She thinks the morning sickness might be less annoying. At least that urge diminishes itself after a quick visit to the bathroom and a brush of her teeth. The cravings, even, are fairly easy to please.
But this. This lingers, no, it festers under her skin. Ebbing at her sanity all day long as she tries and fails to distract her mind with work and conversation and food and anything but her husband’s butt in his pyjama pants as he bends down to pick up the mail, or the sliver of his stomach exposed as he reaches up to pull down the cereal from the top cupboard.
This is torture.
And it would almost be worth it if Percy didn’t seem to find her repulsive.
Since they were sixteen years old Annabeth has always been confident in that fact that Percy wants her; wants to kiss her and hold her and fuck her. But now each time she so much as hints at sex, he shies away like she has a contagious disease. Choosing instead to cuddle as she falls asleep and lets the little voice in the back of her mind goad her into thinking her husband is no longer attracted to her.
They are having a baby for the love of the gods. How can he do this to her now?
how can lawyers argue without crying
if i went into a courtroom i’d be all
now you fucking listen here you little cumslut
"he has been found guilty”
"HA IN YOUR FUCKING FACES, BITCHES."