[pigfacedbitch]

Greetings and Salutations, fellow stressed out readers and frustrated writers! Here is the masterlist of all my works. I sincerely hope that you enjoy reading them and credits to the owners of the photos I use for my posts. To those who sent a request before, I would like to formally apologize for not being able to comply to them. I tried, but I can't. I learned that it disrupts my ability to write comfortably. I may or may not use your requests as an inspiration for my future posts. Thank you!

Link here!

Link here!

Link here!

Link here!

[pigfacedbitch]

Family Issues Solved

summary : Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne try to co-parent for your sake.

word count : 0.9k

pairing/s : Bruce Wayne x Adopted! Reader, Tony Stark x Biological! Reader

warning/s: none? hehe

here's my masterlist! along with Part 1!

Note : Be honest, who would you prefer as a parent? Tony or Bruce?

Watching Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark co-parent you wasn't the intense billionaire showdown everyone expected.

It was somehow worse.

It was painfully awkward.

The kind of awkward that made you want to record every interaction and sell it as a sitcom.

When Tony arrived at Wayne Manor to pick you up like usual, Bruce would stand by the door looking like he'd rather fight Darkseid.

"Hello."

"Hey."

A full ten seconds of silence.

"How's work?"

"Busy."

"Mine too."

"Good."

"Yeah."

Then they'd stare at each other like two men trying to assemble IKEA furniture without instructions.

"You should probably go before this gets weirder."

It never stopped being weird.

The press didn't help.

Because both men somehow sounded divorced every time they spoke publicly.

"We're trying to make things work." Tony once said in an interview.

Bruce said in another. "Our focus is what's best for our child."

Nobody believed they were talking about custody alone.

There was an entire online community dedicated to proving Bruce and Tony were secretly dating.

With fan edits and conspiracy videos.

The actual arrangement itself worked surprisingly well.

Most of the year was spent in Gotham because of school and patrol responsibilities.

Summers belonged to New York.

Holidays, however, became international diplomatic incidents.

"(Y/N) spent Thanksgiving with you. So Christmas is ours."

"No."

"That doesn't seem fair."

"Life isn't fair, Tony."

"You stalked our child, Bruce."

"By that time, you didn't even know you had one."

"...Cruel."

You usually ended up spending half the day teleporting between cities while everyone argued over who got custody of dessert.

The real conflict came from patrols.

Tony hated the idea.

Bruce supported it.

Mostly because every member of the Batfamily was living proof that Bruce had never once met a child and thought, Perhaps they should have hobbies and healthy communication skills.

Tony argued you were too young.

Bruce simply raised an eyebrow.

"What were you doing when you were at that age, Tony?"

"That was low. Justice seeker for Gotham, my ass."

"Yet effective."

"Fine! But everything gets a tracker."

You later discovered "everything" included your suit, your phone, your watch, your backpack, and somehow your left boot.

Life at Avengers Tower wasn't difficult.

Just different.

No Damian appearing behind furniture like an cute Victorian ghost.

No Jason stealing your food while maintaining eye contact.

No Tim consuming enough caffeine with you to violate medical ethics.

No Dick climbing through windows despite owning keys.

No nights with Cass, Barbara, and Stephanie that somehow ended with property damage.

Instead, Avengers Tower had explosions.

Pepper quickly developed a game called Stark or Child?

Happy and Rhodes loved that game.

The rules were simple.

A loud bang happened, and everyone would guess.

"Who was it?"

No answer.

Pepper narrowed her eyes. "You have ten seconds before I ban caffeine."

"Dad did it."

"You're grounded for betrayal, (Y/N)."

The Avengers adjusted quickly.

Sam was easygoing.

Steve was basically everybody's grandfather at this point.

Natasha found your sarcasm entertaining.

Banner appreciated your engineering ideas right up until you actually built them.

Clint immediately taught you skills neither Bruce nor Tony approved of.

Thor adopted you within twenty minutes.

"You remind me of a small gremlin. We are family now."

Unfortunately, having two fathers meant twice the problems.

Twice the security systems.

The tracking devices, lectures, and panic attacks.

And definitely twice the punishments.

Especially after mission incidents.

Like the time you secretly changed Tony's HUD settings so every enemy appeared labeled as "skill issue."

Or when Batman's communications system randomly played circus music whenever he spoke.

Or when you taught Steve Gen Z slang and he would say it with a serious face.

"Respectfully? The plan is mid, Tony."

"Excuse me? This is serious, we have a situation."

"Bet. The vibes are off, though. Low-key sus, if you ask me."

Neither father appreciated your art.

The shocking part?

That's the ONLY thing they unanimously agreed on.

Nothing in existence united Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark faster than your nonsense.

You were grounded simultaneously in two cities.

It felt impressive.

Then one day, something happened.

Nothing dramatic.

No world-ending invasion.

No supervillain attack.

No custody dispute.

You were injured during a mission.

Not badly.

Just enough.

Enough to earn stitches and make everyone nervous.

When you woke up in the medical wing, both Bruce and Tony were already there.

Bruce sat beside the bed.

Tony stood nearby pretending not to pace.

For once, nobody joked.

Nobody argued.

Nobody made sarcastic comments.

The room was quiet.

You suddenly remembered every night sleeping alone in abandoned buildings.

Every winter spent wondering if you'd survive.

Every day believing nobody was coming.

Back then, nobody would have noticed if you got hurt.

Nobody would have cared.

Now two of the most stubborn men on Earth looked like they'd gladly fight the universe itself over a few stitches.

Bruce spoke first.

"You scared us."

Tony immediately nodded. "A lot."

You swallowed "Oh."

Because what else were you supposed to say?

Bruce gently squeezed your shoulder.

Tony awkwardly ruffled your hair.

The silence wasn't awkward anymore.

It was comfortable.

Safe.

And maybe that was the strangest part.

Your life was still ridiculous.

You still had media scandals.

Still had billionaire parents.

Had enough siblings to start a small nation.

Had absolutely no privacy.

But for the first time, you belonged somewhere.

Actually, several somewheres.

Bruce Wayne found you when you had nowhere to go.

Tony Stark chose to stay when he could have walked away.

And everyone else simply refused to let you leave.

Honestly?

That sounded suspiciously like a family.

A weird one.

A chaotic one.

A family that probably needed supervision and therapy.

But a family nonetheless.

[pigfacedbitch]

Two Sides, One Person

summary : You are Tony Stark's joy but Peter Parker is his pride.

word count : 1.0k

pairing/s : Tony Stark x Child! Reader

warning/s: rivalry (kinda) and the feeling if being inadequate (we all feel this shit, be honest).

here's my masterlist!

You never doubted Tony Stark's love.

For all his mistakes, for every flaw the world loved to point out, he had always tried to be a good father.

There was affection, support, and enough reckless spoiling to make Pepper complain on a daily basis.

The media called you the light of his life.

The Avengers adored you.

Even his enemies knew better than to use you against him because there was nothing more dangerous than Tony Stark protecting his only child.

You had spent your entire life loved.

Then the Avengers began to fall apart.

Tony never explained what was happening, but FRIDAY did.

The Sokovia Accords.

Bucky Barnes' existence.

Steve Rogers trying to save him while Tony insisted on bringing him in.

And somewhere in the middle of it all, came Peter Parker.

Tony's protégé.

You hated how quickly he fit into your father's world.

Peter was suddenly in the lab, beside Tony as though he belonged there.

Polite. Respectful. Impossible to dislike.

So you smiled.

You smiled when Tony spent more time with him.

Smiled when Peter accompanied him into battles.

Smiled whenever Peter did something impressive and Tony's eyes lit with unmistakable pride.

That was what hurt.

Not the attention. Not the time.

The pride.

Because you had always been loved, but you had never seen Tony look at you like that.

You were still his child, his baby. Someone to protect.

While Peter got to stand beside him, you stayed behind.

Safe, Tony insisted. You loathed that word.

You knew how Stark technology worked.

You trained with S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.

You had his intelligence, his stubbornness, his drive.

So why Peter?

What made him special?

"Mr. Stark is looking for you."

Peter's voice pulled you from your thoughts as you stood on the roof of Avengers Tower, staring over the edge.

You hated how kind his smile was.

How sincere he always seemed.

How sometimes you caught him looking at you when he thought you weren't paying attention.

Because it made you hate yourself for resenting someone who had done nothing wrong.

"Really? That's a first in weeks."

Peter's smile faded.

"Look, I know you don't like me, but Mr. Stark's worried about you—"

"Why?" You snapped. "I'm not the one fighting out there. If anything, he should be worried about you. His perfect little apprentice."

"That's not fair."

Your anger finally broke loose.

"You want to talk about fair, Parker?"

"I'm not trying to intrude—"

"Your existence is the intrusion!"

The words came faster than you could stop them.

"Ever since you got here, you've taken my dad away!"

