you got up and shook your head, punching the blonde boy on his arm. You looked so /good/ with your camp shirt covered in dirt, sticky hair somehow framing your face in a beautiful way, drawing shapes on your pinkish cheeks.

Jason smiled gently, shaking your hand, and the blue eyed boy groaned: when had Y/n and Jason made a secret handshake? And why didn’t they have one?

Percy was too busy being annoyed to notice your hand on his head, fingers running carefully through his dark locks, and when he finally did, he looked up at you.

“...not listening again, are you?”, there wasn’t any trace of annoyance on your voice, and still, the demigod felt guilty under your eyes, sighing softly and moving his hand to rest it on your calf, running his thumb over your skin.

Before he could speak, Jason wrapped his arm around your shoulder, breathing heavily and smiling down at Percy, which for some reason annoyed him even more. Jay being so oblivious of his feelings annoyed him.

“You should pay more attention to Y/n, Percy, or they might get tired of speaking to the air”.

He was joking, he didn’t mean it. It was Jason, for Zeus’ sake. But the dark haired boy couldn’t help the dirty look he sent the blonde as he got up, so fast it startled you, as your hand fell to your side.

“I was listening, thank you very much. And it’s all good, you tire them enough with all the training, Grace”.

Jason gave Percy a strange look, cautiously analysing his expression searching for a sign on what was up with him, but the dark haired boy simply sighed.

“I’m just gonna leave you two alone, so you can continue training. It’s not like I’m needed here anyways”.

Sometimes Percy had these kinds of moments, where even if he was pretty confident of himself most of the time, he’d doubt. Not you, of course, he would never doubt you. But himself, and his ways of handling your relationship.

You were left there, next to the blonde boy, as Percy walked away, fists closed and tense shoulders, muttering nonsense to himself under his breath.

The rest of the day was boring, and you’d swear it was cold for a sunny August day. You always felt cold when Percy wasn’t around, like if you were standing on the shade, and wherever you walked, it followed you.

He felt the same, somehow. When you were not around, he felt colder too. Like if everything around him was dark, like if the sun had stopped shining. You always brought warmth to him, sometimes without even touching him, and so he did to you.

Dinner was simply weird, your siblings trying to find out what was wrong, asking questions and trying to cheer you up with jokes and old stories. One of the older ones even threatened to fight whoever had made you feel like that, but it only caused the table to erupt in laughter as he was known for being a softie.

From where you were sitting, you could see Jason dining alone at the Cabin 1 table. It wasn’t even his table, this wasn’t even his camp, but it wasn’t weird to have him around CHB after he came back from the dead, to be around you, Perce, Annabeth and the rest.

You thanked your siblings for everything, excusing yourself and walking to his table, sitting next to him with a small smile.

“You look lonely as hell, Jay, it’s ruining the whole camp’s mood”.

He gave you a smile, chuckling softly and shaking his head.

“I’m still thinking about this morning. I don’t know what we did to annoy Percy so much, honestly”, he complained, as he took a sip of his ambrosia glass, “Have you spoken to him?”.

Perce and Jay had a close friendship, and you could feel how genuinely worried the blonde boy was. You shook your head at his question, and looked around, trying to find your boyfriend.

However, you didn’t, as he wasn’t there. Percy groaned once again, eyes locked to his cabin’s ceiling as his crossed arms rested on his chest.

He knew he was being childish, and still, he couldn’t stop it, the feeling that caused his chest to tighten and his face to get hot whenever he thought about you and Jason laughing together.

It wasn’t lack of trust, though, it was more like fear of you finding someone better. Someone who wouldn’t wake you up in the middle of the night, knocking at your cabin’s door because they can’t sleep. Someone who would listen to you all the time, someone who would always have their full attention on you, someone who would...

“...gods’ sake, Jackson, open the door!”, your voice made him jump, strong knocking finally making it through his ears, and he cursed himself for being distracted again. He couldn’t help it, really, and you understood, but he still felt bad whenever it happened.

The door finally opened, your shorter frame standing in front of him, arms crossed over your chest. You wanted to get mad, to fight him for leaving you and Jay like he did in the morning, for avoiding you two all day. But something on the way he looked down at you made you realise you couldn’t tell him anything he wasn’t aware of already.

He moved to the side, allowing you to walk in, in hopes that you wouldn’t yell at him or argue. Not because he didn’t think he deserved it, but because he was too tired for any of it.

You sighed deeply, sitting on his bed, watching him close the door slowly, as he raised his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Y/n I’m—”.

“No”, you cut him, and he tensed again, waiting for it.

You felt it, the exact moment his body went defence mode, and you patted the bed next to you, raising your arm his way. Percy looked at the bed, then at your hand, and he held it gently as he sat, both his hands wrapped around yours, playing with your fingers as he looked down.

“I’m not mad at you, Perce… just worried, you’ve been acting weird since Jason got here. We’re both worried about you, we—”.

“Why is it always ‘we’ with you two, huh?”, he spat out, unable to stop himself. He paused his fiddling with your fingers when he realised, and he finally looked up at you (gif!), “I’m sorry– I am so sorry. I don’t mean that you can’t be friends, I would never stop you from being friends with anyone, Y/n, it’s just… Fuck, I don’t even know”.

You looked at him with gentle eyes, your free hand resting on his knee as you nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“You two make such a great team, and you’re always so happy when he comes around… You even have a secret handshake. It’s stupid but I don’t feel like… like we have that”.

Percy had never been the best at being vocal about his feelings, and you knew he was doing an effort to put it all in words for you.

“Percy, babe… Jason needs it”, you spoke, your eyes on his, “He needs somewhere to go where he can forget about anything that isn’t laughing and enjoying a day under the sun, and I try to make that place here... And we are a good team because he’s not my boyfriend!”, you chuckled softly.

“What?”.

“I mean, I would lose it if something were to happen to him during a fight, but Jay and I are just friends! We protect each other like friends do. When you and I are out there, I’m terrified, and I know you are too. Always trying to take the most for ourselves so the other can stand back… It’s a whole different story, Percy. It’s what love does in the battlefield”.

Percy felt so dumb, both for lashing out at you this morning for trying to help Jason feel better, and for not realising the truth behind the cause of his jealousy. He groaned, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours, and you chuckled, letting go of his hands to cup his cheeks.

You run your thumbs over his skin slowly, his finally calm breathing hitting your face softly, and he pressed a small peck to your lips.

“I’m an idiot”, he said, and you nodded slowly, kissing him first this time.

“Just sometimes. But you have nothing and no one to worry about, alright? We can make a secret handshake too, if that’d make you feel better”.

He laughed a little, rolling his eyes and plopping back on the bed, pulling you with him so your head was resting on his chest. He run his fingers through your hair slowly, and pressed a small kiss to your head.

“I already feel much better… but I do have some ideas for that handshake”.

[oneshot-wxnderland]

I don’t know if you do requests, but I loved your PercyxReader fics. Would you be willing to write PercyxMortal Reader. Or a soulmate au.

I actually did have an idea for something like this so I’ll revisit it 👌

[imaginers221]

A Prophesy of hydra heads

PercyxReader

NOT MY GIF

You sat in the train station waiting for Percy, he said he was going to get some food and try and find a bathroom to change clothes. You were currently on a mission to find the God, Morpheus, your father had gone missing and it was starting to effect the other campers.

You looked at one of the many clocks they had sitting around and decided to try and go find Percy yourself, you were worried that maybe a monster or minor god had found him and something happened. You looked at your train tickets and figured you would have enough time to find him but if something happened you may have to miss the train.

Walking to the back were the bathroom and vending machines were you turned the corner to see Percy cornered by a Chimera and Riptide had been knocked from his hand flying across the room. He saw you behind the monster ready to pull out your own sword and get rid of the threat. He nodded at you to go ahead and kill the chimera, you thrust your sword into the ground pushing off and throwing your body up into the air to try and catch yourself on the back of the chimera. You landed on the head and it snapped at your foot that dangled down next to the chimeras nose. Using your arms you pulled yourself up and stabbed straight through hitting the heart of the beast.

You jumped down and looked for Percy who was currently cleaning his wound on his arm.

“Are you okay?” You asked with wide eyes as he flinched when the gauze touched the wound.

“Yea, I just wanted to change in peace, and then it popped out of the closet.” He stated resting his head on the wall. “I guess we can just go, is the train here yet?”

“We have five minutes.”

Standing you helped Percy up and the two of you began to walk back to the seating area. You looked around as the train came to a stop and looked for anyone else getting on the train. No one was riding.

“Percy, I’m getting a bad feeling from the train.” You muttered probably sounding crazy.

