แแฐ๐ ื ๐.๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: Nerd with cute eyes in love.
โก. ๐๐ฒ๐ง๐จ๐ฉ๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ฌ : After what happened a few weeks ago, you're still going to tutoring but can't stop thinking about Percy. Perhaps the boy is starting to win your heart?
โก. Nerd Percy & Popular reader, fingering, masturbation, PinV, creampie.
Three weeks had dragged by since that fuck with Percy, and your econ grade was holding kinda steady. You'd aced the last quiz thanks to his frantic note-taking sessions, but every time you sat across from him in his apartment, the air thickened with what you'd done.
You'd flash him smirks, cross your legs, remind him with an "Eyes on the graphs, Jackson" when his gaze dipped low. He blushed every damn time, adjusting those wire-rimmed glasses.
You kept up the act, flicking his ear or calling him a "pathetic little tutor" just to watch him squirm, on the inside, your mind replayed the stretch of his thick dick, the hot spurt on your ass.
Fuck, it had been goodโ better than the frat boys. Those guys were all thrust and no finesse, leaving you sore and unsatisfied.
And Percy? He was eager, responsive, like he actually cared about getting you off.
You hadn't planned to hook up again. Or at least, that's what you told yourself while scrolling through your phone at 2 a.m., thighs clenched around your pillow, imagining his hands on your hips.
The loneliness crept inโ your sorority sisters were all coupled up or chasing tail that didn't stick, and you were tired of the empty ache after parties.
Percy wasn't boyfriend material, but he was available, discreet, maybe even a bit cute... Plus, he looked at you like you hung the moon even when you bitched at him.
That kind of attention? You needed it. So when you texted him the next morningโ "Study sesh at 7. Don't make me wait, geek"โ you knew it wasn't just about to be about economy.
Percy opened the door right on time, hair messier than usual, like he'd been running his hands through it.
"Hey," he said, stepping aside, his voice a notch too high. "I have the midterms review. Figured we'd start with monopolies."
You breezed past him, dropping your bag on the floor with a thud.
Your outfit was planned for him to make a moveโ with a tight blouse unbuttoned to show a tinny bit of your bra and the skirt short enough that bending over would flash your underwear.
"Monopolies? Sounds boring, you're always picking the dry shit." You flopped onto the sofa, the same sagging one where you'd caught him jerking off the first time, and patted the spot next to you.
He hesitated, then sat, his knee brushing yours slightly.
The session started normal like it always didโ Percy spreading out his notes, droning on about barriers to entry and his pen tapping against the paper.
You half-listened, doodling in the margins, but your eyes kept drifting to his mouthโ the way it moved when he explained... The memorie flicked into your mind: the way he'd groaned when you sucked him, that low sound. Your pussy clenched at the thought, a dull throb starting between your legs.
Why wouldn't he touch you again?
"You're zoning out," he said after a minute, glancing at you. "Everything okay?"
You sighed, leaning back and crossing your arms. "Just thinking about how you owe me, nerd. Last time, you blew your load all over my face without warning and ruined my makeup. I deserve compensation."
His face went red, the kind of flush that started at his neck and crept up. "Iโ I said sorry that day. We don'tโ"
"Oh, we do." You uncrossed your legs slowly, letting your skirt ride up an inch.
His eyes flicked down, then away, but not before you saw the hunger there. "You got yours. Now watch me get mine."
Percy swallowed hard, setting his pen down. "Here? Like... now?"
You didn't answer with words. Instead, you kicked off your heels, planted your feet on the coffee table, and spread your thighs wide. The skirt hiked up fully, exposing the thin strip of black lace between your legs. You could feel the damp spot already, your arousal soaking it.
His breath hitched, glasses slipping down his nose as he stared, frozen like a deer in headlights.
"Don't move," you ordered. "Just sit there and watch how wet you make me, you little perv."
Your hand trailed up your inner thigh, nails scraping lightly over the skin, leaving faint red lines. The anticipation made your pulse raceโ exposing yourself like this to him, the nerd you'd bullied for months felt filthy.
You hooked your fingers into the waistband of your thong and tugged it aside, baring your pussy to his eyes. It was already slick, lips swollen and parted, clit peeking out.
Percy's eyes locked on it, his hands clenching into fists on his lap.
"Fuck, look at that," you murmured, more to yourself than to him as you slid two fingers along your slit. The wetness coated them immediately, a soft schlick sound filling the room.
You circled your clit slowly, the pressure building a warm coil in your belly.
"All this from thinking about your fat cock stretching me out. You like seeing it, Percy? My pussy all shiny and ready?"
He nodded jerkily, mouth parted, not saying a word. Goodโ he knew better than to interrupt.
You dipped lower, pushing one finger inside yourself, then two, the stretch not enough compared to him but enough to make you gasp. Your walls clenched around the intrusion, greedy for more, and pumped in and out, slow at first, letting him see every motion.
The table creaked as you shifted, heels digging into the wood for leverage.
"Bet you've jerked off to this a hundred times by now," you teased, voice breathy. "Imagining your dick buried in here instead of your hand."
Percy's chest heaved, trying to adjust himself discreetly, his hips shifting like he was fighting not to touch.
Emboldened, you sped up, fingers curling to hit your g-spot and make your thighs quiver.
A soft moan escaped you, unbidden, as your free hand yanked your blouse open, buttons popping. Your bra came next, shoved down to free one of your titsโ the nipple a hard peak begging to be sucked.
You pinched, rolling it between your fingers, the dual sensations making your pussy flutter. But it wasn't enough. The ache built, sharp and insistent, and you needed more friction.
Pulling your fingers out, you spread your lips wider, exposing your clit fully, and rubbed it in tight circles as your legs started to tremble, little spasms rippling through your muscles as the pleasure edged higher.
"Oh fuck, Percy," you sighed, head falling back against the sofa. "This is what you do to me. Can't stop thinking about how you filled me up last time. That dick pounding my cunt until I came all over it."
He whimpered leaning forward like he was mesmerized.
That sound pushed you closer, your rubs turning frantic, hips bucking up off the cushion. Sweat started to form on your skin, trickling down between your breasts, and you felt the orgasm coiling tight, ready to snap.
"Watch me cum for you, nerd. Watch how Iโ Iโah, shitโ"
It hit you as your pussy clenched on nothing, juices leaking out to soak the sofa, and your legs spasmed visiblyโ jerks that made your toes curl and your thighs shake.
You sighed his name on the peak, a long, drawn-out "Percy" that hung in the air. It lasted longer than usual, the exposure amplifying it, leaving you panting and loose-limbed.
He groaned, low and tortured, palming himself through his jeans. You caught sight of the wet spot forming, his dick was clearly leaking pre-cum. But when you looked up, his expression was like a punch to the ribsโ puppy-dog eyes, lips parted in desperation, a kicked look that made your chest tighten.
Weeks of holding back, of you being mean just to feel in control, and here he was, wrecked because of you. Your plan had been to stop there, leave him hard and wanting.
Payback for not fucking you these weeks.
But oh, he looked so pathetic, so eager, you couldn't.
"Get over here," you muttered, voice husky from the climax.
He stumbled forward, and you grabbed his shirt, yanking him down until he was half on top of you, his body pressing into the sofa cushions beside your sprawled form. Your hand fumbled with his belt, popping it open and shoving his jeans down to free his cock.
It sprang out, thick and heavy, already fully hardโ the veins bulging along the shaft, the head a deep red and slick with pre-cum. Bigger than you remembered in the heat of it, that girth making your pussy needy.
You wrapped your fingers around it, giving a few firm pumps, feeling it twitch in your grip.
The skin was hot, velvety, and he bucked into your hand with a gasp, his weight shifting so his face hovered inches from yours. Up close like thisโ really close, for the first time without the frenzyโ you noticed details you'd glossed over before.
The faint freckles across his nose, the way his green eyes sparkled behind the glasses, that messy hair begging to be tugged. Undeniably cute, in a way that made your mean mood waver.
"You're such a fucking mess," you whispered, leaning in to press a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. He froze, then melted, his breath warm against your lips.
Your hand kept stroking, slow twists at the head to smear the pre-cum down his length, but you kissed him againโ soft, teasing pecks along his jaw, his cheek.
"Don't think this means anything," you murmured between kisses, nipping his lower lip. "I'm just... giving you a pity pump. Your dick's too good to waste on your hand."
Another kiss, this one lingering, your tongue flicking out to taste himโ salt and mint, surprisingly addictive.
Percy whimpered, his hips thrusting shallowly into your fist.
"Please," he breathed, voice rough, one hand bracing beside your head while the other tentatively cupped your hip.
You felt the nudge of his cock against your thigh, hot and insistent, and damn if it didn't make you want more. Your pussy was still sensitive, aching to be filled again.
"Fine," you sighed, guiding him with your free hand, positioning that thick head at your entrance.
Your thong was still shoved aside, slick from your orgasm, and rubbed him along your folds, coating him.
You kissed him deeper this time, sucking on his lip as he pushed forwardโ slow at first, the stretch burning sweet as his girth parted you. Inch by inch, he sank in, your walls hugging every ridge, fuller than your fingers could ever manage.
He groaned into your mouth, bottoming out with a wet slide, balls pressed against your ass.
You broke the kiss to gasp, nails digging into his shoulders.
"Fuck, you're thick," you panted, rocking your hips to take him deeper. His face was so close, that cute flush spreading as he started movingโ shallow thrusts at first, like he was afraid to break you.
The sofa groaned under the combined weight, your back pressed into the worn cushions, legs hooked around his waist to keep him buried deep.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down to mix with the flush across his cheeks, and you couldn't help yourlself, could you?
You just needed to lean up to plant a series of small, teasing kisses along his jawline, nipping at the stubble before brushing the lips against the corner of his mouth.
You tried to make sense of it all, your mind spinning even as the body arched into him.
It was just his cock, right? That fat, veined length splitting you open in a way no one else's could, ruining you for the quick, unsatisfying pumps from those frat assholes. Yeah, that had to be itโ purely physical, a fix for the ache that had built up over weeks of denied release.
Well, with him this close, his breath mingling with yours in hot puffs, a stray thought wormed its way in: maybe he'd make a decent boyfriend, all attentive and sweet, the kind who wouldn't fumble around like the others.
No, fuck thatโ what were you even thinking? He was just a good fuck, messing with your poor head because his dick hit spots you didn't know you had. Nothing more.
You kissed him again, firmer this time, to shut down the nonsense, tongue flicking against his lower lip as your nails scraped lightly down his back.
Percy sighed into your mouth, a low, contented sound. He shifted his hips, grinding deeper on the next thrust, the head of his cock nudging against you.
A soft moan escaped him, followed by a grunt as he pulled back and sank in again, his pace unhurried, like he had all afternoon to draw this out. His hand stayed splayed across your hip, thumb tracing idle circles.
You could see the way his black hair curled damply at the temples. He looked wrecked, lips parted, eyes half-lidded with pleasure, but there was something else in his gazeโ something soft and adoring that twisted low in your gut.
This was supposed to be just sex, a way to scratch the itch and keep him in his place as your flustered tutor.
Nothing emotional, no strings. But the way he moved, careful yet insistent, made your pussy clench involuntarily.
"Fuck," he breathed, burying his face in the crook of your neck for a moment, his teeth grazing the skin as he thrust again.
The wet slide of his cock filled the room and your arousal coated him, easing the way. You rocked your hips to meet him, chasing the building friction, but your mind kept circling back to that stupid thought.
Boyfriend? Him? The guy who'd blushed beet red when you'd caught him stroking his dick on this very sofa weeks ago, hand frozen mid-pump? No way. It was the girth of him, the way he filled you. That's all. You kissed his cheek, then the edge of his ear, whispering a half-hearted taunt.
"Don't get too comfortable, nerd..."
He lifted his head, those eyes meeting you again, so damn earnest it made your stomach flip.
Percy kept fucking you slowly, his hips rolling in a way that pressed his pubic bone against your clit with each inward push.
The intimacy of it allโ the closeness, the way his body heat enveloped youโstirred something unwelcome. You wanted to shove him off, reassert control, but your legs tightened around him instead, pulling him deeper if possible.
Then, out of nowhere, he said it.
"I love you," Percy murmured, voice husky, the words coming out as if he had been building them for weeks. He paused mid-thrust, cock throbbing inside you, and added, "I think I like you. A lot."
Your heart stuttered, and before you could process it, a hand shot up, clamping over his mouth.
"Shut up," you hissed, the command coming out breathy, undermined by the way your cunt squeezed him tightโ walls contracting around his shaft in a vise grip that made his eyes widen behind his glasses.
Fuck, your body was betraying you, clenching like it agreed with him, like the confession had lit a fire straight to your core.
You could feel him twitch in response, hot and hard, but he didn't pull away. Instead, his hips flexed, pushing back in slowly, testing the reaction.
You kept the palm pressed firm over his lips, feeling the warmth of his breath against the skin, the subtle nudge of his tongue testing your fingers.
"Don't say that shit," you warned, voice edged with annoyance, though your free hand dug into his lowerback, urging him to keep moving. "This isn't... we're not doing feelings. You're just a good dick. That's it."
Doubt crept in even when you tried to concentrate on the feeling of his dick.
He kept looking at you, those green eyes so pretty and pleading, lashes dark against his flushed skin. The way he held your gaze, not backing down even with your hand muffling him, chipped away at your resolve.
He mumbled something against the palm.
Reluctantly, you eased your hand away, just enough to let him speak, though you kept the fingers hovering near his mouth like a threat.
"What?" you demanded, hips grinding up to meet his next thrust, the angle letting his cock drag right over her g-spot.
"I mean it," he said, voice rough but steady, punctuating the words with a deeper thrust that made you moan. He sighed again, his grunts mixing with the slick sounds of your joining.
"You've been in my head since that first time. The way you tease me, call me out...Maybe I'm a masochistic but.. I like you. More than just sex."
His face was inches from yours, expression open and vulnerable with that kicked-puppy look.
It should have annoyed you, should have made you push him away, but instead, it made your chest tighten, the stomach doing that flip again. Fuck, he was too close, too real like this.
Maybe tell him to fuck off with the romance, but the words were stuck.
Your hand slid to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his messy hair, and you pulled him down for a messy kiss, tongues sliding together.
"You're an idiot," she muttered against his lips, "I... I like you a bit, okay? Just a little. Don't make it weird."
The words slipped out on a gasp as the orgasm crested, your body tensing under him.
Percy's eyes lit up, a grin breaking through despite the strain on his face, and he groaned, thrusting deeper, faster now, trying to make you orgasm.
"Yeah?" he breathed, voice wrecked, one hand slipping between to rub tight circles over your poor clit.
It was too muchโ the pressure, the fullness, the way he looked like you were everything.
You finally came, pussy spasming around his cock, squeezing him in waves that drew a guttural grunt from his throat. Juices slicked his shaft, dripping down to where his balls slapped against your ass, as you cried out, nails raking his shoulders.
He didn't stop, fucking through it with those slow, grinding rolls, his own breaths coming in ragged pants.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he muttered, burying his face in your neck once more, lips brushing the skin in feather-light kisses that mirrored the ones you'd given him earlier.
Your body trembled in the aftershocks, the sensitive walls fluttering, but didn't push him awayโ in stead, you wrapped your arms around his back, holding him close as he chased his own release.
The softness of it scared a little, the way his weight pinned you down, his cock insistent inside your oversensitive cunt. But damn, it felt right, the slow build of his moans turning into desperate grunts, his hips snapping harder.
Percy tensed, a low whine building, and you felt him swell even thicker, the head pulsing against your cervix.
"Gonnaโ" he started, but you cut him off with another kiss, as he came. His thrusts stuttered, grinding deep as he emptied himself, balls drawing up tight. Every twitch, every jet, your walls milking him for more until he collapsed half on top of you, his breathing heavy, and the cock still buried inside as it softened slowly.
Percy shifted, his arms wrapping around your back in a loose hold, but he didn't pull out yet.
Instead, he tilted his head to look at you, those eyes soft behind his glasses.