"I never meant—"

"Well, you did! What do you have that I don't? A tragic backstory? Dead parents? Is that why you're trying to steal mine?!"

Your foot slipped before you could think.

One second you were standing.

The next, you were falling.

Peter caught you before gravity could.

It should have been a relief.

Instead, Tony was furious when he found out.

"Before you ask what I was thinking..." You groaned, nursing a headache as you walk in his lab. "Could you just not?"

"What were you thinking?" Tony demanded.

"I don't know."

"If Peter hadn't been there—"

"God, enough with Parker!" You shouted. "If you admire him so much, leave me out of it!"

"You almost died!"

"So what?!"

"I CAN'T LOSE YOU!"

Silence.

The words hit harder than any argument could.

Tony dragged a hand over his face, exhaustion written across every line.

"I don't know what's going on with you lately." He said quietly. "But I can't lose you, kid. Anyone but you."

Your throat tightened.

Only then did you notice Peter standing by the doorway.

He had heard everything.

The way he flinched before backing away felt like a punch to the chest.

You apologized to your dad, truthfully, and Tony pulled you into a hug.

The next day, you found yourself back on the rooftop.

Peter was already there.

When he noticed you, he offered a small smile.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm not planning to throw myself off a building anymore."

A laugh escaped him.

"If it helps, I'll always catch you."

You moved beside him.

"I owe you an apology."

"You needed to say it."

"That doesn't excuse my behavior lately and what I said about your parents. It was unnecessary cruel, and you have every right to call me a bitch."

You expected agreement or a joke.

Instead, Peter just smiled sadly.

"You know, you're lucky. Mr. Stark really loves you."

"...I'm not the one going to Germany with him."

"No." He stared out below. "Unfortunately, you're not expendable. I am."

"You're not expendable." You frowned.

"Maybe not. But if he had to choose between us? We both know who he'd save."

"You're important to him. Dad is extremely proud of you. I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Even me."

"Mr. Stark sees me as someone he can build." Peter replied. "Someone he can teach and will keep fighting when he can't. He wants me to become a hero."

"And me?"

"He wants you to live."

The answer hurt more than you expected.

"Well, what if I want this life?"

"You won't get it if he can stop it."

Peter looked at you.

"He didn't choose me because you're incapable. He chose me because he thinks you're worth more than all of this."

"And you?"

"I made my choice the day I put on the mask."

His words stayed with you.

Weeks passed.

The jealousy faded.

In its place came understanding.

You stopped questioning things and comparing yourself to Peter.

It felt useless at some point.

And slowly, the distance between you disappeared.

You trained together.

Built things together.

Shared snacks and bad jokes in hallways and laboratories.

Peter remained Tony Stark's greatest hope for the future— the hero who would carry on when Iron Man couldn't anymore.

You remained something else.

The reason Tony Stark wanted a future in the first place.

It was strange, realizing that people could be loved differently without being loved less.

Peter Parker was Iron Man's legacy.

Yours was the man beneath the armor.

Maybe one day that would change.

Or it wouldn't.

Either way, you finally understood.

[pigfacedbitch]

Never Again

summary : All things pass, even this one. Last part of Second to None.

word count : 1.0k

type : imagines

pairing/s : Percy Jackson x Daughter of Hades! Reader

warning/s: what term do you use when a god almost kills a demigod... family bonding? 🤷🏻‍♀️

here is my masterlist! along with the Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3!

Note : I am NEVER writing a series again. It wasn't even meant to be one. Anyways, white represents clarity and a blank slate. If you don't like the ending, I guess write your own? 😊

By the time you reached the Underworld, Hades received you without question.

Nico and Hazel came too, though neither stayed long.

They understood this wasn’t something they could carry for you.

For the first time in months, you could breathe.

Your heart still ached, but it no longer felt like it was crushing you from the inside out.

There were no expectations in your father's palace.

No lingering ghosts in every glance, no echoes of what you had lost.

Only the space to finally feel everything you had been running from.

In quieter moments, you thought that maybe leaving Percy a note instead of facing him had been dramatic.

Still, something was wrong.

A tremor in the water of your cup.

Ripples disturbing the surface of your bath.

You asked Hades about it, and he answered with two words.

"Pest control."

He also told you to rest and enjoy the peace he had granted you.

You didn’t listen.

And gods, you were glad you didn’t.

Because beyond the palace walls, there was war.

Monsters. Screams. Chaos.

And one man cutting through it all.

A single figure tore through the defenses of the Underworld like a storm given flesh.

Percy Jackson was drenched in blood and dirt, wounds carved into him like proof that he refused to stop.

Riptide moved through shadows like it belonged there, effortless and precise.

There was no restraint in him.

Only fury and purpose.

And then it hit you.

He was here for you.

Hades had wrapped the truth in illusion with the Mist and manufactured a peace, carefully concealed reality.

And the restless water had been Percy.

Reaching for you.

"Go back inside, child." Hades said. "Let him suffer."

"Percy is going to die."

"He will only hurt you again."

You faltered, because he wasn’t wrong.

Percy had hurt you.

Unintentionally, but deeply enough to shake everything you thought you knew.

Your worth. Your love. Yourself.

However, this wasn’t right either.

You had hurt him too. You left.

You didn’t fight for clarity and chose silence.

Distance instead of honesty.

You're both to blame for a mess neither of you knew how to fix.

"Please." You whispered, gripping Hades’ hand. "Let him go. I love him. I still love him."

"After everything?"

"Yes."

For one terrible moment, you thought Hades might end it all where Percy stood.

Instead, he appeared in front of you.

You rushed forward, but he didn’t collapse into you as expected.

He dropped to his knees at your feet, akin to a sinner offering himself up for judgment.

"Percy?"

A broken sound cut you off.

Sobs.

His head hung so low, it touched the ground.

"(Y/N), I’m sorry."

You forced yourself to stay steady and grabbed his shoulders. "You need to get up."

"I deserved it." He choked out, voice raw. "I deserved all of it."

"No, my love" The endearment slipped before you could stop it. "Don't say that."

You tried to pull him up again, and he let you.

"I love you." He said desperately, hands gripping your waist like you were the only solid thing left in his world. "I love you—I always have, I always—"

His voice cracked.

Then he went limp.

Panic surged through you, yet Hades remained unbothered.

"He is not dead."

A pause.

"That would have been mercy. What he endured was not."

His gaze lingered on Percy with disappointment.

"A fraction." He added. "Of what you endured in silence."

The servants carried Percy away, and you did not leave his side.

Even unconscious, he clung to you.

Your name and apologies spilling from his lips like prayers he couldn’t stop saying.

Hours passed before he finally woke.

And immediately locked eyes with you.

You recognized that baby seal look right away.

"Percy—"

"I’M SORRY, I WAS AN IDIOT!"

You raised your hand and he immediately covered his mouth.

Gods. You had missed this.

His chaos. His volume. Him.

"I should be the one to apologize. I left instead of talking to you, and just assumed the worst instead of the truth."

"You had every reason to." He cut in immediately. "If I’d just been clearer, paid attention, and explained myself properly... None of this would’ve happened"

Silence settled between you again, fragile and uncertain.

Finally, you asked, softer, "Then tell me, Percy… what do you really want?"

"You." He answered quickly.

Then winced.

"…Okay, wow, that sounded unbelievably corny. Hold on, let me think of something cooler."

Despite everything, a laugh escaped you.

A real one.

Somehow, he still managed to make this moment humorous.

Percy blinked. "You’re laughing. Is that good, or am I about to die?"

"No." You shook your head. "You’re not dying."

Your smile softened, and he waited for you to speak again.

"I love you, Percy. I just don’t know what comes next, or what to do."

"I get it. Because I don’t either. I just know I want you."

"Percy, Annabeth—"

"She matters to me." He admitted gently, taking your hand. "But so do you."

His thumb brushed your knuckles.

"I’m not leaving this, us, to fate. Never again."

"You chose me?"

"There's no choice. It's only you. And if you choose me? We'll figure this shit out— together."

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed in every direction at once.

Love. Exhaustion. Fear. Relief.

"I think my thoughts get the best of me sometimes."

"Then we'll deal with them together." He murmured, wrapping an arm around you. "Whatever trauma, insecurity, or cursed playlist is currently ruining your peace."

"You make it sound easy."

"No, it's not." He chuckled. "But I’ll talk to Annabeth. I respect her place in my life. But if she wants to stay in it, she has to respect yours too."

You studied him for a long moment.

Then nodded.

"Okay."

His grin returned like a sun breaking through storm clouds.

"Good, now give me cuddles. Your dad literally tried to kill me."

You looked down. "No amount of apology will—"

"Eh." Percy said, already dragging you with him on the bed. "Funny story for the grandkids."

Meanwhile, in the throne room, Hades' eye twitched.

"They’re back together."