He nodded feeling the same thing, you both stepped forward giving the man your tickets to stamp. Looking back you saw another monster this time it was a hydra coming right at you. You screamed clutching Percy and pushing him onto the train away from the hydra. You looked back when the train was moving and realized the hydra didn’t get on the train but it stood on the side watching the train.

“(Y/N), it was only a hydra, calm down.” Percy stated clutching your arms.

“No, it was- my dad fought- I can’t believe.” You began collapsing into the chair near you.

“What?” Percy asked sitting next to you.

“It was the hydra that my father warned me about.” You whispered recalling the nightmares you had been given.

Percy hugged you knowing it was a troublesome topic for you to speak about, you didn’t cry but clutched him with fear hoping you’d never see that hydra again.

“Please don’t leave me right now.” You whispered into Percy’s shoulder,he nodded.

“I’ll never leave you.”

[hella-hound]

Hello! I loved the leo imagine you made! Could you do one with percy where he saves the reader from a monster and tells them that they're a demigod? Thanks! :)

Haha thanks Anon! I think this was a wonderful request, I really loved writing this! I thought it was different enough from the norm, but that’s maybe only because it’s my writing :) Hope you like. Disclaimer: Might be some lots of mistakes! I didn’t edit.

You walked down the dark street to the apartment you and you mother lived in. It had started snowing when you crossed 7th and Osborn ((i have no idea what streets are called in ny)) so you trudged with your head down. The wind bit at your face and hands and your cursed yourself for forgetting to pick up your gloves before you stormed out of your friends house. She shouldn’t have mentioned your dad. He was a touchy subject and you hated to think about him. Ever since you told your mom you wanted to meet him and she explicitly said no-

A loud bang came from the alley to your right. You squinted into the darkness, the light from the streetlamps only went so far.

“Hello?” your voice shook because of your teeth chattering. You didn’t even know why. It was probably just a stray cat.. Which only made your heart strings twinge painfully. You and your mother both had a habit of finding lost animals and taking them in. Most you gave away to the shelter but you had kept two cats already…

What would be the trouble of keeping another one? Or keeping it until a weekday when your mother remembered that she could take it the shelter.

You took your phone out of your pocket and started to dial her number in your shaking, cold hands. Another loud bang came from the alley, closer to the entrance this time and you jumped. The phone fell from your hands and shattered on impact.

“Nononono.” You said to yourself. You picked it up and tried to turn it on. The screen stayed black.

“Shit,” You looked around. No one else was on the sidewalks this late at night, save for a dark figure coming your way from the opposite side of the street. But it was too far off for you to ask to use their phone. Besides they could be a serial killer.

Only a few cars drove past but no one intended to stop and ask if she needed a ride, this was New York after all.

You walked into the alley and looked around in the dim light. You kicked aside a few cardboard boxes and found nothing. You walked around the dumpster and held your nose as you looked behind it. Nothing.

Maybe it ran away.

A sound of scuffling came from behind you and you whipped around.

What you saw was not a cat.

It was a lady. She was bruised and dirty like she’d been living on the streets. She was wearing a long strapless dress without a coat, she much have been freezing. Most of her head was still in the shadows but she didn’t seem like a normal homeless person.

“Oh my God are you okay?” you asked. You rushed over to her and started taking off your leather jacket, it wasn’t much, but it had been keeping you warm.

“T-Thank Yo-ou.” She said shivering. She shrugged herself into the jacket.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“Lamia,”

“There’s a diner just down the street, I’ll buy you a hot chocolate or dinner or something and I’ll get some info on a shelter..”

“Oh you don’t have to buy my dinner.”

“Of course I do. It’s the least I can do.” You begged.

“It is not needed, because I am about to have my dinner now.”

“Wha-” She smiled at you and for the first time you saw her face as she stepped out of the shadows.

Her eyes weren’t even there. They were gaping black holes in her face where they should be.

You gasped and stumbled backwards. You turned to run but she grabbed your arm stopping you. She flipped you back around and she smiled. You screamed when you saw her teeth. Like a vampire’s teeth and a shark’s teeth in one.

You looked around and saw a board from a pallet with a nail sticking out from the top. You grabbed it with your free arm and swung it at her it hit her in the side of the head. It didn’t knock her out but it stunned her enough that she let go of your arm.

You started to stumble away but lost your footing, but you caught yourself on your hands. You wiped you scraped hands on you pants and ran

“HELP!” You screamed in the direction of where the person was but they were gone.

She pushed you from behind and you instantly wished you hadn’t dropped the board. She pushed you again and you fell face first in between two parked car. She flipped you onto you back and had one foot on your stomach.

“Please, don’t kill me.” You begged and squirmed. She only laid her foot down harder. She was about to most likely taunt you when a golden stick popped out of her stomach. It would almost have been laughable except for the terrified look on her face. She started dissolving before your  eyes into a yellow dust.

Behind where she was, stood a boy. He was about sixteen or seventeen with black as night hair and pretty green eyes. You looked down to his hand and saw the stick- no it wasn’t a stick. It was a sword.

You scrambled up and had your back against on of the car ready to run any moment.

You opened your mouth to do what any sane person would do, scream.

“Nonono,” he said, “Don’t scream, it’s okay. I’ll put it away.” He said trying to calm you. For some reason you did as he said, you trusted him. Well sorta, I mean he did just kill the person, no, thing,  trying to kill you. He took out a pen cap and placed it on the tip of the sword. The three foot sword turned into a pen and he stuffed it into his pocket. He smiled a kind of smile that only meant he was bad news.

“My name is Percy Jackson, I’m seventeen and I’m a son of Poseidon.” You just stared. What was this guy on?

“Do you know who the Greek gods are?”

So that was that :) hope it was nice, sorry for the pretty cliche last sentence. Remember to send in prompts to the ask box!!

[to-fly-with-clipped-wings]

A Sea of Sorrows -> Act 1, Part 1

Act 1: the Fall of the Gods

Dear Percy. This was the year the Gods fell from Olympus, and I fell from you. I miss the us from that year. I wonder, did either of us know what was in store?

Series Summary: A chronicle of the moments you fell in love with your enemy, Percy Jackson. An epilogue to your fate and an epitaph to your grave.

AKA in a universe where you are a traitor to Camp Half-Blood. This is an ode to the boy that led to your downfall: Percy Jackson.

Series Masterlist

Percy Jackson Masterlist

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

i. “OH, OH, tell us again how the legend goes?”

Your eight-year old self bounced on the heels of your feet. The little blue birthday hat atop your head started to slip, the elastic string too long to fit snugly around your head, but you hardly bat an eye. You clap your hands together, giggling, staring in awe as yet another star sparks in the sky and, it too begins its spiralling descent from its heavenly abode and to the feet of your earth-dwelling mortals. 

The star’s trail of divine dust, marking its venture across your frail vision, was reflected in your eyes. You raised an arm, as though trying to pluck the celestial from the sky.

Silena Beauregard giggled as she reached over to fix your askew birthday hat. 

You didn’t know if it was the mind of your eight-year-old self manipulating a shroud mist around the girl or if she genuinely held the most ethereal, luminous pieces of the sky within her dark blue eyes. You didn’t know, or perhaps, didn’t want to remember, if her midnight silk hair, glossed and draped over her shoulders as the night enveloped the horizon, had been anything but that. The bracelets around her wrist tinkled as she went about drawing your astray strands of hair back. You could smell her perfume as well, but its scent was so fleeting that you could never seem to recall it once she left.

You smiled at her, like if you had even the slightest chance, you wouldn’t have hesitated to delve into the velvety curtain of the night to retrieve only the finest of stars for her eyes to hold. 

She smiled at you, as though — impossible as it may have sounded — as though, in that moment, she loved you.

“Well,” she started, leaning over to place both you and Annabeth on her lap.

Clarisse La Rue took that chance to rip off her birthday hat (red, she had insisted) and replace it with her usual bandanna. The Stoll brothers, apparently, took great offence to that gesture, as they too whipped off their own hats to brandish like daggers at the Ares girl. Clarisse snarled at them, before taking her own, very real, spear and threatening to shove it down their throats or in some other choice places.

Beckdorf smirked, crossing his arms as he turned his head to appraise the face-off between the brothers and Clarisse, but he didn’t make any move to discourage the oncoming fight. And then, as was usual, Luke — the golden boy, the older brother to all campers (no matter if you were younger or older than him) — sighed, as though he’d just lost fifteen years of his life from their spat, and then plucked Clarisse’s spear out of her hands and lightly pushed his half-brothers into each other, sprawling onto the ground like dominoes.

