mypercabeth

Hearts don't break around here :)

for @son-of-rome 😘

Sometimes, most times, she isn’t sure she deserves this happiness.

Like right now, sitting in the speckled morning sunlight of their tiny kitchen, legs swinging from the countertop, hot mug of coffee warming her fingers, as she watches the love of her life make pancakes. He’s telling a story and poking fun at himself to make her laugh. She doesn’t miss the pleased smile he tucks away when it works.

Percy gets batter splattered on his cheek and she loops a foot around his leg to pull him closer. He moves into her space effortlessly, fitting there without taking up any extra room. A small smile pressing his lips together and crinkling the skin around his eyes and he looks at her with those eyes of his and it’s one of those times when she can’t believe.

She can’t believe she deserves this, him.

(But then again, she can. She can believe that they are two souls who have been aching and aching with hurt and right now they deserve to be healing together.)

Annabeth puts down her coffee and swipes the batter off his cheek, watching him follow her movements. She dusts a kiss over the freckles on his nose and smiles when he laughs. Her cheeks ache so much with smiling and she only smiles more when he presses them between her palms, scrunching his nose right up to hers.

And this happiness. This bubbling, settling, silly happiness just fills her up and up and up. She loves this boy. From the top of his sleep-mussed hair to his finger-toes. In the corner of their own kitchen, with a cheesy song serenading them from the radio, and her boyfriend kissing smiles to her mouth, Annabeth feels so happy she can feel it spilling over and over.

(When she sees his happiness shining back at her, she knows they deserve this.)

She leans back just enough to see his face and tilts her head.

“What should we do today?” he asks her.

“This,” she says, chasing his lips, “and this and this and this.”

Baby Kicking

Imagine Muse A of your OTP is pregnant. Muse A complains to Muse B that they can’t get any sleep because the baby has been kicking Muse A nonstop since last night. So, Muse B gathers Muse A in their arms, sits them on their lap, and rubs Muse A’s stomach to help them feel better. x


“Your baby kicks a lot, you know.”

Percy chuckled as he entered the kitchen to see his 27 year old pregnant wife sipping a large cup of water. He walked over and pecked her lips.

“So suddenly when the baby kicks a lot, its mine?”

“Yes,” Annabeth replied getting up from her seat to grab the bag Percy was holding. “She’s been kicking all day while I tried to take a nap. I think it’s because she missed her Daddy,” she cooed  as she rubbed her belly. “What took you so long anyway?”

Percy hummed as he wrapped his arms around his wife’s midsection and peppered kisses on her neck while she took out the contents in the bag. “You’d be surprised how hard it was to come across chocolate covered strawberries. Every bakery in the area seemed to have run out or they weren’t the ones you wanted. I told you you should’ve just made them. Would’ve saved you two hours of baby kicking.”

“You know I can’t cook well. I’ll find a way to mess make a mess of the kitchen, somehow.”

“Not true. What about all those times you made me breakfast when we were younger?”

“That’s not really cooking, Perce. Anyone can make waffles if they just follow the instructions correctly.”

“Yeah, but you made them blue. No one ever makes pancakes the right shade of blue except for you and my mom,” he whined.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“That’s why you love me,” Percy replied, pressing another kiss to her collarbone. “So, did you miss me while I was gone, baby girl?”

Just as Percy said that, he felt a push against his hand. “So you did miss Daddy then, huh?” he cooed as his hand rubbed around Annabeth’s stomach.

“She’s definitely going to be swimmer if she keeps kicking like that. And a daddy’s girl. She loves it when you talk to her. Makes me wonder if she’ll have any traits of mine when she’s born,” Annabeth joked.

Percy laughed along with her and she turned around so her arms were now wrapped around her husband’s neck. Percy placed a lingering kiss to her forehead before moving down to capture her lips in a sweet, chaste kiss. They broke away when they felt the baby kicking again.

“She’s going to be a beautiful girl,” Percy praised and placed another peck on Annabeth’s lips, “a smart and beautiful girl just like her mother. You know the best part though?” he asked, pecking her forehead, “she’s ours.”

She sighed happily, “Yeah. Ours.” Another kick. They both simply laughed.

“Okay baby girl, that’s enough now,” Percy said to her stomach and rubbed his hand where he felt the kick. “Daddy’s home now so you can stop bothering Mommy, okay? We both love you very much but she needs to eat and sleep now.”

He peppered many kisses against her stomach as the baby kicked a few more times and finally settled down. Annabeth’s hand covered his moments later, fingers interlocked and stroking each other’s.

A few more months and she’ll be right here with them.

i’d be a big fat liar if i said i was gonna post one of these everyday, but i’m gonna try and post something pretty regularly from this prompt list to get back into writing more :)

inspired by these brilliant fics by milominderbinder

beginning. accusation. restless. leaves. rainbow. flame. formal. under. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. soft. cans. order. thanks. pink. summer. transformation. tremble. tent. mad. thousand. paper. winter. luxury. letters. promise. simple. future.

thank you sophii for this headcanon <3

[AO3]


Percy hates thunderstorms.

