percy saying if he had to choose between saving annabeth or saving olympus he'd burn it all down for her i am going insane walker scobell the actor that you are when he delivered that line that boy is down BAD
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
It took an elbow to the face to make them agree that they would find somewhere better for them to sneak off to.
It was the summer after sophomore year. Percy had moved back in with his mother for a few months between leases and was also helping out with the new baby as his parents got back on their feet and back into the swing of things at their respective jobs. Annabeth simply avoided her home as much as she could, and had never brought anyone there, not even friends in high school.
They had resorted to meeting up in his car, as hers was in California. It was too much effort to drive all the way home every break, so she would just fly and bum rides off of friends whenever she was back in New York.
“Alright we need to figure something else out.” Percy groaned out as he cradled his eye in his hand and Annabeth apologized profusely. “My back seat isn’t big enough for this.”
“Let's get out of town.” Annabeth offered, “Didn’t you say your mom finally bought that house on the beach you guys used to rent every summer?” She caught his eye that wasn’t covered by his hands and smiled hopefully.
Percy Jackson has wanted fashionable bookworm Annabeth Chase since he first laid eyes on her in the history seminar they shared together. He’s not alone in those fantasies, but that doesn’t mean Annabeth won’t kill him if he tears one of her dresses.
*even more punk!percy and girly!annabeth*
kid, you’re gonna go far by sundaysabotage
To say that Percy is excited to be going to college would be an understatement. For someone who never thought they’d live to see 17, going to college is kind of a big deal. It was the start of the rest of his life, a life without prophecies or cross-country quests or bothersome gods knocking on his door for help. Retirement is going to be awesome.
But first he needs to clean out his cabin.
___
Set immediately before the start of ‘i could be your hero’ but can be read in isolation
*the sequel/prequel to i could be your hero by sundaysabotage*
Russian Roulette by Darkmagyk
She might just be a minor princess, but she can see her future empire before her. As long as her idiot husband does not get in the way.
The nichest of AUs, where Annabeth is Catherine the Great.
*follows Annabeth as Catherine the Great, and Percy as essentially her mistress*
Amen by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle
Percy knows he rambles quite a bit in his prayers to Poseidon, but at least he is safe in the knowledge that Poseidon is too busy of a god to ever really listen… right? Meanwhile, Poseidon is trying to be a responsible god, but Sally Jackson keeps praying to him about their son (aka I wrote another chapter because I’m weak).
as if you were a mythical thing by stardustupinlights
“You were looking for an excuse to speak to him anyways, and I gave it to you,” Aphrodite rolls her eyes, disregarding most of his words, and handing Apollo her wine glass in order to pull a mirror out of her bag, checking her lipstick. He resists the urge to spill it over her dress. “And, he asked me for help, even left me offerings. Why wouldn’t I take a chance to make two negatives a positive?”
“He left you dinner leftovers.”
Aphrodite waves it off. “Same thing, really. My children keep leaving me make-up and chocolate. Other people leave flowers. They’re sweet, but at least Percy Jackson offers something less habitual. I hate boredom.”
“You love chaos, and plotting, like with Reyna,” Apollo translates, and starts drinking her wine because, what in Hades, might as well. He needs a drink. “So I was a negative that needed fixing?”
“You are, yes,” she nods, no remorse to it, and Apollo wonders why he decided to go through with this.
————–
Percy gets himself into a tough situation, Apollo helps. Love ensues, and it’s only slightly Aphrodite’s fault.
* so cute and deep, both Apollo and Percy are deeply vulnerable in their own way and with each other. I look forward to what comes next*
PJO Fic Rec Part 1
Disclaimer: The fanfiction above were not written by me for I am not nearly as creative. However, I am an avid reader and movie buff so these are some of my favorite fanfiction within the fandom. I politely ask that you read the tags attached the fanfiction beforehand so that you know what you are getting yourself into, there may be crossovers. If you don’t like it then don’t read it. In addition, I ask that there be no bashing, the fics are based on my preferences and what I like. Lastly, if there are any specific genre or fandom of fics you want me to get into let me know through my ask box.
who even cares about reputation? by rubiesanddiamonds
She decides she really likes his laugh. And his voice. And his general aura. A lot.
*punk!percy and girly!annabeth*
what’s a god to a nonbeliever? by Almas
It’s not that he’s “hung up on The Menace” as Dionysus so delicately put it. It’s just that it’s a bad idea. Awful, really. Percy Jackson’s got off-limits stamped across his pretty little forehead. If Zeus had sent Dionysus to that demigod camp over a nymph, then Poseidon would certainly toss him into Tartarus if he went near his son.
