My writing

[hppercyjacksonlover-writing]

Hey this blog is for my writing and my fan fiction I do have another blog but thats mainly reblogs of stories i liked so if you have a request, please ask

Request rules

No smut

no makeouts (I can do kissing ,but writing makeout scenes makes me uncomfortable)

no dark themes

I write for Walker Scobel, Mk, Malachi, Colby Madden, Luke Castelen and Percy Jackson

Edit: pls don't request things you've already requested to other authors

[hppercyjacksonlover-writing]

sorry to spam post but i realised that i had some drafts. I am currently working on a play so i will probably hyperfocus on that and go MIA so sorry in advanced but enjoy the first chapter

[hppercyjacksonlover-writing]

Chapter 1

Amelia almost didn’t submit the self-tape.

She sat on the floor of her bedroom, script pages spread out in a loose semicircle, pencil marks smudged where she’d erased too hard. Outside, the house was too loud; inside, her head was louder. Percy Jackson. Season Four. Rachel Elizabeth Dare.

It felt unreal in that way things always did when they mattered too much.

Her agent had said it casually, like it wasn’t a universe-shifting sentence. “This one feels like you.” Amelia had nodded, even though she didn’t quite know what that meant. Rachel was artistic. Observant. A little out of step with the world. She saw things other people didn’t. Amelia stared at the sides and felt that familiar, uncomfortable click of recognition.

She didn’t try to make Rachel quirky. She didn’t try to make her loud or charming or funny. When the camera started rolling, Amelia just… was. She let the pauses linger. Let her eyes track something no one else could see. She trusted the stillness, even when it felt like she wasn’t doing enough.

For the improv portion, the casting director asked her to react to something invisible. Amelia didn’t hesitate. She’d been doing that her whole life.

When she sent the tape, she didn’t feel relief—just a quiet acceptance. Whatever happened, happened.

The callback came faster than she expected.

First over Zoom, then in person.

The room was bright and clinical, the kind of space that made every movement feel exposed. Amelia stood on her mark and folded her hands loosely, grounding herself the way she’d learned to backstage and in dance studios. She listened carefully, adjusted when asked, absorbed notes without panic. When she read opposite Percy, something settled. The rhythm felt natural. Unforced.

They asked her to cross the room, to reset, to hit marks without being told where they were. Amelia did, instinctively. Years of choreography, blocking, and silent observation paid off without her even realising it.

Afterwards, she replayed every moment in her head. Every breath. Every blink. She was certain she’d messed it up.

She went back to school. She helped backstage. She waited.

The call came on an ordinary afternoon.

She was halfway through homework when her mum answered the phone, voice dropping into that careful tone that meant something important. Amelia looked up, heart stuttering. She didn’t breathe until her mum covered the receiver and whispered, “It’s for you.”

They didn’t make a speech. They didn’t draw it out.

“They want you. You are Rachel.”

Amelia cried. Quietly. Then immediately asked how she was going to manage schoolwork while filming.

On set, she became known for her quiet presence.

Between takes, she sat cross-legged with a sketchbook balanced on her knee, charcoal smudged on her fingers. She didn’t talk much, but when she did, it mattered. Directors gave her fewer notes than expected. Other actors felt steadier when she was in a scene. She listened. She absorbed. She adjusted.

When the action sequences came, the stunt team prepared her for a double.

Amelia shook her head.

She trained instead.

Falls. Rolls. Balance. Controlled impacts. She learned how to move through danger without fear, how to trust her body to do what it had always done. Dance and acrobatics translated seamlessly. By the time filming wrapped, the credits quietly read: Stunts performed by Amelia.

No headline. No announcement. Just truth.

When the season aired, the internet noticed.

“She doesn’t overact.” “She feels real.” “She is Rachel.”

Articles called her mysterious. Wise beyond her years. A breakout star.

Amelia read none of them.

Off camera, she was still a teenager who needed routine, who got tired easily, who decompressed in oversized jumpers and familiar shows. Fame brushed past her without sticking. Acting was something she did—not who she was.

And somewhere between the prop swords, the quiet scenes, and the moments no one saw, Amelia built something rare.

A career that didn’t ask her to be louder.

Just honest.

[hppercyjacksonlover-writing]

New fic coming

dividers by @enchanthings

Amelia Rowan

Famous birthdays

Birthday: January 12, 2012 Birth Sign: Capricorn Birth Place: Adelaide, Australia Age: 14

About Amelia Rowan has quickly become one of the most talked-about young talents in fantasy television. Known for her breakout role as Rachel Elizabeth Dare in Percy Jackson and the Olympians Season 4, Amelia has captured audiences with her emotional depth, quiet intensity, and natural screen presence. Despite her young age, she brings a grounded, professional energy to set that makes her a favorite among cast and crew alike.