He has since he was a baby. One of his first memories is climbing into his mom’s bed in the middle of the night while thunder shook the sky apart and lightning framed the curtains in his bedroom. He remembers the creak of his mom’s bedroom door, her sleep soft voice full of concern, the warmth of the covers as she wrapped him up next to her.

It’s almost twenty years later and he’s still left trembling at the first flash of lightning. He knows now, logically, the reason behind this. He has stood in front of a god who has threatened to blow him out of the sky, who has held the physical impossibility of a physical lightning bolt in his hand and wielded it towards Percy. He knows that not every thunderstorm is a threat to his life. He knows, he understands, he fucking gets it.

Still doesn’t make the trembling stop.

“Baby?”

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anonymous asked:

If you have time (omg I'm sorry but this prompt in my head forever) It's 3am and they are in a community kitchen in college and one is making brownies.

Percy had just wanted to get a glass of water.

When he enters the communal kitchen, blearily rubbing sleep out of his eyes, he realises what had woken him up in the first place. One of his roommates is standing with her back to him at the countertop, cracking eggs into a large mixing bowl. The kitchen looks devastated. Shared by six people, it never looks pristine, but right now a bomb could have gone off for the state it’s in.

“Um,” he says, still disorientated from the light and noise and explosion aftermath.

She turns and swears quietly. “Sorry, I thought I was being quiet.”

She was not, but Percy won’t begrudge her that. Partially because he’s a little bit in love with her (alright, mostly, but that’s not important right now), partially because he knows he’s woken her up at least half a dozen times since they moved into the dorms three months ago.

“S’alright. Just gettin some water.”

Annabeth smiles. “Alright.”

Percy opens the mug cupboard and after several seconds of staring at its contents and coming to terms with the fact that they don’t own any glasses not made of plastic, he grabs a mug with Walt Whitman’s face on it and fills it with water from the faucet. Instead of taking it back to his room with him, he leans back against the sink and watches Annabeth squint at her phone as she holds it three inches from her face.

“You alright there?” he asks.

She doesn’t look away from her phone. “My glasses are somewhere deep within my bag and I have neither the energy or determination to find them.”

“Okay.”

She looks at him. “Do you want to read this recipe for me or keep delivering these brilliant insights?”

He shrugs. “I feel like I could manage both.”

Annabeth hands her phone over with a roll of her eyes. Percy puts down his glass of water and shoves some of the debris aside so that he can sit on the counter top. Then he takes Annabeth’s phone and reads the title of the page.

“You need to google a recipe for brownies?”

“Alright, Martha Stewart. Just tell me what to do to make this delicious.”

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feels like home

y’all can blame Sophii for this one

[listen]


Annabeth is pacing.

It’s never a good thing when Annabeth paces, not for Percy at least. It usually means he’s a in a great amount of trouble. It usually means he’s about to get an earful. He can see it brewing, below the surface of her tanned skin, below her furrowed eyebrows and her pursed lips, below the steely glances she keeps throwing at him like knives.

“Hold still,” the poor, innocent Apollo camper mumbles as he moves to stand in front of Percy, gingerly inspecting his wrist and blocking his angry girlfriend from view.

Annabeth makes herself heard then, if she cannot be seen.

“I just can’t believe it. How many monsters have we fought and you’ve walked away fine? We literally walked through hell and there wasn’t a single broken bone in your body. And a stupid skateboard gets you? How many times to I have to tell you to wear safety pads? And don’t tell me they’re not cool because that doesn’t stop you from wearing that stupid hat, Percy Jackson.”

“Hey, I like this hat.” Percy touches the rim of the blue snapback he’s wearing self-consciously. Annabeth peers around the Apollo kid to roll her eyes at him. “And I never said they were uncool- OW, motherfu-”

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sansaofthehousestark  asked:

Help me I just want some punk! Percy taking care of a sick preppy annabeth and some fluff please help im in desperate need

have some fluff for your needs

Annabeth is not one to complain. She’d rather suffer in silence to her death than let someone think she can’t cope. She will walk in the line of fire with a head cold and will drag herself up the side of a mountain with a broken ankle. Annabeth Chase is hard core, and stubborn, and refuses to give up.

All of which are equally admirable and frustrating qualities to someone who cares about her.

There’s a pep rally bonfire next week for which she has to organise balloons and banners and a damn bonfire to burn to rally a bunch of preps.

“You’re gonna kill yourself over this,” Percy complains for what has to be the hundredth time.

Annabeth shuts her locker with a slam and glares at him. “I’m fine,” she protests, most unconvincingly, he might add, with a blocked nose and sore throat rasping her voice.

“You look like death,” he tells her as they start walking down the hall.