“Can’t you guys ever settle down?” he asked, rolling his eyes. But then he smiled, so all of you knew that he didn’t really mean it. “I mean, it’s little Major’s birthday today and all we want is to enjoy the meteor shower in peace.” “Little Major is contradictory,” frowned Annabeth. An onlooker might’ve thought that Luke had just wished a deadly curse upon her entire bloodline, from the way her grey gaze furrowed. “How can she be little and major at the same time? It doesn’t make any sense!”

Before Luke could make a teasing remark (you could tell from the way the outer corner of his lip, the one without the dimple, twitched upwards), you cut in. “Please, Selly, pretty please! Tell me about the shooting star?”

“It’s a tale of wonder,” Silena finally began, her pearly white teeth shining through her picture-perfect smile. Her tone was hushed, like she was whispering a super-secret secret to the girls, “forged by immortals under a sky, much like this one.”

“In the days of old,” continued Beckondorf, his contribution to the conversation surprising you. The muscular boy was of few words, but you supposed that Silena’s presence had drawn him out from his carefully crafted shell. You and Annabeth shared amused looks, far more knowing beyond your years. 

“The Greeks looked up to the heavens and saw the gods in every corner of the night. They believed that the sky was a grand canvas, a blank machine of sorts, where the gods etched their stories in constellations and galaxies.”

“Now, the gods, they weren’t distant watchers,” said Silena, glancing at Beckendorf as she spoke. She looked at him as though she wasn’t reciting the tale to you, but to him, the only other person in the world. “They were keepers of hopes, weavers of destinies. And sometimes, just sometimes, they would lean so close to Earth that a star would slip through their fingers and streak across the sky. That’s what we call a shooting star.

“The legend goes that in those fleeting moments, the veil between us and the divine thins. It’s when the gods are listening, truly listening, to the heartbeat of the world. And if a mortal, pure of heart and full of hope, makes a wish upon such a star, the gods take notice.”

“They say that Aphrodite smiles upon lovers,” spoke Luke softly. He gazed up at the sky, and then toward the pine-tree in the far distance. “Athena guides the seekers of wisdom, Ares leads man into war, and that, if you were truly of a golden heart, Zeus himself might offer his insight.” 

His voice dwindled off, and if, at the time, perhaps you hadn’t been so caught up in your childish, insolent elation, you might’ve picked up on his bitter tone.

Annabeth turned to you. “So, on your special night, let’s wish on all the shooting stars. Together.”

Silena nodded, resting her head on Beckendorf’s shoulder. “Close your eyes, you wish on that star. You wish and you dream wish with all that is there in your heart, and just, believe. Believe, as the gods are kind, and they cherish the dreams of their children.”

“But you remember, Major,” Luke turned his saddened gaze back to you. “That old star can only take you part of the way. You have to help it along with some hard work of your own, and then, yeah. You can do anything you set your mind to.”

“Just promise us one thing,” murmured Silena. “That you'll never, ever lose sight of what's really important.”

“I don’t know what to do,” You stared up at her anxiously, fiddling with the string of your birthday hat. “Could you show me how to wish?”

She smiled once more, and it felt like the balance of the stars and sky had been reborn to take the form of Silena Beauregard. “Oh, I’m sure you already know how to do that.”

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

ii. Against all odds, you would say that you were looking forward to the Yancy school trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Yeah, you didn’t really care about art or architecture or the weird little naked statues of the gods (you definitely didn’t appreciate that), but you were looking forward to your first extraction mission as a demigod — even if this little outing of yours couldn’t be considered a quest, and even if it was long overdue.

Being undetermined was a disease in the world of Greek mythology, and it was a disease that followed you like the plague. it was a curse when your Godly parent refused to claim you, refused to acknowledge you. You were cursed from the start, cursed to run around, seeking kleos, and for what?

For absolutely nothing.

That was something no one let you forget. From your spot on the floor in Cabin Eleven, to the brown mass of curls on Grover’s head that frantically kept glancing back at you to make sure that no monster had snuck up on you during the last thirty seconds he hadn’t been looking at you. It even took Chiron about three years worth of convincing to let you go out, as he used the same reason (excuse) over and over again: you aren’t claimed. You don’t know how to defend yourself. It is too dangerous.

That’s what it always boiled down to. 

You weren’t claimed, fine. You didn’t need to be claimed to be able to fight. 

It was always the same broken record that played whenever someone opened their mouth, but instead of sweet melodies or even sweeter, praise, it was the string of never-ending, ‘you aren’t strong enough. You aren’t brave enough. You aren’t good enough.

You aren’t claimed.’

A voice in the back of your mind churned traitorously. Although, you supposed that you shouldn’t be the one to talk about betrayal. 

The speculations held merit, it had whispered.

Once a demigod was claimed, it was said that their powers grew exponentially. A claiming was essentially a blessing from your divine parent’s hand, a way of saying ‘I, as your parent, grant you your birthright as my child.’ You became blessed by Olympus to become faster, better, and stronger, a means to defend yourself from the monsters that lurked in the outside world.

But the thing was, once a godly parent claimed their kid, their godly side also began to radiate monster-attraction scent that enhanced their presence to monsters in a nearby radius. One would argue then, that meant unclaimed half-bloods would be better suited to high-risk jobs since they were at a lower risk of monster attacks than claimed ones. 

“But,” Clarisse La Rue had argued, “that also means that you have less experience fighting monsters, so what happens if you encounter a beast like the minotaur on the field? Less experience, plus no divine blessing is a stirring pot for demigod death.”

“So,” Chiron blinked at you, not unkindly. “You need to understand, we simply cannot be sending you out of camp, Major. Your mother is not in  a state where she is able to ward off monsters, and you…”

You…

You are not strong enough, you finish in your head bitterly. You were not strong like the others, not because you weren’t good with a sword or spear, but because you were not good enough to register as a child to your divine parent.

It was always Major, the side-kick. The pathetic little Robin to Luke’s Batman, or the golden rope to Annabeth’s Wonder Woman. Always the damsel in distress, never the prince. Always the one in the shadows, never the hero. Always the angel, never the god.

Since your mother’s passing four years ago, you had become a year round camper so you had more training under your belt than, say, ninety percent of the Apollo cabin. Yet, even they were allowed to leave camp and get up to all sorts of nonsense. 

Were you not enough for your godly parent to look up from whatever divine duties they needed to do? Were you not good enough for your godly father to come down to save your mother when she was on her deathbed? You weren’t even sure if your father knew your name. 

You sent Grover a small smile when he glanced back at you again. 

Next to you, Percy Jackson, pulled a face. 

Percy was a thirteen year old boy. With staggering sea-green eyes, black hair and tan skin, he was the half-blood Grover had called Chiron out for. For a year, it had been you, him and Grover fighting your way through the hell-hole that was Yancy Academy. Between failing classes, cheating off each other during tests (and failing those anyways because apparently both of you sucked at academics equally) and throwing dirt into Nancy Bobofit’s eyes, whenever she threw her weird bits of peanut-butter-and-ketchup sandwich on Grover, you would say that you and Percy were probably each other’s closest friends. Throughout the year, you and Percy had become each other’s anchor. You shared the burden of academic challenges, often finding peace in the fact that if you were going to fail, at least you’d do it together. 

There was a certain comfort in Percy’s company, a sense of acceptance that was rare and maybe even precious. He never looked at you with eyes of thinly veiled judgement that others often did, nor did he offer unwanted pity, that felt more like a burden than a comfort. It was probably because he had no idea of his demigod heritage, but with Percy, you were just you. 

Unclaimed, maybe, but never unseen. 

You liked Percy’s company, and you were impatiently waiting for the day Chiron gave you the all clear to return to Camp Half-Blood. There you and Percy could spend your days picking strawberries, sparring, whatever it was you two wanted to do. And hopefully, Percy would end up being unclaimed, or maybe even the son of a minor god, so you could ride out your days in the Hermes Cabin forever. Maybe one day, you would even be promoted to having a bunk. That would be especially great. 

“Excited for the trip, Major?” Percy grinned at you. 

You sighed, tilting your head on your seat so you could glance at him through the corner of your eyes. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

Ahead of you, Grover squawked when Nancy Bobofit threw another bit of her sandwich at him. 

“I’m going to kill her,” muttered Percy, his eyes darkening at the red-headed girl. 

You patted Percy’s knee, trying to stop him from leaping toward Nancy. She sucked, but it wasn’t worth Percy getting expelled from Yancy just yet.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

i. “It’s easy,” said Luke, clapping your little, eight-year-old self on the back. “Wait and watch.”

And that you did. With bated breath and rapidly trembling fists, you waited and waited until the stars started to pour once again from the sky. They streaked down the horizon, the eyes of the sky shedding them like divine tear drops or that raindrops that slid down a window — the sort you would bet on with Annabeth about which would reach the sill first.