Nico groaned. "And here I was hoping I could set her up with Jason. Imagine the blond, shadow-traveling cherubs."

Hazel stared at him. "What?"

"Nothing." He sighed. "Love wins as always. Yey. Great. Whatever. Can I beat Percy now?"

[pigfacedbitch]

A Girl Worth Fighting For

summary : Percy finally realized what that song meant.

word count : 0.9k

type : imagines

pairing/s : Percy Jackson x Reader

warning/s: sexual assault (from Percy's own words "Pro tip: If you're attacked by a creep, it's never your fault. Tell somebody"). this may be triggering to some so read at your own risk.

here's my masterlist!

A Girl Worth Fighting For.

That song slaps.

Ever since Percy watched Mulan during Leo’s tragically inaccurate attempt at 'educating the youth through cinematic excellence', he hasn’t been able to get one song out of his head.

It plays at the worst times.

During training, patrol, and battles when he’s bleeding yet grinning anyway.

Because what kind of girl is worth fighting for?

Any girl, he’d once thought. You, especially.

A few days ago, Chiron sent you on a mission.

Confidential, but you told Percy anyway.

Just an island patrol. Monitor. Observe. Report back.

"Easy." You’d said with a careless shrug. "Might even be boring."

So why had Percy felt that twist in his gut when he watched you step past the camp’s barrier?

He told himself it was nothing.

You were clever.

You didn’t rush into danger headfirst.

You calculated, adapted, and survived.

He trusted you.

And when you came back, Percy knew.

Your smile was wrong.

Wide. Bright. Almost teasing.

But it didn’t reach your eyes.

It sat on your face like something glued in place.

You walked strangely.

Your legs moved like they didn’t quite belong to you.

Your shoulders were rigid, and spine too straight.

Will had to physically drag you toward the infirmary despite your firm protests.

Percy’s stomach dropped.

He had seen that before.

He remembered his mother.

The way Sally Jackson used to move around their apartment after nights with Gabe.

Too careful. Too quiet. The forced cheer in her voice.

The way exhaustion hollowed her out from the inside.

That same hollow brightness was carved into your face.

Whatever happened on that island hadn’t been a mission.

It had been something else.

Annabeth burst into Percy’s cabin without knocking.

"It’s (Y/N)."

He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t need to.

He followed her to the infirmary, heart pounding louder than his thoughts.

Will was there, trying to hold you steady.

"Let me go!" You screamed, eyes wild and unfocused, like you weren’t seeing the room at all. "I don’t want— I DON'T WANT THIS!"

"(Y/N), it’s me!" Will’s voice cracked. "You’re safe. You’re safe—"

Percy stepped forward to help.

And then he saw it.

Marks.

Bruises hidden beneath your collarbone. Along your stomach.

Your wrists were worse, dark and unmistakable.

Your neck, finger-shaped.

Someone had wrapped a hand around your throat and squeezed.

Percy moved closer.

That’s when he smelled it.

Not monster rot.

Golden. Faint. Wrong.

Ichor.

"No, no, no." You sobbed, fighting them with shaking hands. "Please, I don’t want this—stop—"

Clovis had to be called to calm you down.

Sleep wrapped around you mercifully, and your body finally stilled.

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

A monster would have killed you.

This filth left you alive.

As if you should be grateful it noticed you at all.

Chiron arrived. Mr. D followed.

Will explained in hushed tones while Percy sat on your bedside and Annabeth stood on the other, silent and pale.

Chiron’s face morphed from concern… to shock… to something worse.

Recognition.

Mr. D remained unreadable.

He already knew.

Percy didn’t look at either of them.

"Which god summoned her?" He asked quietly.

Too quietly.

Chiron hesitated. "Percy—"

"Say it."

A beat.

Then he said the god’s name.

Percy laughed.

It wasn’t humor.

Gods are supposed to be paragons of justice.

Protectors of the wronged.

Percy wondered what kind of justice or protection would do something like this.

The silence afterward was suffocating.

Gods aren’t supposed to touch demigods like that.

Gods aren’t supposed to—

His hands curled into fists so tight his nails cut into his palms.

Olympus had always been distant.

Arrogant.

Cruel.

This was something else.

"Percy." Annabeth said carefully. "Let’s think about this."

But he wasn’t looking at her.

He was looking at you.

At the way even in sleep your brow was faintly furrowed.

At the way your fingers twitched like you were still trying to push something away.

Something inside him snapped.

Not shattered, though.

Certain.

"You’re sure?" He asked Chiron again, voice level in a way that made the centaur falter.

"Yes." Chiron said softly. "I believed it was an honor. A summons. I never thought—"

Percy didn’t need to hear the rest.

Chiron followed orders.

They all did.

Olympus orders kill, and Camp Half-Blood would give them a blood bath.

Percy let out a breath.

"Okay."

He brushed his thumb over your wrist, so gently it barely disturbed the air.

Even asleep, you flinched.

The windows rattled.

The earth trembled beneath the infirmary floor.

Beyond the camp’s borders, the ocean stirred.

He remembered the song again.

The one they sang before battles to drown out fear.

A girl worth fighting for.

But you were more than that.

You were the boundary that should never be crossed.

Percy stood slowly.

His fingers itched for Riptide.

He had felt wrath before.

In Manhattan. In Tartarus. In every battle where there's no victory, only loss.

But this? This felt clean.

Sharp.

Relieving.

Like he finally stopped pretending Olympus deserved his patience.

"Hey guys? Quick question." He said softly, voice like the calm before a hurricane. "Gods can't really die, right?"

Annabeth replies, confused. "Yes, what are you—"

"Good." He murmurs, smiling softly. "This is going to be fun."

The ocean answered his call.

And somewhere far above, Olympus shifted.

[pigfacedbitch]

Battle of the Percys : Round Two

summary : fans loved the tweets between you and Walker Scobell but what happens if your husband fights back?

word count : 0.9k

type : imagines

pairing/s : Logan Lerman x Actress! Reader (ft. Walker Scobell).

warning/s : none, but Walker is still lovesick.

here's my masterlist! along with the Part 1!

Note : Not going to lie, this just popped in my head out of nowhere. I didn't proof read.

Logan Lerman is a sensible person.

Not always, but he tries.

Like right now, for example.

You’re curled up in his arms, half-asleep and stealing his hoodie for the fifth time this week, and all Logan can think is:

No. Walker Scobell is not going to steal my wife.

Because realistically, how would that even work?

You and Logan have a solid marriage built on love, mutual respect, sarcasm, and enough junk food to medically concern a nutritionist.

That’s basically ✨till death do us part✨ vibes.

Besides, hidden from the public for now, you’re also happily pregnant.

Which feels like a pretty reassuring sign that you're sticking with him.

And Walker Scobell is still a teenager.

A teenager who will probably grow up unfairly handsome, six-foot-something, and dangerously charming—

Nope. Not finishing that thought.

Still, Logan notices things.

The way Walker lights up whenever you walk into a room.

The sparks in his eyes every time you laugh at one of his jokes.

How he absorbs every scrap of attention you give him like a golden retriever that discovered emotional attachment.

When Walker found out you were pregnant, he was genuinely thrilled.

Suspiciously thrilled.

He checked on you constantly.

Asked if you were eating enough.

Carried things for you before Logan could.

Looked one Google search away from building the crib himself.

"You do realize that’s my wife, right?" Logan joked one day.

"For now? Yeah."

Which was insane behavior.

But despite the small, deeply concerning feeling brewing in his chest, Logan could admit one thing: Walker really did care about you.

Not for the bit.

Not for the internet.

Not even for the ongoing Percy Jackson civil war happening across social media.

He just… cares.

Unfortunately, the Riordanverse fandom treated the entire situation like the Super Bowl.

"The Battle of the Percys" had become a full-blown online event at this point.

Fans were making edits, fake boxing posters, TikTok clips, and dramatic Twitter threads like two demigods were preparing to duel at sunrise.

Half the internet wanted bloodshed.

The other half wanted a reality show.

And as funny as Logan found fan creativity, he refused to contribute to the chaos.

He was a sensible adult.

Mostly.

He absolutely did not engage with Walker online.

At all.

Not even once.

...Except for the following incidents.

✨

@w.scobell : If you really loved her, you'd let her be with someone better. @l.lerman : If you really loved her, you'd finish your homework.

✨

@w.scobell : Me 🤝 Odysseus. Fighting impossible battles for the woman we love. @l.lerman : Odysseus was gone for 20 years. Don’t give me ideas.

✨

@l.lerman : Took my wife out on a date tonight. 💕 @w.scobell : No 'thank you' for borrowing my future for the evening? 🥺

✨

@w.scobell : Fatherhood would look good on me. @l.lerman : Delete this before I call your actual father.

✨

@w.scobell : Thinking about how she could fix me. @l.lerman : Thinking about restraining orders.