"Hey," he said quietly, voice rough from the moans. "Do you really like me? Like... for real?"
Your face heated instantly, a flush creeping up the neck that you couldn't hide pressed against him. You buried your face in his shoulder, mumbling against his skin.
"Shut up, Percy."
He chuckled, gently lifting your chin with a finger, peering. "You're red. Like, tomato-level red." His smile was gentle, not mocking, and he brushed a strand of hair from your face. "I like you. Just in case you forgot."
"Just don't talk.."
๐ญ :: It's been a very intense few weeks, so for now I'll continue reposting fics from my old account.
โก. ๐๐ฒ๐ง๐จ๐ฉ๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ฌ : Percy lives with his mother and works part-time, hoping one day he can give her a better life. It all starts to change a rainy day, when he meets you, a girl who lives in a world completely different from his own.
Percy Jackson had never thought much about what he didnโt have.
The apartment he lived in was small. The radiator clanked like it was fighting for it's life every winter. The wallpaper in the kitchen peeled near the sink, and the couch had a dip in the middle where he and his mom always ended up during movie nights.
It was home with those blue plastic tablecloths and pancakes on Sundays or his mom dancing with him in the kitchen to old songs on the radio, her hugging him before every shift and saying, โYou and me, Percy. Weโre doing just fine.โ
And they were! There was laughter everyday and for the boy seeing his mom laugh was top tier importance.
Sally Jackson worked long shiftsโ cafรฉ mornings and afternoons, working in a restaurant at night when she could get itโ but she never let it show at home. Sheโd come in tired, her black hair slipping out of the clips, the apron wrinkled, and still smile like Percy was the best thing sheโd ever seen.
Because to her, he was.
And to Percy? She was everything.
He learned early how to stretch things, to fix the cabinet door with a screwdriver or to make boxed mac and cheese taste gourmet with some extra pepper and a splash of milk. He also tried to pretend he didnโt notice when his mom skipped showers so he could have more.
He couldn't pretend anyway because he loved his mom too much.
So he got a part-time job as soon as he couldโ shelving books at a tiny independent shop a few blocks away. It didnโt pay much, but it helped. And he liked the smell of paper and ink and talking to the old man that ran it.
Their Friday tradition was sacred.
No matter how chaotic the week had been, Friday nights meant cheap takeoutโ usually pizza, sometimes Chinese if tips had been goodโ and a movie theyโd already seen at least five times.
Theyโd sit cross-legged on the floor because the coffee table doubled as storage, and Sally would narrate scenes like she was in the film herself.
โPercy,โ sheโd say in an exaggerated tone, pointing at the screen, โif you ever fall in love, I hope she laughs at your jokes.โ
โWhat if theyโre not funny?โ
โOh honey,โ sheโd grin, โthen sheโs the one.โ
The boy always rolled his eyes, but his cheeks would go pink.
He didnโt dream about mansions or sports cars or having a penthouse.
He just dreamed about stability. About one day buying his mom a place where the windows didnโt rattle, surprising her with a stove that didnโt need a match to light.
About maybe, someday, having enough that she wouldnโt have to work double shifts.
He also wasnโt bitter. He didnโt look at rich neighborhoods with envy. He just looked at them like they were another worldโ really shiny, distant, a life not built for people like him.
And that was fine.
Because he had Saturday mornings where he and his mom would walk to the farmerโs market before closing so vendors would sell produce cheaper. Sheโd squeeze peaches and hand him strawberries to taste, laughing when his cheek was stained.
He had loveโ unwavering, unembarrassed love.
The kind of love that didnโt need money.
Sometimes, when he lay in bed listening to the cars outside, Percy would think about how small their place was. Then heโd hear his mom moving around in the kitchen, singing to herself while she packed tomorrowโs lunch.
And heโd think: Weโre okay. More than okay.
He didnโt know that somewhere across the city, in a house with marble floors and many empty rooms, a girl with everything would be wishing for exactly what he already had.
The first time Percy sees her, itโs raining.
Not the romantic kind of rain that's movie-like. More of an aggressive, strong wind, umbrella-flipping kind of rain.
Heโs just finished his shift at the bookstore, with the hoodie pulled over his head, his backpack slung over one shoulder. Heโs debating whether he can outrun the storm to the subway when he hears itโ
A sharp, frustrated gasp.
He turns and there you are. Standing under the useless shelter of a bus stop sign holding an umbrella that has completely inverted, metal spokes sticking out like a spider. Your shoesโ expensive-looking, cream-colored, not built for puddlesโ are soaked. Well, all you is soaked.
And you lookโฆ stunned, even a bit confused.
Percy shouldnโt stare but he does anyway because you don't look like someone who would walk around this part of the city.
You're dressed in soft, tailored clothesโ not flashy, but they are the type of clothes that obviously cost more than his entire closet. Your hair is pinned back neatly, though the rain is slowly winning that battle. A leather bag hangs from your shoulderโ real leather. He can tell.
And yet you're standing there alone with no driver, friends or someone rushing to the rescue as you mutter a curse under your breath, poking the broken umbrella as if it might fix itself.
Percy hesitates.
He doesnโt belong in your world... That much is obvious. You probably live in one of those buildings with doormen and polished brass handles and a lobby that smells like expensive candles!
But you looks soโฆ lost.
And his mom didnโt raise him to ignore a lady in the rain.
So he jogs over.
โUh,โ he says, pushing his hood back, the rain instantly soaking into his curls. โYou know youโre kind of fighting a losing battle there, right?โ
You blink at him. Your eyes are bright and curious.
โOh,โ you say, looking at the umbrella somewhat embarrassed. โIs it that obvious?โ
Percy grins. โIโd say once it turns into modern art, yeah.โ
You look at him surprised but laugh like you found it hilarious. He feels his chest doing a flip.
โI didnโt check the weather,โ you admit, glancing up at the sky. โI thought it would just beโฆ light.โ
โItโs never light,โ Percy replies, trying to be calm and failing the next second. โThis city's weather is like those London crime books.โ
Another laugh comes out of you.
God, okay. He needs to calm down. โYou waiting for the bus?โ he asks.
โYes, I didnโt know it only comes every thirty minutes.โ
โYeah,โ he says. โWelcome to public transport.โ
You tilt your head. โYou say that like youโre the mayor of it.โ
โI might be.โ
He pulls his backpack off and digs around before pulling out a slightly dented but functional blue umbrella.
He opens it and holds it over both without really thinking about it and you step closer automatically. Suddenly you're standing under this small circle of dry space, shoulders nearly touching.
Up close, Percy notices you smell good tooโ not overpowering but likely those expensive colognes that are the perfect type of smell.
โYou donโt have toโโ you start when he pushes the umbrella for you to grab.
โItโs fine,โ he shrugs. โI live like three blocks that way. The bus is probably more important for you.โ
Thereโs something thoughtful in your expression at that.
โAnd where do you live?โ you ask with curiosity.
He jerks his chin vaguely downtown. โOver the laundromat on 104th.โ
He expects something to change in your face. Maybe pity, discomfort or even disgust. It would be normal since you look like a rich kid.
But it doesn't, instead you nod like he just said something important.
โThatโs close to the little bookstore on the corner, right? With the crooked sign?โ
He blinks. โYeah. I work there.โ
Your eyes light up. โYou do? I love that place!โ
He laughs. โYou love that place?โ
โYes!! I like the smell of book paper and ink, but I never have time to go...โ
He doesnโt know why his stomach mimics the flip his chest did 5 minutes ago. Were you hiding under a rock your whole life and have now decided to come out?
The bus headlights appear in the distance, cutting through the rain. You look at it and back at him.
โIโm glad it rained,โ you say suddenly.
He raises an eyebrow. โMost people arenโt.โ
โI wouldnโt have met you otherwise, funny guy.โ
And Percyโ who has faced broken radiators, overdue bills, and a lifetime of making doโ finds himself utterly unprepared for one sweet girl in the rain.
The bus pulls up with a hiss. You hesitate before stepping on and then you turn around to give him your name.
โPercy,โ he says.
โI know,โ you reply with a small smile, glancing at the bookstore logo on his hoodie.
The doors close with the bus pulling away. And Percy stands there in the rain, without umbrella, heart doing wild things in his chest.
When he gets home, dripping wet and dazed, his mom looks up from the stove.
โYou look like you saw a mythical creature,โ she says.
The boy pauses next to the bathroom door. Maybe he did.
He sees you again three days later. Heโs not expecting to but he's happy when your eyes find his. Itโs Saturday afternoon, and the bookstore is slow. The bell above the door jingles, and Percy looks up automatically, opening his mouth to greet the customer.
There you are. Dry this time by the way.
Dressed in a soft and pale sweater with a neat skirt, some jewelry that probably costs a fortune... But you're smiling happily as if just walked into somewhere you love.
โHi,โ you say, moving a bit your hand.
Oh man, he forgets how to speak.
โYouโโ He clears his throat. โI see you survived the bus.โ
โI did,โ you reply gravely. โBut it was harrowing.โ
As you step further inside, you look around, getting some mystery books and pausing to read the back covers of those that did catch your attention before you talk once more.
โYou really work here,โ your eyes are still on the book as you put it back in place.
โYep, I wasnโt lying.โ
โI didnโt think you were.โ You say while picking up a copy of Pride and Prejudice from Jane Austen, flipping it open.
โMy mom used to read to me from this,โ you say. โWhen she had time.โ
โMine reads everything out loud,โ he says. โEven takeout menus. She loves making people laugh.โ
Why was he talking to a pretty girl about his mom? Gods, he might be the worst on flirtinโ.
Your smile widens, โI like her already,โ you settle into the worn armchair by the window.
You talk between customers. About books at first, then the rainy day 3 days ago and where were you going and how you didnโt realize the bus schedule could ruin completely a day.
He finds out you live uptown, like, really uptown. He was right about thinking of you living in the kind of building with a lobby attendant and marble floors.
He tries not to picture it too clearly. For some reason he thinks for the first time ever in his life he might look like a homeless person to people like you.
He hates that the thought even crosses his mind.
Heโs never been ashamed of where he lives, about the laundromat downstairs or the way the stairwell smells faintly like detergent and metal. Heโs never cared that his sneakers are worn or that most of his clothes are secondhand.
But youโre standing there in really nice clothes and brand jewelry, talking about books, and suddenly heโs aware of how he might be looking like he cannot afford even some roses.
A customer wanders in, and Percy moves to help them, but he keeps glancing back at you like you might go if he doesnโt check. You donโt, youโre flipping through pages, legs tucked beneath you.
When the customer leaves, you look up.
โSo,โ you say casually, โwhat time do you get off?โ
He hesitates. โSix.โ
You nod. โOkay.โ
โOkayโฆ?โ
You glance at your watch for a moment before looking up at the boy again. โI have to leave in a little while today, but I'd like to walk you home tomorrow.โ
โWhat?โ
You come back the next day.
Percy tells himself itโs more of a coincidence than a premeditated idea.. People find places they like and return to them. That doesnโt have to mean anything! The bookstore is quiet, tucked away and easy to miss unless youโre looking for it. Maybe he's falling in love with a performative rich girl !?
Then you come back the day after that.
And the day after that.
At first, you browse like any other customer. You look for a book, settle into the worn armchair by the window, knees tucked up slightly with the afternoon sunlight catching in your hair while you read. Every so often, you look up and ask him somethingโ about a title, about an author, even why he shelved books by their color.
He answers every time since you have been walking with him back home.
Then one afternoon, you walk in holding two coffees. You just step up to the counter and place one near his elbow while heโs sorting receipts.
He glances at it, then at you before drinking.
Itโs exactly how he likes it! Balanced, but sweet at the same time, with blue syrup. He doesnโt remember ever telling you that and he doesnโt ask how you knew because he doesnโt want to look like an idiot that forgets your conversations.
Another day, you bring a pastry folded in blue paper. You break it in half without asking and slide part of it toward him while heโs helping a customer. When he looks up, youโre already pretending to read the back cover of Journey to the Center of the Earth from Jules Verne, as if you havenโt been watching him the entire time.
He thinks youโre blushing behind the book but maybe itโs just hot inside. Perhaps he should turn the heating down a bit.
The third time, you bring nothing at all.
You sit on the counter while he reorganizes a display, careful not to knock anything over, your feet swinging slightly above the floor. You ask him why certain books are always moved to the front. You listen when he explains about how the sales and visibility and what customers gravitate toward.
Some afternoons you read for hours, only looking up when the bell above the door rings. Other days you talk about long dinners youโre expected to attend, about the rooms full of people who only know each otherโs last names.
Percy likes to listen and he starts to expect you.
Around 15:50p.m, his focus shifts toward the door without meaning to. When the bell rings, his head lifts. When it isnโt you, something small inside him settles back down again.
When it is you, the entire room explodes in colors for the boy.
Even when youโre not speaking to him, heโs aware of youโ the soft sound of a page turning where you sit, the way you lean your cheek against your hand when youโre thinking, or the faint tap of your shoe against the counter when youโre bored.
He really enjoys your company.
The bell above the bookstore door jingles at exactly 15:17 p.m.
Percy knows the time because heโs been checking the clock every five minutes since two. Not that heโs been waiting for you, buuut he's been waiting...
Heโs reorganizing the mythology section for the third time this week when the door opens and even before he looks up, he knows it's you by the sound of those boots with heels you usually wear.
โHi,โ you say.
โHey,โ he says, trying for casual and landing somewhere around in love.
Still, today you seem a bit nervous. You donโt head for a book and the armchair but walk straight up to him.
Percy immediately becomes aware of everythingโ the way heโs holding the Odyssey book upside down, the dust on his clothes from cleaning and the fact that his hair is looking terrible today.
โYouโre early,โ he blurts out.
You blink. โEarly?โ
โForโ I mean. You usually come closer to four.โ
โOh,โ you say slowly. โSo you do notice when I come in.โ
He wants the floor to swallow him whole. Please, just let a black hole appear and swallow him whole!
โWell, you're a regularโ he mutters weakly.
You step closer, and suddenly the space between you feels very small. The bookstore is quiet since there's no customers and the owner is out running errands.
You study him for a second like youโre working up to something.
โPercy,โ you say.
The way you say his name should be illegal.
โYeah?โ โAre you ever going to ask me out?โ
He blinks. โIโ what?โ
You cross your arms, not annoyed but definitely amused. โI very obviously like you.โ
His brain short-circuits. โYouโ you do???โ
You stare at him.
โYes.โ โOh.โ
He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. Can his mouth just work???
You sigh softly, but you have a little smile on your lips.
โOkay,โ you say with decision. โLetโs make this easier.โ
You step even closerโ close enough that he can see the tiny gold flecks in your eyes.
โDo you want to go on a date with me?โ Direct and clear question with no games in between.
Percyโs face goes red instantly.
โA date?โ he repeats, that word is foreign, he has NEVER gone to a date. He dedicates himself to studying and working to help his mother have it easier; he doesn't date.
โYes. A date.โ You gesture vaguely between the two of you. โYou. Me. Intentionally spending time together with romantic implications.โ
He makes a strangled sound and you can't help yourself but laugh.
โPerce.โ
โIโ I just didnโt think youโd wantโโ โWhy wouldnโt I?โ
He hesitates. The words hovering in his mind: You're rich and pretty and sweet and Iโm a guy living on top of a laundromat.
Even if he doesn't say anything you can see it on his face.
โI donโt care about your status,โ you reply even if he didn't open his mouth. โI like you.โ
โYouโre serious?โ he asks.
โYes.โ โLikeโฆ really serious?โ
You lean in slightly. โPerseus Jackson, I have been flirting with you for two weeks.โ
His eyes widen. โThat was flirting?โ
You laugh again, shaking your head. โYes. That was flirting.โ
He runs a hand through his hair, still flushed. โI thought you were justโฆwell, being nice?โ
โI am nice,โ you respond. โAnd Iโm also asking you on a date.โ
He looks at you and for once, instead of seeing the distance between your worlds, he just sees you waiting for an answer, you seem determined and bold, but your hands are also playing with each other and a slight blush is growing on your cheeks.