Which was a lie, because Annabeth rarely looks far from perfect. Even with a puffy red nose and chapped lips, she still looks like the model student. Her hair falls in pretty gold ringlets down her back, her jeans, purple blouse, and grey blazer are un-creased even after a whole day at school. She does a great job of making Percy look even scruffier, which is completely unnecessary as Percy can do that well enough on his own.

“Thanks so much,” she mutters.

“Here.” Percy holds out his hands to take her bag and books and she hands them over without protest. “Seriously, Annabeth. Someone else can take over for one freaking pep rally, you don’t have to do everything alone.”

He holds the door open for her and she walks outside. In January, their school campus is tipped with frost, the only trees still with leaves on are the tall snow covered pines. Percy’s bomber jacket keeps most of the cold out but Annabeth shiveres against it, he adjusts her books under his arm and wraps the other one around her shoulders.

“See, this is why you got ill in the first place,” he says.

Annabeth elbows him. “You’re why I got sick! You infected me!”

“Oh, come on! You can’t hold that against me.”

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Happy birthday @blackjacktheboss, you loser <3

#14 of the Kiss Meme: Kiss Along the Hips.

also on AO3


Annabeth is on her fourth attempt of reading the same paragraph when she hears the front door of the apartment bang open and then closed again.

“Percy?” she calls out.

“Hi,” he calls back, sounding tired.

She’s in their bedroom, having collapsed there an hour ago and decided to tackle her reading for class tomorrow. Safe to say she has made little progress. This is, in part, due to her mind wandering back to the calc test she’d had this morning. The rest of her is just staring at the page wishing that the lines would stop moving around so she could read them. She’s grateful when Percy slumps into the room, giving her a real excuse to put the book down and stare at something else for a while.

Percy looks like a zombie, shuffling around, removing his shoes, rubbing at his face and his hair as if he can remove the tiredness that stains him that way.

“How was the presentation?” she asks him.

He mumbles, “Mmf. I don’t know. Horrible. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Alright.”

After he has slowly and angrily dumped his bag in the corner and thrown his jacket over the back of the desk chair, he finally looks at her. His gaze falls and stops on her bare legs, crossed together on top of the covers. Annabeth waits patiently, her eyebrows rising towards her hairline

Percy blinks. Jerks his gaze up towards her face.

“Is that my sweater?” he asks eventually.

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anonymous asked:

Headcanon where Annabeth likes to caress and kiss all of Percys scars (he has a lot of them, big and small) when they are making out and cuddling... PTSD and post tartarus

  • there’s one on his jaw which she always kisses, sometimes when they’re sitting at the campfire, she’ll turn her head and press a quiet kiss there
  • most of them are on his arms and she feels them under her palms as he wraps his arms around her from behind and she holds onto him
  • annabeth finds him at the beach sometimes. she sits down next to him and holds his hand. sometimes that’s all he needs, a tether to this world.
  • sometimes she finds him in his cabin with his head under the covers. she peels them back and lays down with him, asks him if he wants to be alone and smiles when he pulls her closer.
  • she runs her hands through his hair a lot. like, a LOT
  • annabeth chase is obsessed with percy jackson’s hair
  • she runs her fingers through it when he sleeps with his head in her lap and tugs on it when they kiss.
  • she pushes it off his forehead and kisses his hairline where the grey streak used to be
  • she kisses the scars on his chest, pushing him back against the bed and taking her sweet time working down his body
  • there’s one on his hip which she always pays attention to on the way down
  • she reminds him, time and time again, that scars are what makes them mortal, closer to human than to gods.
  • scars are what are left behind by heroic acts. sometimes they hurt so much that it doesn’t seem like that pain will ever go away.
  • sometimes scars can’t be seen, and those take the longest to heal.
  • she wraps herself up with him and tells him this. she kisses the scars on his face and his hands, and she reminds him that they will heal.
  • together

anonymous asked:

percabeth, soulmate au where your soulmate's first words to you are written somewhere on your body (P.S. I REALLY REALLY LOVE LOVE LOVE your blog and your fics)

Oh shit.

These are the words that appeared on Annabeth Chase’s skin when she was just over one month old, and have remained there ever since. It’s safe to say that her parents were not best pleased; already developing an opinion of the person their daughter was going to spend her life with years before they would meet him. Her step-mother wrangled a Band-Aid onto the skin on the inside of Annabeth’s wrist, covering the two not-so-innocent words, every morning until Annabeth was thirteen and blank-point refused to let her. Her step-mother only gave up arguing when Annabeth confessed that she had been removing the Band-Aid as soon as she got to school since she was seven.

They are her soul mate’s first words to her, she has always insisted, she shouldn’t have to hide them.

And okay, they’re not the grandest of first words, but she could be far worse off. Like Justin Kelly, whose words (Do you have change for a dollar?) disappeared in seventh grade and he was left with nothing but a blank patch of skin; or Holly Abbott, who had been born with a blank wrist. Or even the many people Annabeth had met with the words Hi, Hello, or Hey on their wrist. Like, how many people do you meet for the first time and say hello to? At least hers narrows it down; she’ll definitely know when she meets her soul mate.