✨

@w.scobell : I’m just saying… I have main character energy. @l.lerman : You have side quest dialogue.

✨

@w.scobell : Logan sleeps peacefully despite knowing I'm out here. @l.lerman : I sleep peacefully because you're legally not allowed near our neighborhood after 10 PM.

✨

@w.scobell : Every great love story has obstacles. @l.lerman : Yours is mainly the legal system.

✨

@w.scobell : If being delusional is wrong then why am I so charismatic? @l.lerman : Wish charisma could help you pass calculus.

✨

@w.scobell : Me and Logan are basically Team Edward vs Team Jacob. @y/n : Which one of you is the dog? @l.lerman : Walker fetches emotionally, and he smells like one.

✨

@w.scobell : Logan lives in peace with the love of my life while I’m somewhere out there getting older. @l.lerman : Like a fungal infection.

✨

@l.lerman : Just tucked my wife into bed. @w.scobell : Keep my future wife comfortable for me. Appreciate it.

✨

@w.scobell : Logan fears me. @l.lerman : I fear your school report card.

✨

@w.scobell : I’ve decided I would’ve treated her better in any universe. @l.lerman : You can’t even treat your sleep schedule better.

✨

@w.scobell : Sometimes love means letting go. @l.lerman : Wise choice. Please start practicing.

✨

When you went into labor, it happened during a promotional event for the show.

Rick had invited both of you, everyone was having a great time, and then suddenly you were gripping Logan’s arm hard enough to make him see God.

Things escalated quickly after that.

One minute Walker was stealing snacks from catering.

The next, people were yelling for medics while Logan looked seconds away from passing out himself.

Thankfully, with everyone’s help, you made it to a private hospital suite safely.

Hours later, exhausted and glowing and somehow still beautiful enough to make Logan emotional, you delivered a healthy baby.

The second Logan held your child, he completely melted.

He kept kissing your forehead, your hands, the baby’s tiny face—overwhelmed, teary-eyed, and visibly in awe of both of you.

It felt perfect.

And once the doctors allowed visitors, Walker was the very first person to show up.

Respectfully.

He entered the room quieter than usual, almost nervous as Logan carefully guided the baby into his arms.

"Support the head." Logan instructed.

"I know." Walker whispered indignantly. "I'm not an idiot."

"You tweeted that the moon landing was fake last week."

"That was satire."

Walker looked down at the baby instantly afterward, his entire expression softening.

"Hi, little angel." He cooed gently, letting the baby curl tiny fingers around his own.

You smiled immediately at the sight.

Even Logan smiled.

Maybe he’d been overthinking everything.

Maybe Walker was just a sweet kid who admired you both and got carried away with jokes.

Everything was really fine.

Then Walker looked at the baby lovingly (with tears, mind you) and said:

"I’m gonna be your stepdad someday."

Logan snatched the baby back so fast it nearly broke the sound barrier.

"Nope."

[pigfacedbitch]

When you write Percy Jackson fanfiction, do you specifically base it on the book, series, or movie?

Or do you leave it up to us to imagine what we want?

(English is not my native language, I'm using Google Translate)

I use any Riordanverse content, as long as it stays somewhat true to the characters.

I can’t be 100% loyal to the books (obviously) because I publish works where readers are free to imagine things for themselves (e.g. dating the characters when in canon, they're already with someone else). So yeah, it kind of depends on you.

Also, I totally relate to your situation. I’m not a native English speaker either.

[pigfacedbitch]

I have a question would you think about making a part 2 of Battle of the Percys ? (Please)

Maybe, someday? I don't know yet, given my work schedule and inability to focus on one task. But it's good as a stand alone, no?

I'm glad you love it, though!🩵😚

[pigfacedbitch]

Family Issues

summary : Bruce Wayne always imagined what it would be like if one of his children's biological parents would try to take them back. He just didn't think one of them would be Tony Stark.

word count : 0.8k

type : imagines

pairing/s involved : Bruce Wayne x Adopted! Reader, Tony Stark x Biological! Reader

warning/s : none.

here is my masterlist!

Bruce Wayne stalked you before he adopted you.

The perfect start for a heartwarming father-child tale.

You were just a feral raccoon on Gotham's streets, pickpocketing to live another day but with style.

Because unlike the average street rat, you were apparently a tech genius with pocket-sized armory, and zero regard for safety or legal patents.

OSHA violations? You were the OSHA violation.

Bruce noticed immediately.

He has radar for troubled orphans with violent hobbies.

Especially the ones who built an illegal lab out of garbage in an abandoned building like it was a goddamn science fair.

You tried to be sneaky with the voice modulator and suit disguise.

But the man's adopted enough traumatized kids to know exactly how tall you are, your likely BMI, and how old you probably act after trauma number twenty-seven.

Besides, if your tech landed in the wrong hands? Yikes.

Better Bruce's creepy parent surveillance than Joker's Saturday night plans.

"Wow, lucky me. Gotham's brooding bat takes an interest. You got a thing for orphans or what?"

"I am one."

"Oh shit. Sorry."

You got scooped up into the Wayne's Disaster Shelter.

Dick was overjoyed (as usual).

Jason bro-fisted you and said, "Street rat survival team, assemble!"

Tim adored the free nerd competition.

You bribed Cass with sign language and helped Damian upgrade his murder gadgets (Bruce: "Only non-lethal, I swear to God.").

Alfred loved you like his own but also wanted to strangle you every time you exploded something in the manor and then politely help clean it up with tea and cookies.

And Bruce? Legally your father now.

For security reasons, of course. And emotional ones he won’t admit because he's made entirely of shadows and bad coping skills.

But then Tony Stark happened.

Gala Night: Rich People Pretend They Care™.

Bruce in full playboy mode. Tony in full party gremlin one. The Bat kids hiding in various corners eating free shrimp.

Tony meets you. Calls you Wayne’s "newest collectible action figure."

Ha ha.

But then you banter back. Same sarcasm. Same smugness. Same self-sabotaging charm. Tony froze. Not funny anymore.

Bruce’s eye twitches every time Tony breathes near you.

You both have the same mannerisms. The same smart-ass grin. The same way of dodging personal questions like Olympic champions of emotional deflection.

Tony knew. Deep in his drunken, guilty billionaire gut: Oh no. Mine.

Cue late-night JARVIS hacking montage.

Files, orphanage records, street crime reports, horrifying childhood summaries that feel like Tony's cave trauma but worse.

Built a secret scrap lab like a teenage Iron Man Jr. School genius. Criminal record. Charmer of the press. Tactical flirting. Oh God they’re actually mine.

The guilt spiral became worse. "My maybe kid became Gotham’s feral tech goblin because I wasn’t there. Holy shit, I suck."

JARVIS' voice echoed through the lab. "Sir, emotionally unhealthy levels detected."

"JARVIS, put on my latest Spotify playlist."

"The one labeled 'Daddy Issues', Mr. Stark?"

Tony began to sob. "Yes."

Told Pepper. Told Rhodes. Told Happy.

"Lemme guess. You're gonna drunk-crash Wayne Manor and demand a paternity test?" Rhodes asked, deadpan.

"Correction: fully drunk—"

"No." Pepper interrupted. "We're doing this civilly."

"Civil to the man who dresses like a furry bat?"

"TONY."

Bruce ignored all of Tony’s cryptic "sooo hypothetically…" texts for a week straight because he knew exactly where this drama train was going.

Meanwhile, you? You laughed.

"Wow. Adopted by one billionaire, fathered by another. I'm so blessed. Somebody get me a third sugar daddy for the collection."

"I know a guy." Jason smirked, making eye contact with Damian.

"I offer Grandfather!" The young boy raised his hand. "Or Mother, if you prefer women."

But that night? You cried into Dick’s shoulder until you passed out, because what the hell even is your life anymore?

Happy? Furious? Running away to Metropolis? Maybe Clark Kent needs another child.

The manor went dead quiet.

Sarcasm and jokes were replaced by awkward coughs and therapy recommendations.

Formal meeting day arrived: you, Bruce, Alfred, Tony, Pepper.

All pretending this was normal and not a weird custody divorce hearing.

Double paternity tests (Stark AND Wayne labs because billionaires trust no one).

Tony, for once in his life, tried sincerity:

"Hey... Look. I'm not here to screw things up. If you're mine, I wanna make it right. Please."

"Do I get the Malibu penthouse?"

"I'll give you the world." Dead serious. Collective awkward silence follows.

They wanted to keep it secret.

Good luck. The media pounced like starving wolves. "WAYNE’S NEW KID ACTUALLY STARK’S LOVE CHILD???"

The Internet exploded.

Memes. Fanfics. Conspiracy threads. Elon tried to adopt you using a tweet.

Your life was hell.

Bruce and Tony tried to sue everyone. Alfred began pouring whiskey in his tea.

