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Why didn’t you tell me?percy jackson x injured reader. (hurt/comfort) Part 2
part one ✵ part two
✵ synopsis: after a fight on the Argo II, reader tries to hide their injury but Percy is determined to find out what’s wrong… he figures it out, but hopes he wasn’t too late
✵ interest: percy jackson (HOO)
✵ warnings: mentions of blood, pain, loss of appetite, isolation, loss of consciousness, and leo.
MASTERLIST
Consciousness returned like a gentle tide, bringing with it the soft rhythm of nearby breathing. Your eyelids felt leaden, and when you finally managed to pry them open, the infirmary's muted light was a blessing to your sensitive eyes.
Percy was there, but not how you expected. He wasn't slumped in sleep or pacing with worry, he was just... staring. Sitting perfectly still in the chair beside your bed, his sea-green eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch.
His jaw was set, hands clasped so tightly together his knuckles had gone white, and you couldn't read his expression. You'd never seen him like this before, caught between anger and something else, something raw and vulnerable that made your heart twist.
When you tried to shift position, a deep ache flared through your side. His eyes tracked the movement, and something in him finally broke.
"Six hours," he said, voice low and rough. "You were out for six hours."
You tried to speak, but your throat was too dry. Without breaking his stare, he reached for the water glass, helping you take small sips. The gentleness of his movements contrasted sharply with the storm brewing in his eyes.
"Percy—" you started.
"No." The glass clicked against the side table. "You don't get to—" He stood abruptly, running both hands through his hair. "Do you have any idea what—" He cut himself off, turning away, then whirling back. "You were bleeding out. Right in front of me. And you didn't say anything."
The last words came out as a shout, echoing off the infirmary walls. You flinched, and instantly saw regret flash across his face.
"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I didn't want to—"
"To what? Trust me?" His voice cracked on the words. "To let me help you? Gods, when you collapsed, I thought—" He broke off again, dropping heavily back into the chair. All the anger seemed to drain out of him at once, leaving something much more fragile in its wake.
"I thought I was going to lose you," he said quietly, not meeting your eyes now. "And the worst part was knowing you didn't even think you could tell me. After everything we've..."
The silence stretched between you, heavy with things unsaid. When he finally looked up, the vulnerability in his expression took your breath away.
"I can't lose you," he admitted, barely above a whisper. "Not like that. Not ever." His hand found yours, tentative at first, then holding on like an anchor. "Next time you're hurt, you tell me. I don't care if it's a paper cut or a broken bone. Promise me."
You nodded, throat tight with emotion. "I promise."
Some of the tension finally eased from his shoulders. He didn't let go of your hand, his thumb tracing absent patterns against your skin. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, letting the quiet wash away the last echoes of anger and fear.
"Annabeth going to kill me for yelling in here," Percy finally said, a ghost of his usual smile returning.
"Probably," you agreed, feeling your own lips curve upward. "Worth it though?"
His expression softened as he looked at you, and that something deeper was back in his eyes. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Worth it."
As exhaustion started pulling you back under, you felt him shift closer, his free hand brushing hair from your forehead with impossible gentleness. The last thing you heard before sleep took you was his whispered, "I'll be right here. I promise."
The next two days in the infirmary blurred together, marked by the steady stream of visitors and Percy's constant presence. He'd only leave when someone else insisted, and even then he'd return looking like he'd barely slept, dropping back into his chair like it was the only place he wanted to be.
"You know," you said one afternoon, watching him fight to keep his eyes open, "your room probably has a more comfortable bed than that chair."
"I'm fine," he insisted, though he was practically slumped over the armrest. "Annie said you might be able to try walking today."
As if summoned, she appeared in the doorway. "Speaking of which." Annabeth crossed her arms, giving Percy a pointed look. "You're not going to be much help if you pass out from exhaustion."
"I don't pass out," Percy protested, but she was already shooing him toward the door.
"Go. Shower. Sleep. She'll still be here when you get back."