โIโd like that,โ he says finally. โYeah. Iโd really like that.โ
Your smile is slow and bright and victorious in the gentlest way.
โGood,โ you say. โSaturday. You pick somewhere you like.โ
โSomewhere I like?โ โYes. I want to see your world.โ
โOkay,โ he says, voice softer now. โI know a place.โ
You nod, satisfied and then you lean forward and press a quick, soft kiss to his cheek.
Percy freezes, basically, you just made his whole system to shutdown. When you pull back, his face is glowing red.
โThat,โ you say lightly, โis motivation.โ
You grab your leather bag and head for the door like you didnโt alter the chemical makeup of his entire being.
Percy spends all of Saturday morning pretending heโs not nervous. He cleans the apartment even though youโre not coming inside. He reorganizes the bookshelf and changes shirts three times before his mom finally leans against his bedroom door and says: โIf you change one more time, Iโm picking for you.โ
He freezes mid-button. โIโm not nervous.โ
โOf course youโre not,โ Sally says sweetly. โYouโve only been pacing for twenty minutes.โ
She walks over, fixing his collar gently, and smoothing his hair like she used to when he was little. โShe likes you,โ she keeps going. โYou donโt have to impress her. Just be you.โ
By the time he reaches the bookstore, you're there. Leaning against the brick wall outside, dressed simplyโ not in anything flashy or intimidating. A soft blue sundress and sneakers. You planned for walking.
When you spot him, your entire face lights up and Percy forgets every anxious thought heโs had all morning.
โYou clean up nicely,โ you start, pushing off the wall and walking toward him.
His brain malfunctions briefly. โIโ uh. You lookโ I mean.. You always lookโโ
You smile and save him. โThank you.โ
Thereโs no awkward hovering or guessing. You step into his space and nudge his arm with yours. โSo, where are you taking me?โ
He swallows. โThereโs this place by the river. Itโs not fancy or anything... Just a food truck park and a walking path. But the viewโs good.โ
Your smile softens. โThat sounds perfect.โ
You start walking. At first, thereโs that slight hyper-awarenessโ the knowledge that this is different. This is a date.
But it doesnโt take long before it feels like all the evenings you walked with him home after work, justโฆ lighter.
You guys pass corner stores and street vendors. A man playing saxophone on the sidewalk. Kids chasing each other through a spray of water from a busted hydrant.
At one point Percy stops to buy a small teddy bear as a gift for you.
โYou really like it here,โ you mention as you hug the plushie.
โYeah,โ Percy admits. โItโs loud and kind of messy and sometimes smells weird, butโฆ itโs nice.โ
When you reach the food trucks, he relaxes a bit more. This is practically his territory! He knows which stand has the best fries and which one overloads the tacos in the best way.
He orders for them after checking what you like and sit on a low stone wall facing the river, city skyline stretching across the water. The breeze is warm, tugging at your hair a bit, and brushing against his collar.
For a while, you just eat and talk. About stupid things. About how Percy's mom was screaming like crazy about him having a date. About how your building has a lobby pianist on Thursdays and you've always found it vaguely unsettling.
โYou have a lobby pianist?โ he asks.
โYes.โ
โLikeโฆ just sitting there?โ โYes!โ
He shakes his head in disbelief. โThatโs insane.โ
You grin. โYou donโt treat me differently,โ
He frowns. โHow do you mean?โ
โYou donโt act impressed or intimidated or with respect.โ
He snorts softly. โYou brought me coffee for two weeks and I do respect you.โ
You nudged him with the shoulder. โYou know what I mean.โ
You finish eating and wander down the river path, slow and unhurried. The sun is dipping lower now, painting everything in gold and purple.
Your hands brush once. Then twice. The third time, you don't pull away. Instead, you lace your fingers through his and donโt let go. You've been waiting to be able to hold his hand. Itโs really warm.
He looks down at your joined hands like heโs dreaming.
โYou okay?โ you ask, amused.
โYeah,โ he breathes. โYeah. Justโ wow.โ
โYouโre very red.โ โIโm aware.โ
You laugh softly and squeeze his hand.
You walk like that for a while, fingers still intertwined, the warmth of his hand against your own. The path along the river is calmer now, the late afternoon drifting gently toward evening and the sun hangs lower, spilling molten gold across the water, the boats that pass leave ripples that shimmer and dissolve behind them.
There's silenceโ not heavy, it's more like you both are waiting for something and any can make it happenโ watching a small rowboat drift lazily across the water. The person inside rows unevenly, splashing more than gliding.
You tilt your head. โHave you ever done that?โ
โFallen in?โ he replies.
โNo. Gone out on one.โ
He shakes his head. โNah, Iโve thought about it, though.โ
Thereโs a small dock ahead where rentals are offered. A wooden sign, a bored teenager behind a folding table, and a few rowboats bobbing gently against their ropes.
โLetโs do it,โ you say suddenly.
He looks at you. โDo what?โ โGet in a boat!โ
He laughs softly, thinking you're joking, but you're turning toward the dock already, tugging him lightly along with you.
โWait,โ he says, stumbling a little. โRight now?โ
โWhy not?โ your eyes bright in the fading light. โItโs still warm, itโs pretty and since weโre already here..โ
He hesitates only for a secondโ not because he doesnโt want to, but because this feels spontaneous in a way heโs not used to. Heโs always thinking about the money, calculating the costs of this things, weighing their practicality.
You step up to the folding table and asks for a boat. When the price is mentioned, Percy instinctively reaches for his wallet, but you're faster.
โIโve got it,โ
โYou donโt have toโโ
โI want to,โ you say. โNext time you can.โ
Next time.
The words warm him more than the sunset.
A few minutes later, both of you are climbing carefully into a small rowboat that rocks slightly under the weight. Percy nearly loses his balance, and you laugh softly, steadying yourself with one hand on his arm.
โOkay,โ he mutters, trying to look competent as he takes the oars. โI may have overestimated my boating abilities.โ
โI have full faith in you,โ you reply, settling onto the wooden seat across from him, knees brushing his.
He pushes off from the dock, and for a moment the boat wobbles uncertainly before gliding outward. The river opens around with the sounds of the city dulling and water reflecting streaks of orange and violet, the sky melting slowly into dusk. The gentle dip and pull of the oars create soft ripples that spread.
You just watch him row for a while, chin resting lightly in your hand, a small smile playing at the lips.
โWhat?โ he asks eventually, self-conscious.
โNothing, I just like looking at you when youโre focused.โ
He nearly rows sideways and you grab his arm to steady you both.
Percy shakes his head, smiling despite himself, and slows once far enough from shore that the dock is just a small shape behind. He lets the oars rest and the boat drifts.
You reach out, fingers lightly tracing along the inside of his wrist, following the faint line of a vein there. Itโs an absent gesture, thoughtful rather than bold.
โItโs peaceful out here,โ you say softly.
โYeah,โ he agrees, voice quieter.
For a moment, neither of you speaks. The boat rocks gently beneath them, the water lapping faintly against the wood.
You look up at him then. โIโve wanted to do this since the rain,โ
โGet in a boat?โ he asks.
You smile faintly. โNo.โ
Then you're leaning forward, close that he can feel her breath warm against his cheek.
โYou donโt have to be nervous,โ you say quietly, matching his voice.
He lifts his hand slowly, cupping your cheek with a touch so reverent it feels like he's touching a pearl. You lean into it immediately, your eyes softening.
The first brush of lips is tentative, like you both are confirming itโs real.
Then it deepensโ not rushed or desperate โ your lips are pressing with certainty and your hand slides into his hair, gentle as the boat rocks slightly with the shift in weight, but neither pulls away.
When you finally part, it's not far. Your foreheads rest together, breaths mingling, the river drifting quietly around with the sky darker now, the first city lights reflecting in broken lines across the water.
You smile against his mouth. โWorth it?โ
He exhales softly, thumb brushing along your cheek.
โYeah,โ he says, voice low and sure. โMore than worth it.โ
๐ญ : Repost time as I work on my new fics! I got scared thinking I lost this oneshot request.
Did you notice that several books are mentioned throughout the one-shot? (Pride and Prejudice, Journey to the Center of the Earth, The Odyssey)
Random fact, those are some of my favorite books from when I was little, I wanted to add The Neverending Story but ended up choosing Pride and Prejudice. x) Also, the first idea was to make a reader who loves Jules Verne's stories because they're some of my favorite books lmaoo.
hii i really loved all of your works and iโm soo glad that i found your new account! do you think you could repost that one jason grace!nerd where reader sits on his face? i think thatโs something-something seat, maybe โmay i have a sitโ, iโm not sure. anyways, iโm so happy that your backk. iโve been loving your recent work. ๐ค
Hi lovely, I do have this one so I'm happy about being able to post it again! Hope you have a great time here again and I'm so happy you found me. <333
แแฐ๐ ื ๐.๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ : Well, let me take a seat.
โก. ๐๐ฒ๐ง๐จ๐ฉ๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ฌ : In which, your nerdy boyfriend Jason loves letting you sit on his face.
โก. PinV, Face sitting, m! masturbation
Jason's glasses had slipped down the bridge of his nose, fogged up from the heat building between you two. The living room of your cramped off-campus apartment was a mess of scattered textbooks and half-empty coffee mugs from the study session that had stretched into the late afternoon.
What started as a grind through organic chemistry notes had derailed the second you guys decided to take a break.
Jason's hand brushed yours as he passed you the highlighter, a fleeting touch that sent a spark up your arm. He didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he hid it behind that earnest focus of his.
You watched him for a moment, the way his brow furrowed in concentration, his blonde hair tousled from running his fingers through it too many times. Jason was the quintessential nerd, the guy who'd rather dissect quantum mechanics than hit a party, but there was something magnetic about it to you.
You capped the highlighter and leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms overhead. "I think my brain's officially fried. We've done half the chapter...Can we call it?"
He looked up, blinking as if emerging from a trance. His blue eyes met yours, and there it was again, that quiet spark. "Yeah? You sure? I mean, we could push through the derivations if you want."
You shook your head, smiling. "Nope, reward time! There's that little cafรฉ around the corner with the killer lattes."
Now, sprawled across the worn leather sofa that creaked under your combined weight, you were both stripped bare, the air thick with the scent of sweat and arousal.
You were a moaning mess under him, your pussy taking his cock so well, clenching around every thrust as he drove in deep. The stretch burned in the best way, his dick thick and insistent, hitting all the good spots.
"Jason," you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders, leaving red trails on his pale skin. He grunted in response, not breaking rhythm, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. The apartment's quiet was shattered by the wet slap of skin on skin, the creak of the sofa protesting under his focused assault.
Suddenly, he pulled out, the drag of his cock leaving you empty and aching. A whine escaped your lips before you could stop it, your body clenching around nothing as you bucked up against the sudden void.
"Jason, fuckโdon't stop," you protested, slumping back against the cushions, chest heaving, glaring at him through half-lidded eyes.
He chuckled low, a rare sound from the usually reserved guy, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His dick stood hard and glistening between you, veins prominent along the shaft, the tip flushed red and leaking pre-cum.
"Patience, love." he said, voice a little breathless but laced with that confidence he'd been building. He shifted on the sofa, laying back against the armrest, his glasses slightly askew when he pulled them off. Motioning with a tilt of his head, he patted his chest. "Straddle me. I want you to ride my face, please."
You blinked, taken aback by the blunt instruction. Jason, the guy who second-guessed every move, just laying there expectant, his eyes a dark blue with want.
Heat flooded your cheeks, but the ache between your legs overrode any hesitation. You swung a leg over him, knees sinking into the sofa on either side of his head, your dripping pussy hovering just above his mouth.
His arms locked around your thighs like vices, pulling you down roughly onto his face. The sudden pressure elicited a sweet squeal from you, your hands flying to the sofa back for balance.
His tongue flicked out immediately, teasing your clit with precise strokes. It was slow, circling the swollen nub before sucking it between his lips, the suction was just incredible.
You leaned back, one hand pressing flat against the firm plane of his stomach, feeling the muscles jump under your palm. Your other hand found your breast, fingers working your nipple, twisting the sensitive nerve through thumb and forefinger until it pebbled hard.
"Fuck," you hissed, the word dragging out as his tongue darted in and out of your folds, lapping at the wetness he'd left behind. The sensation was overwhelming, his mouth hot and insistent, exploring you like he was memorizing every inch.
Emboldened, you reached further down his body, fingers wrapping delicately around his cock. It twitched in your grip, hot and velvet-smooth over the rigid length.
You worked him up and down, slow at first, matching the rhythm of his tongue. Soft groans vibrated from his throat onto your clit, the hum making your hips jerk involuntarily. He was relentless, nose bumping against your mound as he kept going, tongue thrusting inside you with a focus that bordered on obsession.
When you tried to lift upโ giving him a breath, or maybe just testing the watersโ Jason's hands tightened on your thighs.
"No," he mumbled against you, voice muffled but firm. "Put all your weight on me. I want it."
You doubted for a split second, hovering there, but he didn't wait. With a firm push, he yanked you back down, burying his face in your cunt like it was the sweetest fucking dessert he'd ever tasted.
His nose pressed against your mound again, inhaling deepโ Jason, the freakish nerd who got off on the intimacy of it all, on the raw scent and taste of you smothering him.
You started trembling, a mix of pleasure and worry spiking through youโ would he even get air like this? Were you squishing him into the sofa? But he took it like a champ, tongue lashing faster, lips sucking hard enough to make obscene slurping sounds echo in the quiet apartment.
Your hand pumped his dick harder now, matching the rhythm of his mouth, but it was getting tough to focus. The coil in your belly wound tighter, thighs clamping around his head as you rode his face in earnest.
"Jasonโshit, you're gonnaโ" He hummed approval, the vibration pushing you closer. No mercy, no pause for breathโ he choked a little on your wetness, but it only spurred him on, tongue plunging deeper, nose grinding against your clit as you squirmed.
Your nerdy boyfriend was a freak like that. He loved getting you to sit on his face, feeling you squirm and grind while he buried his nose in you, inhaling like you were his personal addiction.
It was raw, possessive, the way he'd hold you there until you were a shaking mess. You gripped his cock tighter, stroking faster, but he didn't falterโ tongue fucking you relentlessly, lips sealed around your folds. Your thighs clamped around his head, the tremor in your legs turning to full-body shudders as the orgasm coiled tight.
Jason sensed it, the way your pussy fluttered against his mouth, and right when you teetered on the brink, he pushed your hips up suddenly, denying you just enough to make you whine.
"Jasonโ why?" you whimpered, voice breaking, the ache sharpening to a painful edge. He looked up at you from between your legs, lips shiny with you.
"Ask for it," he said, that instructive tone slipping in, dominant as ever. "Tell me you want to cum on my mouth."
You didn't hesitate. "Please, Jason, let me cum on your face. I need it."
A smile tugged at his lips, and then he was crushing his tongue back against you, pulling you down hard.
"That's my girl," he growled, words vibrating into your core. "You're so fucking wet for me, dripping all over my tongue. I love how you tasteโ when you're close. Ride it out, baby, soak me. I want every drop."
His obscene praises mixed with the loving edge he always had, that nerdy affection shining through even as he ate you like a man possessed. Tongue thrusting deep, then flicking to your clit, nose rubbing circlesโ it was overwhelming.
You ground down, hand still working his cock in frantic strokes, the dual sensations pushing you over. The orgasm hit like a freight train, your pussy spasming as you came hard. Jason groaned, lapping it up, not stopping until you were limp and gasping.
You collapsed forward, catching your breath with your head against the arm of the couch.
But Jason wasn't done. He flipped you gently onto your back again, his body hovering over yours, cock nudging at your entrance.
"My turn," he murmured, it was gonna be a long afternoon.
แแฐ๐ ื ๐.๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ : Early nights in white sheets.
โก. ๐๐ฒ๐ง๐จ๐ฉ๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ฌ : You and Jason have been together for a few months, but he's not very good in bed. He does a lot of research to give you a mind blowing time!
Jason Grace had always been the type to overthink everything, from sword fights to the way he tied his sneakers. It wasn't that he lacked confidenceโ hell, he'd faced down monsters without flinchingโ but when it came to you, things got oh! so messy in his head.