"Don't worry," Tim said. "If the tests are negative, this all goes away."

Sure. But everyone knew the truth already.

And when the test came back positive?

You just closed your eyes and sighed.

Long. Painful.

Like you aged 300 years in a second.

Tony spoke up first, beaming. "...So, Disneyland?"

"No, but I take cash."

"Noted."

Congratulations.

You're officially the multiverse’s weirdest, most exhausted child.

[pigfacedbitch]

Dead Dough Rising

summary : Jason severely underestimated his baking skills.

word count : 0.8k

type : imagines

pairing/s involved : Jason Todd x Batmom! Reader, Bruce Wayne x Reader

warning/s : none

here is my masterlist!

Jason Todd never really knew what peace felt like.

Not in the alley. Not in the Pit. Not even during those in-between moments where he sort of existed but also kind of didn't.

But this? This was a new breed of torment.

It began innocently enough. With a wedding anniversary.

Yours and Bruce's, to be specific.

Jason figured the least he could do was bring dessert.

Not out of obligation, but because, for once, he wanted to.

It wasn't just any gathering. It was his chance to be a part of the family again.

So he baked.

Took classes. Practiced. Cursed. Burnt things. Tried again. Because when the world felt sharp and ugly, folding dough and swirling ganache was something he could control.

He wasn't baking for praise.

He was baking because he wanted to say thank you— to Bruce, for second chances; to you, for never giving up on him, not even at his worst.

You never called him a failure.

You called him son.

You called him home.

So yeah, desserts felt like a fair trade.

He didn't expect anything.

Dropped the trays off at the party.

Avoided making eye contact with the cakes like they'd judge him.

And then he got ambushed by love.

You never let his hand go, Bruce ruffled his hair like he was twelve again, Dick kissed his cheek like it was The Godfather, Tim and Steph were filming, Babs asked him to dance, Cass and Damian flanked you and Bruce like adorable bodyguards. Even Duke was hitting high notes in a Beyoncé medley and asked him sing along.

The Justice League was there. So were the Titans and Avengers.

Why? Who knows. Multiverse, probably.

Jason was fine.

Until the phone calls started.

Clark Kent left six voicemails in 48 hours.

"Jason, Lois threatened to divorce me if I don't get her more of your cinnamon rolls."

Happy Hogan sent a formal request through Stark Industries for a dozen butter cookies and two "existentially transformative" chocolate muffins.

Thor sent a raven. A raven. The thing squawked at his window until Jason tossed it a cookie. It dropped a gold coin and vanished in lightning.

And then Wade Wilson showed up, covered in glitter.

"Babe. Jay, Red Daddy. I need, like, 12 dozen of those orgasmic brownies. I'm trying to woo Spidey."

Jason just blinked. "I'm not a bakery."

"You are now." Wade winked. "I saw God, Jason. She said you bake better than Her."

When Jason told you, you howled.

"Not funny, Ma."

"Sweetheart, it's hilarious. My baby boy? A baker? That's adorable."

"I'm not a baker." He grumbled, elbows on the kitchen counter, staring at the handwritten order forms.

Except... he kind of was.

Not professionally. But there was something comforting in it. In being that one warm thing someone remembered on their bad days.

The way his family had been for him.

Still, he underestimated just how much people would pay.

"How much for a dozen cookies?" Tony Stark asked casually after a Batcave meeting.

"No."

"Price, Hood."

Jason groaned. "Fine. A million bucks each. Go away."

He walked off, expecting sarcasm.

Instead— ping!

Bank Alert: Deposit: $50,000,000.00 | Memo: COOKIES <3 – Stark Industries.

Jason stared at it like it personally insulted his ancestors while Tony flies away.

Bruce entered the room. "What's wrong?"

Jason looked up, face pale. "I think I accidentally started a dessert cult."

Bruce nodded solemnly. "I'm proud of you, son."

"Oh for fuck's sake—"

He paced the kitchen, swearing under his breath, before yanking the flour bag out like it owed him money. "This is stupid. I didn't ask for this. I don't want cult followers! I just wanted to bake for my family!"

But he baked anyway.

Muttering profanities like prayer, rolling dough like it had personally wronged him.

Then you showed up to help. And then Dick.

Tim wandered in at 3 AM with three energy drinks and coded an automated system that tracked orders and drone delivery routes.

Damian pushed him aside one day. "Move, Todd. Your frosting technique is abysmal."

Cass iced cookies with sniper-level precision.

Barbara handled the backend, threatening to reprogram Tim’s system to block Wade Wilson’s IP.

Steph composed a bakery jingle.

Duke decorated cookies better than Pinterest moms.

And Alfred? He manned the ovens like it was wartime.

What was once a kitchen— his sanctuary— had become a warzone of flour, sugar, and love.

Bruce passed by, expression unreadable, occasionally packing pies with surgical grace and absolutely no emotional commentary.

Sometimes Jason caught himself staring.

At you, playfully distracting Bruce with kisses.

At Dick and Steph, singing Cooking by the Book and forcing Damian to join them.

At Duke, calmly folding chocolate with a soft smile.

At Tim face-down on the counter, asleep next to a tray of macarons.

At Alfred, gently guiding Cass and Barbara with the batter.

Jason felt something shift.

Something deep.

Something raw.

Something that hadn't stopped hurting since that alley.

This wasn’t peace.

It was messier.

Louder.

Stickier.

But it was family.

It was healing.

"You okay, baby?" You ask, noticing his far-off look.

He smiles. "Yeah, Ma. I think I'm getting there."

You smile back, kissing his cheek.

Maybe he could bake a little longer.

At least until he figured out how to escape his own pastry cult.

[pigfacedbitch]

When Leo can't understand French...

Piper: Leo, how does it feel to be called 'my other half' by Jason all the time? Leo: ...What? Piper: You know, 'ma moitíe'? Isn't that what he calls you? Leo: I thought he was calling me 'Mochi'! Piper: Huh? Leo: Like the little rice ball thing? I thought it was a cute snack nickname. Piper: [ loses her shit ] WAIT, WHAT?! Leo: OH NO, I'VE BEEN CALLING JASON 'DUMPLING' FOR TWO YEARS—

more incorrect quotes here!

[pigfacedbitch]

Pride, Prejudice, and Prophesies

summary : being courted by them during the regency era.

word count : 0.7k

type : headcanons

pairing/s involved : Jason Grace / Percy Jackson / Nico di Angelo x Noble! Reader

warning/s : a little spicy and implied discrimination against the common folk and bastards.

here is my masterlist!

Note : Alexa, play 'Material Girl'.

Jason Grace (The Perfect Gentleman)

Jason Grace was the kind of suitor mothers dreamed of and fathers cautiously sharpened their swords for.

Tall, golden, devastatingly handsome. He was the shining paragon of nobility.

I mean, literally. His father was Zeus. Or Jupiter. Or Jove. Whatever title Big Guy in the Sky preferred that century.

Beryl Grace was once a duchess of scandalous fame, married to a rich old man for status, but the moment she caught Zeus’ eye (and, well, other parts), Jason happened.

And because fate’s a twisted little minx, he grew up to be the Most Eligible Bachelor™.

In public? A model of restraint.

Gifts delivered in tasteful carriages. Chaperoned strolls at the right hour. A courteous bow and gentle hand at your waist.

Mothers swooned. Fathers approved.

In public? He's a tempest in a tea set.

"(Y/N)..." He'd murmur against your ear. "If society knew half the things I thought about you in that gown, I’d be exiled to Spain."

He listens to your ambitions like they're sacred verses. He brings you books banned by your governess and slips you letters at balls when no one’s looking.

Sometimes you swear he controls the weather.

When you’re happy, the skies are cloudless. When you cry, there’s thunder over London. You once screamed during an argument, and lightning struck a tree outside your estate.

Also...you can swear you saw him floating once. Two inches off the floor.

But he just grinned and blamed the wine.

Percy Jackson (The Scandalous Captain)

Percy Jackson was everything your mother warned you about.

A common-born rogue with no title, no shame, and no regard for proper society.

His only respectable feature? A fortune big enough to buy half of your town. And the other half if he felt like it.

Born to Sally Jackson, the secret best-selling author hiding behind a male pseudonym (because of course she was), Percy grew up in a dusty bookshop smelling like ink and peppermint drops.

But the sea always called.

Captain Jackson became the young, infamous explorer who found treasures in places no Englishman dared chart.

Women sighed. Men scowled.

Your parents allowed him to court you only because he made Poseidon-level bank.

Percy cared nothing for rules. Or propriety. Or your virtue.

Publicly, Percy is harmless. A teasing grin. A polite bow. A hand brushed against yours a moment too long.

Privately? Gods save you.

"Come away with me to the coast, (Y/N). I’ll show you what real waves feel like between your thighs."

He sneaks into your bedroom. Easily.