Beckendorf pointed at the brightest one he could find. He cleared his throat before saying his wish under his breath.

You tilted your head in confusion. “I didn’t hear the wish,” you frowned.

Luke smiled gently, his facade of happiness not quite reaching his eyes. “That’s the catch. You can’t let anyone find out about your wish, otherwise it won’t come true. It’s just between you, and the gods.”

He turned to the sky once more, and uttered his own wish. This time, you tried extra hard to pick up what he was saying, but you couldn’t hear much. You did catch a few words, something about history? It didn’t make too much sense to you though.

It was Silena’s go next. Her cheeks were pink as she made her wish, and she looked at the ground instead of the stars. Her wish was so quiet that even though she had placed you and Annabeth on top of her, you couldn’t hear a thing. 

Annabeth Chase, Clarisse La Rue, Travis and Connor Stoll, Harmony Crosscov and Critos Lyalin all prayed for their wishes as well. It wasn’t hard for you to predict what theirs might've been about. Annabeth’s probably had to do with architecture, Clarisse’s with her spear (possibly making it more deadly, even though you didn’t know why exactly a ten year old needed a super deadly spear in her collection). Travis and Connor probably asked to get a key for the camp’s gift shop so they could raid it even when it was locked. 

Harmony, a daughter of Apollo, had picked up the lyre she was strumming and held it to the sky as she wished, so you suspected hers had to do with maybe creating the most beautiful melody mankind had ever heard with it (although she already did that, so you didn’t know why she needed to use her wish on that). Critos was a son of Demeter, and he was the only one who weren’t entirely confident about, but you thought maybe it had to do with one of his plants — like the petunias that kept wilting? He had always complained about those.

Now, everyone had made their wish. Everyone but you. Your birthday posse turned to face you, the birthday girl, as you prepared to make what was going to be the most important wish of the night.

You were beside yourself in excitement. Today was your eighth birthday! The gods had to grant your wish, that was the intrinsic birthday rule, wasn’t it? The gods had to be looking, heck, maybe even your godly parent was looking. Maybe, just maybe, today would be the day you would get claimed.

You thought about using that as your wish. ‘I wish to be claimed.’ But you decided against it. You had only been at camp for about two months, that wasn’t that long compared to the other camper’s claiming stories. You had plenty of time ahead of you to get claimed, so you didn’t need to rush and waste your wish on something that was inevitable anyways.

Maybe you should wish to win the next capture the flag game? Gods know that the Hermes cabin would be ecstatic if you did. What about acing the Ancient Greek vocab test you had the next day? No, you shook your head. You were going to fail that anyways, wishing on a star wouldn’t save your pitiful grades. You would just have to hope Annabeth would be in a ‘helping-Major-cheat’ mood tomorrow.

Maybe you should wish for something to do with your mother? You frowned. 

The thought of her laughter, her warmth, her guidance - all the things you missed the most - flooded your mind. ‘If she could come back, would she be the same?’ you pondered, the uncertainty a heavy stone in your stomach. ‘And what would she think?’ The frown deepened as you considered. It wasn't just about what you wanted; it was about the balance of things, the natural order. But… she’s gone now. Was she? Could this wish bring her back?

You opened your mouth, but before you said anything, another thought struck you. And with that thought, a sense of peace began to settle over you, as if your mother's wisdom had reached out from beyond, guiding you once more.

That was it! 

The most perfect wish. The gods had to grant it, there was no way they could refuse. It would be the best blessing, the most perfect divine grant that couldn’t possibly be refuted.

In your excitement, however, you forgot about the wishes-were-supposed-to-be-super-top-secret-so-you-must-whisper-them rule, and ended up just blurting it out of your mouth, words churring out faster than you could comprehend.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

ii. Chiron — sorry, Mr. Brunner, led the museum tour.

It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before. Ancient Greek armour (that you knew weren’t that ancient), pots with little dancing figures painted on them, steles with, to no one’s surprise, weird naked statues of gods running across them. It was really nothing special, just the usual artsy stuff mortals were crazy for, but you did get a kick out of Percy snapping at Nancy when Chiron was rumbling about something to do with Greek depression or something.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Percy gave her his nastiest stink-eye.

Everyone laughed. You nudged Percy’s shoulder, and he turned his gaze to you, kicking your shoe in retaliation, before remembering that Chiron and Mrs. Dodds were still there, and they didn’t look happy at all with Percy’s interruption.

Mrs. Dodds was an interesting character. She despised Percy with all of her being (not heart, you weren’t sure if she had a heart), but you would say she had a soft-spot for you. Like whenever she gave Percy after-school detention for blowing up a bin or something, you would turn, smile at you and hand you this weird melted candy bar that tasted oddly like hot fudge and sea salt?

While the chocolate was a much appreciated gesture, you didn’t enjoy the way she snapped at Percy, and you agreed that there was something off about her. Like in the way she wasn’t exactly… normal? But you doubted anyone would listen to you anyways, and if Chiron hadn’t picked up on it, then it probably wasn’t important.

“Mr. Jackson,” began the centaur in disguise. “Did you have a comment?”

“No, sir,” said Percy, his cheeks burning red.

Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. “Perhaps you’ll tell us what this picture represents?”

Percy looked to where he was pointing. He nodded slightly, that he knew the answer to that question (if he didn’t that was fine anyways, you would’ve just whispered it to him). “That’s Kronos eating his kids, right?”

“Yes,” Mr. Brunner said, raising an eyebrow. “And he did this because…”

“Well… Kronos was the king god, and —”

“God?” Mr. Brunner asked. 

You flinched slightly when Percy said it; you didn’t think the gods would be willing to hold back if they caught him making that little comment. The gods had incredibly short fuses, and it was often their temper that caused the most destruction — like when Ares shot that one archduke back in 1914 and started World War 1.

“Titan,” Percy fixed. “And…he didn’t trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—”

“Eeew!” squealed a girl from behind you. 

“—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans,” Percy powered through, “and the gods won.”

Nancy Bobofit mumbled, “like we’re going to use this in real life. Like it’s going to say on our job applications, ‘Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.’”

You didn’t like Nancy much, but there was probably some merit to her question. The gods cared so much about themselves, that one day they probably would manage to hijack mortal job interviews into a pop quiz of ‘what is Aphrodite’s favourite brand of perfume’ or ‘write a one thousand word essay on why Zeus is most supreme god, explaining clearly why his brothers Poseidon and Hades suck ass.’

You rolled your eyes.

“And why, Mr. Jackson,” Brunner said, “to paraphrase Miss Bobofit’s excellent question, does this matter in real life?”

“Busted,” Grover muttered. 

“Shut up,” hissed Nancy, her face even brighter red than her hair. 

Percy looked pensive for a moment, the most pensive you’d ever seen him apart from when he needed to decide between blue cookies or blue jelly beans. “I don’t know, sir.”

“I see.” Chiron sighed. “Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan’s stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld.”

Kronos. The name sent chills up your spine. The Titan lord who had once ruled before the gods, now a whisper from the past, yet his legacy lingered like a shadow. As Chiron recounted the tale, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of foreboding, a sense that the history of the gods and Titans was not as distant as it seemed.

Your gaze shifted downwards to your trembling hands. You clasp them together to try and steady them. The tales of gods and Titans, of heroes and monsters, they all seemed like distant echoes of a world you were forced into but never truly belonged. You felt the weight of your unclaimed status, a constant reminder of your place, or lack thereof, in this mythological nightmare.

You watched Percy. His fate was yet to unfold, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. He had a path, albeit unknown to him, but you… you were adrift in a sea of uncertainty, a ship without a sail.

The gods, those mighty beings who played with the lives of mortals and demigods alike, they were the root of your turmoil. How easy it must’ve been for them, to watch from their celestial thrones, to judge and to ignore the pleas of their children. 

In the days to come, I would stand by you as you discovered the truth. But, when the weight of your destiny became too much to bear alone, my greatest regret was that I could not stand beside you. Your bond was a testament to the strength that friendship and loyalty could bring. Mine was a testament to the darkness and hatred of our world.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

iii. The battlefield was before you, a canvas of chaos painted with the scars of war. The earth itself seemed to mourn, its once green flesh torn and charred. The battlefield stretched out, a vast, open wound upon the ground. The grass was soaked with the blood of fallen warriors, and squelched underfoot as you walked among the remnants of what had once been a fierce and vibrant camp. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of burning flesh, a sensory assault that would haunt you for all your days.

The earth, which had once cradled life, now cradled the fallen, its bosom scarred by the violence it had witnessed. The camp, once a beacon of hope and strength for demigods, lay in ruins, its vibrant pulse silenced, save for the mournful wind that whispered through the shattered remains.