*on hiatus*
To Make a Legend by WardofWinters (QoLife)
Percy was having a normal day at the beach, until he decided to try to waterbend like Katara from his favorite show.Problem is, he succeeds. Now he has to figure out how to waterbend, and keep the normal people from finding out they have a waterbender in their midst.Finding out he’s actually a child of Poseidon will probably explain a few things. (Used to be named Avatar: The Legend of Percy)
*Is a series, should have at least have basic Avatar: The Last Airbender knowledge*
Silver Screen by herecomesthepun
in which Annabeth is a YouTuber with a penchant for Harry Potter sweaters and Percy is a rockstar who falls in love with the clumsy web star presenting his award. Percabeth, AU.
Of Gods and Men by plottingalong
The order of things are changing. Old rules are shifting, old gods awakening. Percy Jackson must come to terms with his own mortality, or rather, the lack of it.
And I will swallow my pride (In hopes of a final goodbye) by IzzyMRDB
“The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep.” ~Robert Frost
-
Rhea thought the fight was over when she handed Luke that blade. The war she fought for others was over. She was wrong.
Now a thousand miles and a thousand years from home, all alone with just the ghost of a curse to accompany her in her travels, she will only fight for the wars she chooses.
“I promise.” It tastes like a lie, but I know I’ll do my best to fulfill it. How am I to make the gods listen when they don’t even know who I am?
Hold Tight and Pretend It’s a Plan by Rynna_Aurelia
Olympus has fallen. The second Gigantomachy has ended far differently than the first, and in Gaea’s triumph, the world has been torn apart. But the Fates have seen what ends their failed meddling brought Western Civilization, look on at the dead—and undo what should never have happened the only way they possibly can. Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon, is returned to his twelve-year-old self, memories intact and determined to save everyone he can. But he is not alone. The Moirai underestimated the strength of the Lord of Time when stealing his power, and there is something about this particular demigod brat that intrigues him…
Perseus Jackson came roaring to life with a violent gasp, green eyes wild. After a moment of panicked flailing and struggling to breathe, his fear-filled gaze settled upon a girl with blonde hair and stormy grey eyes, her face stern and unimpressed.
"You drool in your sleep.“
Trading Tomorrow by Darkmagyk, loosingletters
Percy Jackson arrives at Camp Half-Blood bruised and bleeding, with the knowledge that he’s the son of a god and his mother is dead. His little display with the Minotaur has caught the attention of the camp. But he’s not sure it is good attention, yet. Only the Hermes Cabin’s not-quite Co-counselor Theseus, ‘call me Theo,’ doesn’t treat him like a fascinating zoo exhibit. Which would be a relief, except he looks exactly like Percy: same green eyes, same trouble making smile, same black hair. The only differences are the fact that Theo is six years older, covered in battle scars, and the black tattoo on his arm. A trident and the letters SPQR.
Theo is eighteen, powerful, and unclaimed. And his resemblance to Percy could set a dangerous precedent.
*pretty much everything by Darkmagyk is amazing*
i could be your hero by sundaysabotage
“I just don’t get it,” he huffs to Will as they put up holiday decorations in the unusually quiet infirmary, “they talk to me like I’m supposed to know stuff. Like I’m the new Percy or something.” Nico expects Will to laugh at this, shrug off his concerns as unfounded and tell him he’s being over-dramatic like usual. He is wrong.
“Okay, babe, don’t take this the wrong way. But, you kind of are the new Percy.”
___
Based on a tumblr post I made about Nico being the obvious choice as Camp Half-Blood’s unofficial leader when Percy leaves for college. (only no one bothers to tell Nico that)
*some solangelo and Nico being Tired™ for you*
Were I That Burning Star by californianNostalgia
An old panic gripped me—the breathless fear of being forgotten, being lost. Would anyone remember me when I was gone? Would someone think to lay a flower down on my grave and say some fond nothings like, “Was a pretty cool guy, that Lester,” while wiping off a single dramatic tear rolling down their cheek? Oh, who was I kidding. So what if no one remembered? There wasn’t much I was proud to be remembered by anyway.
After defeating Python and bringing down Nero, Phoebus Apollo reclaims his godhood. He is glorious once more. But for some reason, he can’t quite make himself go back to how things were before.