But it hasn’t happened yet.

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Like Real People Do

For Jane. Happy Birthday, my buddy, my pal. You wonderful human bean, thank you for existing.

This is a continuation of the florist!Annabeth rockstar!percy verse which a few people had requested


Annabeth smoothed down the front of her striped dress, analysing herself in the dusty mirror in the back of the shop. It was too late to change now, as she’d agreed for Percy to pick her up from here and not her apartment, but she couldn’t help fretting over the details of her outfit.

She couldn’t help remembering that Percy was a famous rockstar and she was the owner of a small and insignificant flower shop. Couldn’t help remembering that he had toured the world and she had never gone outside of Long Island.

The bell out front chimed and Annabeth stole one last critical look in the warped mirror, sighing, before ducking out of the back room. Percy was gently closing the front door when she emerged. He looked far tidier than the last time she had seen him, three days ago in this very shop. He wore a white shirt (sleeves stuffed up over his elbows) with a stick slim cobalt tie (fastened in a way which looked both hasty and careless at once), skinny black jeans (holes leaving his scarred knees on show) and converses (blue laces on the left, pink on the right).

He looked hot.

Stupidly so.

“Hi,” she said, breathier than she would have liked.

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spoopy-son-of-rome  asked:

Percabeth "you make the best hot chocolate. I should date you just so I can have you make this for me all the time" "okay"

Annabeth is wearing pyjamas. Her cold, bare foot is tucked up on the stool she sits on as the other dangles towards the floor. 

“There’s this thing called heating, you know,” she informs Percy as he shuffles around his small kitchen on the other side of the counter she’s leaning against.

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “there’s also this thing called ‘being poor’.”

Annabeth gives the back of his head a look. He must feel his eyes on him because he glances over his shoulder and sticks his tongue out at her.

“If you knock on my door at midnight you have to put up with being a little cold,” he says, turning his back on her again.

Annabeth sighs. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Your insomnia is beginning to interrupt my sleep schedule.”

He’s joking, she’s known him for enough months to recognise it in his tone, but she feels guilt creep into her stomach anyway. “I can go…”

Percy turns around properly now as he makes his way over to a cupboard to pull out two mugs. “Don’t be stupid. There are socks in my room, help yourself.”

Guilt is replaced by something else. Something warm and sugary that coats the inside of her ribs. She sends him a grateful smile as she slides off the stool and pads across the bare wooden floor to Percy’s bedroom.

The bedside lamp is on so she can make her way around without tripping over the random items of clothing scattering the floor. Annabeth has been in Percy’s apartment countless times before, his couch is a familiar resting place, she knows where to find a bowl in his kitchen, and she’s lost count of how many times she’s changed the toilet roll in his bathroom. But his bedroom? This is brand new territory.

Annabeth’s gaze lingers on the photographs tacked to the wallpaper above the chest of drawers shoved against the wall; of him and a curly haired boy as kids, gap-toothed smiles wide and carefree; of his mother looking beautiful and wind-swept on a beach; of a man with dark hair and a beard looking like Percy in twenty years; of Percy with his arm around Jason’s neck; of Annabeth’s face smushed next to his.

She’s known him for less than a year and yet these photos stir up a strange feeling of nostalgia within her. As if she has known him for much longer than that. It’s true that she’s never developed such a fast or easy friendship with someone before. When she’d moved in down the hall from Percy he’d been dating someone, and so the lines were quickly drawn. And they’d never been erased, despite the fact that Percy had stopped dating that girl only a month after she’d met him.

Annabeth pulls the top drawer open and fishes out a pair of thick black socks, checking for holes, before shoving the drawer closed again and fleeing the room. It’s far too dangerous for her to linger. To notice the unmade bed and the coffee cups stacked on the bedside table and the oceanography books stacked messily on the windowsill.

Percy is waiting on the couch for her when she gets back, feet propped on the coffee table next to two mugs of marshmallow-topped hot chocolate. Annabeth grins and throws herself down next to him, leaning back against the cushions as she pulls his too big socks over her feet. Percy turns the TV on and leaves it on an old nature documentary. David Attenborough’s low voice trembles through the speakers, making Annabeth feel drowsy and comfortable as she picks up her hot chocolate and burrows into the warmth of the couch.

Percy nestles in next to her and their shoulders, arms, hips, legs more than brush together and Annabeth feels his warmth seep into her. She takes a sip of the drink and almost moans with pleasure.

“You make the best hot chocolate. I should date you just so I can have you make this for me all the time.”

“Okay.”

It’s a joke but they are both startled into silence at his candid tone. they should be laughing, Percy should definitely be laughing right now because they made a joke, but he’s silent. Why is he silent? She casts a look at him and feels an almost savage pleasure when she sees that his cheeks are bright red.

She makes him nervous.

Apprehension and joy war in her chest. He likes her? He likes her. Percy Jackson likes her. This is also about as far as he’s ever going to get to making a move.