Luke Castellan had returned, but not as the triumphant hero he had set out to be. His quest to retrieve the golden apples had failed miserably. The cost of his ambition was written in the blood and lives of his quest mates, who had perished along the way. The monsters he had inadvertently brought to the camp's boundary were now a symbol of his failure, their snarls and roars a chorus of impending doom.

Amidst the cacophony of clashing steel and the cries of the wounded, a shadow loomed large. The dracanae, a beast of nightmares, slithered through the chaos, its presence a dark omen. Its scales, as dark as the void, absorbed the light around it. They were fighting not just for their lives, but for the very soul of the camp, against forces that sought to extinguish their light forever.

Monsters had breached the camp's defences, and panic had taken hold.

Luke stumbled across the boundary line of the camp, his face marred in blood, blood, blood. Luke's arrival had been a tragic procession, a lone figure staggering under the weight of failure and loss. His face, a mask of agony, was a stark reminder of the cost of their endeavours. The blood that stained him was not just his own but that of his questmates, their lives extinguished.

One of his eyes was doused in the red, liquid, acid, and you could make out a gruesome scar that trailed from above his eyebrow right down to his jaw. You sucked in a breath.

You had watched, your heart shattering, as Luke's knees buckled, his strength waning. The monsters he had unwittingly led to the camp's boundary now surged forward, eager to feast on the grief and fear that hung heavy in the air.

His face was as though it had been split open. You dropped your sword, and immediately rushed toward your old friend. Luke cried out in pain as he brought a hand up to his wound in an attempt to hold his face together.

“Luke! Luke!” you shrieked, almost tripping over the armour that was too big for your ten-year-old body. “Luke!”

You ran toward them, engulfing him with your arms. You had run, small legs carrying you faster than they ever had, toward the brother who had taught you to be brave, to fight, to hope.

The battle raged on beside you, but you could hardly care, for your oldest brother was in your arms with his heart and soul bore open and torn to shreds. 

As you had reached him, the world seemed to slow, the sounds of war fading into a hushed lull. You had wrapped your arms around him, a futile shield against the tide of darkness that threatened to engulf you both. Luke's eyes, once bright with mischief and courage, now mirrored the devastation that was before you.

The battle had raged on, indifferent to the small, poignant scene at its fringes. But for you, in that moment, there had been nothing else—only the piercing grief of a child holding onto the last remnants of a family that was swiftly being torn away.

“Archers!” Lee Fletcher called out to his fellow half-siblings. “On my mark!”

The sky above was a tumultuous canvas, where the wrathful gods seemed to paint with clouds the colour of bruises and ash. Their indifference hung heavy, a suffocating blanket over the carnage below. 

You had once prayed to them, believed in their wisdom and justice, but now their names left a bitter taste on your tongue.

“Now!”

A volley of arrows spiralled through, each one hitting its mark. One, two, three arrows in rapid-fire succession knocked off the beasts that stumbled into camp boundaries. A cyclops that had been standing over a bloodied mass of a young girl, hollered in pain as an arrow pierced its singular eye. A draco aionius roared out a blast of fire, but your eyes were so wrung out with tears and blood that you couldn’t see who it had shot down before it had been killed. The dracanae lashed out one final time before exploding into a heap of golden dust.

The cries of the wounded rose around you, a haunting chorus that melded with the wails of those mourning their kin. You saw families torn apart, sisters cradling lifeless sisters, brothers with eyes hollowed by a brother’s loss. Each face was a mirror of your own despair, reflecting a shared agony that would bind you to them in grief.

You stumbled upon the body of the young son of Demeter, his chestnut hair matted with blood, his eyes forever staring at a sky that offered no solace. 

Critos, you sobbed. Critos…

A mistake that no amount of tears could wash away. A young camper, a son of Demeter known for his gentle spirit and his ability to make the flowers dance, lay still on the ground.

With a heart heavy as lead, you made your way to the infirmary, the air thick with the scent of herbs and the low hum of healing chants. There, among the rows of cots, you saw her—a daughter of Apollo. Harmony. 

The sight of her, your friend who had once filled the air with melodies so sweet they could make the sky weep, struck a new chord of pain within you. Her hands, those delicate instruments of beauty, were now disfigured by the violence in the name of the gods. She had dreamt of music that would touch the divine, but now her dreams lay as shattered as her bones. Now, those hands were stilled, and the music was no more. 

Her hands, once so deft at the lyre, now lay motionless by her side. 

Her eyes met yours, and in them, you found not blame, but a silent understanding. It was the cruelty of fate, not the will of gods, that had brought this upon her. 

She looked up at you, her eyes not accusing but filled with a sorrow that echoed your own. In that gaze, you saw the reflection of every broken promise, every shattered hope. She had been there to celebrate your life, and now here she lay, a casualty of a battle she had no part in starting.

Anger surged through you, a fiery torrent that threatened to consume everything in its path. The gods, those distant arbiters of fate, had watched impassively as your world crumbled. They had remained silent, their celestial indifference a stark contrast to the cacophony of grief that filled the camp.

Your mother, a casualty of their indifference. Critos, your dear friend, your found brother. Harmony, who would never play her instruments again. Her god-given gifts, the blessings bestowed upon her by her father had been ripped away from her. You knew it — injuries, bone fractures, that were severe beyond repair. No one apart from the gods could save her, but you knew that no matter how much you wished on the stars, they would never answer.

You wept for Thalia, who you had never known but who had died for you and your family. You wept for Annabeth, her face wrapped in a cast of bandages, and was laid on the cot next to Harmony. You wept for Luke, who was only a few steps away from the white bags that enshrouded that bodies of—... of the fallen.

They were all lives that could have been saved. 

Silena cried in Beckdorf’s arms. Their shared silence was louder than any words could ever be, a mutual understanding of the depth of their sorrow.

In this moment of profound loss, the realisation hit you like a wave crashing against the shore: wishes were but fleeting thoughts, powerless against the tides of fate. The gods, distant and enigmatic, offered no solace to the grieving hearts of mortals. It was a harsh lesson, one that stripped away the veneer of mythical heroism to reveal a truth as old as time itself.

Was this what they had meant about not relying on some magical stars to make a wish?

The gods, those distant beings, had taken from you the family you had found in this band of warriors. They had watched from their lofty thrones as you had fought, bled, and wept, mere pawns in their celestial games. And in that moment, as the weight of loss bore down upon you, you felt the seeds of hatred take root. Hatred for the gods who had forsaken you, hatred for the fate that had been thrust upon you, and hatred for a world that could be so cruel.

In the end, you could only truly rely on yourself to make wishes come true.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

iv. Strapping your head-piece securely on, blue plumes spilling from the top. Your armour was strapped on and you were decked out in metal from head to toe. You double-checked that your sword was tucked into your sheath before joining the Athena alliance in their march for the Capture the Flag match.

You quite liked Capture the Flag. It was one of those games where you had to do something and everyone got to run around and play — albeit, Camp Half-Blood kids did run around like headless chickens most of the time.

Percy scrambled to catch up with, tripping over his shin-guard that was a few sizes too big for him. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you grinned at him.

“So what’s the plan?” He asked. “Got any magic items you can loan me?”

You shook your head. “Nah. Sorry. Magical items are things you get from your godly parent when they feel like it. I haven’t got anything.” you waved at your basic sword for effect. “That’s why I usually go with one of the spare swords from the training shed.”

You pointed at his pocket. “You’ve got Riptide, though, haven’t you? That’s more than enough.”

Percy shrugged. “I don’t have it anymore, it vanished. I’m stuck with a regular, boring sword like you.”

You frowned at this. Didn’t Chiron give it to him? He should still have it, shouldn’t he? “That’s strange. Just make sure Clarisse’s spear doesn’t touch you, it's electric and stings like hell. Annabeth will handle getting the banner from Ares.”

He gave you a lopsided smile. “Okay, Major.” He said ‘Major’ with the same tone you would call someone ‘Bossy’.

You laughed before catching him by the strap of his armour when he tripped over again. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Border patrol, whatever that means.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “That’s easy. Stand by the creek, keep the reds away.”

“What’re you doing?”

You rubbed your chin thoughtfully. “I think I’m supposed to be a decoy for Luke when he runs for the flag.”

Percy looked at you appraisingly. “I guess you do look like him. I see how that would work.”

He swerved to avoid getting a faceful of the dirt you’d kicked up at him with your shoes. 

Percy then started chasing you down to the creek where the Athena alliance were planting their flag, similar to how the satyrs would chase the dryads near the strawberry patch albeit a lot slower because of his armour that was triple his body weight.