Before Fame Before landing her first major role, Amelia was deeply involved in school theatre, dance, and backstage productions. She spent years honing her craft through acting classes, dance practice, and visual storytelling, often helping behind the scenes in costume and set design. These experiences built the quiet confidence and observational skills that would later define her on-screen performances.

Fun Fact Amelia performs her own stunts on set, thanks to her acrobatic and dance training, and she even incorporated a quiet singing moment into her portrayal of Rachel Elizabeth Dare — a moment that has quickly become a fan favourite.

Family Life Born and raised in Adelaide, Amelia is very close to her family, who have always supported her acting and artistic endeavors. Despite stepping into the spotlight, she keeps her private life grounded and values quality time with her loved ones above all.

Associated with She has stared with the cast of Percy Jackson and the Olympians Season 4, Walker Scobell (Percy Jackson), Leah Sava Jeffries (Annabeth Chase), Aryan Simhadri (Grover Underwood), Kevin Chacon (Chris Rodriguez), Dior Goodjohn (Clarisse La Rue), Tamara Smart (Thalia Grace), Daniel Diemer (Tyson), Charlie Bushnell (Luke Castellan), and Levi Christopoulos (Nico di Angelo).

Chapters

Chapter 1: The first steps — The Audition Process and how she landed the role

Chapter 2: First days on set — meeting the cast and first days of boot camp

sorry i completely forgot about this series

[hppercyjacksonlover-writing]

Hi sorry for being MIA for a bit but i'm back

I only really have motivation for percy jackson and the cast of the series right now but when i get motivation to do more people i will let you know

i've started a new series and will probably post it tommorow

should i post a like introduction or no

Should i post an introduction

yes post an introduction

no i wont read it

My button

Voting ended onJan 9

[marshymallo]

came up with a fic idea but i’m unsure if it’s something i’ll actually (ever) execute but i REALLYYYY like the idea

EDIT: if you do like this idea, comment or reblog saying which character(s)!! i still have no clue which character i might write this for

a reader who’s very self-conscious and aware of their appearance and how others perceive them. if just one hair is out of place, they’re spending the next hour (minimum) trying to fix it in the bathroom mirror. i mean, like, their appearance is EVERYTHING to them, because those are the values they were raised with: if you’re not the picture of perfection, you’re nothing.

i’m also imagining a character who sees the reader constantly checking their appearance and thinks it comes from a place of vanity which leads to them disliking the reader or just thinking they’re shallow. it doesn’t have to be a thing making the character “hate” the reader, but just a “this behavior ticks me off/bothers me” sort of thing.

but, like, for some reason or another the character has a talk with the reader about their behavior. not in an accusatory or argumentative way, necessarily, but more like “why are you always doing that? why are you constantly fixing your appearance?? i don’t get it, you always look fine. it’s whatever” and the reader goes into how their parent(s) raised them to always look their best in front of other people.

so then, maybe the character (in the same scene or different) sees reader a little less “put together” and tells them how “good” they look while being “messy”. while not being clean and pure and perfect. while just being their natural selves.

i dunno, i just feel like it’s a good idea in my head and it reinforces that you don’t have to fit inside other people’s box to be deemed beautiful or worthy of love, attention, and affection. especially considering a post i saw the other day about how being a white, american woman centers around being pure and untainted and clean (the whole clean girl thing) and how some people will try to conform to that. but people don’t need to fit other people’s images and ideals to be beautiful because they just are.

i don’t know, could this go anywhere??

[hppercyjacksonlover-writing]

Love this. Like imagine it with Luke Castellen. OMG

[hppercyjacksonlover-writing]

saw someone else do this and thought it was cool

make your name out of somgs you like

H: Heros-Emmy curie P:Panic Attack-PEGGY P: Popular-Wicked E:Eyes Warm, Eyes Wide-Lilli FurFaro R: Rare-Ruth B C:Curses-The Crane Wives Y: You don’t know-Katelyn Traver J: Just a name-Hanniou A: Another terrible day-The lightning thief the musical C: Coping-Rose Darling K: Kid&Leveret S: She ran against the world-Taylor tunes O: One day at a time-Nickie J N: No good dead-wicked L: Luckier-Jenna Davis O: Older-Sasha Slogan V: Villains aren’t born-PEGGY E: Enchanted-Taylor Swift R: Reach-Madds Buckley - W: Worse- Lauren spencer smith R: Rewritten in stone-Amanda Fagan I:I’m trying-Anna Clendening T: Try-lightning thief the musical bonus track I: In the same boat-the lightning thief (bonus track) N: Non-stop-Hamilton G: Glad your settling-Jessica Baio

[hppercyjacksonlover-writing]

A/n sorry i went a bit MIA

It all happened so fast.