(A Character Study of Various Gods, including but not limited to: Apollo, Artemis, Hermes, Aphrodite, Ares, Athena, Hephaestus, Dionysus, and maybe Zeus)
* absolutely beautiful, very philosophical, made me see the gods in a completely different way*
PJO Fic Rec Part 2
Disclaimer: The fanfiction above were not written by me for I am not nearly as creative. However, I am an avid reader and movie buff so these are some of my favorite fanfiction within the fandom. I politely ask that you read the tags attached the fanfiction beforehand so that you know what you are getting yourself into, there may be crossovers. If you don’t like it then don’t read it. In addition, I ask that there be no bashing, the fics are based on my preferences and what I like. Lastly, if there are any specific genre or fandom of fics you want me to get into let me know through my ask box.
Thank u @nerdylizj for being an amazing beta ily <3
This is also on ao3
//
Annabeth loves Percy, and she loves telling him so. She loves the taste of the words, the echo of them in the air, his sweet smile when he says it back.
She quickly discovers that he doesn’t always say it with words, though. She learns to read it the same way she learned Ancient Greek or Latin.
For instance, he presses a smile onto her sun-kissed nose, and that translates to a good morning. A hand placed on her back as he passes her in the kitchen means, I’ll make us breakfast. When he nuzzles his head into her neck to tickle her with his hair, he’s saying, I like making you laugh.
It’s June 18th and they are both in L.A. at the same time, which feels serendipitous in a way that Annabeth doesn’t want to think about too much.
It’s been over a month since the French Open and in a few days until they both fly to London to compete at Wimbledon. Both of them are on the West coast to see the same physiotherapist for their separate ailments as full time athletes and only realised they would be in the same city when Percy mentioned it a week ago.
The lifetower they are both sitting in is fortunately deserted and facing out at the dark ocean. Annabeth rolls her neck until it cracks satisfyingly and next to her, with his feet stretched out and crossed at the ankles, laughs at her and cracks his knuckles in response.
“I can’t remember the last time I woke up not aching somewhere,” she says.
“Getting old sucks,” he agrees. “These sort of activities probably don’t help.”
She looks over at him. “Activities? Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“Sorry, is sexual intercourse better?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Activities it is, then.”
“Dear god.”
“I gotta say, i’ve never had sex in a lifeguard tower before.”
She rolls her head to look at him. “Neither have I. How’d you rate it?”
“Well it was no restaurant bathroom in Paris, but...”
Annabeth feels her face warm at the memory. “But…?” she prompts.
Percy laughs. “But it was pretty up there.”
“Mhm.”
She pulls the sleeves of her - well, Percy’s - hoodie over her hands and holds them to her face. They are sheltered from the wind but it’s still cool enough to warrant more than the single layer she had been wearing.
Thanks to his chivalry, Percy is left wearing a t-shirt and shorts. He looks impossibly soft under the moonlight and Annabeth can’t look at him for too long or she’ll be tempted to do something stupid like lean her head on his shoulder or kiss him. She is used to hanging around after sex, but they are usually in bed or pulling clothes back on and making an escape from whatever public place they were in. sitting next to him fully clothed - partially in his clothes - feels like a different type of intimacy than she has previously known with him.
All of this running around in secret is starting to get to her, perhaps.
“D’you feel ready for Wimbledon?” he asks after several quiet moments have passed between them.
“I do. More ready than I have previously.”
“You’re gonna win,” he says with confidence. “I know it.”
She side eyes him. “Well, don't jinx it, Jackson.”
“There’s no such thing as jinxes.”
“A pro athlete who doesn’t believe in bad luck? Who the hell are you?”
He laughs and Annabeth tries to ignore the way her own mouth ticks up at the corners as she watches it take over his face.
“One of a kind,” he says, though he manages to make it sound self-deprecating.
“Sure you are,” she says. “Ugh, for god’s sake.”
“What?”
Annabeth shows him her phone, which is lit up with messages from Piper demanding she get home for an early night.
“Mom wants me home before curfew,” she says dryly.
Percy sighs and stands up, offering a hand to her. “C’mon then, Cinderella.”
She takes his hand and lets herself be hauled upright. They make their way down the ramp and then walk up the beach together with their shoes held in their hands. Their hotels are in opposite directions and her flight leaves early tomorrow so neither bother to invite the other over for the night.
They stand on the sidewalk, waiting for their taxis to arrive and brushing the sand off their clothes. As Annabeth’s Uber arrives, she reaches to pull the hoodie over her head but Percy stops her, grabbing her wrist.
“Keep it,” he says.
She looks at him with a frown but something about his expression convinces her not to protest otherwise.
“Thanks,” she says.
The corner of his mouth pulls up and he leans down to kiss her cheek. Before he can move away she grabs his chin and presses a kiss to his mouth. They hover together in a soft moment as Annabeth savours the taste of him for a moment too long and then her driver is pressing his horn. She drops back to flat feet and smiles at Percy.