Annabeth smiles. She shifts her mug into one hand and uses the other to reach for his hand which is lying limply in his lap. She swears she hears his breath draw in sharply when she touches him, but he doesn’t draw away. Instead, he lets her press her fingers between his and curl them over his knuckles.

“Okay then,” she says.

From the corner of her eye, she sees a smile creep over his face. His fingers squeeze hers, like a promise.

Its like 3am and I’m exhausted and I can hear you raging next door about failing at putting an ikea bed together so here I am helping you put it together and holy shit you’re cute. [x]


Annabeth’s resolve is set right up until he opens the door. She will murder him, her neighbour. Her mysterious neighbour who she hasn’t met yet because he moved in last week and decided to wake her up at three o'clock in the morning. She’s not sure what he’s doing but it sounds like he’s trying to break down the walls separating their apartments. She can only tell it’s a guy because the banging around is accompanied some quite inventive cursing in a deep voice.

She has a meeting in the morning, and she struggles to stay awake during those at the best of times, never mind after having being kept awake into the early hours of the morning.

The door opens, revealing a guy a few inches taller than her wearing a blue Henley shirt, jeans, and the messiest nest of black hair she’s ever seen. He looks pissed off, but when his eyes settle on her his expression softens to surprise. His gaze drops down her frame briefly before finding her face again and Annabeth curses herself for not changing before storming over here. She’s in her pyjama shorts and a sweater. She’s not even wearing a bra. Fuck.

“Hello,” the guy says.

Annabeth clears her throat. “Hi. I, um…I’m from next door.”

“Oh!” He smiles and holds out a hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Percy.”

She shakes his hand, noticing how calloused his skin his is. He must work with his hands for a living. “Annabeth.”

“Cool. So what brings you round?”

“Um.” Annabeth runs a hand through her hair. “You’re uh, building something?”

His eyebrows furrow. “Yeah, I am. Oh shit.” Comprehension dawns visibly on his face. “Was I that loud?”

“Just a little. You know…epicly.”

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Agape

another one for the fic meme! [AO3]

#5. Firm Kiss


There’s very little that Annabeth hates more than feeling helpless. She’s never been happy to sit on the sidelines while her friends walk into battle. And here she is, rendered helpless as the person she cares most about fights all by himself.

Alright, he’s not completely by himself, there’s a satyr with him, but this does little to quell the worry in her heart.

“Why did he have to go?” she asks Chiron for the hundredth time.

She’s standing on the porch of the Big House, stance firm, arms crossed over her chest, scowl marking her face. Chiron sits next to her in his wheelchair and patiently explains to her, again, why it was Percy who left the camp to retrieve the lone demigod, unaware of his identity and hunted because of it, traipsing around Brooklyn.

“He’s perfectly capable of looking after himself.”

“I know that,” Annabeth snaps, unable to help herself.

Chiron’s voice remains level, reasonable despite her sharp tone. “He was here when we needed someone, Annabeth. There was no reason for it not to be him.”

You should have called me, she wants to say. I should have been here, she scolds herself.

“They should have been back by now,” she says instead.

Chiron murmurs vaguely in response.

Percy has fought without her many times before. He’s been fighting since he was twelve years old and at seventeen, he’s one of the best demigod fighters Camp Half Blood has seen. But that doesn’t mean Annabeth won’t worry about him. Because she’s seen his very best and worst. She’s seen his spiteful rage reduce him to a whirlwind of fury, only to be reclaimed to himself by her hands and her words. And she’s seen the aftermath of a battle, she’s seen him beaten to his knees, seen him drowning in a river with all hope torn away from him. She’s pulled him back to himself, both in the midst of battle, and out of it.

And now he’s out there without her.

Annabeth feels guilt creep into her chest, heavy and binding, with these thoughts. She hates that she doubts him, hates it with every part of her being. And she knows that she will not always be able to be there, but it’s been merely months since the war, since they dragged each other out of the swallowing darkness, and she doesn’t quite feel ready yet. Ready to trust that he will come back to her every time he leaves.

The other part of her simply misses him. She hadn’t woken up this morning expecting him to be gone and it opens up an old ache, a wound which never truly healed even after he returned to her. Those months had been spent with arms curled around her chest as if to hold it together, with bloodshot eyes from lack of sleep and relentless tears. She just wants him back, safe.

“Annabeth,” Chiron murmurs.

She looks up just in time to see three figures tripping over the boundary line next to Thalia’s tree. Peleus lifts his head and sniffs at them before tucking his head back under his wing and resuming his nap. Annabeth is frozen to the spot. They look fine. Percy’s figure, the tallest of the three, lopes easily down the hill. She watches as he touches the lid of his pen to his sword and it shrinks small enough to be tucked into his jeans pocket.

“Fetch some one from the Apollo cabin for me?” Chiron asks. Annabeth turns to him indignantly and he sighs. “Please, Annabeth. Nothing will happen in the sixty seconds it takes you to run over there and run back.”