One second, I was walking along the side of the lake and next thing I know I’m swallowed by a cold blanket of water. I feel the water fill my lungs as I grasp at nothing to try and surface myself.

Seconds feel like hours as I lose oxygen, and I lose hope anyone will realise I’m missing. Of course, the one-time Percy isn’t at camp is the one time I fall into the lake. I grow drowsy as I stop struggling to get my head above water.

My head feels like it’s going to explode, and my throat and my muscles hurt and I’m too tired to try and catch a camper’s attention. Everything hurts and I weigh up how much worse it would be if I just let the water take me.

My vision blurred and I grow dizzy and thoughts flash in my head. This wasn’t how I was supposed to go. It was supposed to happen doing something heroic or after I’d married Percy and we had met our grandchildren, not when I was barely 17 and had achieved none of my life goals. I had so much I still have to do. I have to get my full license, I have to marry Percy, I have to have our children. There is so much I will now just watch Percy do without me

My heartbeat begins to slow. I’m ready to give up. I want this pain to end. The pressure in my head is becoming unbearable, and my throat burns as much as my muscles do. So, I do it, I take a breath.

After I do I close my eyes and reopen them and I’m no longer in the water. I’m standing in a small cottage. I see  what I would assume is a family photo of a group of people with an uncanny resemblance of my mum, my siblings and Percy but 10 years older as well as a group of kids looking between 1 to 14 all standing in front of a Christmas tree framed on the mantle next to a line of frames with individual photographs of all the kids in the photo.

I look around at the room. It’s fairly small for a living room, with 2 couches crammed into the corner and 2 ottomans pushed next to the fireplace. Theres blankets tossed everywhere, and children’s toys scattered on the ground. As I turn around to look at the photographs again, I hear him.

Percy

My Percy

“Y/n, Y/N!”

Suddenly, a pair of arms wrap around me from behind—warm, solid, alive. I gasp as though breathing for the first time, even though I’m certain I shouldn’t be able to breathe at all. His scent hits me first: ocean salt, campfire smoke, and that familiar warmth that always made me feel safe.

“Y/N…” Percy whispers, voice cracking with something between relief and heartbreak.

I turn in his arms, and there he is. Percy—but older. Softer around the eyes, a faint scar along his jaw I don’t recognise, hair a little longer like he forgot to cut it because life got busy. He’s looking at me like I’m the sun and he hasn't seen daylight in years.

I open my mouth, but the words get stuck. “Percy? How—where am I?”

His expression falters. “You’re not supposed to be here yet.”

A cold ripple travels down my spine.

Before I can ask anything else, tiny footsteps patter across the wooden floor. A small boy with sea-green eyes—Percy’s eyes—bursts into the room, laughing. He runs straight through me like mist.

I freeze.

Percy swallows. “This is… what could be. Our home. Our kids.” His voice breaks on the last word. “The life we were supposed to have.”

I feel the weight of the world crash onto my chest. “But… I’m dead?”

“No.” Percy shakes his head quickly, desperately. “Not yet. You’re in between. You’re drowning, Y/N. You’re giving up.”

The room flickers. The lights fade. The kids’ laughter dims into a distant echo.

Percy steps closer, cupping my face in his hands. They’re warm—far warmer than the icy water I was in before.

“Listen to me,” he pleads. “You don’t get to leave me yet. We haven’t had any of this. We haven’t had them. You haven’t even yelled at me for forgetting our anniversary for the first time.” His lips curve into the tiniest smile. “You still have to marry me. You still have so much to live through. With me.”

A loud crack echoes through the cottage as the walls tremble. The world is splitting—like a choice demanding to be made.

“Y/N,” Percy whispers, forehead pressed to mine. “Come back. Fight. Please.”

The cottage dissolves into blinding white light.

And suddenly—

I’m coughing.

Water explodes out of my lungs as I’m dragged onto the lake’s edge, air slicing into my chest like knives. I blink through the blur, vision returning in painful bursts.

Percy is kneeling over me.

The real Percy.

Sopping wet, shaking, crying.