Percy hesitated at the doorway, giving you a look as you laughed at the exchange. "I promise not to do anything stupid while you're gone."
"Better not," he said softly, something warm in his eyes before he finally left.
Annabeth checked your bandages, nodding with satisfaction. "Walking should be much less painful now."
The first attempt at walking wasn't exactly graceful. Your legs felt like jelly after hours on hours in bed, and the stitches pulled uncomfortably. But Annabeth was patient, letting you lean on her as you made your way slowly across the room.
You'd barely made it halfway when familiar voices drifted in from outside.
"If you're going to hover, you might as well come in," she called out, amused.
Jason was the first through the door, followed by Leo, their faces lit up seeing you on your feet.
"Look who's vertical," Leo joked at the sight of you.
"Barely," you admitted, grateful for Annabeth’s support as your legs trembled. Jason immediately took that as his cue to support your other side.
"Baby steps," Leo said as you gave him a look, but Annabeth cut in,
“Let’s get you back to—”
"I've got her." Percy was suddenly there, like he'd materialized from thin air. His arm slipped around your waist, careful to avoid your injury as he took your weight from her. "I thought you were going to sleep," you murmured as he helped you back to bed.
"Tried. Couldn't." His voice was low enough that only you could hear. "Kept thinking..."
He didn't finish the thought, but his arm tightened slightly around you.
"Well, now that the gang's all here," Leo said once you were settled, pulling something from his bag, "movie night?"
"In the infirmary?" You raised an eyebrow.
"Come on," Percy sided with Leo. "She's been staring at these walls for days. And we'll keep it quiet." He looked toward the daughter of Athena.
Annabeth sighed the sigh of someone who knew not to fight it, "Fine.”
Once the others were gathered, everyone settled in around your bed. Including Leo perched at the foot with his laptop, Annabeth claiming the extra chair, and Percy back in his usual spot beside you. As the familiar opening credits rolled, you felt some of the lingering tension finally ease from your shoulders.
"Hey," Percy whispered, his hand weaving through you hair before finding hand in what had become a familiar gesture. "You good?"
You looked around at your friends, your family really, and squeezed his hand. "Yeah. I'm good."
His answering smile was soft, private, meant just for you. And as everyone argued about plot holes and character arcs, you realized that maybe getting hurt hadn't been the worst thing.
Sometimes it took falling apart to understand just how many people were there to help put you back together.
By the time the movie ended, you'd dozed off against Percy's shoulder, his thumb still tracing absent patterns against your skin. The last thing you registered was the quiet murmur of your friends' voices and the steady rhythm of Percy's breathing, anchoring you safely in the moment.
You were going to be okay. All of you were. And if hidden injuries caused this, maybe next time you’ll hide a paper cut.
part one ✵ part two
MASTERLIST
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Why did these things used to be everywhere? I swear they were in every cartoon I saw as a kid. I haven't heard anybody talk about anteaters in like a decade and.
Need a weird creepy partner to play horror games with and have them teach me about random cool things like yes bae tell me all about your weird niche interests
Synopsis; Why was everything so easy so difficult for Saitama? He just wants to love you.
✎Word count; 0.6k
♪ Playlist; Dan the dancer
A/N: corny ahh synopsis. This isn’t really angsty it’s kinda like “oh 🙁”
Your silence was odd.
Not bad. Just odd.
To Saitama, nothing you presented was bad. Your loudness, your quietness, he loved it all. Of course he woud, why else would he be with you?
He loved you like he had loved no one before. You snuff out the utter boredom he constantly feels with the few moments you're by his side. You make him happy. As happy as he could be, at least.
You've done so much for him, but he can't do the same.
The numbness in him still muffles the emotions-- the words and actions he wants to potray. On occasions, it frustrates him. But you never complained about his lack of reciprocation, you just smiled and gripped onto his hand tighter, leaning further into his arm.