You'd been together for months now, a whirlwind of kisses and late-night talks, but sex? That was still new territory. Jason was a virgin before you; his life was packed with quests and duties to explore much else.
And you? You were the one who'd gently pulled him into it, showing him the ropesโ or rather, the sheetsโ on those rare nights when the world let him take a breathe.
It started simple.
The first time, in the dim glow of his cabin, you'd straddled him, guiding his hands to your hips as you sank down onto his cock. Jason's eyes had widened, his breath hitching at the feeling of your pretty cunt clenching.
He was thickโ impressively so, the kind of girth that stretched you in ways that made your toes curlโ but he didn't know what to do with it !
He laid there, mostly passive, letting you set the pace while he gripped the bedframe like it was his lifeline. You rode him slow, feeling him throb inside you, but it was all instinct for him, no rhythm and definitely no drive.
You'd come, sure, grinding against him until the pressure built and shattered, but Jason? He finished pathetically quick, spilling outside with a groan that sounded half-apologetic. Afterward, he'd hold you close, whispering how amazing you felt, but you could see the frustration in his eyes. He wanted to be better for you.
That became the pattern.
Jason underneath, you on top, controlling the ride. He'd thrust up sometimes, tentative, his hands roaming your breasts or ass, but it was always you leading.
You didn't mindโ his eagerness was endearing, and that thick dick of his filled you up just right. He even thrusted up into you with all the enthusiasm of a guy desperate to please from time to time, but it was pretty much always the same: quick, predictable, leaving you satisfied but not exactly screaming. You'd come, no doubt, but he knew it wasn't fireworks for you.
Little did you know, Jason was already plotting his redemption arc !
Starting with asking Leo for a laptop without dying of embarrassment in the attempt... Anyways! Once he got it, he immediately started investigating.
It was as innocent as it could be.
One night, after you'd left his cabin with a kiss, Jason couldn't shake the frustration gnawing at him. He was built like a godโ tall, broad-shouldered, with that chiseled jaw and a body honed from years of discipline in the roman legionโ but in bed, he felt like a rookie fumbling the ball.
So, alone in the dim glow of his new laptop, he dove in. Porn first, the kind with titles promising "mind-blowing technique" and close-up shots of couples who looked like they were inventing new laws of physics. Then articles, forums, even a dog-eared book on anatomy he'd swiped from a roadside library box because he knew that pornography was not a reliable source for pleasing a woman..
He watched how guys used their mouths, their hands, the way they'd build tension instead of rushing to the end. Jason took notes while his cock hardened because he imagined practicing on you. He wanted to erase that look of polite pleasure from your face and replace it with something raw, something that made you cry of pleasure.
Now, here you were again, grinning as you tugged at the hem of your shirt.
"Missed you," you say, your voice so soft. How could Jason deny you anything?
Jason swallowed. "Mh, yeah? We saw eachother at breakfast."
He adjusted his glasses, but you were already closing the distance, your hand brushing his arm.
"But I can miss my boyfriend," your hands slided under his shirt to feel the hard planes of his abs.
And like that the clothes disappeared after some kisses.
You pushed him down gently, like always, straddling his hips. Jason's cock was already hard, thick and straining against your thigh, a detail he'd always been shy about, never knowing how to wield it beyond the basics.
You guided him inside you, sinking down slowly, and he groaned, hands gripping your waist. It was familiar: you riding him, setting the pace, your pussy clenching around his length as you ground against him. He thrusted up awkwardly at first, overthinking the angle, but the heat built anyway, your moans filling the room.
"Ah.." you breathed, rolling your hips, chasing that edge he could never quite push you over.
Yet tonight, something shifted. As you leaned forward, breasts brushing his chest, Jason's hands tightenedโnot in surrender, but in resolve.
He'd watched those videos, read the guides: how to make it about her pleasure first! His mind usually raced with the pressure to perform, but this time, it fueled him.
With a sudden surge, he flipped you both, his weight pinning you to the mattress. You gasped, surprised, your legs parting instinctively as he settled between them.
"Jason? Whatโ"
He didn't answer right away, his face flushed, those blue eyes dark with determination. Instead, he kissed down your neck, nipping at your collarbone, then lower, tracing the curve of your breast with his tongue.
You arched, expecting him to slide back inside, but he kept going, lips trailing over your stomach, hands spreading your thighs wide.
His breath ghosted over your pussy, already slick from riding him, and your breath hitched. He'd never done thisโnever even hinted at it. Oral? That was unknown territory for him, something he'd jerked off to in secret, imagining your taste but too embarrassed to ask.
"Jason, you don't have toโ" But his mouth was there before you could finish, tongue flicking tentatively against your clit.
It was clumsy at first, a hesitant lap, but then he remembered the videos: circles, pressure, the flat of the tongue. He pressed in, licking a broad stripe up your folds, tasting you fully for the first time. You moaned, loud and unrestrained, your fingers threading into his blond hair.
Because, holy shit, he had never done this before. Not once in all your relationship had he gone down on you; it was always hands or his cock, quick and to the point. But now? He was doing it, actually eating you out, his inexperience showing in the way he paused to adjust, but God, it felt good.
He grew bolder, sucking your clit between his lips, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet room. One hand braced on your thigh, the other slid up, two fingers teasing your entrance before pushing inside and curl them, seeking that spot he'd read about, the one that made women squirm.
You bucked against his face, the dual sensationโ his tongue swirling, fingers pumpingโ sending sparks up your spine.
"Fuck, Jason," you talked between moans, your voice breaking. "Where did you learn this?"
It was messyโ his chin glistened with your arousal, his breaths coming in hot puffs against your inner thigh and his cheeks red.
"I- I read about it. Online. In those... you know." He looked up at you, vulnerable but earnest, fingers still buried deep, stroking slowly. "Am I doing it right? Does it feel good?"
You could barely form words, pleasure coiling tight in your core. Instead of answering, you grabbed the back of his head, guiding him back down firmly.
"Keep going. Don't stop." Your voice was a command wrapped in a plea, and he obeyed, diving in with renewed focus.
His tongue worked faster now, alternating flicks and sucks, while his fingers thrusted deeper, hitting that ridge inside you with each curl. The pressure was building, relentless, with your hips grinding against his mouth as he devoured you.
You'd always taken the lead before, riding him to your satisfaction, but thisโ him taking care of you, learning on the flyโ was intoxicating. His thick fingers stretched you sososoo damn right, slick with your arousal, and when he added a third, scissoring gently, you cried out, the fullness pushing you closer.
It built so fast, that orgasm, hotter and more intense than anything Jason had given you before. Your body tensed, toes curling into the sheets, and you shattered, whimpering his name as waves of pleasure crashed over you.
Your pussy clenched around his fingers, pulsing, and he didn't let up, licking you through it until you were shaking, oversensitive and boneless.
When he finally lifted his head, lips swollen and shiny, he looked triumphant. "Was that okay?"
You pulled him up, kissing him deeply, tasting yourself on his lips.
"More than okay. That was fucking incredible."
Your hand wrapped around his cock, still rock-hard and throbbing, the thick length pulsing in your grip. Precum beaded at the tip, and you stroked slowly, intending to reward himโ climb on top again and let him feel you milk him dry. But Jason shook his head, a small smile breaking through his flush.
"Not this time." He caught your wrist, gently but firm, and pushed you back down, his body covering yours once more.
You laughed, breathless, as he positioned himself. "Bossy now?"
He didn't respond with words, just nudged the flushed, angry tip of his cock against your entrance, still sensitive from your climax.
He'd never known how to use his size beforeโ thrusting too shallow or erratic, leaving you wanting. But right now, guided by all that secret studying, he pushed in slow and deep, inch by thick inch, filling you completely.
You moaned, legs wrapping around his waist, the stretch delicious after his fingers.
He started moving, hips rolling with purpose, not the hesitant pumps from your other encounters. Each thrust kissed your cervix with that swollen tip, a deep, insistent pressure.
"God, you're so tight," he muttered, voice rough, with his forehead pressed to yours. He adjusted his angle, pulling back almost out before slamming in, the head of his dick dragging right over your g-spot.
You gasped, nails digging into his back, the spot-on hit sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. He'd read about it, watched the diagramsโ how to angle for the maximum pleasureโ and fuck, it worked. Every stroke targeted it, building that pressure again, faster than before.
Jason's rhythm steadied, his weight pinning you a bit as his hands braced on either side of your head. Sweat slicked his skin, his glasses fogging slightly as he fucked into you, harder now, the bed creaking under the force.
Your pussy gripped him like a vice, wet and hot, and he groaned, burying his face in your neck. "Feels so goodโ you feel so good."
He was still overthinking a littleโyou could see it in the way his brows furrowedโbut it only made him more attentive, hips snapping with precision, chasing your reactions.
When you clenched around him, he hit that spot again, relentless, the thick base of his cock grinding against your clit with each hilt-deep thrust. You were lost in it, your body arching to meet him, the coil tightening impossibly fast.
"Jasonโ right there, don't stop."
He didn't, couldn't, pounding into you with a focus that bordered on fierce, his cock stretching and filling every inch. The room filled with the slap of skin and your shared breaths ragged.
He reached down, thumb finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles like he'd practiced in his mind from those videos. It was too muchโthe deep kisses to your cervix, the G-spot hammering, the added frictionโand you shattered, your orgasm crashing in waves, pussy spasming around his thick length.
He followed seconds later, thrusting deep one last time, tip pressed flush against your depths as he came. Hot spurts filled you, a creamy rush that leaked out around him.
That was also new; the coming inside thing, but you were so fucke out and happy you didn't even care.
Jason collapsed half on you, both of you slick and spent, his cock twitching inside as the aftershocks rippled through.
For a moment, you just lay there, catching your breath, his head on your chest. Then he lifted up, pushing his glasses back into place with a sheepish grin.
"I... I wanted to get it right this time."
"You did more than right. That was heaven." You traced a finger along his jaw, smiling.
No more frustration or overthinking shadows. Jason Grace, the guy who'd never touched a girl before you, had leveled up. And damn if it didn't make you crave the next sex session already.
But as you drifted, sated and warm, Jason murmured against your skin, "Think I need more practice?"
You smirked, nipping his ear. "Only if you're volunteering." He laughed, the sound light, and for the first time, he didn't doubt the answer.
โก. ๐๐ฒ๐ง๐จ๐ฉ๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ฌ : Oh Ser Jackson, his Majesty, son and prince of the enemy kingdom, marrying you? This had to be a horrifying nightmare orchestrated by the gods.
โก. enemies to lovers, royal AU, percy's pov over letters, arranged marriage, percy is downbad, wedding night, porn w plot, f! oral, spitting, p n clit sIapping, fรญngering, pussiedrunk, virginity loss (both), mating presses, manhandIing, size difference, creampie.
For as long as history could remember, the Kingdom of Solis had never bowed to famine, plague or the old gods when they demanded blood from daughters and called it the supposed duty of women.
And certainly not to the seas.
Your kingdom stood where the sun touched first. At the highest crest of the southern cliffs, where the mountains broke into gold-veined stone and warm rivers ran like melted amber through the valleys below, Solis rose in white marble and sunlight. Its palaceโHelion Keepโsat upon the highest point of the capital, carved into the mountain itself, where your family had decided it belonged accordingly.
From your chambers, the entire kingdom unfolded beneath you.
Terraced gardens spilled down the cliffs in levels of jasmine and ivory roses. Long bridges of pale stone connected towers crowned with the gold of the sun. Markets below shimmered with silks dyed saffron, crimson, and royal blue. Even the guards looked as though they had been painted thereโ with bronze armors polished beneath the afternoon and spears gleaming like second sons of the sun.
Nothing in Solis fitted the word subtle. Your mother used to say that subtlety was for kingdoms with something to hide.
Solis had power and power deserved spectacle.
Which was why your bedroom ceiling had been painted like the heavens themselves.
You stared at it now from your chaise lounge, one silk-slippered foot dangling over the edge, a book forgotten in your lap as your ladies fluttered uselessly around the room.
โMy ladyโโ โNo.โ
โJust hearโโ โNo.โ
Lyra, your longest-suffering handmaid, pinched the bridge of her nose.
โYou have not even heard what I was going to say.โ
โI know enough from your face to know I dislike it.โ
โBut my ladyโ.โ
โMaybe I'll ask Father to cut off your head if you keep talking,โ was your last reply before opening again the neglected book.
Beyond the open balcony doors, warm wind stirred the gauze curtains, carrying the scent of orange blossom from the lower gardens. Somewhere in the palace courtyard, musicians were rehearsing for the evening banquet.
As soon as your ears heard your mind translated it to nobles and diplomacy matters which = your father was about to ruin your day.
You sat upright. โWho has arrived?โ
Lyra hesitated and immediately, your stomach dropped.
โMy ladyโโ
In a second you were crawling between the no-longer-so-tidy sheets of your enormous bed, trying to escape any responsibility that might be placed on your shoulders that very night.
โTell Father I have died.โ
The door to your chambers opened.
Your father, King Helios III of Solis, entered with those golden robes that didn't help to walk, ceremonial rings and the expression of a ruler carrying the weight of six hundred years of war and at least three immediate headaches. (Mind you, you were one of them.)
โFather.โ You said, voice muffled by the sheets.
He sat next to you, uncovering and holding your cheeks. โMy sun flower.โ
โBefore we begin, I would like it noted that I may be against this conversation.โ
โThat saves us both time.โ
Wasn't that wonderful? Your kind father wasn't going to torture you for long, only as long as necessary.
You narrowed your eyes. โWho is here?โ
He did not answer, a bad sign already. Instead, he studied you with the same expression he wore over battlefield maps.
โThe delegation from Atlantis arrived this morning.โ
Your father continued, because tyranny now extended into parenting. โTheir High Council has requested formal peace negotiations.โ
โNo.โ
Well, that was your favorite word today, wasn't it?
โAnd proposed a political union between our kingdoms.โ
His voice remained maddeningly calm but across the room, even Lyra looked like she wanted to flee.
Marriage to Atlantis.
To the kingdom that had spent centuries raiding your ports, destroying your fleets, and sending awful diplomats.
Your father stood by the open balcony doors, where the last of the evening light poured gold across the marble floor and turned the edges of his robes to fire, and for a long moment he said nothing at all, as though he were deciding which version of the truth a daughter deservedโthe one told to princesses, fit for history books, or the one reserved for kings, heavy with graves and numbers and the kind of silence left behind after battlefields emptied.
You didn't need to hear the histories again.
For as long as memory had been kept in ink, the Kingdom of Solis and the Kingdom of Atlantis had belonged to one another only in violence.
No historian could agree upon where it had begun.
Some claimed it was the prideโthat ancient kings, both too proud to bend and too convinced the gods themselves favored their bloodlines, had turned a bunch of differences into a holy inheritance of hatred. Others insisted it had been love, which was to your eyes eugh; a Solis princess promised to an Atlantean prince centuries ago, drowned before the wedding could take place, her death blamed upon betrayal, her body never returned. There were old songs still sung by servants in the lower kitchens that spoke of storms swallowing ships in mourning and the sea refusing to calm for an entire year.
Your tutors preferred politics.
Trade routes, they said, while pacing before maps stretched across classroom walls, fingers pressing into painted oceans and mountain borders. Salt and grain. Ports and taxes. Control of the eastern coast. Access to the southern straits. Men liked to call war honorable when it was always about ownership.
As a child, you had preferred the pride story. It felt more according to your personality .
Less pathetic than admitting entire kingdoms had slaughtered one another for generations over shipping rights or over the incident of a princess.
Regardless of how it had begun, by the time you were born, hatred was tradition and lived in the palace walls as naturally as sunlight did.
You learned it in stories told by your nursemaid while she brushed your hair before bed, tales of sea-born princes with smiles like sharpened knives and queens who lured sailors into drowning with songs sweet enough to make men forget they had lungs. Or in the way servants spat over their shoulders whenever Atlantean ambassadors were mentioned, as though the very name invited misfortune.