“See you in London,” she tells him, walking backwards away from him.
She can see the pink of Percy’s cheeks under the soft streetlight he stands underneath and makes out his smile before he replies.
“Safe flight, Chase.”
Annabeth sends him a smile before climbing into the back of the car and confirms her destination to her driver. As they pull away from the curb, she pulls the hoodie up to cover her mouth and nose and breathes in. Percy’s smell surrounds her and she realises she’s anticipating landing in London not just for the tournament but so that she can get her hands on Percy again.
summary: In which Percy finds a soulmate who doesn’t believe in the concept, consequently goes through the various ups and down of losing and finding said soulmate again, struggles to name his cat, and tries to answer some of life’s most unanswerable questions. College is definitely not supposed to be this hard, probably.
thank you for 2k! here’s the most self indulgent thing i’ve ever written
Annabeth slouches in the passenger side of Percy’s Jeep, tossing her plastic bag and kicking her shoes to the floor. Her GPS tells her they’re just outside the Pennsylvania/Ohio border, which Annabeth could tell anyone from the breeze blowing through the open windows from Lake Erie, encouraging her to kick her feet up on the warm dash. The sun on her toes and the open road beyond the parking lot make up for the smell of gasoline and sound of gruff voices on the other side of the pump.
She rolls the windows up to savor the scent of Percy’s car—which is somehow immaculately clean while distinctly that of a college kid. The seats are a bit sticky for her thighs in this heat, but there isn’t a stain on the upholstery in sight. The back is just as tidy, though it’s obscured by the heaps of supplies Annabeth packed in case of emergency. Or fun. Or extreme stupidity, which, really, the two of them going cross-country in a two-seater is bound to entail. She gives them until they reach Indiana, tops. Probably sooner.
While Annabeth stares at her phone to figure out the best way to avoid traffic, the driver’s door opens, bringing the sound of a rustling bag and the slight jostle of the suspension when Percy hoists himself into his seat.
if you’re taking the time to read this, you can take the time to click/spread/donate to the following links in support of the black lives matter movement: x x x x
I CANT DECIDE BETWEEN "I didn’t mean to get blood on your shirt." OR "Please, just let me carry you." FOR THE PROMPTS YOU PICK :D
(tw injury, blood, and near-death)
One of the first things Camp Half-Blood tried and failed to teach Percy was how to stay calm in a crisis. You are worth nothing to the people you love if you lose your mind trying to save them.
On one hand, he does succeed. More people will die if Percy leaves the manticore unchallenged at the base of Half-Blood Hill, so he stays. For the kids racing to Thalia’s pine. Nothing else. His heart sits in the grass where Annabeth crumpled after the manticore’s spikes drove up her flesh in a line. Percy is just a body—a machine on autopilot. His humanity has fallen.
Killing the monster is easy after that. Percy thinks of the last time a manticore took Annabeth away, and the anger starts a forest fire inside him, one that could level the Long Island forest. Riptide slices through the manticore’s chest like he’s nothing, which is what he becomes. Dust. Ash. Utterly insignificant.
The sword falls as Percy rushes to Annabeth’s side. It doesn’t make a sound as it hits the soft earth, just a thump in the grass. It should be ugly, loud, cacophonous. It should echo up the hillside in a metallic cry for help.
Instead it’s quiet.
Annabeth’s breathing is low, laborious. The manticore’s poison shouldn’t be enough to kill, but she took multiple hits. Spikes peek out of her left side, poison seeping into her shoulder, side, hip, and calf. It darkens her veins in an eerie spiderweb pattern she would hate.
All at once, Percy is back on the Williamsburg bridge. There she is at his feet, looking up at him through cloudy eyes and dying. Percy made a promise then: no one touches her. Another bullet point on the long list of promises he couldn’t keep.
Annabeth’s chest shudders with a raggedy gasp. “Perce?” She asks it like she isn’t sure it’s him. Percy wonders how much pain it takes to plant the seed of doubt that he would be anywhere but at her side right now.
Smoke billows from his lungs instead of a response, thick and choking in the wake of extinguished anger. There is only fear now, and after fear, there is nothing.
This is the bit Percy can never stomach or sit through no matter how many times Chiron tries to drill it into his head. He sees Annabeth struggling for breath and wonders each time if this is the cruel trick the Fates planned for him all along. Percy never expected to live long, but he always expected Annabeth to live longer. From the moment he learned of the Prophecy, not having to live without her was the one certainty he held close to his chest.