She sends a glare his way before glancing again at Percy and his companions’ approaching figures, still too far away to make out any expressions or injuries, and turns her back on them to sprint down to the cabins. Chiron’s right, it takes her less than sixty seconds to run to the Apollo cabin, stick her head inside the door long enough to yell that someone needs to report to the medbay, and sprint back up to the big house.

She’s always been a fast runner.

The young demigod looks startled, his eyes are wide and staring as the satyr half-carries him past the porch of the big house towards the medbay. Annabeth spares them both a glance long enough to notice the bloody trickling down the young boy’s wrist from underneath his jacket sleeve and the bruising on the satyr’s face, and then her attention is drawn away, to Percy. He’s talking quietly to Chiron, rubbing a dark mark on his cheek and spreading it further across his skin. It looks like dirt, not blood, to Annabeth’s relief. He’s frowning until he looks up and meets her eyes, and then his expression morphs from surprise to relief, and then to guilt.

Annabeth surges forwards anyway, grabbing him by the shoulders, firm, wide shoulders, tense and there and alive. He’s alive. She wraps her arms around them and pulls him in close, feeling his breath rush out of him as their chests crash together. Percy’s arms come around her belatedly, and he rubs her back soothingly as if to say, it’s okay, I’m here. She loves him for that.

Annabeth withdraws from the circle of his arms and promptly whacks him on the shoulder.

OW.”

“That’s for playing hero.”

He scowls at her, rubbing his shoulder and opening his mouth to say something to her. Annabeth grabs his cheeks between her palms and kisses him firmly on the mouth, stopping his words of complaint in their tracks. It’s all tense lips and clacking teeth and quiet moans and it’s over in a moment as they both gasp for breath, foreheads pressed together.

“That’s for being a hero,” she mumbles.

Percy’s answering smile helps her heart settle in her chest. His hands stroke her cheeks, smearing dirt there, and he dips his head to kiss her again, more gently this time.

“I won’t go without you again. Promise.”

It’s a promise she knows he won’t keep, can’t keep; one she knows she can’t expect him to keep, but it makes her feel better anyway. It reminds her of his words as he clutched onto her wrist underneath Rome, the only thing preventing her falling alone into the seemingly endless pit, We’re staying together. You’re not getting away from me. Never again.

And her answering promise, As long as we’re together.

halfthealphabet  asked:

Hey, if you feel up to it, could you please write a fic where Cheerleader!Annabeth and Punk!Percy?

inspired by discussions with @lililibird a while back


He sits on the edge of her pristinely made bed with his long fingers tangled together in his lap, looking like a splotch of ink on white paper. Annabeth’s bedroom is made up of white bed sheets, flowers in vases, fairy lights, pink cushions, flower-patterned bunting, neatly stacked bookshelves, and bottles of perfume on her tidy dressing table.

Percy is ripped black jeans, fraying sleeves, blue-tipped mowhawk, inked skin, and pierced cartilage. He’s a slash of messy darkness in the bright, clean room. He’s perched on the edge of her mattress like he’s afraid to make a mess, lip ring tugged into his mouth as he stares around himself nervously.

Percy Jackson may be a punk, but he’s a considerate one.

Annabeth watches him from the doorway of her walk-in wardrobe and smiles to herself. She’s content with watching him for a few moments before she clears her throat. Percy’s head snaps up immediately.

“What do you think?” she asks him, resting her hands on her hips and she flaunts her new cheerleading outfit.

Percy swallows and blinks at her a few times. He nods.

“Yeah, it’s…yeah.”

“Very eloquent, thanks.”

He snaps out of it then. “Give us a cheer then.” He jerks his chin as he says it, slow grin creeping across his face as he leans back on his hands.

Annabeth shakes her pom poms at him. “Hey Percy, you’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my mind. Hey Percy!”

He’s shaking his head at her now. “I’m sure the football team will appreciate that.”

“Oh, they’ll love it.”

She walks over to him, nudging his knees apart to stand between them and resting her pom poms on his shoulders. He looks up at her, innocence painting his features and she narrows her eyes in response.

“Are you gonna come to this game?” she asks.

He drags his gaze down and then back up her body, leaving her skin shivering in response. The spring/summer uniform leaves her midriff, arms, and legs bare and she can tell Percy appreciates this.

“Maybe,” he says.

Annabeth scoffs. “Pervert.”

He grins and wraps his arms around her waist suddenly, tugging her down on top of him as he falls backwards on the bed. Annabeth lets out a shriek as she catches herself on her elbows. She lying across his body, lined up from knee to chest and feeling flushed because of it. Percy grins at her.

“Ass,” she says.

“Wimp,” he quips back.

“Punk.”

His grin turns sly. “Cheerleader.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes as she shifts above him, letting one leg slip between his and pressing her knee into the mattress. She lets go of her pom poms and rests her hands on either side of his head. Percy’s hands are still around her waist, palms against her bare skin, sending shivers down her spine. His grin is slowly slipping from his face as he bites his lip, eyes fleeting to her lips.