“Don’t—” he chokes, gripping my hand like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

[hppercyjacksonlover-writing]

That feeling when your work gets suggested to you on your tags or for you page

[hppercyjacksonlover-writing]

TITLE: “Can You Say That Again?”

SUMMARY: A soft moment where Malachi proves—again—that he really does listen to you. Even when the world is loud, he always finds a way to hear you. WORD COUNT: ~520

You were halfway through your sentence when the cafeteria exploded with noise—chairs scraping, laughter echoing, someone dropping an entire tray. Your voice drowned under it all. You tried again, a little louder, but Malachi blinked at you with that adorable, confused puppy look.

“What?”

You shook your head, already ready to give up—typical. It wasn’t important anyway.

But then he did that thing.

The thing that had accidentally become your new obsession.

Without hesitation, Malachi stepped closer, bending down just a little—enough that his face neared yours, curls brushing his forehead. He tilted his head and actually brought his ear toward your mouth so he could hear you better. One hand braced lightly on your desk, the other hovering awkwardly like he wasn’t sure where to put it.

“Wait—say it again,” he murmured, eyes soft and so unreasonably attentive it made your stomach twist. “I wanna hear you.”

It should’ve been illegal how gentle he looked doing it. Like the rest of the world didn’t matter. Like you were the only thing he cared to listen to.

You laughed quietly, because how were you supposed to focus when he pulled moves like that? “I said the poster is crooked.”

Malachi blinked again. Slowly. Then straightened up with the world’s most dramatic sigh.

“You could’ve just said that straight up,” he said, but he was grinning, dimples deep and unmistakably pleased that he got to lean that close to you.

It didn’t help that, once the noise picked up again, he immediately bent down again before you even opened your mouth.

“Okay—say whatever you were gonna say next,” he said, lowering himself to your height like it was his natural instinct. “I’ll stay here. It’s easier to hear you like this.”

You swatted his arm, feeling your face heat. “I wasn’t going to say anything!”

“Sure.” He smirked. “You’re kinda quiet sometimes, so I gotta work harder to catch everything.”

But his teasing was soft—fond, even. Malachi wasn’t making fun of you. He never had. He was simply stating it like it was a fact, one he found… cute, somehow.

He bent down again, closer this time, his cheek brushing your shoulder as he angled his ear toward your lips.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” you muttered.

“On purpose?” His voice was low, playful. “Nah. I’m just trying to hear you. You know I hate missing anything you say.”

And then he did something even worse—he looked up at you from that angle, eyes big, warm, and so stupidly boyish you nearly melted on the spot.

You pushed his face away with one hand. “Malachi!”

He laughed, finally straightening. “Fine, fine. But you know I’ll do it again next time.”

You rolled your eyes, pretending it didn’t make your heart trip over itself. “You always do.”

He shrugged, swinging his bag over his shoulder. “Yeah. Because it’s you.”

A/n: short fic while I'm getting back into things. if you guys have any ideas or requests send them in I'd love to start getting back to my regular posting

[hppercyjacksonlover-writing]

200 Followers special

As a celebration for me reaching 200 followers here, I'm going to be doing a Q&A. So if you have any questions for me, ask on this post

[hppercyjacksonlover-writing]

hiiii! so so late but like can you do a part 3 of the one you drift to? if not it's ok, maybe Malachi even gets kinda possessive? btw love you writing <3 xoxo

The One You Drift To — Part Three

Summary: You and Malachi have always been close, but lately, his protectiveness has started to show in ways you can’t quite ignore. He’s still your safe place—but maybe he’s starting to make sure no one else gets the chance to be. Word Count: ~1,250

You told yourself it wasn’t that deep. Malachi was just... Malachi. Protective, warm, always where you were without ever needing to be asked. It wasn’t weird. Not really.

Until it kind of was.

It started small—at least, smaller than usual. You were sitting beside Josh on the tour bus, half-asleep and sharing earbuds, when Malachi slid into the seat across from you. He didn’t say anything at first, just drummed his fingers against his knee, watching the two of you with that unreadable little half-smile.

Then, just as Josh handed you his phone to queue another song, Malachi leaned forward. “Hey, Y/N,” he said casually, though there was a sharpness to it. “You promised you’d help me go over lines, remember?”

You blinked. “Did I?”

“Yep.” He stood up before you could question it, plucking one of the earbuds from your ear and handing it back to Josh. “C’mon. We’ll probably both fall asleep if we wait any longer.”

You didn’t miss the look Josh gave him—half amused, half really?—but Malachi just ignored it, resting a hand on your shoulder as he steered you toward the back of the bus.

“You could’ve just asked, you know,” you teased once you sat down on the couch.