And you, poor thing, have to keep your voice down unless you want the whole estate to know just how fast he can turn a demure noble into a sinner.

Everyone says he can’t be tied down.

They’re right. Unless it’s to you.

Or your bedpost.

Nico Di Angelo (The Enigmatic Cryptid)

Every town has an alluring outsider.

Nico di Angelo is infamous across the ton for being the unnervingly young heir of a dead Italian noble line from his late mother, Maria.

People claim he speaks to ghosts and disappears for weeks at a time to 'consult with spirits.'

Fathers are wary. Mothers clutch pearls. Everyone else stares.

The rumors weren't wrong, as you found out.

Why?

Because our first encounter started when he approached you in a ball and said, "You look radiant. Also, your ancestor is still haunting your piano. I handled it."

Nico isn’t your typical suitor.

You’re not even sure if he is one.

He doesn’t bring flowers.

He doesn’t write letters dipped in rose-scented ink.

He doesn’t ask to court you in front of your family.

Instead, he just shows up. Like a shadow. Your shadow.

People feel bad for you because Nico follows you around like an aloof, adorable puppy.

Except you're not creeped out. You love it.

Nico listens to you. Intently. Quietly. As if every word you say pulls him a little more into the land of the living.

And sometimes, when the night is dark and the fire’s low, he says things like, "You make me feel alive. Like I’m not just surviving death anymore."

He never asks to court you. But you find black roses and dark-colored desserts on your windowsill, notes in your books, warmth in his hand when you’re cold.

You even sense darkness move to your will; balmy, not suffocating.

With Nico, love isn’t loud.

It’s whispered between shadows and candlelight.

[pigfacedbitch]

Always You

summary : second to none but Percy's POV.

word count : 1.0k

type : imagines

pairing/s involved : Percy Jackson x Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson x Daughter of Hades! Reader

warning/s : idiocy?

here is my masterlist! along with the Part 1, Part 2, and Last Part!

Note : Red represents Percy's anger. Or I just got tired of thinking of another color lol. Haven't proofread either, I'm too lazy.

Ever been in denial so deep, it should’ve been classified as an ocean trench? And then you realize—

Oh gods. I’m not the clown. I'm the whole circus. The tightrope, the cotton candy machine, and that one depressed elephant with trust issues.

Because how could he have been this clueless?

There really ought to be a word for someone who’s an explosive cocktail of heartbreak, optimism, and pure, unfiltered dumbassery.

If there was, it’d be "Percy".

When Annabeth ended things, it didn’t feel like a breakup.

Think Mount Vesuvius meets puberty.

Or a cyclops had smashed the foundations of everything he was.

He didn’t cry. But his soul? Full-on screaming.

And the worst part? He saw it coming. Signs that lit up in neon, dancing around with fireworks and backup singers.

But then he thought, No. We endure.

'Endure' being their favorite hobby as a couple.

They endured Tartarus, cursed quests, jealousy, Hera’s memory-scrambling nonsense, and Grover’s nightly lullabies that sounded like a wounded banshee.

Surely they could survive Annabeth's existential crisis?

Apparently not.

And yet, he held onto hope. That stupid, cockroach-level resilient hope that Annabeth would change her mind. That she had to come back.

And then you showed up.

At first, he convinced himself you were just a friend.

A good one. The best.

The weirdly perfect paradox: child of Hades but glowed like you fell out of Apollo’s Spotify playlist.

Percy thought, Cool. A friend. Totally not gonna spiral into emotional chaos over this person. Definitely not attracted.

You also had this way of seeing through people; like your eyes skipped past the shields, looked straight into the damage, and loved them anyway.

You made Camp feel like home. You made him feel like someone worth staying for.

You even made Clarisse laugh, which should’ve been a sign of the apocalypse.

So, yeah, Percy was doomed.

Because every time you smiled at him, and he forgot how breathing worked.

That’s when it clicked.

He wasn’t waiting for Annabeth anymore.

He was waiting for you.

Grover, of course, tried to warn him. "Heal first. Don’t drag (Y/N) into your emotional debris field."

But it wasn’t about filling a void or a distraction. It wasn’t about forgetting Annabeth. It never was.

It was just about you. Your laugh, your light, the weird way you snort when you laugh too hard, how you inhale your food, even the way you say his name like it’s worth something.

Somewhere between the grief and denial, you took his heart and refused to it give it back.

And it was good. Beautiful, even.

Unfortunately, moving on doesn’t come with a straight path. Especially when the ghost of your ex is still crashing your emotional Wi-Fi.

Annabeth lingered.

The silver pendant she gave him still hung around his neck, choking him. And every time you touched his hand, he flinched— not because he didn’t want it, but because he desperately needed you to.

It felt like betrayal to her.

He wasn't in love with Annabeth anymore, but he hadn’t let go either.

Percy didn’t want to lose either of you.

He still wanted her as a friend, and you? As everything else.

So when she came back around, all nostalgia and inside jokes, he clung to that, told himself it meant she wanted to rebuild a friendship.

Right until that night.

"If I asked for a second chance… would you give it?"

He hesitated.

Because how do you tell the girl who once held your future that she no longer owns it?

Before he could answer, she kissed him.

"Choose me." She whispered. "You know it’s always been me."

And for the first time, her lips didn’t feel familiar.

He just felt sick. Angry. Stupid.

Because now he understood— your quiet withdrawals, your tired eyes, the way your laughter didn’t quite reach your eyes anymore.

You weren’t just giving him space. You were leaving.

While Annabeth was reaching for him once more, you were already halfway out the door.

And, unknowingly, Percy let it happen.

By the time he found your note— "I wish you and Annabeth the best. Don’t let her go this time." — he knew.

He was too late.

"No, (Y/N). No, no, no..."

He searched the camp like a man possessed but when he realized you actually left (Will shared that Nico is also gone), he didn’t even think.

He summoned Mrs. O’Leary with panic in his chest and your scent clinging to the air.

Straight to the Underworld. In your father's palace.

BLAG!

He collided with Grover, who barged in his cabin.

"Percy, Annabeth is crying! What's—?!"

"I screwed up!" Percy gasped, tears already running. "I need to find (Y/N)! Now!"

“Dude, calm down!" He held Percy back with his entire strength.

"No, let me go!"

It took a few minutes for him to finally collapse with exhaustion, his face in his hands. Mrs. O’Leary whined and rested her massive head on his lap.

"I ruined everything." He whimpered, crying like the broken kid he still is. "I broke us. I broke (Y/N). I'm so stupid."

Grover sighs like a tired parent, already packing a bag for him. "...Where did she run off to?"

"Hades' Palace."

"And you're leaving with just your sword?! Are you deranged?!"

"Yes!" Percy sobbed, fully unhinged. "I need her! I want her back!"

"Do you even have a plan?"

Percy sniffled, sitting up. "Boom box under her window?"

"This. This is why she left you."

"I’m kidding!" He wailed. "I’ll just beg Hades not to obliterate me before I explain myself. Maybe he’ll be merciful."

"Merciful? Have you met the guy?"

"...You’re right. I’m gonna die. But do you think Hades will let me talk to his daughter before he sends me to the Fields of Eternal Regret?"

"OH GODS—"

Dying didn’t scare him. Not anymore.

Losing you did.

And maybe he didn’t know the perfect speech or know how to fix what he broke.

But he knew one thing.

He wasn’t letting you go.

Not without a fight.

Because you made him believe in things again.

Hope, healing, laughter, love— and he’d go to literal hell to get that back.

Again.

[pigfacedbitch]

Battle of the Percys

summary : Walker Scobell, who's portraying Percy Jackson in the new series, has a huge crush on you, Logan Lerman's wife.

word count : 0.8k

pairing/s : Logan Lerman x Actress! Reader (ft. Walker Scobell).

warning/s : none, unless you count Walker's one-sided love?

here's my masterlist! Along with Part 2!

Note : Logan Lerman will always have a space in my heart. The reader is supposedly a little younger than Logan in this one.

Walker Scobell had no filter.

And no, that wasn’t an opinion.

It was a cosmic fact.

Like gravity, taxes, and the unholy truth that your phone battery dies the moment you really need it.

Spend thirty seconds with Walker and you’d get it.

The kid talked like he had a bomb strapped to his soul that would detonate if he didn’t make everyone laugh in under a minute.

Full speed ahead (guys, listen to EPIC) into chaos.

So when Disney+ handed him the role of Percy Jackson, he didn’t just step into the dream.

He cannonballed into it with the Camp Half-Blood flag in one hand, Blue coke on the other while screaming "FOR OLYMPUS!"

But there was one tiny, awkward, universe-crushing problem.

Logan Lerman.

The Original Percy Jackson™.

Sure, the movies had the emotional depth of a wet napkin, but that didn’t matter.

Logan was still The Guy.

Charming. Grounded. Hot enough to make Aphrodite weep.