You stopped when you reached the silver flag, causing Percy to topple into you and send the both of you flying into the ground. You laughed, tugging the boy up with your hands and punching him in the shoulder. He huffed before waving at you and walking down to the creek to assume his duty of border patrol. 

You went to stand by Luke.

Overall, you would say Capture the Flag was a success. 

The Athena win streak was not lost this match, and you got to beat down one of the Hephaestus kids with your sword, which was always a pretty good bonus. The blue team cheered loudly, carrying Luke on their shoulders as he waved the Ares flag about in the air. You were going to join them when you saw Percy, drenched in water, arguing with the air.

“I told you. Athena always, always has a plan,” said the air before shimmering and revealing Annabeth with her invisible yankee cap.

“A plan to get me pulverised,” snapped Percy. His arms were crossed as he stared down the daughter of Athena.

“I came as fast as I could. I was about to jump in, but…” She shrugged. 

“You didn’t need help?” you suggested, popping up between them.

Percy’s glare dropped as he saw you. “Sup, Major. I’m guessing decoying for Luke went well?”

“The best,” you agreed before noticing the wound on his arm. “How did you do that?”

“Sword cut,” He said, rolling his eyes. “Stupid Clarisse and her pig-headed minions.”

“No,” Annabeth interjected sharply. “It was a sword cut. Look at it.”

You watched, incredulous, as the blood disappeared. Where a gaping wound had been, only a faint line lingered, and even that was fading fast. In moments, it dwindled to a mere scratch, then vanished as if it had never been.

The smile slipped from your face.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

iii. Being a demigod was a curse. 

It was a relentless burden, especially when you had been confined within the walls of Camp Half-Blood for four years, and still, your divine parent remained a shadow, unclaiming and aloof. 

You lifted your face to the heavens, rain simmering on your face like little angels doting you with frigid kisses, each drop mingling with the silent tears that trembled down your cheeks. It was almost as though you were praying, but you knew better than that.

Prayer had once been a solace, a hope, but now it felt like a bitter reminder of divine neglect.

The pyres stood ready, a grim assembly for the ritual of farewell. The rain fell in a relentless drizzle, each drop a cold, indifferent tear from the heavens. You stood before them, the shrouds of your fallen family draped over the lifeless forms that had once been vibrant souls among you.

Being a demigod had always been a double-edged sword, but never had the blade cut so deep. The walls of Camp Half-Blood, which had once offered sanctuary, now felt like a prison, holding you captive with your grief and rage.

You raised your face to the sky, the rain washing over you, a cruel mimicry of the comforting touch you so desperately needed. It was as if the gods themselves were mocking your pain, offering water when it was solace you sought.

Your heart was a cauldron of fury, simmering with a silent rage that threatened to boil over. The gods, those distant observers of mortal toil, had turned their gaze away, leaving you to fend for yourself in a world that seemed to crumble at your feet. 

As you stood there, the injustice of it all seared your soul, igniting a fire within that no amount of rain could douse. Betrayal was a bitter pill to swallow, and it lodged itself firmly in your throat, a constant reminder of the gods' neglect.

Your hands, though trembling, were resolute. The delicate tremor was not a sign of weakness, but a testament to the strength that surged through your veins—a strength born of anger, of loss, of an unwavering commitment to those you called family.

With a heavy heart and a spirit ablaze with determination, you stepped forward to light the pyres. The flames caught quickly, their hungry tongues licking at the shrouds, consuming the last physical remnants of those you loved. The smoke rose to the heavens, a silent scream of defiance against the gods who had forsaken you.

In that moment, as the fire crackled and the rain wept, you made a silent vow. You would do anything for your family, for those who had stood by you when the gods had not. You would be their protector, their avenger, their unwavering support. And though the gods may have turned their backs on you, you would never turn your back on those you loved.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

iv. “I—I don’t get it,” he said.

Annabeth was deep in thought, face wrinkled in concentration, and you could only imagine the intense mental gymnastics happening behind her gaze. “Step out of the water, Percy.”

“What—”

“Just do it.”

Percy emerged from the creek, hair plastered to his face and body bone-tired, but strangely enough, completely dry. He swayed on his feet, and you reached out to steady him, your touch firm. 

“Oh, Styx,” Annabeth cursed. “This is not good. I didn’t want…I assumed it would be Zeus.…”

You could only meet Percy’s gaze in a muted horror. 

Of course you’d picked up on Annabeth’s train of thought. But the revelation left you reeling. You couldn’t believe it. You thought… of course they wouldn’t stick to the oath. This — the one thing! How could they? What? 

Your jaw clenched, and your grip on Percy tightened subconsciously.

Percy opened his mouth but before he could say anything, a canine howl reverberated throughout the forest.

Everyone tensed and Chiron barked out “Stand ready! My bow!”

Above you, a monstrous creature crouched on the craggy ledge, its silhouette massive against the sky. Its eyes burned like coals from the depths of a forge, and its massive jaws bristled with teeth, each one as lethal as a freshly honed blade. It stared down at you with an intensity that pierced through your body.

A hellhound. Your eyes widened, gripping the handle of your sword.

Nobody moved except you, who yelled, “Percy, run!”

You tried to step in front of the boy, your sword clutched in between your fingers. The hellhound barked, and although you expected it to forget Percy and redirect its course to you, it dove past you (ignoring you completely) and ripped into Percy’s armour.

You didn’t look back as Chiron and the Apollo cabin took care of the hellhound, focusing on Percy whose chest was blooming with deep, red bloodstains.

“Percy!” You cried out, dropping to your knees beside him. Your fingers fumbled with his chestplate, trying to ignore the slick, warm blood that coated your hands.

“Di immortales!” Annabeth exclaimed. “That’s a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment. They don’t…they’re not supposed to…”

“Someone summoned it,” Chiron announced, trotting over. “Someone inside the camp.”

The dead body of the hellhound melted into the shadows, presumably returning back to the Underworld, only, you didn’t care. What you cared about right now was Percy Jackson who was drenched in blood with a horrific gash torn into his body.

“You’re wounded,” Annabeth told Percy as if no one knew that. “Quick, Percy, get in the water.”

You draped Percy’s arm around your shoulder, helping him step into the creek with little protest.

“Chiron, watch this,” Annabeth said.

As Percy staggered into the creek, the water seemed to greet him like an old friend. The blood that had painted his clothes a grim crimson began to dissolve, carried away by the gentle current. You watched as the gruesome wound in his chest closed before your very eyes. The torn flesh knit together, leaving not even a scar behind. It was as if time had reversed, as if the claws of the hellhound had never touched him.

But that wasn’t the part that stunned you the most.

“Look, I—I don’t know why,” Percy tried to apologise. “I’m sorry.…”

“Percy,” Annabeth said, pointing. “Um…”

There was a sign above Percy’s head, an unmistakable one that no one did not know. A hologram of green light, spinning and gleaming. A three-tipped spear: a trident.

“Your father,” Annabeth whispered. “This is really not good.”

“It is determined,” Chiron stated solemnly.

Campers knelt around you, even those from Ares’ cabin, though they did so grudgingly.

“My father?” Percy was bewildered.

“Poseidon,” said Chiron. “Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God.”

A shadow was drawn upon your face, eyes fixated on the trident above Percy’s head. The throb in your head returned and all you felt was a torrent of fervent, quivering, absolute rage that coursed through you.

I know that it wasn’t your fault, Percy, but at that moment, I couldn’t think of anything else.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

iv. The shroud burning had already taken place, the flames extinguishing along with the last rays of twilight. The camp was shrouded in darkness, a reflection of the sorrow that enveloped your heart. You stood alone, the grief a tangible presence that seemed to suffocate you with its intensity.

The gods had remained silent, their absence in your hour of need a betrayal that stung sharper than any blade. The ritual had been meant to offer closure, but it had left you feeling hollow, the embers of the pyres like the dying light of your hope.

That night, as the world around you faded into the quiet hush of slumber, a curious sensation took hold—a dream, or so it seemed, yet not quite. Dreams were fleeting. They often slip through the fingers of your mind, vanishing from your memory once you woke up. But for some strange reason, you felt the trickling trail of deja vu climbing up your spine. 

You thought that you’d had this dream before. Probably.

A shiver of recognition danced up your spine, a whisper of memory that felt like an old friend—or perhaps a ghost from the past. It was a dream that had etched itself into the grooves of your mind, returning with the silent stealth of a cat prowling in the night.

You strained to recall the last time this dream had visited you. It could’ve been a year ago, a month ago — even last night. But you did know that you’d had it. This dream had treaded the halls of your sleep before.