“I did,” he said smoothly, sitting close enough that your knees brushed. “I just didn’t want to interrupt.”

“You mean you didn’t want me sitting with Josh.”

He gave you a look that might’ve been defensive if it wasn’t softened by the ghost of a grin. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Malachi tilted his head, like he was debating what to say next, then shrugged. “Maybe I just like having you around more than anyone else does.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your chest fluttered. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But you still followed me, didn’t you?”

And you couldn’t argue with that.

By the next week, everyone else had noticed too.

“Possessive much?” Dara muttered under her breath after Malachi tugged you back from sitting beside her during lunch.

He only smirked. “I’m just saving her a seat.”

You laughed it off, trying to ignore the way his hand lingered on the back of your chair.

But later, when you reached for Freya’s arm during a crowded meet-and-greet line, Malachi’s hand instantly found yours instead. His grip was gentle but firm—like he didn’t even think about it. Like it was instinct.

You glanced up at him, and he just shrugged, eyes soft but steady. “Got you.”

It wasn’t possessive in an ugly way—he never told you what to do, never pushed too far. But it was there, in the small things.

When someone leaned too close during a photo, his hand would slide around your waist. When you started laughing too hard at Josh’s jokes, Malachi would quietly reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, like he needed to remind both of you where your attention should be. And when you tripped over a cable backstage, he practically appeared out of thin air, steadying you before anyone else could blink.

You should’ve been annoyed. But the truth was—you didn’t mind it. Not even a little.

The real test came during rehearsal one afternoon.

You and Malachi were supposed to run a scene together, but the director paired you with Josh for timing instead. You barely had time to react before Malachi spoke up.

“Wait—why not us?”

The director looked up, a little surprised. “Because Josh and Y/N haven’t run it yet. You’ve done it twice.”

Malachi’s jaw flexed. “Right. Just… making sure.”

He tried to play it off after that, but you saw it—the stiffness in his shoulders, the way his gaze followed you across the stage, every line of his body a little too tight.

When the scene ended, you walked over to him with a teasing smile. “You okay, Mr. Possesive?”

He sighed through his nose. “Yeah, just—didn’t like how close he got, I guess.”

You snorted. “It’s acting, Malachi.”

“I know.” He looked down at you, voice quieter now. “Still. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

You tilted your head, half-amused, half something else you didn’t want to name. “You realize you sound jealous, right?”

“Maybe I am,” he said, so casually it knocked the air out of you.

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “You—what?”

He just smiled, not denying it, eyes flicking briefly to your lips before moving away again. “Guess Freya was right. You are my favorite person.”

Your heart skipped a beat, warmth blooming in your chest. “That’s not fair,” you mumbled. “You can’t just say things like that.”

He leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “Why not? It’s true.”

You didn’t know what to say after that.

But later that night, when the bus was dark and quiet, you found yourself drifting—like you always did—to where he was sitting. He looked up from his phone, wordlessly opening his arm in invitation.

And without even thinking about it, you curled against his side, head tucked under his chin.

His hoodie smelled like home, his heartbeat steady against your ear.

And when you felt his hand tighten protectively around your waist, holding you closer, you finally stopped pretending you didn’t know what that meant.

You weren’t just the one who drifted to him anymore. He’d started drifting to you too.

[hppercyjacksonlover-writing]

Bartholemew the sheep

The interview had started like any other — bright lights, uncomfortable stools, and at least three cameras pointed right at us.

We’d done the introductions, smiled for the questions about the film, and laughed through the usual round of “What was your favorite scene to shoot?”

Then came the interviewer’s favorite trap: “So, any funny stories from set?”

I immediately side-eyed Malachi. He was sitting too casually, grinning like a cat about to cause chaos.

“I don’t know, Emalia,” he said, resting his chin on his hand. “Do we have any funny stories from set?”

I glared, flipping him off behind my chair. Unfortunately, the smirk on his face told me I was too late.

He turned to the interviewer. “Well, there was that one time we adopted a sheep.”

I dropped my face into my hands. “You had to, didn’t you.”

“Oh, I had to,” he said. “Because you—”

“Okay,” I cut in, straightening up with a forced smile. “Fine. Story time, I guess.”

[Flashback — On Set, Three Months Ago]

We were in the middle of filming a countryside scene — the kind with open fields, soft wind, and about a million gnats. The crew had been setting up for hours, and everyone was melting in the sun.

And then, out of absolutely nowhere, a sheep wandered onto set.

Not just wandered. Strolled. Like it owned the place.