So he lets it go. He doesn't like when things bother him too much, and if it doesn't upset you, why should he worry about it? He can still make you happy, even without grand gestures. Maybe.
Yet as his hands move mechanically to chop the vegtables, his mind drifts to his apprentacse's words from earlier that day.
Genos, ever the observent, commented on your unfamiliar change in demeanor around Saitama, and the dejected look that befell your features more often. Saitama thought maybe genos was overreacting, and had mistook your tiredness for gloominess. He didn't notice anything strange about your expression.
But now he sees it. That distant look in your eyes whilst you pulled out the dishes from your cabinet, it was so different from your serene expression you used to hold when he's around. How could he not notice? When had it changed? Had it always been like that?
He also noticed the faint disappointement in your gaze when you opened your door to let him in, and he apologized for being late once again. Had you always looked this upset when he was late?
And when you planted a peck on his cheek then glanced at him with yearning eyes, which he returned with a soft smile like he always did. Had your gaze always held that desperate longing? Now that he had noticed it, why didn't he push himself to do more?
He coudln't figure out what was wrong with him. He wanted to do more. He wanted to initiate more, but it was so hard. He didn't understand why this constant heaviness always kept his arms rooted to his sides until you had pushed to move them. Or the weight in his throat that prevented him from telling you more than those simple words he offered.
You probably didn't know how much he thought of you. How much he appreciated you and cherished you. Who could blame you, though? When he made such feeble efforts to relay it all.
'I really do suck.'
He tried to put more effort this time. To hold your hand more. To tell you he missed you.
Now he noticed the brightness in your features as he did. But he was barely doing anything, why were you so happy about those small gestures? Was he really depriving you from the affection you deserved to that extent?
Next time. Next time he'd do more. Next time he will treat you better. Next time he'll be early. Next time he'll make you happy. No matter how hard the shackles on his ankles tried to drag him down.
As he stood at the doorway, he didn't pull away from your embrace this time. He allowed you to hold him for as long as you liked, hoping that maybe this small gesture could covey how hard he truly was trying.
He noticed the deep, comforting sigh you expelled as you pressed your face into him.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Desprate mutt grinds his cunny against masters boot, eyes rolling back as he lets out the most desperate noises, too much yet not enough at the exact same time, droll drips down his chin as he pants desperately, too lost to beg for more, though still loyal enough to obey any command master gives
,,In the case of depression, the devil comes through thoughts and fuels the fire of sadness that comes from an old wound. No person becomes depressed without having had a sad story in their life, in their past, to which they have become emotionally attached. There is even an addiction, like to alcohol, to our negative feelings. That is why healing is difficult.
Then, we need to understand that changing a thought is not simple. If someone comes and teaches you to "think positive," you will feel some change if you succeed, but your life will not change because they have no power over the "story," the underlying scenario. That story needs to be offered to God, to be given to God. How do I do it? How do I start? By renouncing the thoughts and offering the sadness to God. My sadness, my feeling, is stuck, is united with the "story," with the trauma. I may not remember the trauma anymore, but my feeling does. And, every time I have a real or imaginary reason for sadness, that whole "container" of sadness is activated. By offering it to God and asking Him for healing, even when I feel a slight sadness, the healing grace penetrates the "container."
Another way is to learn to rejoice for the good things, no matter how small. And to thank God for everything. Gratitude changes the soul, changes the chemistry of the brain and the entire organism."
Lucifer was my inspiration when I was at my lowest, devoid of any spark. He taught me about the existence of beauty in this life, and that this is something which I could choose to chase. He opened my eyes to the importance and endless possibilities of knowledge, and how I am the master of my own fate.
He told me that although there is no guaranteed hope, my road is my own and only my hands can build its continuation. I’m thankful that due to him I got out of depression and I began to view life as a sea of endless opportunities, waiting to be claimed.
I have no duty towards anyone and there is no inherit guilt for being myself, only two free hands and a mind to be my guide. Thank you.