Even Walker had to admit: damn him and his stupid perfect face.

And his stupid perfect vibe.

And his amazing, goddess of a wife.

You.

The famous actress Walker had been secretly obsessed with since before he knew what hormones were.

Who he used to think he might someday meet... only to find out you were now married to his predecessor.

Life is a bitch.

To be fair, he tried to be chill about it.

He swore he was chill about it.

Because he was so young when you and Logan started dating.

Walker was, like, ten— too busy eating Lunchables to fight for your hand in marriage. (Age gaps: awkward in real life, hot in fanfiction.)

Until he learned why you liked Logan in the first place.

Because you, the woman of his actual dreams, is a Percy Jackson fangirl. A superfan.

Rick Riordan said so himself. You owned the books, knew the songs from the musical (if you cried during Good Kid, same), probably had Camp Half-Blood merch in your house.

Logan even joked once that you married him for being Percy, and you didn’t deny it.

Walker snapped. This is his villain origin story.

Justice must be served.

Leah rolled her eyes. Aryan sang Adele like it was 2011 again.

And Walker? He declared a war.

"I was Percy Jackson in the wrong timeline." He’d dramatically declare in interviews, panels, even in craft services. "Logan stole my Annabeth! I never even got a chance, man."

Or worse...

"If I were ten years older, she’d be flipping off strangers with me at the Lotte Palace Hotel in New York like Blair and Chuck. But noooo. She picked Nate. She picked domestic bliss in some mansion on a hill. Ugh. Boring."

You thought it was hilarious. So did your husband.

"He really likes you." Logan murmured one night, scrolling through Walker’s chaotic tweets about doomed love and being born too late.

"Jealous?"

He kissed your cheek, pulling you closer. "Of a kid tall enough to body-slam me into the sun? Not yet."

Walker took it online.

And you played along.

✨

@y/n : Walker, honey, you need therapy. @w.scobell : And you need a new husband. Coincidence? I think not! 🧐

✨

@y/n : Seek help, child. 🤘🏻👩🏻 @w.scobell : Seek divorce, (Y/N). 🌝

✨

@y/n : I’ll literally pay you to stop. 😭 @w.scobell : Enough for a time machine, and we'll talk.

✨

@y/n : Can you chill? @w.scobell : Can you rethink your marriage?🥺

✨

@unclerick : Walker is basically Percy if Annabeth dumped him for Luke. Painfully accurate. @w.scobell : This heartbreak wasn’t in my contract, Rick.

✨

@y/n : Manifesting good vibes only this week! @w.scobell : Manifesting a time machine and annulment papers.

✨

@y/n : Stop tweeting about stealing me. My husband can see these. @w.scobell : Good. Maybe he’ll finally start locking the doors.

✨

@y/n : Who let you cook? @w.scobell : You did. The day you married the wrong man.

✨

@y/n : Just had the best iced coffee of my life. @w.scobell : Was it better than the love we could’ve had?

✨

@y/n : Trying not to engage with trolls today. @w.scobell : Funny. I’m trying to replace one.

✨

@y/n : I'm married. @w.scobell : So was Helen of Troy.

✨

@y/n : Feeling loved today. 💕 @w.scobell : I’m feeling robbed.

✨

@y/n : Self-care is letting go. @w.scobell : Let go of Logan. You’ll feel better.

✨

@y/n : I have a restraining order in the drafts. @w.scobell : I have our wedding vows in mine.

✨

@y/n : You need to move on. @w.scobell : I need you to realize I’m the reboot AND the upgrade.

✨

And when you finally met at a premiere?

Walker lit up like the Empire State Building on a godly bender.

You went in for a friendly hug, but he wasn't having it and spun you around like a long lost lover in a telenovela.

Then he shook Logan’s hand like it was a funeral.

"Take care of her, man." Walker said, every inch of a drama queen. "Because one day, I will be grown. And I will steal her."

When you wandered off to do press, Logan turned to Walker.

"On a serious note, I'm glad it's you playing Percy. The role is in good hands."

"Thanks. Shame (Y/N) isn't."

"Good luck waiting, kid. I'm not dying anytime soon."

Walker's eyes glinted. "You sure about that?"

Logan's smile falters.

Walker just winks and walked away, leaving behind glittering confidence and the vague smell of teenage rebellion.

Logan hugged you tighter than usual that night.

He never said why.

But from that day on… he started locking the doors.

[pigfacedbitch]

Half of Me

summary : what would you give up for the love you lost?

word count : 0.9k

type : imagines

pairing/s : Jason Grace x Reader

warning/s : death, grief, depression, unable to cope with loss, and with the happy (?) ending.

here's my masterlist!

“You’re the better half of me.”

Jason Grace never missed a day telling you that.

In the warmth of his bed, in the chaos of battle, under the stars by the firepit, or during those quiet, angry moments where love still lingered under frustration— he always said it.

A vow. A reminder. And without fail, you believed him.

It was also the last thing he ever said to you.

Before he left with Piper, Lester, and Meg.

Before everything went to hell.

"Hang up already." You told him over the phone, trying to laugh past the unease that gnawed at your gut. "You’re going to attract monsters if we keep talking."

Jason didn’t want to hang up. There was something in his voice, heavy and unfinished.

But he swallowed it down.

"Yeah, you’re right. We need to go, anyway."

"Be safe, Jay."

A beat of silence.

"I… I love you. More than anything. You know that, right?"

You smiled— how could you not? "I love you too."

"You’re my better half, (Y/N)."

"You always say that."

"Because it’s true. You are, mea vita. Always. Goodbye."

Goodbye.

Not See you soon. Not Wait for me.

Not the usual words he used when walking into danger and promising to bring back snacks.

You stared at your phone long after the call ended, your fingers cold, your chest sinking.

That should’ve been enough. That should’ve been the red flag, the final omen.

But you ignored it. Of course you did.

Jason was Jason. He was Jupiter’s golden boy. Trained for war, born to survive. If anyone was going to come back alive— it was him.

However, you underestimated the one part of him more dangerous than any enemy.

His selflessness.

So when Chiron met you at the camp borders, wearing the same sorrowful expression he gave every soul who lost someone they couldn’t live without...

You knew.

You didn’t scream. You didn’t speak.

You didn’t hear Lester’s rambling. Didn’t register Piper’s tear-choked apologies. Couldn’t process Leo's cries for his best friend.

You just stood there, the world around you turning to static.

Why Jason?

Why him?

He was just starting.

He had plans. He had dreams.

He had you.

He wanted to finish school in Edgarton. Maybe New Rome after that— politics, philanthropy, it didn't matter.

"I just want to do good, mea vita. Something meaningful." As he would say.

He even got Zeus’ approval (despite Percy’s mock tantrums over those damn recommendation letters).

And you— gods, you.

He looked at you like you were it.

No words were needed.

You’d seen it in his eyes every time he looked at you; "You’re my home, my peace, my life. Wherever you are, that's where I want to be."

Now? Gone. Just like that.

You didn’t react when they brought him in.

Not at first, at least. His face was too peaceful.

Like he was just sleeping— as if he’d just dozed off and if you kissed him, he'd wake up and ask what he missed.

But he didn’t.

You shattered when the truth landed like a sledgehammer.

You broke down into Percy’s arms, wailing, screaming, clinging to something— anything— that was still warm.

You thought you knew pain.

You’re a demigod— pain is your inheritance.

But this? This was obliteration.

The boy who made forever real and attainable was dead.

Everything else blurred after that.

The funeral. The way everyone watched you like glass.

Thalia’s words of gratitude for loving him the way he deserved barely reached your ears.

You felt nothing.

And then Chiron called it a hero’s death.

You nearly laughed.

Hero?

No. Jason was a kid.

All of you were just kids.

Thrown into war after war. Expected to die quietly and call it glory.

And then the hollowness turned into rage— wild, directionless, unforgiving rage.

At Jason, for sacrificing himself. At Piper, for letting him. At the gods.

At everyone.

And no one.

The weeks bled into months.

The others began to heal.

But you?

You woke up. Ate. Trained. Studied.

Moved through the days like a ghost in your own body.

At night, you’d sneak into Jason’s cabin and lay in his bed, surrounded by the scent of him, waiting for the door to open and his voice to say, "Sorry I took so long, (Y/N)."

But he never did.

You didn’t care about rules, balance, cosmic consequences.

You just wanted him back.

So you broke down and begged. Desperately.

To anyone who would listen.

Only one answered.

Aphrodite.

Goddess of love and cruelty.

"What will you offer, (Y/N)?" She purred, saccharine and poisonous.

"Anything, my goddess."

"Technically, I don’t do necromancy." She mused, eyes glowing pink. "But for a love that spits in death’s face? I’ll make an exception."

"What do you want?"

"Oh, nothing much. You’re Jason Grace’s better half, aren’t you? Let’s make it poetic."