The director yelled for someone to get it off set, but I froze. The poor thing looked terrified — its little hooves slipping on the fake grass as people shouted and waved their arms.

“Wait, stop!” I yelled, running forward. “You’re scaring him!”

Malachi, who had been leaning against a trailer eating chips, just stared. “Him? You’re gendering the sheep?”

“His name is Bartholomew,” I said without hesitation.

Malachi blinked. “You named him.”

“I bonded with him.”

Before anyone could stop me, I knelt down, talking softly to the sheep like it was a scared toddler. Bartholomew bleated once — softly — and walked straight to me.

The crew collectively froze.

Someone whispered, “Is she— is she taming it?”

I looked up, proud. “See? He trusts me.”

Malachi walked up beside me, grinning. “You realize you just made this your emotional support sheep, right?”

“Shh,” I said, feeding Bartholomew half my granola bar. “He likes it.”

Malachi burst out laughing. “Of course he does. Who doesn’t love oats?”

The director gave up after five minutes and called for a break. Security eventually tracked down a local farmer who claimed him. But by that time, I’d already declared Bartholomew an unofficial cast member.

[Back to the Interview]

The interviewer was laughing so hard their mic nearly fell off. “You… you tried to keep him?”

“She absolutely did,” Malachi said, leaning forward with a grin. “She was Googling ‘how to adopt a sheep in California.’”

“I was researching,” I said defensively. “And in my defense, he looked cold.”

“You literally tried to put your jacket on him,” Malachi teased.

The room erupted in laughter.

He shrugged. “He does like a Bartholomew. Sophisticated. Regal.”

The interviewer was nearly crying from laughter now. “Please tell me this made it into the behind-the-scenes footage.”

“Oh, it did,” Malachi said proudly. “You might even spot a ‘Special thanks to Bartholomew the Sheep’ in the credits.”

The interviewer clapped their hands. “Best on-set story ever.”

Malachi leaned back with that smug grin that said he knew he’d won this round. “You’re welcome.”

[Post-Interview Scene — Backstage, Later That Day]

As soon as the cameras cut, I smacked his arm. “You really had to tell that story?”

He grinned. “You’re still mad I filmed it, huh?”

“You filmed me talking to a sheep like it was a baby.”

“And it was adorable,” he said simply, slinging an arm over my shoulder as we walked off set. “The internet deserves to know the real you.”

“The real me doesn’t want to trend for adopting livestock,” I muttered.

He laughed, pulling me closer. “Relax. People love it. Bartholomew’s basically a fan favorite now.”

“Yeah?” I asked, rolling my eyes. “What, are they making fan edits of him too?”

He grinned, pulling out his phone. “Actually… yeah.”

Sure enough, there it was — a TikTok edit titled ‘Bartholomew & Emalia: The Ultimate Duo’ set to dramatic music.

I stared at it in disbelief before bursting out laughing. “You liked it?”

“Of course I did,” he said with mock seriousness. “He’s part of the family now.”

I shook my head, laughing as he led me toward the exit. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he said, bumping my shoulder. “But I’m your ridiculous.”

I smiled, finally giving in. “Fine. But if I ever find another stray animal on set—”

“—we’re naming it Bartholomew Jr.,” he said instantly.

I groaned. “You’re incorrigible.”

He grinned. “And you love it.”

[hppercyjacksonlover-writing]

Heyhey! Can you write something for walker and the reader(they are dating) and he is her date to some wedding

or an event maybe idk

Title: Red Carpet Plus One Summary: Reader’s big movie premiere should’ve been terrifying—but with Walker as her date, it turns into one of the best nights of her life. Word Count: ~1.2k

Her dress Her makeup His suit

The car pulled up to the red carpet, and Y/N’s stomach twisted in that way that always came right before something huge.

Her movie — Romeo and Juliet — was premiering tonight. Her first starring role. The flashing cameras, the screaming fans, the endless interviews… it was supposed to be exciting. But right now? It just felt overwhelming.

Walker glanced over, noticing her death grip on the clutch in her lap.

“Hey,” he said softly, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “You’re shaking.”

She gave a nervous laugh. “Just a little.”

He smiled — that easy, grounding Walker Scobell smile that could calm a storm. “You’re gonna kill it out there. You always do.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re used to this.”

He tilted his head. “I’m used to monsters, not movie premieres. I’d take a Minotaur over paparazzi any day.”

That got a laugh out of her — the first real one of the night.

“See? There’s that smile,” he said, grin widening. “That’s the one that’s gonna light up the carpet.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, but her heart was doing flips. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I’m lucky you brought me,” he shot back, and she couldn’t help but blush.