Annabeth tilts her head down and her ponytail slips over her shoulder, swinging next to Percy’s face. His eyelids close slowly as she moves closer and Annabeth smiles before she finishes closing that distance, because she loves how much he trusts her. She loves the effect she can have over him. That his tough exterior drops away when she’s in his arms, that his sharp smiles turn soft and his smart mouth presses kisses to her forehead and the back of her hand and the apple of her cheek.

She likes that he becomes soft under her hands. 

When she presses her smile to his waiting mouth, his arms tighten around her waist, holding her to him, and she feels like she might be the only thing he’s not reckless with. This messy, angry boy who, by all rights, shouldn’t fit into her life, into her tidy room and her meticulous habits and her ordered life. But here he fits, with his hands on her waist and his gentle mouth teasing hers. He fits. They fit.

Windows

“I needed a drink of water after my shower but I forgot that I opened the blinds to my balcony and you just saw me walk into my kitchen naked.”

because this needed to be done

* * *

Percy kind of loved living alone. It gave him all sorts of freedom. He could get home from work and order take-out three nights in a row and no one would judge him. He could sit in his pyjamas all day and play video games on his day off without someone nagging at him to get off his lazy ass. He could walk around the apartment butt naked and be reassured that he was the only person with a key.

This was precisely his train of thought one Saturday when he stepped out of the shower and realised he had neglected to grab a towel before going into the bathroom. With a heavy sigh, he shook his hair out and opened the bathroom door. Steam billowed out with him, clinging to his skin as he crossed the room and dissipating in the cool air of his apartment.

Instead of heading straight for his bedroom, PErcy took a detour to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and turn the coffee machine on. He stretched his arms above his head, linking his fingers together and groaning. His body ached from a long week of shifts at the fire station. Percy loved his job, even the saving-kittens-from-trees and giving-talks-to-middle-schoolers parts, but he sure did miss having regular weekends; this had to be his first one in at least a month.

He padded into the kitchen and pulled a glass from the cupboard and turns the tap on to fill it up with water. The sink was underneath a window which looked out across the street and gave him a view of the block of apartments directly opposite. That was the thing with Manhattan, Percy saw his neighbours all the time - all crammed on top of one another like they were - but he never spoke to them.

One particular neighbour Percy wished he could speak to was the girl who lived across the street from him. He often saw her curled up on the window seat with a book in her hands, eyes trained sharply on the page, hair draped over one shoulder or pulled up into a sloppy bun. More than once, they’d made eye contact and tipped their coffee mugs awkwardly at one another. But other than that, Percy hadn’t had any contact with her. They weren’t in the same building to bump into each other in the elevator or picking up their mail.

As Percy looked up through the window this morning, hoping to see her, and he was met with exactly that. She was standing at her window with a mug of coffee and one hand over her mouth, those sharp eyes of hers drawn wide in shock and oh god.

Oh fuck. No, please no.

Blood rushed to Percy’s cheeks as he registered what he’d done. Before his shower, he’d opened the blinds of his glass balcony doors and he’d just walked across his apartment to his kitchen, passing that window and fuck. She’d have seen… everything.

Fuck.

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Touch

Dan and I were discussing cute percabeth headcanons and this happened.
_________

He kisses her in the morning, wrapped up in bed sheets, with toothpaste on her chin, on the way out the door as she leaves him for the day. He kisses her lips, bites and plays and draws her breath from her mouth. He kisses her cheeks, her forehead, her jaw. He kisses the back of her hand like she’s a lady. If just to make her laugh.

When she comes home to him and falls down on the couch, worn out, he gathers her into his arms and she lets the steady beating of his heart soothe her tired mind. She gravitates towards him, like the pull of the tide gathering her towards land, wherever he is in their apartment and presses herself to him, letting his warmth seep into her. She tugs his shirt out of his pants as he stands at the stove making their dinner and tucks her hands underneath, tracing the lines of his stomach and laughing as he squirms.

He finds her in the early hours of the morning, when she’s unable to put her work to bed. He drags another hard-backed chair to where she sits at her desk and rests his sleepy head on her shoulder. His wiry hair tickles her cheek and she sighs because he immediately makes her want to crawl up with him in their bed. Which she does, in the end, his feet press against hers and his fingers roam over her skin and she’s home.


It’s the morning touches she misses the most. Sleepy and reaching for her under the warm covers. Fitting to the curve of her waist and sliding between her thighs. Soft and rough, all at once. Setting her alight with his tender kisses, his firm grip around her wrists, the warmth of his body against hers.

She misses his stubbled jaw waking her up, sending shivers down her spine as he nuzzles against her. His mumbled good morning as he feels her up like a randy teenager. His protests at her leaving the bed, gripping her waist and kissing her neck to persuade her to stay, gripping her tighter when she tells him she’ll be late for work. The dance of his hands across her ribs to make her laugh. A bittersweet kiss which tastes of coffee and pancakes. The quick swipe of his thumb against her chin, wiping away the toothpaste.