In the realm of dreams, you found yourself wandering through an ancient forest, the moonlight casting ethereal shadows upon the ground. The air was thick with the scent of pine and the whisper of leaves. The moon, a sliver in the sky, provided scant illumination, casting long, haunting shadows that danced between the ancient trees. Your footsteps were muffled on the forest floor, as though the earth itself conspired to keep your passage secret.

With a heavy heart, you spoke into the storm, “You could have saved her, but you didn’t.” 

The words hung in the air. “My mother. She was one of your most faithful, but, when she needed you most, you turned away. Why? Was her devotion not enough? What about Critos, who died alone, without his family, on the battlefield? What about Silena, who lost her sister? What about Harmony, who will never be able to use her hands again, never able to exercise the blessing that you gave her. What about all the countless other demigods, older and younger than me, who died for a cause — your cause — whose names you will never bother to remember.”

The silence that followed was your answer. 

Your voice broke as you continued, “What about me? For years, you ignored me — you still ignore me. For years, you left me to fight for myself in a world that you created. I don’t understand. We’re your children, aren’t we? Aren’t we supposed to matter to you? We deserved better.”

“You’re supposed to be our parents. We deserve someone who would fight for us, who would value our lives. But what do we get instead? Fucking selfish deities, with all the power in the entire goddamn world who leave us to suffer and die in some sick game you orchestrate just because you can!”

“You don’t understand! I’ve waited my whole life for just a sign from you. Our whole lives revolve around you! What more could you want from us?” The tears of the sky dripped onto your shaking form. 

“You take life after life! You take, take, take when we’ve already given you everything you could have ever wanted!”

The thunder seemed to mock your pain, and you trembled with a mixture of cold and fury. “You say these stupid things, give us stupid, stupid, naive hope — wish upon the stars, wish upon you and all will come true? We looked up to you! We wished, and wished and wished, but instead, you killed my family, tortured us beyond cruelty. What do you want from me?!”

You were screaming at the sky now, your mind pulsing with nothing but red-hot rage. “I’m done waiting! You’ve shown me exactly what we mean to you — nothing!”

Something clasped your shoulder. 

Turning around, your heart caught in your throat. Your eyes trembled, pupils dilated at the sudden contact. As you turned away, a presence enveloped you, not the warm embrace of a father, but the cold touch of something ancient and powerful.

A dark mist surrounded you. The air crackled with static, a lingering feeling of something you couldn’t quite name. 

And then, without warning, the forest fell away, and you found yourself standing at the edge of a clearing. The mist swirled here, gathering strength. From the heart of the mist, a figure materialised. It was tall and imperious, its form shifting and wavering as if woven from the fog itself. Its eyes, when they met yours, were bottomless pits of darkness, and you felt yourself falling into them.

“Child,” it spoke, and the words seemed to resonate with the very fibres of your being. “I have watched you, and I know the suffering you’ve been dealt by the gods.”

“They have wronged you, as they have wronged me,” the figure continued, the mist swirling with every gesture. “They sit in their celestial palace, blind to the struggles of those below. But I see your potential, your desire for justice. Together, we can make them regret.”

In the quiet of your dream, your heart stirred. You did not know who this figure was or what he wanted from you, but his words reached you. The gods, those distant watchers, had become but silhouettes against your tribulations, their figures blurred by the tears of your unanswered calls. Beings who had turned their back on you, refused to acknowledge when it mattered. Left you unclaimed, left your mother to die, left your brothers and sisters to die, and since the beginning of time, left humanity to suffer in a cyclic torture. 

And, so close, was the embrace of the mist — echoing your fury, validating your resentment. 

“Why should I join you?” you asked, though part of you already yearned for the vengeance he promised.

“Because your rage is a weapon that can reshape the world,” the mist replied, its form growing more defined, more commanding. “The gods fear what they cannot control, and they cannot control the fury of the heart. I will help you shield the loved ones you have left. If you join me, I promise they will be safe in the end. We will turn your fury into a force that will shake even the heavens. And you, my dearest, Major, will see to it that your family is treated better than the gods would ever care to allow.”

The mist’s words were a poison, sweet and lethal, the dream reached its peak, as you teetered on the cross-roads of a decision that could alter the course of history.

You stood still, the realisation dawning on you like a cold sunrise. This was Kronos, the Titan King, the very essence of time and treachery. The air around you grew colder, the mist swirling with a newfound intensity.

The mist around you thickened, and Kronos’s voice became more insistent. “I can help you,” he whispered again, the words slithering through the air like a serpent.

You felt the anger and sorrow within you stir, manipulated by his words. It was a dangerous game he played, but in your heart, the seeds of rebellion had been sown. 

“Join me,” whispered Kronos.

“Yes,” you found yourself saying, the word escaping your lips before doubt could take hold. “Yes, I will join you.”

With a resolve born of grief and betrayal, I turned my back on the sky and walked away. That was the moment, when I was only ten years old, that I swore my life to Kronos. It was the moment, I think, that sealed our fate. 

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

i. “I wish that we would all stay together.” you said.

“That’s my wish. I wish that, no matter what, no matter what place or lifetime we’re in, we will always, always, be family.”

“Promise me, ‘kay?” you continued, not fully sure if you were still talking to the gods or the people around you. “That in this life and the next and the one after, we will always find each other. Because we’re family.”

You turned to the demigods around you, who have all taken on some form of shock. The younger ones look appalled that you spoke your wish out loud (“how will it come true now?” protested Annabeth, though her face was tinged with a pink blush), while the older ones wore expressions you couldn’t quite discern.

“Major…” Silena breathed, her eyes, for some reason, glossy. Was she upset that you had said your wish too loud? 

“I mean it!” you looked to the heavens earnestly. “We’re family now, we have to stick together. Forever and ever and ever.”

Another star crossed the twinkling night tapestry. It was a dark, terribly dark, night, but unless someone else had been sharing this story, to you, the moment would remain of the most bright, luminous scenery you’d ever had the honour of bathing in. 

The gentle hand of the gods met their mortals upon the ground through the sky’s scattered stars, and they coated you and your family in their mystical star dust. 

Luke blinked himself out of his stupor. He offered you his hand to shake. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Major. Gods or not, we promise. Family.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, a gesture as warm as the sun's embrace, which seemed to spark a chain reaction. Annabeth, with a smile that could light up the darkest of nights, followed suit, her arms joining his. One by one, the rest of your family, a patchwork quilt of half-bloods, each with their own stories they bore in their hearts, came together in a tangle of limbs and laughter.

Under the star-swept sky, a canvas dotted with celestial wonders, the group hug grew, a living, breathing entity of connection and joy. You shrieked with laughter, the sound mingling with the chorus of chuckles and snorts around you. It was a symphony of happiness, a melody that resonated with the very core of your being.

You tried to pull your head out of the mass of limbs you’d become entangled within, seeking a breath of air, only to be lovingly dragged back into the fray. Someone’s hair tickled your nose, another’s elbow nudged your side, but it was all part of the beautiful chaos that was your home.

The hug was more than just a physical act; it was a promise, a silent vow of unity and support that needed no words. It was the understanding that no matter where life's journey took you, these bonds would remain unbroken. And as you stood there, enveloped by the people who had become your world, you knew that this moment would be etched into the stars above, a memory as eternal as the night sky itself.

“This is— the— best birthday— ever!”

And thought you meant that. You really, really did.

I wish I could’ve said sorry to you, Percy, back then.

Maybe then we could’ve stood a chance. * . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Random fun fact: Major is anti-government and hates taxes 🥶😊, she also likes liquorice

taglist!!! (comment if you want to be added): @itzmeme

[to-fly-with-clipped-wings]

Percy Jackson Masterlist

“If my life is going to mean anything, I have to live it myself.”

--------------------------------------->

Percy Jackson:

A Sea of Sorrows

Summary: A chronicle of the moments you fell in love with your enemy, Percy Jackson. An epilogue to your fate and an epitaph to your grave. AKA in a universe where you are a traitor to Camp Half-Blood. This is an ode to the boy that led to your downfall: Percy Jackson

[english-professor-wraith]

Shots in the Dark (PercyxReader)

(GN reader- established relationship with Percival De Rolo. #63 in the Tumblr Kiss Prompt List. Enjoy!)