The car door opened, and everything suddenly went bright.

Flashes. Shouts. Cameras. Her name echoing across the carpet.

It was dizzying, but then—Walker’s hand slipped into hers. Warm, steady, grounding.

“Breathe,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

And somehow, she did.

They walked down the carpet together — her gown flowing like something out of a dream, his hand intertwined with hers the whole time. He didn’t let go even when the reporters called for solo shots. He just squeezed her hand, nodding as if to say you’ve got this, before stepping aside so she could shine.

And shine she did.

She smiled for photos, answered questions, signed a few posters. But every few minutes, she’d glance back — and there he was. Walker, standing off to the side in his suit, eyes on her like she was the only one there.

Every time she met his gaze, she felt a little less nervous.

Later, inside the theater, as the movie played, Walker reached for her hand again in the dark.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to.

But when her name appeared in the opening credits, he leaned close and whispered, “That’s my girl.”

Her chest ached in the best way possible.

After the movie, there was an after-party — glittering lights, music, champagne flutes, everyone congratulating her.

She’d been hugged by producers, castmates, random executives she barely knew. But the moment she found Walker again, she melted into his arms like she’d been holding her breath all night.

“See?” he murmured into her hair. “Told you you’d kill it.”

“I didn’t kill it,” she said, muffled against his chest. “Everyone else did.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her. “No. You did. I watched you. Every second. You were… incredible.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “And I’m not just saying that because I’m your date.”

She smiled, leaning in until their foreheads touched. “Best date ever, by the way.”

He smirked. “You say that now. Wait until I steal all your dessert.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He grinned wider. “You underestimate me.”

A few minutes later, a fan account would post a video taken from across the room — the two of them slow dancing in the corner, away from the crowd. Her dress glittering under the lights, his arms wrapped protectively around her.

The caption would read:

“Walker looking at her like she hung the stars 😭💙 #cutestcouple #redcarpetroyalty”

And honestly? They weren’t wrong.

Because in that moment — camera flashes forgotten, noise fading into laughter — Y/N felt like she could finally breathe.

And Walker, whispering some dumb joke against her temple just to make her laugh, felt like home.

[hppercyjacksonlover-writing]

can you do a malachi fic when malachi had a crush on reader when they were younger but reader thought he was ugly. but a few years later malachi has got taller and more mature and reader finds him attractive now (when did you get hot - sabrina carpenter)

Title: When Did You Get Hot

Summary: When they were twelve, Y/N thought Malachi Barton was annoying and weird. Now, years later, she runs into him again — only to realize the boy she used to call “ugly” somehow grew up into someone she can’t stop staring at. Word count: ~1.3k

“Wait—Malachi Barton is coming tonight?”

Y/N nearly dropped her phone when Freya said it.

“Yeah,” Freya confirmed, adjusting her hair in the mirror. “He’s back in town for the weekend. Haven’t you seen his stuff online? He’s been everywhere lately.”

Y/N scoffed. “Last time I saw him, he had braces and a bowl cut. I’m not sure ‘everywhere’ is the right word.”

Freya smirked. “You’ll see.”

The house was loud — music pulsing, laughter echoing through the hallways. It was one of those reunion parties that made you nostalgic and uncomfortable at the same time. Y/N was scanning the snack table when someone tapped her shoulder.

“Hey, stranger.”

The voice was deep — low enough that she almost didn’t recognize it.

She turned around, ready to give a polite smile… and froze.

He was taller. Like, way taller. His curls were neater but still that same soft brown. His jawline — where did that come from? And his smile… oh, his smile. Still the same mischievous one, but now with dimples that should be illegal.

Y/N blinked once. Then twice.

“...Malachi?” she asked, almost uncertain.

He grinned. “The one and only.”

Her brain short-circuited for a second. This was not the kid who once threw gummy worms at her during a middle school lunch.

“Wow,” she said finally. “You… changed.”

He laughed. “Good changed or bad changed?”

Y/N looked him up and down, trying not to gape. “Uh… definitely not bad.”

“Good to know.” He smirked, clearly enjoying her flustered expression.

The night went on, and they somehow kept drifting back toward each other — laughing about old memories, teasing, catching up.

“You still drawing?” he asked at one point, remembering something she told him years ago.

Her heart did a weird flip. “You remember that?”

“I remember a lot of things,” he said softly. “Like how you used to call me ‘the annoying kid with weird hair.’”

Y/N groaned, covering her face. “Please tell me I didn’t actually say that.”

“Oh, you did,” he said, laughing. “You also told me I’d never be cool enough to get a girlfriend.”