She misses his arms, and the way they find her, take her home and wrap her up, whenever she needs him most. She feels the ghost of them sometimes. When she’s lingering on the edge of a dream, desperate to stay within it, in his arms. She misses them, misses him, misses home. Because home is just an empty apartment without him. Without his fast touch and warm hands and cold nose pressed against her neck. Home is a place she doesn’t want to be, because he won’t be waiting there for her when she walks through the door; he won’t walk through that door himself, with long stretching limbs and tired greetings.

Home is not home without Percy in it. It’s cold, and quiet, and dark and she misses him. She misses him with a fierce ache in her chest that bends her over double and has her gasping for breath. And she waits for him still, to find her, to wrap his arms around her and make her whole, to press his fingers to her skin and patch her back up again. Because he always promised that he would. Together, or not at all.

anonymous asked:

I just read your neighbor-ikea AU and im seriously dying. Could you please do a part two?

here’s part one if people missed it :)


Annabeth raps her knuckles neatly against her next door neighbour’s door and rocks back on her heels as she waits for it to open. There’s some cursing and a thump before it does, and Annabeth can’t help the grin that devours her face as she takes in the resident. He’s wearing his work pants and tight grey t-shirt with FDNY printed in block letters across his chest. He looks a little startled, but his grin is genuine as he takes her in.

“Hello,” she says.

“Hi. Sorry, I’m ready. I am. Just gimme a sec.”

She laughs as he backs into his apartment and she follows him in, shutting the door behind her. “No worries. I’m early. Hey, Betty.”

Percy’s dog whines happily as Annabeth crouched down to scratch behind her ears. Percy has disappeared into his bedroom, she presumes, to get changed. Annabeth tries very hard not to let her mind wander to inside that bedroom and the image of Percy tugging that shirt over his head, revealing his long torso, and unbuckling his belt to pull down those glorious pants. She tries. Really, really hard.

“How was work?” he calls from his bedroom.

Annabeth stands, moving to lean against the kitchen counter. “Good. Great, actually. My proposal got accepted.”

“Dude! That’s awesome!” Percy appears in his doorway, pulling his arms through a flannel shirt over the top of his t-shirt. He’s wearing a pair of abused jeans with a tear in one of the knees. “We should celebrate or something.”

Annabeth raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? You got something special in mind?”

Percy’s cheeks flush with colour and he ducks his chin to his chest, nervous. Like she’s a cheerleader asking the unpopular nerd to the prom. It’s ridiculous. Annabeth loves it a little bit.

Percy pulls his sneakers on and recovers. He throws her a quiet smile, a quirk of his mouth which makes him look like the troublemaker in high school, not the nerd.

“Sure. I’ll take you some place real special.”

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anonymous asked:

PLEASE OH PLEASE MIGHTY WRITER, WRITE PERCABETH FLUFF LIKE ULTIMATE FLUFF PUH-LEASE I'M DYING OF A DISORDER CALLED FLUFF NEED HAHAHA

your wish is my command

Annabeth was pulling the whistling kettle from the stove when the front door went.

“Hey,” she called out, almost absentmindedly as she pulled two mugs down from the cupboard.

Her boyfriend didn’t respond, but she followed the sound of his footsteps down the hall towards the kitchen where she stood. And then his arms folded around around her middle and he dropped his head to her shoulder with a groan.

Annabeth let out a small, surprised laugh. “Work was that bad huh?”

“Mmph.” He turned his face towards her neck. “You have no idea. I’ve never been happier to get home.”

Annabeth poured some boiling water over the teabags and set the kettle down on the side before dropping her hands to his arms which were still wrapped around her middle. She took a moment to enjoy the warmth of him against her, the smooth lines of the muscles of his forearms, his rough stubble against her neck. All at once it warmed her to the core and sent shivers down to her toes.

Percy, he always had the ability to do that do her.

Annabeth let out a slow sigh as she turned in his arms to face him, slowly sliding her hands around his ribs and down to the hem of his pants. She tugged on his shirt, untucking it so that she could rub her thumbs over the small of his back. Percy hummed in content, face tucked back against her neck.

“You wanna lie on the couch in our jammies and watch Friends reruns?”

He groaned again. “Yes please.” He pulled his face away from her neck. “I love you.”

Annabeth tapped his butt and pecked his lips. “I know. Now go get changed and I’ll order take-out.”

Even as she slid carefully out of his arms, he dipped forwards to kiss her again. “I really, really love you.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes, turning around to save the tea from over-brewing. “You’ll make it up to me, I’m sure.”

Percy walked backwards from the room, sending a wink her way. Annabeth rolled her eyes, ignoring the way her lower belly tightened and her whole betraying body filled with want. Well, there’d be time for that later, she’d make sure of that.