You learned it in your first history lessons, seated far too straight at ten years old while your instructor, old and severe and permanently offended by joy, pointed to battlefields on maps and recited casualty numbers as though they were scripture.
You too knew your great-uncle had died on the western fleet before you really understood what fleets were. You knew your grandmother still refused pearls because they reminded her of Atlantean royal gifts sent during failed negotiations thirty years before. You knew there were entire wings of the palace where portraits had been removed because the people in them had been lost to the war and your mother could not bear to look at the empty spaces their absence left behind.
Even celebration was about that hate.
Victory festivals filled the capital with gold banners and music and dancers in the streets, but always there was the undercurrentโthat joy only existed because somewhere else, someone had been defeated.
Atlantisโalways Atlantisโremained something distant and monstrous, less a kingdom and more a threat given architecture.
You imagined it often as a child.
Not as it truly was, but as children imagine enemies when they have only stories to build from. A place of endless storms and black oceans, where the sky was always bruised and the people had blue blood.
Their cities were rumored to be carved from the ocean floor itself, their palaces built into cliffs black with salt and age, their people born from sea water and tempers to match.
As a child, you had believed every ridiculous whisper.
That they slept in flooded chambers beneath the moon. That their royal family could call hurricanes with prayer alone. Even that if an Atlantean kissed your hand, your lungs would fill with seawater and scales would sprout all over your body!
You were embarrassingly old before you stopped half-believing Atlanteans did all this stuff.
Outside, a thunder rolled softly somewhere beyond the southern mountains.
Your father had been talking and you heard nothing, his hands clasped behind his back.
โThe war has lasted longer than your grandmotherโs reign. Our soldiers are exhausted. Trade routes are broken. We can't rebuild villages faster than they can be burned. Every season costs us more lives.โ
You crossed your arms resigning yourself to listening to your father's words.
โAnd who, exactly, is the unfortunate sea creature demanding my hand?โ
โPrince Perseus Jackson.โ
Prince Perseus Jacksonโthe heir of Atlantis, called the Tide Prince by enemies and far less flattering names by your generals. Commander of fleets. Breaker of the Eastern Siege.
Oh merciful gods, this could still be a bad joke!
You had believed, with certainty at thirteen, that Prince Perseus had the head of a fish, and not in the metaphorical way.
You remembered announcing this with confidence at breakfast, explaining to your mother that it was the only reasonable explanation for why no formal portrait of him had ever reached Solis, and if the Sea Kingdom was so determined to hide their prince, clearly it was because he had scales and unblinking eyes and perhaps gills where a proper neck ought to be.
Your brother laughed so hard he nearly choked on fruit.
Your mother, with the kind of patience only queens and saints possessed, had simply informed you that royal diplomacy would be significantly more difficult if you insisted on addressing the foreign prince as trout.
Finally the King moved toward the door.
โThe formal announcement will not be made until tomorrow evening. You have tonight.โ
โFor what?โ
โTo decide whether you will make this difficult with dignity,โ He opened the door to get going. โโฆor dramatically, which I assume is your preference.โ
Lyra approached carefully, like one might approach a wild animal considering arson.
โMy lady?โ
You turned slowly. โIf I throw myself from the balcony, do you think they will still make me attend dinner?โ
โUnfortunately, yes.โ
This was tragic.
You walked to the balcony, gripping the stone rail.
Far beyond the golden city, beyond the cliffs and the rivers and the sunlit valleys of Solis, the sea stretched blue and endless toward a kingdom you had never seen.
Somewhere beyond that horizon was the man who apparently intended to marry you.
That same afternoon you were given a letter with the Jackson house seal. It was a deep blue color with subtle marine details embedded in silver ink.
You opened the seal with a small knife, considering at some point using it to tear the paper and send it back to him like that.
The parchment was expensive, thick and smooth beneath your hands, edged in so much silver ink it felt unnecessarily elegant. Even his stationery was smug.
You unfolded the letter slowly, suspicious already.
You expected some beautifully phrased threat disguised as diplomacy, or even the arrogance a lot of men used.
What you did not expect was this:
Dear future wife,
I was informedโrepeatedly, and with great suffering on all sidesโthat it would be politically beneficial for me to write to you before our families force us into the same room. Apparently silence is considered poor courtship over Solis.
I argued that forced marriage should excuse a lack of romance, but your future in-laws are, unfortunately, optimists.
So.
Hello.
By now, I assume your father has explained the arrangement, and I imagine your reaction was somewhere between dignified outrage and the active consideration of murder. If so, I find that deeply reassuring. I would be concerned if you accepted this.
I am told you dislike my kingdom.
In fairness, the feeling is mutual, so at least we begin with honesty.
I know what Solis says of Atlantis. I imagine I have horns by now. Possibly scales. Someone, somewhere, has likely informed you I keep drowned sailors in the palace walls and sharpen swords on their bones.
For the record, only one of those things is true.
I will not insult you by pretending this marriage is romantic.
It is political, inconvenient, and being treated by every advisor around me as though it is the personal triumph of diplomacy itself, which should tell you how unbearable my week has been.
But it may also keep our kingdoms from spending another hundred years trying to bury each other, and I am selfish enough to think that sounds preferable.
You should also know that I did attempt to refuse.
This was received badly.
Mostly because I offered no convincing reason beyond โI would rather not.โ
Apparently that is not how treaties work, my future queen princess.
So here we are.
I know enough about you to suspect you are proud, difficult, and entirely too intelligent to tolerate fools for long, which means we may survive this if I am careful and if you are feeling unusually merciful.
I will offer one promise, since everyone else seems determined to offer you expectations.
I do not intend to make a prisoner of you.
If this marriage happensโand it will, because neither of us is being consulted nearly enoughโI will not ask for sweetness where there is none, nor obedience where it is not deserved.
That feels, at the very least, like fairer warfare.
Until we meet,
Prince Perseus Jackson.
P.S.
If anyone has told you I have the head of a fish, I regret to inform you the rumor is false. I am unfortunately very handsome.
โ
Well, that last part was reassuring if we ignored how narcissistic those last words were. So your future husband was going to be the enemy army general? This could cause a scandal throughout the kingdom.
The next morning arrived with all the grace of an execution as the formal announcement was to be made by sunset which meant, according to the women of the palace, that your suffering needed to begin at dawn.
You were woken not by sunlight, nor birdsong, nor any peaceful luxury afforded to a princesses in a sentimental poem, but by the violent betrayal of curtains being thrown open and six women entering your chambers.
You opened one eye.
โNoooo, five more hours.โ
โIt is too late for no,โ Lyra informed you, crossing the room with the merciless efficiency of a woman who had planned your downfall in advance. โThe ambassadors have arrived, your father has requested your presence by evening, the entire court talking about the most scandalous political arrangement of the decade, and Lady Cassandra has already selected your gowns.โ
You pulled the pink silk sheets over your head. โTell them I drowned in cushions.โ
โGiven the circumstances, that may be interpreted as an insult.โ
Fantastic.
You emerged from the blankets with all the dignity of a martyr and stared at the room now transformed into your own personal execution.
Your dressing table had disappeared beneath brushes, combs, perfumes, pins, ribbons, jewels, and enough cosmetics to prepare five royal engagements. Two younger maids were carrying in fresh basins of steaming water scented with lavender and orange blossom. Another stood near the wardrobe, holding garments draped over both arms like ceremonial offerings to an unwilling goddess (you).
At the center of it all stood Lady Cassandra, the royal dressmaker, who regarded human emotion as a minor inconvenience beneath the importance of her tailoring.
An hour later, you were regretting every decision that had led you to birth.
Your hair had been washed in rosewater and combed until your scalp hurt. Your skin had been rubbed with oils that smelled faintly of jasmine. Someone had forced tea into your hands while another woman debated with Lady Cassandra about the dress options.
You sat before the great mirror of the room while half the palace adjusted your existence around you.
โI don't like this,โ you muttered as one maid fastened a bracelet around your wrist while another argued over pearls.
You met your own reflection.
Princesses, you had decided long ago, were merely decorations for the palace too.
Everything about the royal presentation was important. From the colors you wore, the stones at your throat, the embroidery at your hemโ they were literally selling you out in the eyes of the enemy kingdom.
Unfortunately, Lady Cassandra agreed on that.
She approached carrying the gown and for one terrible moment, you forgot how to speak.
It was blue.
Not the pale blue of spring skies or harmless ribbons, but the deep, impossible blue of the sea just before a stormโthe kind sailors prayed to and feared in equal measure. Rich silk spilled like water between her hands, layered with silver-thread embroidery that caught the light like moonlight on waves.
At the bodice, delicate patterns of curling foam and cresting tides had been stitched so finely they seemed alive, winding around your waist and ribs. Tiny freshwater pearls had been sewn into the design tooโnot enough to seem excessive, but enough that when you moved, they shimmered like drops of sea spray.
The sleeves were long and sheer, trailing at the wrists in translucent silk, while the skirts fell in heavy folds that whispered over the marble floor. At the neckline, subtle silver beading formed the shape of stars and compass points.
The maids moved quickly after that, slipping the gown over your shoulders, fastening hidden closures, smoothing every line until the dress sat against you like a second skin.
It was beautiful and that made you hate it immediately because it suited you.
The blue made your skin glow warm beneath the sunlight and turned the gold in your jewelry brighter and the silver embroidery made you look like a princess being offered to make peace.
Lyra stepped beside you, adjusting the final necklace at your throatโa collar of moonstone and white gold, elegant and cool against your skin.
โWell,โ she said softly, studying your reflection with the satisfaction of an artist admiring finished work, โif Prince Percy does not fall in love with you tonight, I shall consider it a insult to the crown.โ
You gave her a flat look.
โIf Prince Perseus falls in love with me tonight, I will push him into the nearest fountain.โ
โThat's a romantic beginning.โ
โA necessary drowning.โ
She laughed, and for a moment, so did you until the unmistakable sound of hurried footsteps in the corridor met your doors, by the sort of hushed excitement that only meant one thing.
Someone important had arrived.
You were seated before your mirror while two women debated whether your sleeves required more silver threading when the youngest maid in the room, Elia, abandoned all dignity entirely and rushed toward the balcony windows.
โHeโs here.โ
โWho,โ you asked dryly, though everyone knew exactly who we were talking about.
Elia turned, eyes wide with scandal and delight.
โThe Atlantean prince. Their carriage just passed the east gates.โ
Half the maids abandoned all pretenses of professionalism and hurried toward the balcony like birds fleeing toward gossip, gathering at the stone rail with urgency. Even Lyra, who prided herself on dignity, and Lady Cassandra, who claimed not to care and still somehow arrived there first.
You remained seated for precisely three seconds before your own curiosity betrayed you.
โThis is ridiculous,โ you muttered, standing while your hands worked on your hair.
โCompletely,โ Lyra agreed, already pulling you with her. โMove.โ
The balcony overlooked the eastern approach to Helion Keep, where the long marble road curved upward from the city gates through the royal gardens and into the palace courtyards below. From here, on clearer days, you could see nearly half the capitalโ with gold rooftops, white towers and fountains catching the sunlight.
Now, all you could see was a gathering.
Guards lined the lower courtyard in ceremonial armor; servants moved like frantic ants between columns; even stable hands lingered near the entrance steps, pretending not to stare.
And there, at the center of it all the carriage.
It was impossible to mistake.
Dark as stormwater, polished to a shine that reflected the palace walls around it, the royal carriage of Atlantis stood waiting beneath the archway like a threat wrapped in elegance. Silver detailing curved along its sides in patterns like waves and sea serpents, and the crest upon its door gleamed unmistakably.
Sea-blue banners shifted from its frame in the warm wind with the house mark and the horses were enormous, black and restless, their bridles silver-chained and immaculate.
โI expected something with more fish.โ
โPerhaps the fish are inside.โ
Elia gasped. โDo you think he really has scales?โ
Below, palace officials were gathering near the carriage entrance. Your father stood at the front of them, beside him stood your brother, looking far too entertained by the entire affair.
What a traitor of a brother you had.
One of the younger maids whispered reverently, โDo you think he is handsome?โ
Another replied, โI think if he survives meeting her highness, that will be impressive enough.โ
One way or another, you didn't get much closer to the balcony like the rest of the maids; only one thought entered your head.
You imagined him inside.
Prince Percy Jackson, heir to Atlantis, commander of fleets, a professional nuisance before even introduction. Perhaps he sat there, enjoying the spectacle, fully aware that half your fatherโs court was holding its breath for the privilege of watching him step onto stone.
It felt like something an arrogant man would do. That decided immediately if true, you disliked him even more.
You got out of the thought when some of the girls screamed as one of the carriage doors unlatched, the silver handle turning.
And at that exact, divinely cursed moment, the wind changed. Strong mountain wind swept suddenly across the upper terraces, rushing through the balcony in a warm gust that sent every curtain in your chambers billowing like sails. The heavy balcony shuttersโusually held open against the stoneโslammed inward with violent force.
One struck the marble wall with a crack like thunder and the other shut directly across your line of sight.
Gasps filled the room.
โBy the godsโโ โOpen it!โ โI can't see anythingโโ
By the time the maids reached it, fumbling with the polished bronze latches and silk sleeves and collective despair, the moment below had already passed.
The royal family of Atlantisโwhoever they were, however they looked, however much of your immediate future stood among themโwere already hidden beneath the palace arches, swallowed whole by marble before your court could properly devour them with its eyes.
The maids stared in open heartbreak, the open doors of the carriage and people below starting to move again. However, you felt strangely calm; you really didn't know if you wanted to see your potential future husband.
The rest of the day went with going from one place to another just to actually prepare you until you were summoned to the Hall of Crowns. The sun had begun its slow descent behind the western cliffs, pouring molten gold through the palace windows and setting the entire world ablaze.
Helion Keep had always been built for this type of spectacle, but nowhere was that more obvious than the great hall.
It stretched the length of the central palaceโvast marble columns veined with gold, ceilings painted with the victories of dead rulers, chandeliers of crystal and sunstone hanging high above like captured stars. The floors reflected everything: candlelight, silk hems, polished armor, ambition.
But today the halls of Helion Keep had been transformed for the evening.
Gold lanterns hung from the archways, casting warm light over the polished floors. Musicians played softly from the upper gallery, low harp notes mixing in the environment, it was elegant enough to soothe any temper and expensive enough to remind everyone who was paying all of it.
The long banquet tables stretched through the center of the hall beneath the banners of Solis and Atlantis hanging side by side in what looked, frankly, like a threat.
The sun crest and the sea crest. Gold and blue. Fire n' tide.
At the highest table, beneath the vaulted ceiling painted with gods, sat your father.
On the other end the Queen of Atlantis was exactly what you expected and somehow worse for itโbeautiful in the cold way winter storms were beautiful, dressed in silver-threaded navy silk with pearls at her throat like captured moonlight. She looked like a woman who had never raised her voice because she had never needed to.
Beside her sat the King, taller than you expected, broad-shouldered and sharp-faced, wearing his own crown.
And then there was him.
At first, you almost missed himโnot because he was a forgettable face, but because he was doing everything in his power to appear as though he would rather be anywhere else in the world.
He was not watching the room, the musicians or ladies laughing between them in a corner.
No, he was looking at his plate with total interest. As though the roasted figs before him had insulted his bloodline and he was deciding whether they deserved to survive being eaten.
For one brief moment, standing at the entrance of the Great Hall with the court pretending not to watch your reaction, you simply stared.
He was, annoyingly, very handsome. Well that was unfortunate.
His dark hair fell slightly untidy despite every visible attempt of the palace staff to make it look presentable with the prettiest sea-green eyes you've probably ever seen.
His face was sharp, with a marked jaw and perfect symmetry, the kind sculptors would spend lifetimes trying and failing to reproduce without accidentally starting religions. Maybe he was some sort of godlโ anyways.
There was sun still left on his skin despite the sea kingdomโs colder reputation, bronze against navy silk and silver fastenings.
Beside you, Lyra made a sound suspiciously close to suppressed laughter.
