You Don't Have to Pretend
Jason grace x reader
⋆⭒˚.⋆Summary: You stay strong for the whole camp, but Jason reminds you you’re allowed to fall apart.
⋆⭒˚.⋆Mentions: Reader over worked, hurt/comfort, Jason maybe confessing feelings...
Camp was loud tonight — not in noise, but in tension.
Everyone was tired after the mission. Everyone was bruised, scared, shaken. And because everyone was unraveling, you did what you always did: smile, reassure, fix. Patch up cuts. Hand out water. Make jokes you didn’t have the energy for.
Keep moving so no one would look long enough to notice how exhausted you were.
By the time you finished making sure every camper was patched up and settled, the sky had gone full twilight.
Your head throbbed dully, your hands were scraped from helping pull people out of the wreckage, and your legs felt like they might give out.
But still — when someone called your name, you turned back with a tired smile and said, “Yeah, what do you need?”
You didn’t stop until there was no one left who needed you.
Except you.
You pushed open the door to your cabin and shut it quietly. For a second, you let yourself lean against it, eyes closed, breath trembling. Alone, you could finally admit how bad you felt. How heavy everything was.
“Thought you might end up here.”
Your eyes flew open.
Jason was sitting on the edge of your bunk, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. He looked up at you with a mixture of relief and worry that made your chest twist.
“Jason-” you sighed. “You should rest. I’m fine.”
He stood, slowly, carefully, like he was trying not to spook you. “You’ve said that to every person you talked to today.”
“Because they needed it,” you argued weakly.
“And you don’t?” he asked, stepping closer. “You didn’t even sit down. I watched you. You went straight from one person to the next.”
“That’s what I’m supposed to do,” you muttered, looking anywhere but his eyes.
Jason reached out and gently lifted your chin so you had to. His thumb brushed your cheekbone — not in a romantic way, but in a “please let me see you” way that made your throat ache.
“No,” he said softly. “What you’re supposed to do is be human.”
Your eyes stung.
Jason ran his thumb slowly along your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn’t even notice had fallen.
“You don’t have to be okay just because everyone else isn’t,” he murmured. “You don’t have to pretend you’re invincible.”
Your breath shook. “I just… if I fall apart, then who’s going to help them?”
“Me,” he said without hesitation. “Hazel. Piper. Frank. Literally anyone else. You don’t have to hold the whole camp together by yourself.”
Another tear slipped down. Then another.
Jason stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him.
You melted instantly, forehead pressing into his shoulder as everything you’d been carrying finally broke loose.
His voice was a warm rumble against your ear. “You’re allowed to need help. You’re allowed to fall apart. You’re allowed to just… be tired.”
Your hands clutched at the back of his shirt. “I didn’t want to burden anyone.”
Jason pulled back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes soft and steady. “You’re not a burden. Not ever.”
Then, quieter, “And especially not to me.”
Your heart flipped painfully. “I don’t know how to stop taking care of everyone else.”
“Then let me help you,” he said. “Just for tonight. Let me take care of you.”
His hand slid down to lace your fingers with his. Warm. Solid. Real.
“Sit,” he said gently, guiding you to the bunk. “I’ll clean up your cuts. And then you’re going to drink some water, lie down, and let me stay with you.”
You let out a shaky laugh. “Bossy.”
“Only because I love you,” he said, so casually you almost missed it.
Your breath caught. “You-?”
He smiled softly, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “Yeah. I do. And that means I care when you’re hurting.”
For the first time all day, the tight knot in your chest loosened. You squeezed his hand.
“Okay,” you whispered. “Stay.”
“Always,” he said, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “You don’t ever have to do this alone.”
And for once, you didn’t try to argue.