“Okay, in my defense—”

He stepped closer, grin lazy and confident. “Still think that’s true?”

Her breath caught. The way he was looking at her — eyes warm, steady, teasing but sincere — made it hard to think straight.

She swallowed. “I mean… you might’ve gotten a little cooler.”

He tilted his head. “A little?”

Y/N’s face burned. “Fine. A lot.”

He smiled — that same boyish, sunshine smile, but it hit differently now. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

Later that night, as the party started to wind down, they found themselves sitting outside under the fairy lights, sharing a blanket someone had left on a chair.

“Y’know,” Y/N said, half-laughing, half-nervous, “I really didn’t expect to see you again.”

“Yeah,” he said softly, eyes on her instead of the stars. “Didn’t expect you to look like this either.”

She raised a brow. “Like what?”

He leaned back, smirking. “Beautiful.”

Her stomach flipped again. “You always this smooth?”

He shrugged. “Guess I just grew into it.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head — but she couldn’t stop smiling.

Maybe he really had.

And when the music faded and they said their goodbyes, Malachi hesitated before walking away.

He glanced back at her, hands in his pockets, smile shy this time.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you think I’m ugly,” he said, smirking, “maybe keep it to yourself.”

She rolled her eyes, grinning. “Next time, I might be too busy staring.”

a/n: he absolutely smirks to himself the whole drive home. she hums “when did you get hot” on repeat for three days straight.

[hppercyjacksonlover-writing]

Hello! I'm sorry, but you don't write for Miguel Mora by chance ?

No sorry

[hppercyjacksonlover-writing]

Hii!!! I was wondering if you could write a Colby Madden x reader… so idk if you’ve seen that prank where the bf disrespects his gf in front of his mom to see how she’d react?? Wanted to know if you could do that with Colby and the reader with maybe his mom, Amy and Hartley around please??? If that makes sense 😭

“She’s Family”

The camera blinked red from its hidden corner on the shelf, quietly capturing the chaos that was about to unfold. Colby tried to keep a straight face as his girlfriend, Y/N, walked into the Madden living room, where his mum, Amy, and Hartley were sprawled across the couch watching some random cooking show.

“Hey, babe,” Y/N said with a soft smile, handing Colby a drink.

“Thanks,” he said, taking it without looking up from his phone — the first strike in his little prank.

Amy raised an eyebrow immediately. Weird, she thought. He always gave her a hug first thing.

Colby waited a beat before sighing loudly. “Can you not stand right there? You’re kinda in the way of the TV.”

Y/N blinked, startled. “Oh—sorry.” She moved aside, trying to laugh it off, but her cheeks warmed.

His mum’s head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

Hartley looked from his mum to Colby. “Uh—bro?”

Colby pretended not to notice their looks, scrolling casually. “What? She’s fine.”

Y/N sank onto the arm of the couch, quiet now. Amy frowned, eyes narrowing. “Fine? You just spoke to her like she’s one of your teammates, not your girlfriend.”

Colby bit his lip to keep from grinning. “I’m just saying, she knows I like space when I’m watching something.”

That did it.

Amy leaned forward, fire in her voice. “Colby James Madden—”

Even Hartley chimed in. “Yeah, man. Don’t talk to her like that. You’re being rude.”

Colby’s mum nodded sharply. “You don’t treat someone who cares about you like that. I raised you better.”

Y/N’s eyes flicked down, trying to figure out if she should defend him or leave the room. The small hurt in her voice made his grin falter. “Colby, did I—did I do something?”

And just like that, he cracked.

He jumped up, grabbing her hands. “No, no, no, babe, it’s a prank!” he blurted, laughing as Amy gasped. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry—look—” He pointed toward the blinking camera.

Amy threw a pillow at him. “You idiot! I nearly grounded you and you’re twenty!”

Hartley was wheezing on the couch. “You actually had Mum ready to fight you.”

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I knew something was off! You’re never that rude.”

Colby wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You’re too cute when you’re confused, I’m sorry.”

Amy crossed her arms, still glaring but with a smile tugging at her lips. “You’re lucky she loves you. If you’d pulled that on me, you’d be sleeping in the backyard.”

Y/N peeked up, laughing weakly. “I might still make him.”

“Fair,” Amy said.

The camera caught the ending — Colby kissing her temple while his family teased in the background, everyone laughing now that the tension had melted away.

He uploaded the clip later with the title: “I Pranked My Family and They All Took Her Side 😭💀”

And honestly, he wasn’t even mad about it.

Because she was family.