You did not look at her. โSay nothing.โ
โI said nothing.โ โYou were thinking loudly.โ
โI am merely relieved for you, my lady. Marriage to a trout would have been very complicated.โ
Suddenly there was no more room for private irritation, because your father had moved from his chair and stepped forward from the throne dais and the performance had begun.
โHer Royal Highness,โ the herald announced, his voice carrying through the marble, โPrincess of Solis, heir of the Sun Court.โ
Every eye in the room found you as descended the staircase beside the hall entrance with all the serenity of someone not imagining murder.
The blue gown swept behind you like tidewater, the silver embroidery making soft sounds. The moonstone at your throat felt colder now. Every noble in the room watched as though trying to calculate exactly how much peace cost and whether you looked expensive enough to satisfy the other kingdom.
At the end of the hall, your father extended a hand as you took your place beside him.
Across from you stood the royal family of Atlantis and Percy.
Dear Gods up close was worse. Much worse!
Why couldn't you tear your eyes away from that man? Perhaps it was the surprise of not seeing any scales on his neck or hands. You weren't sure if it was 100% real, but hus skin had freckles on cheeks and hands. What you were certain of was that the skin peeking out from his neck showed a single dark freckle.
The banquet endured for what felt like several consecutive lifetimes. You smiled when required, spoke when demanded, and spent the rest of the evening discovering that there were very few things more exhausting than being discussed as though you were both present and decorative.
Every noble in Solis seemed to have developed an urgent and deeply insincere interest in your happiness.
Every lord from Atlantis looked at you with the politeness of men trying to determine whether you would eventually become their future queen or their princeโs most elegant mistake.
Neither possibility appeared to reassure them.
And at some point, beside you, Percy performed no better.
He was civil, which somehow felt more irritating than open hostility as he answered questions with practiced ease, nodded at all the correct moments, and wore the expression of a man enduring a hostage situation with remarkable restraint.
You caught him staring at the doors more than six times.
But you sympathized because the moment dessert arrived, you briefly considered setting something on fire simply to create an exit.
Unfortunately, your mother had raised you better than that. Your father, regrettably, had not.
It happened just after the final toast. The musicians softened into quieter melodies, wine had made several ambassadors far too confident, and the court had settled into that dangerous part of evening where everyone believed themselves subtle.
Your father leaned toward you with the expression parents wore when they were about to ruin their childrenโs lives.
โWalk with the prince.โ
You turned slowly. โWhat? No.โ
Across the table, Percyโs father was having what appeared to be the exact same conversation.
Percy looked up at you and also said no.
Two kings, separated by kingdoms and centuries of conflict, exchanged the silent understanding of fathers united by mutual disregard for their childrenโs preferences.
Your father smiled. โIt was not a request.โ
Naturally.
And so, several minutes later, you found yourself walking with your hand over the arm of Prince Percy Jackson through the western corridors of Helion Keep in a silence so pointed it deserved its own poem.
Two guards followed at a respectful distance, to pretend privacy existed.
Moonlight spilled through tall windows, silver against the marble floors. The evening had cooled; the palace breathed softer at night, its grandeur less performative in the quiet hours.
Your shoes clicked against the stone and his did too.
It felt like an argument waiting to happen.
At last, Percy stopped near one of the smaller receiving rooms overlooking the lower terraces and pushed the door open with the resigned courtesy of a man offering someone the chance to murder him indoors rather than publicly.
You entered first.
The room was bigโ with velvet chairs no one actually sat in, books no one read, a fireplace large enough to roast tension over properly. The balcony doors stood open to the warm night air, white curtains shifting softly in the breeze.
Behind you, the door closed.
And finally you guys were actually alone. There was no court, no musicians and no parents controlling all your interactions.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke until you turned to look at him.
โI am not marrying you.โ
The words left your mouth without mincing words, like finally drawing a blade after hours of polite smiles.
Percy, leaning one shoulder against the door as though preparing for impact, nodded once.
โYes,โ he said. โI had assumed that might be your opening line.โ
He had an annoyingly pleasant voice too.
He crossed the room slowly, stopping near the fireplace, hands folded behind his back like a prince would do.
โFor what itโs worth,โ he said, โI am also not particularly eager to marry you.โ
โGood.โ โExcellent.โ
You stared at each other, it was going to be a problem if you two talked at the same time like that.
This, at least, felt honest.
You moved toward the balcony instead, needing distance, air and needing the moon to witness your suffering.
โI refuse to believe,โ you said, looking out over the gardens below, โthat two entire kingdoms have looked at centuries of bloodshed and decided the solution was forcing me to attend dinner with you forever.โ
Behind you, Percy gave a quiet sound that might have been an agreement.
โI offered several alternatives,โ he said. โMost involved gifting a bunch of ships.โ
โHow dare yoโโ โAnd yet here I am.โ
You turned back.
He had removed the formal mask, or perhaps simply grown tired of wearing it. Without the performance of the court, he looked younger and somehow more dangerous for itโless princely in a portrait and more like an actual man.
You folded your arms. โYou wrote a very irritating letter.โ
He sighed. โI was forced to write that letter under direct maternal supervision.โ
โI could tell.โ
โThat should concern you. Imagine what I would have sent unsupervised.โ
โI assume a blank page and an apology as PS.โ
โYou are optimistic, princess.โ
Despite yourself, your mouth moved in a small smile that formed small dimples.
โYou are still arrogant.โ
โAnd you,โ he said, with maddening calm, โare exactly as difficult as advertised.โ
You narrowed your eyes.
There it was againโthat infuriating ease, that careless confidence like he had never once in his life doubted his ability to survive the consequences of his own mouth.
You stepped closer.
โLet us be clear, Prince. I do not care how beloved you are in your charming sea kingdom. I do not care how many poets have embarrassed themselves over your face. I do not care how many battles you have won. I have no intention of becoming another admiring audience member in the Percy Jackson tragedy of excessive self-regard.โ
He blinked as you talked and slowly, one corner of his mouth lifted.
โOh,โ he said softly, โyou do have a vicious mouth.โ
You frowned. โI beg your pardon?โ
He stepped closer too, close enough that you could possibly count his freckles and your breaths could mingle if you both exhaled with your mouth.
โFor a princess,โ he said, voice low with an unmistakable amusement, โyou are remarkably unladylike. I had expected elegance and grace.. Perhaps even a soft smile and some very refined passive aggression.โ
You stared at him. He continued, clearly enjoying his own survival far too much.
โInstead, I find myself alone at night with a woman who looks like she might stab me with decorative cutlery.โ
Your expression did not change. โDo you want me to prove it?โ
โSee,โ he said, almost warmly now, โthat. Exactly that. Very concerning. Not at all lady-like.โ
โPercy.โ
Your first time calling his name and it sounded like a warning in your mouth!
He seemed to like that far too much because he just leaned into your space. โYes?โ
โIf you call me unladylike again, I will throw you from my balcony and tell both our kingdoms diplomacy simply failed.โ
Private notes of Prince Percy Jackson.
Not intended for royal archives, review, or my motherโs deeply invasive curiosity.
If found, kindly throw it into the sea.
โ
I was told, very firmly and by several people, that keeping a written record of this process might be โgood for perspective.โ
My mother said reflection builds character.
Annabeth, who I am increasingly convinced enjoys watching me suffer, said if I was going to be insufferable about this entire arrangement, I should at least be insufferable on paper where historians could mock me properly.
So here we are.
For the record, I hate it. I hate arranged marriages. And I hate political banquets.
And, perhaps most urgently, I hate the Kingdom of Solis.
That last one should probably be written down with some honesty, since this journal is meant to be useful and not simply an expensive place for me to complain.
In Atlantis, children are taught early that the sun burns just as easily as it warms.
I was raised to distrust them long before I was old to understand why and I'm pretty sure her highness the princess learned just the same way as I did.
In any case, I had heard rumors about the nobles who lived in the city where the royal family resided and how they looked non-human.
Dear journal, the truth is that I was expecting my future queen with fiery hair.
I have met her.
Unfortunately after weeks of council meetings, endless negotiations, and being informed by every living adult that marrying the Princess of Solis would be โhistorically significantโ and โa stabilizing force for the future of both kingdoms,โ I can now confirm that history is a malicious thing and should not be trusted.
I had, over the years, heard enough stories about the Sun Princess to build at least six entirely different women in my head.
Depending on who was speaking, she was either impossibly beautiful or terrifying enough to be a monster.
As a child, I was told she probably had claws! Which was fair, considering Solis spent most of my adolescence convinced I had the head of a fish.
Do I look like a trout? Do not answer that.
Still, when I looked up tonight and finally saw the woman I am apparently expected to spend the rest of my life married to, my first thought was not diplomatic at all.
It was, very specifically:
Oh, that is deeply unfortunate. She is beautiful.
Which is a disgrace, I would have preferred her hideous.
She looked like Solis itself had decided to become a person purely to be insufferable about itโelegant in that polished, sunlit way their entire kingdom seems to be, like she has been designed with the sole purpose of making the rest of us feel underdressed.
Beauty, in theory, should not matter. Entire kingdoms are not held together by bone structure and eye contact. Political alliances are not to become more complicated because the person across from you happens to look like the kind of mistake poets ruin themselves over.
And yet she walked into that hall wearing blue, looking like the best mistake to commit ever and for one brief moment I forgot what my mother had just asked me to pay attention to.
I suspect I am going to enjoy arguing with her and I also suspect it may eventually kill me.
The worst partโand I resent writing thisโis that I understand why this marriage might work personally.
She would never disappear into someone elseโs court, never let herself become ornamental or let anyone mistake the marriage for surrender of her house.
I would hate a wife I could intimidate.
She, I think, would hate a husband who tried.
So at least there is that.
Still, I remain opposed on principle. She is proud, difficult, and probably dangerous, very likely already planning how to murder me to escape this...
And Iโsadlyโam looking forward to seeing her again.
This is humiliating.
If anyone reads this, I will deny the part where I admitted she was is??? was pretty.
I would rather return to the fish head rumors.
โ
The days that followed should, by all political expectation, have been the beginning of something graceful.
The royal betrothals were not promises of love between two peopleโthey were negotiations, alliances and kingdoms trying to teach two unwilling heirs how to stand beside one another without looking as though they planned to commit murder before dessertย
And so your parents, in all their wisdom and complete disregard for your peace, would insist upon time spent together.ย
Walks through the palace gardens beneath careful supervision for some bonding time, lessons on courtly customs and each other's culture or meetings with advisors who would explain, with grave importance, how one properly ruled beside someone they had known for six days and considered a trial sent by the gods.
You'd be made to sit beside him during council, to dine with him, smile beside him while old noblewomen whispered about some invented future heirs as though your body had become the public property.
And worst of all, to walk with him.
It would begin in the lower gardens of Helion Keep, where the white roses climbed the marble walls and the fountains had an incredible amount of decoration dedicated to the sun.
The Queen of Atlantis, Sally, suggested it first, with that serene expression she always wore and your father would agree immediately, because fathers were traitors by nature.
And before either you or Percy could invent a convincing plague, you would find yourselves dismissed beneath the late afternoon sun, sent walking together like characters in one of those terrible romantic poems old ladies adored.
He would offer you his arm because etiquette would demand it and you would take it because both your families watched from afar.
And for several long moments, you walked through the gardens of your childhood in a silence so stiff it might have qualified as architecture.
The sun hung low over Helion Keep, warm and golden against the white stone, turning every fountain to liquid fire. Jasmine climbed the walls in pale blooms, and somewhere beyond the terraces musicians practiced for some other noble event that with no doubt eventually will become your problem.
Beside you, Percy would walk like a man and not like a boy that gave you a headache every 30 minutes. His hand, where your fingers rested lightly at his arm, remained warm.
At last, he would speak.
โI have been informed,โ he said, his voice carrying that calm, low amusement you were already beginning to distrust, โthat I am expected to learn your favorite flowers.โ
โHow thrilling for you.โ
โI thought so. Apparently this is considered courtship.โ
The gardens opened wider here, into a terrace of columns and trailing vines. Below, the cliffs dropped toward the sea, and the wind carried salt even this high, threading through the warmth.
You slowed, so did he.
Percy stood a little apart from you now, though not by much, for the space between you had the uneasy quality of something negotiated rather than chosen, and even that small distance felt fragile beneath the weight of everything neither of you had yet said aloud.
When he spoke again, it was not with haste or provocation, but with a kind of careful deliberation that made it clear he was choosing each thought as though it might be later examined in a court of law.
โIn Atlantis,โ he began, gaze briefly shifting toward the horizon before returning to you as if measuring your reaction more than the view, โcourtship is spoken of in far less poetic terms than I imagine your tutors have taught you here. It is not a matter of flowers, nor music, nor the pleasant illusion that two people might be gently guided toward affection by sufficient candlelight and well-timed conversation. It is instead spoken of as a kind of assessment, wherein one is placed in proximity to another and observed for signs of either compatibility or ruin, and from what I have gathered since arriving in your kingdom, Solis does not seem so different in its practices, only in the way it addresses it.โ
You listened without interrupting, though your posture had already begun to harden in response, not because of insult alone, but because there was something irritatingly precise in the way he spokeโas though he had taken the time to learn your world and was now describing it without permission.
He continued, voice conversational in its restraint.
โI was told before arriving that your customs would require me to learn your preferences, and I admit I expected something far simpler, ornamental even, but what I find instead is that nothing here is truly ornamental at all, not your words, not your court, and certainly not you.โ
That last part landed differently, though he did not emphasize it, and perhaps that was what made it worse.
You turned slightly toward him, the light catching the embroidery at your sleeve.
โIn Solis,โ you replied after a pause, your voice quieter now, though no less firm, โwe are taught that endurance is not a performance, but a form of loyalty. That one does not measure affection by ease, but by whether something remains standing when ease is gone. It is not meant to be comfortable.โย
โFor what it is worth,โ he said at last, more subdued than before, โI did not expect you to be what you are.โ
You glanced at him again, wary now, though not openly so.
โAnd what, precisely, did you expect me to be?โ
Percy seemed to consider this with far more seriousness than the question deserved, โAt first,โ he said, โI expected red hair.โ
You blinked once. โWhat?โ
He nodded once, entirely unashamed.
โYes, a hair that looked as though it might set curtains ablaze if left unattended. I was told your temper entered rooms before you did, and I thought it only courteous that your appearance should offer a similar warning.โ
You stared at him for a long moment.
The late afternoon sun spilled gold over the terrace stones, warming the marble beneath your slippers, and behind you the palace stood bright and watchful, undoubtedly full of nobles who would have paid obscene amounts of money to witness this exact conversation.
โAnd who,โ you asked at last, with dangerous calm, โtold you such stupidity?โ
โA diplomat from the western coast. Though in fairness, he also insisted I had gills and slept upright in seawater, so perhaps his judgment was not flawless.โ
โThat man was my uncle.โ
Percy let out a slow breath.
โThat explains a great deal.โ
You should not have found that amusing.
Instead, you folded your arms and resumed walking, forcing him to follow as the path curved past white roses and sun-warmed stone benches built for noblewomen to sit prettily and discuss each otherโs ruin.
โAnd besides the red hair?โ you said. โWhat else did your vast intelligence lead you to expect?โ
Percy fell easily back into step beside you, hands clasped behind his back with the infuriating ease of a man too comfortable while offending people.
โI expected someone softer, perhaps more inclined toward performance. Instead, I find someone who speaks like a knight denied wine.โ
You gave him a look.
โHow devastating for you.โ
โProfoundly. I was hoping for an actual bride. Instead I seem to have been promised a very well-dressed goblin.โ
You stopped walking again this time so abruptly he nearly took another step before catching himself.
The fountain beside the terrace murmured softly as you turned fully toward him.
โAnd what, precisely, makes you believe I would ever concern myself with being your bride?โ
Percy tilted his head slightly.
โYour father. My mother. Approximately six kingdoms and one old priest.โ
There it was againโthat calm, infuriating smile, as though he found your temper not alarming but entertaining.
It made you want to commit crimes.
โAnd you,โ you said sweetly, which was always a bad sign, โare far too pleased with yourself for a man who arrived in my kingdom looking like a little kid.โ
He placed one hand over his heart in mock injury.