He fumbles for the emergency ambrosia in his pocket and cups Annabeth’s face, telling her he’s here. They don’t need words for this. She turns into the soft embrace of his palm and sighs, her lungs steady for that single exhale. He slips the ambrosia into her mouth and watches her chew carefully.
“Tastes like you,” she croaks, gripping his wrist. “Your smile at Montauk.”
That rallies Percy. Annabeth has kissed enough of his sea-born smiles to recognize the taste. He owes her a lifetime of them.
“Annabeth. Baby, I’m here. I’m gonna get you safe, alright?”
Her grip tightens on his wrist. “I love you.”
Percy has to look away from her then. He can’t watch her say those words like they’re going to be her last. Like she wants them to be her last.
“I love you too. But tell me that later, yeah? When you’re patched up. Please just let me carry you.”
One of the newer campers runs over the hill, a son of Apollo who stays year-round. His eyes widen at the scene before him, and Percy wonders if this is going to be his first taste of real grief.
“Will isn’t here,” the kid squeaks. “He’s gone for the weekend. Our next best healer is...”
Percy is tired, but not unkind. “Spit it out, kid.”
“Me.”
A bit of Percy withers, both for Annabeth and the child shouldering an impossible burden. Percy has no choice but to carry them both.
Determination solidifies in his bones, fortifying him in the wake of an unbearable weight. He gathers Annabeth in his arms and stands, feeling the burn of loss in his muscles. He is weak in the wake of a life without her.
His feet carry him, perhaps on autopilot, to the creek running through camp. The son of Apollo senses his urgency and runs to iris message a more capable healer they don’t have time to reach. Annabeth is dying, and the poison waits for no one. Percy can feel her life force drifting away like a tug at the base of his spine. If he loses her, he will spend the rest of his life adrift.
The cool creek water soaks Percy’s shoes, and he folds. By some miracle, he is steady as he lowers their bodies into the stream, thankful to the shallowness for not allowing him to sink. He holds Annabeth in his lap, lets her head tip back just enough for the stream to color her hair darker. It tugs at her curls like a loving hand.
This is all Percy has left: a prayer that the water will recognize Annabeth as part of him. She is his life. If the water wants to save him, it will start with her.
He makes the tough choice and pulls the spikes from her body. She is already dying from the poison. The risk of bleeding out is outweighed by the hope that the water will leech the death from her blood. Hope is all Percy has left. No smoke, no ash. The fire is gone. He is nothing but a body holding his bleeding heart in his hands.
“I love you,” he chokes out, holding her limp neck in his palm. “I’m here. I’m right here. Stay with me.”
Percy thinks of his dad watching from above, doomed to outlive everyone he has ever loved. The point of refusing immortality was a life full of love at the cost of length. He thinks of every Montauk kiss, how healing has always tasted like home, and how that somehow because synonymous with Annabeth. If she dies here, healing will taste bitter. He will never be able to eat ambrosia again. He will never want to.
“You promised.” The current of the creek quickens, painting their clothes a darker color. Annabeth’s blood swirls in the water before disappearing downstream. The ground beneath them begins to shake. “I fought, I burned, and I yielded. For this. For her. Heal her.”
Poseidon answers. The current reverses, washing over their bodies like a baptism, a rebirth. Annabeth’s veins fade back into her skin and the wounds knit shut. With each passing second, a bit of Percy’s heart returns to his chest. He can feel his fingers again. He can feel. Love and light have not died.
Annabeth’s chest steadies and she gasps, the life returning to her in one fell swoop. She gasps I love you into Percy’s chest like those are the only words she knows, the only ones she’ll have him hear. He crushes her to him, their shirts sticking from the water, and whispers the same into her shoulder. I love you I love you I love you.
Their grips don’t loosen. They don’t relax. They just cling to each other, fearful of letting go in the face of another brush with death. This is their life; this is why they hold each other so tightly, even in times of peace.
“I’m sorry.” Annabeth’s voice is too small, detached. Percy pulls back to look at her and finds her staring at his chest.
“I didn’t mean to get blood on your shirt.” She frowns. “This is one of my favorite shirts.”
Percy sees the faraway look in her eyes and puts a finger under her chin, ducking until she locks on him. “Hey, easy. It’ll wash out.” He swallows thickly. “I love you.” It sounds like it’s okay. I love you, and you are still here, so it’s okay.
Annabeth kisses him, ambrosia still on her lips, and it just tastes like her.
dailybridgerton
annaxmalina
origamiaround
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pixelskylines
baratheonpilled
tangentwithtanner
dededos
snowghoul