You don’t remember what happened— just agony. Horrific, soul-splitting pain while her laughter echoed in your skull.

But through the haze, there was something else.

Warmth. Familiar. Him.

You woke up in the infirmary, your body wrecked and limbs trembling.

Voices argued nearby.

"What she did was reckless!" Annabeth's.

"You can’t blame her." Percy snapped. "If it were you, I’d do the same."

"What's important is (Y/N)'s vitals are healthy." Will cuts in. "Nico is talking to Hades to handle the—"

Then another voice.

His voice.

"Can we please just focus on my girlfriend?"

His name tore from your throat before you could stop it.

The curtain flew back. And there he was.

Jason runs to your bedside and kissed you like he was trying to fuse your souls back together. "Mea vita, my love, my (Y/N)..."

You expected him to be furious.

To scold you.

To ask what you gave up.

Instead, he just held you like he’d never let you go again.

Like you were the miracle.

And in that moment, you didn’t care what it cost.

You were whole again. Everything else could burn.

That night, curled in his arms, his lips soft against your temple, you drifted off with a smile.

But somewhere deep inside, one thought pierced through your haze of joy.

Aphrodite’s final words.

"You’re the better half of Jason Grace, right?"

Your Jason is back.

You feel fine. Better than ever, even.

So what, exactly, did she take?

[pigfacedbitch]

May Queen

summary : Merlin falls for Arthur's future queen. loosely based on Heather Dale's song entitled 'May Queen'.

word count : 0.8k

pairing/s : Merlin x Reader, Arthur Pendragon x Reader

warning/s : thoughts of possible cheating, and forbidden love. reader is basically Princess Mithian in this story.

You are a princess from a distant kingdom, shipped to Camelot like the finest political bargain sale.

Promised to King Arthur himself, no less.

You've heard songs sang in his honor— tales of a noble king, valiant in battle, beloved by all.

But songs rarely mention the messier footnotes, do they? Whispers swirled faster than court gossip: Arthur’s last fiancée? Caught with one of his own knights.

The whole drama still lingers in Camelot’s stone halls like a bad smell no one quite knows how to air out.

Royal tea, indeed.

However, you weren’t thrilled about the whole “marriage for political stability” thing. You didn’t need a man to rule— your crown fits just fine without anyone holding it up for you.

But alas— duty. The inescapable weight of kingdom, family, and treaties crushed the little voice of rebellion in your chest.

So, you silenced your doubts, packed your best gowns, and off to Camelot you went.

And from the very moment your dainty slipper touched Camelot’s holy ground... Merlin hated you.

Oh, everyone else curtsied, bowed, smiled through their courtly teeth. But not him.

Merlin gave you all the warmth of an iced-over pond. Cold glances. Dry words. The kind of polite hostility reserved for tax collectors and unexpected in-laws.

Naturally, you thought: ah, loyalty to Guinevere. The servant misses the old queen, poor soul. Understandable, really.

But you swallowed the sting like bitter tonic and pressed on. Arthur, after all, was the prize, not his unusually intense manservant.

Except you couldn’t quite ignore him.

Merlin had gravity.

A weight. An intelligence behind those annoyed eyes. Annoying, sharp-witted, and entirely too endearing. Even handsome, if you liked your men scruffy and perpetually irritated.

Arthur trusted him like a brother. Or possibly something messier and more complicated, but who could say?

You knew one truth: if you wanted to belong in Camelot, you had to make sense of Merlin.

"Merlin, I need to speak with you."

Meanwhile, poor Merlin was dying inside.

Love at first sight? Ridiculous! Impossible! A story for drunk poets and deluded minstrels.

Except… there you were.

Real. Sharp as a blade and warm as summer, and suddenly all Merlin’s carefully bottled feelings sloshed to the surface like cheap wine.

You weren’t a pawn. You walked into Camelot already a queen, crown or no crown.

Everyone sees it, Arthur especially. He’s growing fond of you, perhaps already falling.

And it broke Merlin.

Because he knew you and Arthur would make sense. You were good. Arthur needed good. Desperately.

And Merlin? Merlin wasn’t supposed to want things.

Especially not this. Especially not you.

So, he did what emotionally stunted sorcerers do best: he glared. He grunted. He scowled until his face hurt. Distance disguised as disdain.

It worked. Until it didn’t.

"What have I done to make you hate me so?" You finally snapped.

"That’s not it."

"Then what, Merlin? Just say it!"

"I love you!"

Oh. There it was.

Like throwing a boulder into a pond. Splash. Silence.

You blinked. Merlin paled like he’d just realized what he’d done— which he had. Before you could utter a word, Merlin panicked and kissed you.

It was a soft kiss.

Terrified. Absolutely forbidden. Amazing.

And then, horror on his face, Merlin ran. Like an idiot.

And you? Well. You didn’t hate it.

Worse— you felt something stir. Something dangerous, and you’d hoped would stay nicely buried.

You tried to avoid him after that. Honestly. But life has the sense of humor of an old drunken court jester.

Duty kept you close. Hallways. Rooms. Long glances across dinner tables.

And Merlin changed.

He became attentive.

His hands steadying you when you tripped, his eyes holding yours a second too long. And you— traitor heart— you loved it. You smiled. Until you woke up one day wanting him more than the crown, more than the king himself.

Neither of you said a word. You didn’t need to. The line had already been crossed in silence.

At night Merlin lays awake, imagining your marriage to Arthur.

How long before he broke completely? Before he lost everything again? How long until he shatters, wanting what he can never have?

And you were no better. Torn between duty and desire. Between the crown and the quiet promise in Merlin’s eyes.

Then came the hunting trip. And Arthur, stumbling upon Guinevere’s lost ring.

Fate, that cruel old hag, smiled.

The next day the engagement was off.

Arthur still loved his Guinevere. Always had.

Your parents raged, but you? You felt relief. And sorrow. A tangled, prickling thing.

"You’d give up your kingdom for a blacksmith’s daughter?" You asked Arthur as you prepared to leave.

"Without her, they're worth nothing to me."

Your eyes flicked sideways, just briefly. Quick enough for the manservant to catch while no else did.

"Hm. I would give up my kingdom to be so loved."

"You already are, princess." Merlin whispered, steadying your hand as you climbed into the carriage. "Maybe he just hasn’t told you yet."

Your fingers slipped something from his pocket as you climbed in.

"Then he knows I’ll wait." You whispered back. "For as long as possible."

Later, long after the dust and drama settled, Merlin found it in his pocket.

Your family’s crest. Left behind like a secret promise.

And for the first time in what felt like years… Merlin smiled.

Just a little.

[pigfacedbitch]

✨ Dating Clovis | General headcanons of dating the son of Hypnos.

✨ I Worship You | They fell for a Greek deity (Jason Grace & Percy Jackson).

✨ Let's Break Up (I) | You try to do the break up prank on your boyfriend (Jason Grace, Percy Jackson & Nico Di Angelo).

✨ Let's Break Up (II) | You try to do the break up prank on your boyfriend (Leo Valdez, Frank Zhang & Will Solace).

✨ Phobia | Your phobia relates to your boyfriend's gifted godly abilities (Jason Grace, Percy Jackson, Leo Valdez, Frank Zhang & Nico Di Angelo).

✨ Pride, Prejudice, and Prophecies | Being courted by them during the regency era.

✨ You Like... Who? | You tell your sister that you're in love with Octavian (Annabeth Chase, Piper McLean, Hazel Levesque & Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano).

✨ A Girl Worth Fighting For | Percy finally realized what that song meant.

✨ Always You | Second to None but Percy's POV.

✨ Battle of the Percys | Walker Scobell, who's portraying Percy Jackson in the new series, has a huge crush on you, Logan Lerman's wife.

✨ Battle of the Percys : Round Two | Fans loved the tweets between you and Walker Scobell but what happens if your husband fights back?

✨ Chiron's Secret | Percy finds something particularly odd in Chiron's office.

✨ Falling in Love With Leo Valdez | Title speaks for itself. reader is a daughter of Poseidon. Timeline is from the Lost Hero to the Mark of Athena.

✨ First Doesn't Mean Forever | Second to None but Annabeth's POV.

✨ Half of Me | What would you give up for the love you lost?

✨ Never Again | All things passed, even this one. The last part of Second to None.

✨ Second to None | You may be Percy's girlfriend, but not his first choice.

✨ The Price of Promos | Percy is obsessed with you, but people ship you with Jason. What's worse is you two take advantage of it on certain situations.

✨ Way Back Home | Visiting May Castellan after the Battle of Manhattan.

✨ Annabeth Meets A Spider

✨ Guinea Pig

✨ Luke's Origin Villain Story

✨ Literal Guardian Angel

✨ Nickname Crisis

✨ Speechless

✨ Solangelo's Argument

✨ The Lightning Food Thief