โYouโre cruel, my lady.โ
โI believe the word is accurate.โ
โNo,โ he said, stepping closer with that easy confidence that made you want to throw things, โaccurate would be observing that for all your pride, you are still only a very elegant little tyrant with the disposition of a churl.โ
Silence fell as the fountain continued its cheerful betrayal.
You blinked once. โA churl... How dare you.โ
He seemed, for the first time, to realize perhaps he had wandered too far but it was too late now. He continued anyway, because his self-preservation was not a skill taught.
โYes, certainly, sharp-tongued, suspicious, and trying to look like royalty.โ
You stepped forward.
โAnd you,โ you said, with a voice low and terribly calm, โare a loggerhead in expensive boots.โ
Percy opened his mouth, likely to make it worse, and you did not allow it.
With one sharp movement, both hands planted firmly against his chest, you shoved him backward. There was a brief, glorious second in which surprise overtook princely dignity entirely.
Then Prince Perseus, heir to Atlantis, commander of fleets, terror of the eastern sea fell directly into the fountain.
Water erupted upward in a magnificent, deeply satisfying splash that also dampened a little of your poor clothes.
For one perfect moment, there was only silence.
Then Percy surfaced, soaked, hair falling into his face, staring at you with the expression of a man reconsidering every decision that had led him here.
Water ran from his sleeves, hiis boots and his now wounded pride.
You stood at the edge of the fountain like divine judgment.
โWell,โ you said, smoothing your skirts with composure, โat least now you may feel more at home. Do try not to call for dolphins. The palace staff is already overworked.โ
For onceโmiraculouslyโhe had nothing to say.
You inclined your head with all the grace expected of a future queen.
โSleep well, Your Highness. Do give my regards to the fish.โ
And with that, before he could recover either dignity or a reply, you turned and walked back toward the palace.
Your spine remained perfectly straight but your heart was beating far too fast.
Behind you, somewhere between outrage and shame, Percy shouted your name across the gardens.
Servants moved through the corridors with the discretion of people who absolutely knew everything that happened. Noblewomen spoke in soft voices behind jeweled fans. Somewhere, without question, your aunt had received three separate and wildly inaccurate versions of whatever unfortunate spectacle had occurred in the western gardens.
You had pushed the Prince of Atlantis into a fountain.
In your defense, he had deserved it entirely.
You sat before your mirror while Lyra adjusted the final fastening at the back of your gown, her silence was talking for her.
Finally she said, very carefully, โI hear His Highness required assistance returning from the lower terraces.โ
You met her gaze in the mirror. โI am sure the fish were delighted to have him back.โ
She pressed her lips together. โMy lady.โ
โHe called me a churl.โ
Lyra nodded solemnly, as though discussing matters of state. โA grave offense.โ
That, apparently, was the end of the sympathy, because moments later she stepped back, satisfied with your appearance, and said with the merciless calm of a woman, โTry not to drown him again before dessert. It would create paperwork.โ
โNo promises.โ
Tonightโs gown was softer than the first, though no less beautifulโivory silk threaded with pale gold and your hair pinned back with pearl combs, your jewelry lighter.
The problem with dignity, you had discovered, was that it was very difficult to maintain when one was still remembering the exact look on a princeโs face as he disappeared into a fountain.
You should not have been pleased, but you were.
By the time you entered the Great Hall, dinner had already begun.
The chandeliers burned warm above the long tables, scattering gold across polished silver and crystal goblets. Music drifted from the gallery overhead, soft for you to be ignored and the banners of Solis and Atlantis still hung together in stately disapproval, as though even fabric objected to the arrangement.
At the high table, your father was already seated, speaking quietly with the King and Queen of the other kingdom. And Percy was not there.
That was interesting, and a minor annoyance since your site was still next to his, if he wasn't there it would be very noticeable and you would be bombarded with questions.
But lucky you were, Percy entered as you took your seat.
Changed, thankfully, into dry clothes, though whoever had assisted him clearly deserved a raise for attempting to restore dignity to a man recently defeated by the decorative architecture that was the fountain.
His dark hair was still slightly damp, curling at the edges and he wore deep navy tonight, embroidered in silver at the collar and cuffs, the color making the bronze of his skin warm beneath candlelight.
His mother looked up at him once, only once.
Her eyes moved from his still-damp hair to the faint scrape at one cuff, then toward you.
At last she said, in the calmest voice imaginable, โDid you enjoy the gardens?โ
You looked very carefully at your plate and your father suddenly found his wine fascinating.
Percy, without breaking, replied, โImmensely.โ
That was all, the queen gave a small smile, nothing more.
He sat beside you, the chair making the smallest sound against marble. You did not look at him and he did not look at you.
The dinner resumed for approximately twelve seconds.
Then your auntโ a menace and a professional destroyer of peaceโleaned forward from halfway down the table and said, far too brightly, โIt is so lovely to see young people spending time together before the formal engagement. There is such a difference between duty and genuine affection, is there not?โ
You closed your eyes briefly as Percy took a very slow sip of his drink.
Queen Sally, bless her terrifying soul, replied, โIndeed. I find mutual understanding far more reliable than charm.โ
Your aunt sighed dreamily. โAnd did the two of you enjoy your walk?โ
Percy set down his glass, without turning his head to look at you, he said, โI found it refreshing.โ
You kept your own smile perfectly in place.
โHow wonderful. I thought you looked more relaxed afterward.โ
โI nearly drowned.โ
You ended up talking.ย โAnd yet, bravely, you survived.โย
โYour disappointment wounds me.โ
โBe patient. I am sure another opportunity will present itself.โ
Across the table, your aunt clasped her hands.
โThey are already teasing one another. How sweet!โ
Private Journal of Prince Percy Jackson.
To be kept far from my mother, the royal council, and any servant. Should this be discovered, I will deny its existence, and possibly fake my own death.ย
โ
There are many ways in which a prince imagines humiliation may arrive.
One thinks of battles lost, of treaties broken in full view of rival courts, of saying the wrong thing before kings who remember such errors for decades and repeat them at every feast thereafter. One does not, generally, imagine that dignity will be destroyed by being pushed bodily into a decorative fountain by the woman one is expected to marry.
And yet, here we are.
I feel it important to record the event with complete honesty, if only because history has a terrible habit of making fools appear noble, and if I am to suffer, I would prefer future generations understand precisely how undignified the suffering was.
The fountain was cold... Needlessly cold.
It was also shallow and deep, which I suspect was an architectural decision made by someone who hated princes and wished to leave opportunities available for women with good aim.
There were swans nearby.
I do not know why this detail feels important, only that it does. There is something especially offensive about public humiliation occurring beneath the judgment of birds.
I had called her a churl.
In fairness, she had earned it.
In further fairness, I had perhaps underestimated how quickly a Princess of Solis might choose violence when presented with minor provocation. She did not argue nor threaten. She simply looked at me with the expression of someone reaching a deeply personal conclusion and then removed me from dry land.
Well, I was looking into those beautiful eyes and forgot I just insulted her.
There was one brief momentโone single, sacred secondโwhere I understood exactly what was happening and had time only to regret my mouth and the long history of choices that had shaped it.
Then water and her.
She looked magnificent.
This is, perhaps, the root of the problem.
She stood there in all that royal composure, with sunlight on her dress, pearls catching the light, looking less like a princess and more like some old god of vengeance who had grown tired of patience and decided it was my time.
She told me not to call for dolphins.
And the worst partโthe truly humiliating, soul-damaging partโis that I nearly laughed.
Not immediately, of course. At first there was outrage and a wounded pride. There was the cold and dripping indignity of climbing out of a fountain while two palace guards looked at the horizon in an effort to preserve everyoneโs future.
But on the walk back, with my boots ruined and my dignity somewhere beneath a stone, I found myself trying not to smile like a complete idiot.
There is something alarmingly attractive about honesty when it arrives wearing pearls.
I dislike writing that and I dislike thinking about it even more.
The truth is that she is, for my disgrace, a little too much my type, which feels like a betrayal arranged by the gods for their own amusement.
I had hopedโsincerely and desperatelyโthat she would be easier to resent.I wanted that the marriage could become little more than duty and I could respect from a distance and never think about after dinner.
Instead, I have been presented with a woman who looks at me like she is deciding whether I would improve the landscape as a corpse.
And apparently, for reasons I would rather not examine too closely, that is doing something to me.
She is proud and clever. She has pretty eyes, a beautiful smile and a lovely laugh.
This is not ideal in a future wife.
It is, however, very much ideal in the sort of woman one writes terrible poetry about.
I am trying not to be that man but it is not going well.
Every person in this palace speaks of the wedding as though it has already happened.
They discuss fabrics, whoโs coming, the ceremonies, the joining of courts, the endless practical machinery of binding these kingdoms together, and all of it with that tone nobles use when speaking about your future as though you are not sitting directly in front of them holding a knife.
And then comes the matter of having heirs. I wonโt enter in detail for my own good tonight.ย
Thanks to my own terrible mind, I cannot hear it without thinking of her and is unacceptable.
I would like to return to simpler concerns, such as war because now I find myself in the middle of council meetings wondering absurd things, like whether she would teach our children to be crazy like her or whether they would simply inherit it naturally. Whether they would have her eyes when she is angry, or my talent for making situations worse.
This is madness.
I have known this woman for what feels like six minutes and one attempted murder.
I need to stop writing now, it's late and im writing strange things.
This journal is becoming evidence.
โ
Time, unfortunately, did what time always didโmake things more complicated.
It would have been far easier if Percy Jackson had remained insufferable in simple and obvious ways.
If he had been nothing more than a boy wrapped in expensive silk, with every conversation ended in some sort of offense and every shared glance in the mutual certainty that history had been correct and your kingdoms were better kept apart.
But Percy, infuriatingly, insisted on becoming a person that actually thought of you.
Weeks passed after the fountain incident, and with them came back the machinery of royal expectation. Walks through the gardens became routine rather than punishment, the shared dinners were unavoidable, but got ordinary. You sat beside one another during council meetings where old men argued over the borders as though none of them had created the problem.
You learned of his silence a lot, he grew quieter when he was truly angry.
He also had the infuriating habit of leaning back in his chair during council as though he were bored, only to speak once and somehow say the most sensible thing in the room.
He was kinder to servants than most princes bothered to be and he laughed rarely, but when he did it was sudden and unguarded, you kinda liked hearing it.
And worse was that he listened and not because the courtship required it.
When you spoke of Solis, of the southern provinces,even of the people your fatherโs council liked to reduce to numbers, Percy listened like he was trying to really understand you rather than simply waiting for his turn to be right.
You hated how much that mattered deep inside.
Well, he still annoyed you constantly.
He still smiled at the wrong moments and said things purely to test your patience or walked through your palace one poor decision away from being banned permanently.
The western library was one of the oldest rooms in the palace, built in stone that held the warmth of the day long after sunset. Tall windows opened toward the cliffs, beyond them the sea stretched and it smelled of old paper, candle wax, and the kind of silence only old places knew how to keep.
Percy was standing by one of the long tables near the windows, sleeves rolled to his forearms, reading through one of your fatherโs maritime records with an offended expression because of poor naval strategy.
You sat opposite him, pretending to read when you were actually watching him be irritated by other peopleโs incompetence.
It had become embarrassingly easy.
Weeks ago, you would have called him stupid for correcting your generalsโฆ
Now, you were beginning to suspect he was often right, but it was intolerable.
The room was quiet enough that the turning of a page sounded significant and outside, the sound of the sea seemed to be loud even when it was miles away.
Inside, Percy frowned at a map.
โThis,โ he said at last, tapping the parchment with the disapproval of a priest condemning sin, โis either the worst trade route I have ever seen or a very elaborate attempt of suicide.โ
You looked up from your book. โIt was designed by Lord Cassian.โ
Percy glanced at you. โWow, that explains everything.โ
โBe careful,โ you said. โIf my father hears you insulting his council again, he may decide peace was a mistake.โ
โYour father has watched me survive three formal dinners with your aunt. I believe he considers me battle-tested.โ
โThat is fair.โ
He smiled then, faintly, and the way your heart jumped unsettled you in ways you were not prepared to name.
When did it become so easy? The arguments are softer and the silences easier in a way.
You had learned how he thought about some cultural things from your land or how when he was truly tired, he rubbed at the scar near his jaw without noticing or how his sarcasm came off when he was uncomfortable.
You had not meant to notice these things, really! You had certainly not meant to care.
And yet you do care and you do notice.
The candles burned lower, the sky outside was darkening as you two relied on the presence of the other.
Then came footstepsโ fast and uneven. They werenโt the soft, practiced silent ones from the servants moving through the halls as though they were part of the walls themselves, nor the steady, unhurried tread of guards who carried all that armor. These steps were hurried, careless with panic, striking against the marble with force enough to pull both of you from the fragile stillness of the library.
A messenger appeared in the doorway, breathless and pale, his face drained so completely of color that for a moment you thought he saw a ghost. It was remarkable, the way fear could enter a room before a single word came.
Both of you stood at once.
That was another thing about being raised in courtsโyou learned young that there were expressions more powerful than announcements, that sometimes a single look could deliver catastrophe long before anyone dared say it aloud.
Something had happened and it was bad.
The messenger bowed quickly, the movement clumsy with urgency.
โMy ladyโฆ Your Highness.โ His voice was strained, and already your stomach had begun to turn.
โThere has been word from the eastern coast.โ
The silence got worse over the library, heavy and awaiting, even the crackling candles seemed to quiet. Percy straightened beside the table, every trace of ease disappearing from his posture, and you felt your own hands tremble a bit where they rested against the polished wood.
The eastern coast, close to the disputed waters.
The messenger swallowed hard, and in that small movement you could see how much he wished not to be the one delivering this.
โOne of the Solis patrol ships near the border was attacked at dawn. It was intercepted near the reefs beyond Thalor Point.โ
Your pulse slowed but not with calm, but with the kind of dread so deep it made everything inside you go frighteningly still.
โBy whom?โ you asked, though the answer was already gathering like a storm behind your ribs.
The messenger hesitated.
โSurvivors report Atlantian sails.โ
The sentence landed like steel driven through bone.
For a moment, no one moved. The room itself seemed suspended around those four wordsโthe library, the candles flickering low, the endless sea beyond the windows, all of it held in place by that single sentence.
Atlantian sails.
Four words, and suddenly you were not standing in the palace library but sitting as a child in the history rooms, listening to your tutors show wars across faded maps with ink-stained fingers, marking coastlines where your people had drowned, where fathers and brothers and sons had vanished into the sea and never returned.
Atlantian sails.
Stories of burned ships with skeletons on black water and southern tides running red from the blood of your people.
Atlantis.
Beside you, Percy had gone very still.
He was no longer the man with you in the gardens, sunlight in his hair and teasing he pretended not to mean. Now he was simply that prince from Atlantis.
And suddenly, you hated how much that mattered to you.
The messenger continued, his voice low, careful, as though speaking too loudly might shatter what little peace remained.
โThree confirmed dead. Several wounded. The ship barely made it to port. The council has already been summoned.โ
Every fragile month of peaceโevery dinner, every forced alliance, every diplomatic smileโis already beginning to splinter beneath the weight of that old suspicion.
You turned to Percy just to look at him.
At the navy silk draped over his shoulders and that impossible green of his eyes and suddenly it felt absurdโhow easily you had let yourself forget what his name meant.
His gaze met yours, and there it was the same terrible understanding.
You still were enemies, maybe with better manners and almost let you forget you were enemies at all.
Your voice was colder than you intended, but perhaps honesty did that to you.
โWere they under your banners?โ
Percyโs jaw tightened, and for the first time since you had met him, he looked like someone standing on the edge of a war he could not stop. โI do not know.โ
You swallowed against the bitterness rising in your throat. โBut they were yours.โ
Something changed in his face thenโnot anger but for sure hurt.
You could feel the slow rebuilding of walls you had foolishly believed were coming down, stone by stone.