The steel workshop door sits, pulled shut to protect the rest of Whitestone Keep from the dangerous experiments inside. You can hear Percy muttering to himself on the other side of the wall, and you knock gently to get his attention. The muttering stops, and you hear a couple clanks as he sets down his work and unlatches the door. He still seems distracted as he appears from behind the door, looking over his shoulder at his workbench. Before he can look back to you, you step in close to him and set a soft kiss on his cheek, then wipe one of the dark smudges from his nose. Startled, he looks down at you, then smiles. “Hey there, Percival”, you say, stepping back a fraction. He opens the door further to let you in, then heads back to his workbench. You walk in behind him, closing the door gently, then perch on your usual stool at the end of the table. By this point, he is well used to having you in the workshop with him, so he easily slips back into his work, his thoughtful mutters now slightly louder for your benefit. You watch, content to be in his presence, and help him to work through the hitch in his current project. As the final piece shifts into place, he cocks it to check the system and smiles broadly as it sets in properly. He turns to you, grabbing your hand and spinning towards the door. You run with him, through the hallways, laughing as the two of you speed past servants, the other members of Vox Machina, and even Cassandra as she steps from her office.

The two of you tumble out onto the range, falling over each other as you stop on the open field. You jump up off the ground, then head over towards a shed and unlock it to pull out ammunition as Percy pats his pockets in search for the very keys you stole moments ago. Hearing the door open, he looks up from the grass to see you, smirking at him as you toss the ring of keys back to him before disappearing behind the door. He growls playfully, setting the gun off to the side before clambering off the ground and running into the shed after you, then stopping short in the darkness as he waits for his eyes to adjust. Before he can, though, you pull the door shut behind him and wrap your arms around his waist, and you can feel him take in a deep breath before you reach up to press a hard kiss against his lips. He catches his breath, the air brushing against your mouth, and you pull back a fraction, waiting for his response. He stands, still frozen, and as you look up you can see that his eyes have fallen shut, his lips still barely parted as he finally remembers how to breathe again. Your mind races with anxiety, wondering if you went too far, if you should have let him make the moves. Your arms loosen from his waist, and you pull back even further.

“Percy?” He gasps at the sound of your voice, then wraps his arms around you and pulls you back against him. His eyes open, still a little lost in the darkness, but he looks down at you and places a kiss on your forehead.

“Again.” he murmurs against your hair, barely loud enough to be heard.

“Freddy”, you whisper, and he chuckles as he places another kiss, this time on your nose.

“Again.”, he repeats, barely sighing as his breath brushes over your skin.

“Percival-” Another kiss, this time rested on your cheek, inching towards your lips.

“Again.” His voice has gained some strength now, his chest rumbling against yours.

“Percival De Rolo.”, you say, your eyes drifting shut now as his lips finally -finally- rest against yours. Only a moment, though, before he pulls away once more.

“Again.”

You make one final bid for him, and take a deep breath to prepare.

“Lord Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III of Whitestone.” The last syllable has hardly dropped from your lips before he steals the breath from them. His mouth moves against yours, soft and warm, your breath mingling with his as you tighten your arms around his thin frame.

A few moments of kissing later, you hear the lock clicking beside you, and the two of you look in tandem at the door, knowing the only key is in Percy’s pocket. Stepping apart and pulling out your weapons, you wait another instant as the door opens. Percy levels the Pepperbox at the intruder’s head, his eyes growing cold before he realises who it is and scowls, tucking his gun back into his holster. Scanlan stands there, panic behind his eyes but a winning smile on his face. “Percy! Heyyyyyy”, he sing-songs, backing away from the shed as fast as his short legs will carry him. Percy almost chases after him, but as he hears you shift behind him, he spins towards you, a soft smile replacing the grimace brought on by the interruption. “We had better test that gun before Scanlan decides to make off with it, right?” You nod, reaching onto the shelf beside you for the right ammunition. The two of you walk from the shed, then Percy picks up the prototype and takes the ammunition from your hand. He loads it easily, then stretches out his arm, pistol held steady, directed at the target at the opposite end of the field.

“Range Hot!”, he shouts, taking a moment to let the sound echo across the area before taking six shots, one after the other, at the line of targets set up across the field.

He calls out again- “Ceasefire!”, then waits another moment before walking down the length of the range, holding out his hand for you to come with him. You can see an almost giddy look on his face- the new gun fired well, nothing caught between bullets, and now the final check is to see how well it aimed and hit. You walk hand in hand with him, and as you finally reach the end of the field you can see his grin growing with each bullseye. As you reach the sixth target, he turns to you, a huge smile across his face, and he scoops you up in his arms, spinning you around as you both laugh.

[haileygarciasunshine]

The Bakery Owner

Pairing: Percy Jackson x Reader

Word Count: 755

Warning: Swearing

Summary: The reader falls for a regular that visits her bakery.

Wattpad

Buy me a coffee

Percy Jackson Masterlist

The familiar sound of chatter filled your ears the minute you stepped through the threshold of your bakery. “Good morning, Ms. Y/L/N.” One of the bakers greeted, once they saw you walk in through the door.

Smiling you greeted them back. “Goodmorning Mr. Galigar.”

“Ms. Connor is not in a good mood.”

Frowning you nodded. “Thank you.”

Walking into the office you shared with your business partner, you could hear her let out a frustrated sigh.

Chuckling you leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms. “That bad already huh?”

Whipping around in the swivel chair, your eyes widened at the sudden motion. “You have no idea!” She shrieked.

Sighing, you closed the door after you walked in. “What’s the problem? Let's work through it….”

--------------------------------------

Hours passed by, as you worked together at what stressed your partner out. 

“See.” You spoke standing. “Two minds are better than one.”

Letting out a deep breath she agreed. “Yeah.”

“Can I interest you in a pastry?” You asked smiling, tilting your head slightly. Looking at your watch to gaze at the time. “I do believe, it is time for a break.”

Grinning she nodded in agreement, leading you through the pastry kitchen. As you went through, you gazed at each of the employees, greeting them and offering some small talk with them as you went by.

Reaching the front, Katie grabbed your favorite pastry as she grabbed her favorite pastry. She let out a huff as you walked to a booth to sit at. “I don’t know why they hate me.”

“Who?” You questioned gazing at her over the pastry. 

Huffing again, she vaguely gestured. “The employees!”

You chuckled softly. “Well,” You spoke. “You could start by treating them as people.” 

“I do!”

You hummed. “I beg to differ.”

“What do you mean?” She questioned. “I’m just as friendly as you are!”

Shaking your head slightly, you bit into your pastry. “Katie.” You started. “Well, you can start by greeting them in the mornings.”

Letting out a defeated sigh she nodded. “You’re right.” 

Staring out of the nearby window, you pondered a thought. “The weather is nice out today.” You spoke testing the waters.

“Yeah it is.” Katie nodded glancing at you. “What’re you getting at Y/L/N?” She teased.

“If...If we’re not too busy,” You hesitated. “We should close early and let the employees enjoy it.”

“Okay.” 

Furrowing your eyebrows together in confusion, you gazed at her. “Okay?”

Nodding she repeated herself. “Okay.”

You were half expecting her to flip her wig and but up a hell of a fight against it.

“Oh!” She exclaimed quietly. “Your regular is here.” She winked.

Frowning, you dropped your gaze to the table.

“Here,” She spoke getting up. “You can take my spot, I’m about to leave anyway.”

You were in your own mind, not processing what she had said.

“Hello Y/N.” A husky voice sounded in front of you.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the sound of his familiar voice.

“Percy?” You asked. “What’re you doing here?”

“What?” He teased with a grin. “I’m not allowed to stop by and visit a friend?”

“No!” You replied. “I...I mean yes!”

He chuckled. It was a sound you wanted to hear forever, if time allowed. 

“I know what you mean, I’m just fucking with you.” He joked.

Nodding wordlessly, you resumed your gaze to the window. 

“So.” He spoke, his voice sounding timid. “I overheard you talking with Katie about closing early today.”

Percy had visited the Bakery so often, he was on a first name basis with the employees and your business partner. They often tried to tell you, he came to visit you. Rejecting the idea, you would counter that he came around to visit everyone in the bakery.

Grinning, y/e/c locked with his ocean blue eyes. “Y-Yes.” You sighed. “Hopefully.” 

“Well,” He stated still grinning, “If you do..”

“Y/N!” Katie yelled, bursting through the door that led to the back. Her eyebrows were furrowed in either confusion or fear. “911!” 

“Sorry, Percy.” You frowned with a saddened sigh.

“Of course.” He spoke. “I understand. Perks of being the boss.” He teased.

Tilting your head slightly you smiled. “Something like that.”

Standing up, you began heading for the back. Turning around quickly, you gazed at Percy.

“Hey, Percy?”

“Y-Yeah?” He stuttered.

“Want to see a movie tonight?” You hesitated. “Around Eight? The theater downtown?”

For the second time since you met him, he smiled from ear to ear practically beaming. “I’ll be there.”

Nodding you grinned. “It’s a date.”

[haileygarciasunshine]

Ooohohooho Camp Half Blood was fun, would there be a possible part two for it?

Yay! I’m glad you liked it😭🥺 absolutely there is!!