โThey may have acted without orders,โ he said, his voice controlled. โThere are captains in disputed waters who still don't know about the new peace we are trying to create.โ
You let out a short, humorless breath. โHow convenient.โ
His eyes narrowed. โCareful.โ
You stepped forward, your fury demanded movement and standing there with his gaze trying to read you was too much.
โNo,โ you said, your voice cutting through the room with more force than you intended. โMy people are dead.โ
His answer came low and stripped of every softness you had come to know in him.
โAnd mine have died in those same waters for generations. By the Gods, do not speak to me like I donโt know.โ
You folded your arms, it was the only way to stop your hands from shaking. You held his gaze and forced the question out.
โThen tell me honestly, Princeโif your council decides this was justified, if Atlantis claims those waters again, if this peace fractures the way everyone always said it wouldโฆ where exactly do you stand?โ
He did not answer immediately and to be honest, since you had met him, this was the first time you were afraid of what he would say.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet enough that it felt like a blade pressed carefully between your ribs. โWhere I have always stood. With my people.โ
Of course he did. What else had you expected?
All your conversations in the gardens could outweigh centuries of blood? That one prince could become something other than the sea he came from?
You nodded once. โAs do I.โ
You turned toward the door, if you looked at him one moment longer, you might say something unforgivable or ,even worse, you would cry.
To say that you walked to your quarters is something, because if anyone was to ask a servant about your wing, they would say that they heard muffled screams.
Your pillow is wonderful for screaming and letting out all your feelings.
The council chamber had been built for war a long, looong time ago so it's normal it sat beneath the oldest wing of the palace, part of the room was carved into the stone of the mountain, the walls were thick to keep secrets and you never saw windows open there, it was probably one of the darkest places in the whole kingdom.ย
By the time you arrived, nearly everyone was already there.
Your father stood at the head of the great oak table, one hand braced against its edge. Beside him, your generals were gathered. Lords from the eastern provinces spoke in low, urgent voices.
Across from them stood the royal family of Atlantis.
King Poseidon looked exactly as powerful men did when forced to defend things they had not broken but would be expected to answer for all the same. The queen sat beside him, composed and still.
And Percy stood near his father, shoulders straight and the expression guarded.
You took your place beside your father.
The captain of the attacked patrol ship stood near the center of the room, arm bound in fresh linen and he looked exhausted.
Your father nodded once. โSpeak.โ
The captain swallowed.
โAt dawn we were running patrol near the eastern reefs, close to Thalor Point. Visibility was poor, there was a lot of fog over the water, heavy enough to swallow the distance to the port. We spotted sails before we heard them.โ
His voice roughened.
โAtlantian sails, they closed fast and were armed. There wasn't a signal offered bir request for passage.โ
Your hands curled against the table.
One of your generals slammed a hand against the wood.
โPirates do not fly royal banners.โ
โNo,โ another lord said darkly, โbut princes do.โ
Across the table, King Poseidonโs expression hardened.
One of the eastern lords stepped forward, the grief making him brave and foolish in equal measure.
โFor generations Atlantis has called those waters disputed only when it wished to steal them. How many treaties must we sign before your captains learn they do not own every place they can reach?โ
Poseidonโs reply came like stone.
โAnd how many times must Solis build fortresses along shared waters before you stop calling expansion defense?โ
The argument erupted with that, the voices rose, accusations started to fly over your head, some maps were unrolled and the borders stabbed at.
You had grown up watching councils like this from doorways, hidden behind the pillars while adults argued over the shape of your future.
Through all of it, Percy remained silent with his hands clasped behind his back, gaze fixed on the maps and his jaw tight betraying what the rest of him refused to show.
When he finally spoke, it cut cleanly through the noise.
โIf my father had ordered an attack,โ he said, voice steady, โyou would not be debating whether it happened.โ
Every eye turned to look at the boy as he continued.
โThis was not sanctioned by Atlantis. If we intended war, you would not be receiving apologies. You would be receiving fleets.โ
One general sneered. โDon't be conceited, kid.โ
โIโm honest,โ Percy said. โThatโs something both our kingdoms claim to value when convenient.โ
Your father watched him carefully. โAnd what do you propose, Prince?โ
Percy stepped toward the table.
โFind the captain responsible before this becomes an excuse for every man in the room to indulge a war already wanted.โ
One of your lords laughed sharply. โAnd we are simply to trust Atlantis to investigate itself?โ
โNo,โ Percy replied. โYou are to trust that I would not stand here defending cowards. If an Atlantian captain attacked under our banners without command, then he has endangered not only your men but my kingdom. I will not protect him.โ
Your father studied him for a long moment and then looked at you not as king but as your father.
He wanted your judgment because everyone in this room had seen the walks, the dinners and the fragile attempt at peace between heirs. Your opinion mattered.
You looked at Percy and you realized with sudden, miserable clarity that both things were true.
He was the enemy and he was not.
Your voice, when it came, was measured. โIf this was unsanctioned, then the guilty should answer for it.โ
The dark-haired young man gave a small smile while you were speaking.
โIf Solis answers blood with blind blood, then we are not defending peace. We are merely admitting we never wanted it.โ
One of the generals muttered, darkly with the suspicion of a man who had buried many friends. โAnd if Atlantis lies?โ
Your father said nothing, King Poseidonโs expression didn't give away his thoughts and several lords shifted, preparing for another round of arguments.ย
But to your surprise Percy stepped forward.
The prince of Atlantis stood beneath the torchlight, shoulders straight, gaze steady, looking not at the general asking but at you.
When he spoke, his voice carried cleanly through the chamber. โIf Atlantis lies, then let the blame fall first upon me.โ
Percy did not look away.
โI stand with my people,โ he said, now it was only the truth stripped bare to hurt. โI always will. I am the son of Atlantis before I am anything else. Its blood is mine, its burdens are mine, and if war comes, I will stand before it, not behind.โ
Your breath had been expelled from your lungs, this mattered because that was his answer.
Yet he continued.
โBut do not mistake loyalty for blindness.โ
His eyes remained on yours.
โIf one of ours has done thisโif an Atlantian captain sailed beneath our banners and spilled Solis blood for vengeance, or for the comfort of hatredโthen I will not defend him. I will drag his name into the light myself.โ
Percyโs voice lowered but no less steady for it. โI did not come here to inherit another century of graves.โ
You opened your mouth to give an answer but he didn't let you talk.
โAnd I did not come here to ask for peace only to betray the woman I intend to have beside me.โ
The words struck harder than the shouting of men in the room and across the table, your aunt nearly stopped breathing from joy.
Percy, apparently, had chosen violence against your heart.
Indeed your heart was betraying you in ways you intended to punish later.
โWhen I say I stand with my people, Princess, understand that I do not separate you from that future.โ
Your throat felt dangerously tight.
โThis marriage was meant to quiet kingdoms. Fine. Let it begin there. Let duty open the door if it must. But I will not stand in this chamber and speak of alliances as though you are merely another clause written into a treaty.โย
It's not like the room has disappeared, your father was still there, everyone was still there and somehow at the same time none of it existed.
It was only him and his softening voice.
โIf you become my wife, you will not be an obligation I endure for peace. You will be my queen. Mine to honor before courts and councils, mine to protect when kingdoms are against us, mine to stand besideโnot behind, you'll never be behind.โ
You felt like you were going to faint when your brain reacted: he was in front of you and, and painfully slowly, knelt on one knee to take your hands, which were trembling like leaves.
โAnd if I must choose between disappointing old men who worship war and disappointing the woman I would ask to rule beside me, then let the gods hear me plainly nowโโ
His gaze held yours like a vow was being made.
โโI would sooner let kingdoms burn than fail her.โ
Terrible, magnificent silence.
And youโ you stood there with your trembling hands and jumping heart, trying very hard to remember how breathing worked.
Because Percy Jackson, prince of Atlantis, had just declared such love words in the middle of a war council.
Like an idiot! A beautiful, infuriating idiot.
Your father cleared his throat once, but his mouth showed a small smile and King Poseidon looked at the ceiling, perhaps asking the gods for quieter sons.
โYour Highness,โ you said, โthat was either the most persuasive political argument I have ever heardโฆor the most elaborate public courtship attempt in history.โ
At lastโfinallyโPercy smiled.
โCan it not be both?โ
By the time the council chamber had finally emptied, the palace had fallen into a peculiar silence only the deepest hours of night could create, when even the walls seemed exhausted by the weight of the day and every corridor felt longer than it had in daylight.
You were walking quickly to your chambers with your cheeks getting deep in color.
It wasnโt like you were fleeing, you refused even in your own mind to call it that!ย
If you slowed and allowed yourself even a single moment of stillnessโyou would have to think, and thinking, after what had happened in that council chamber, would have your head spining.
Your pulse had not yet remembered to behave like normal.
Your father had said nothing as you left, which was infinitely worse than if he had chosen to give you both a talk.
Your aunt, on the other hand, had looked radiant with a kind of joy usually reserved for coronations and public scandals, and you had no doubt whatsoever that by morning she would have transformed Percyโs words into some elaborate thing involving grandchildren.
You intended never to forgive either of them.
Percy had stood in the middle of a war council, before your father and his own, before generals and men and all the hatred your kingdoms had spent centuries perfecting, and had looked at you as though vows were so simple.
As though loving you was not about the war.
You hated him for that but hated yourself more for the terrible, humiliating truth that part of you had wanted him to say it again.
Behind you, footsteps were approaching.
You already knew the sound of his damned boots, the irritating calm of a man who had just dismantled your entire peace of mind and still believed he had the right to continue speaking.
โPrincess.โ
You kept walking. โNo.โ
There was a brief silence behind you, followed by the unmistakable sound of him quickening his pace, and then his voice again, closer now.
โUnfortunately, that is not specific enough to be useful.โ
You reached the turn of the corridor with every intention of continuing, of disappearing into your chambers and locking the door firmly and condemning every poor decision your life had made as suddenly his hand closed around your wrist.
The movement stopped you so abruptly your breath caught and your pulse betraying you in one violent, humiliating motion.
โLet go.โ
Percy stood close enough now that the corridor seemed smaller for it and his voice, โNo.โ
The sheer audacity of him!
You stared at him with all the fury you could still afford.
โIn case the council chamber was not sufficient humiliation for one evening, have you now decided that physically restraining foreign princesses is the next great strategy in mind?โ
โI decided,โ he said, โthat if I let you walk away now, you would spend the entire night being furious and I would spend the entire night with no rest, so I find both possibilities intolerable.โ
Your fingers curled tightly at your side. โYou should have considered that before declaring yourself like some mad knight in front of everyone.โ
โAnd yet,โ he said, stepping half a pace closer, โstrangely enough, I do not regret it.โ
โThat makes one of us.โ
His gaze searched yours, he had the prettiest gems as ocular globesโฆ and those puppy eyesโฆ
โNo,โ he said softly. โIt doesnโt.โ
You tried to pull your hand free as he did not tighten his grip, but neither did he release you.
โLook at me.โ ย ย โI am looking at you.โ
โNo,โ he said, โyou are trying very hard not to.โ
โHow dare you.โ
Percyโs thumb shifted slightly against your wrist, a small movement, barely anything, and somehow it felt more intimate than if he had kissed you then and there. Why did your brain think of kissing him so bad?
โI am beginning to think,โ he was giving a small laugh away, โthat is how most of our important conversations begin.โ
โIn the council chamber, in front of both our kingdoms, you spoke as thoughโโ
His expression changed then, the prince receding and the man remaining.
โAs though what?โ
You lifted your chin. โAs though I mattered to you beyond treaties and borders and that noble performance you were attempting to offer your audience.โ
For a moment, he just looked at you as he released your wrist.
โDid you truly think I would say those things for politics?โ
Your throat felt tight with the answer and your voice lowered despite yourself as if you were scared someone heard.
โDid you mean it?โ
Percy held your gaze with no wit left between you to hide behind.
โYes.โ
Your heart betrayed you immediately.
You hated it and hated him for making the truth sound reachable.
So like a fool, you made it worse. โWhich part?โ
His brow moved faintly.
โThe peace? The alliance? The declaration dramatic enough to shorten my fatherโs life by several years?โ
You stepped closer despite yourself, because if you were to be ruined, you would at least be honest in it.
โNo,โ you said, quieter now. โNot that. Meโฆ Did- Did you mean me?โ
โYou are the only part of this Iโm certain about, my lady.โ
He lifted his hand again, slower this time, but it didnโt go to your hand or wrist, oh no, his fingers touched your jaw.
โI would stand with my people,โ he said. โI would fight for them, bleed for them, carry every duty they place upon my name. But none of that changes what I know when I look at you.โ
His thumb brushed lightly against your skin, and gods, if you really kissed him would it be so bad?
โI did not expect you and I certainly did not want this. It would have been simpler if I disliked you. Simpler if you were merely beautiful, or merely cruel, or merely someone I could survive beside without ever truly seeing.โ
His fingers caressed your cheek. โBut you are none of those things.โ
Your voice was barely yours. โAnd what am I, then?โ
His gaze dropped to your mouth like he no longer intended to fight.
โYou are the woman I would choose even if peace didnโt demand it. You are the person I find myself thinking of when I should be thinking of fleets and the thousand practical things princes are meant to care about.โ
Your mouth gave a smile as your hands went to his chest, โYou are insufferable.โ
โAnd yet,โ he said, his forehead nearly brushing yours now, โyou are still holding.โ
That was enough. You kissed him first.
It was a kiss with weeks of restraint collapsing under its own weight, anger and relief and want and the unbearable certainty that somewhere between hating him and understanding him, you had become hopelessly and disastrously attached.
His hand moved to your waist, yours caught at his collar.
Someoneโperhaps both of youโmade several decisions neither kingdom would approve of and history would likely judge harshly.
It was absolutely inappropriate for a palace corridor three floors from your fatherโs chambers but it was perfect.
And when you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested lightly against yours, and for a moment neither of you spoke, because some things, once they happened, made language feel smaller than it had before.
If it weren't for the fact that your entire body and mind were so focused on the prince in front of you, you would have sworn it was a lie when Percy exhaled softly โI love youโ.
Private Journal of Prince Percy Jackson.
To be kept far AWAYYY from my mother, the queen.ย
โ
This was meant, when first I began it, to be a record of my path to discipline and thought, of the observations expected of a prince who intends one day to rule without error, and yet tonight I find that it has become something far less dignified, for I am writing not of things involving this nor even of the fragile peace that holds our kingdoms apart, but of her.ย
We kissed.ย
I attempt to write it with composure, to frame it as an event of little consequence, an impulsive misstep best forgotten by morning, but the truth refuses this, and so I am left with the plain, humiliating admission that we kissed in a corridor and now has become a place I will not be able to pass again without remembering it in full.ย
She smiled, and I find that I cannot write that simply and move on, for it was not the smile she offers in court nor the sharper one she uses as a weapon.
It feltโย No, I will not write that.
I told her that I would choose her, that even if peace had not demanded this union, even if our kingdoms had never thought to bind us together in the hope of ending centuries of bloodshed, I would still choose her, and I said it without calculation, without weighing consequence, as though the truth of it required no consideration at all.
This is not how I have been taught to speak and is not how I have been taught to think.
And yet it is how I spoke, and worse, it is how I meant it.
At one point, in what I must classify as a complete collapse of discipline, I found myself writingโ
my wife, my wife, my wife
I find the word returning with an ease that suggests this is not a passing thought but a developing problem.ย
my future wife
No, that is worse, for it implies expectation rather than an actual thing happening, and I refuse to grant my own thoughts that level of confidence.
the woman I am to marry
This is correct but insufficient because sheโs going to be my queen.
I may have developed the need to have her by my side forever.
โ
How did you end up in this situation? I mean, yes, it was your wedding night and the marriage was supposed to be consummated, you got prepared for that, but you were hoping to have a few drinks, talk to your dear parents and family, and... Seriously, all because of a tradition?ย
One moment there was the ceremony still clinging to the air like heavy perfumeโ with the oaths spoken and the weight of a thousand watching eyes pressing downโand the next, everything broke into motion, into sound, into laughter and applause.
Men and women of the court, soldiers and even the attendants who only moments before had been standing like statues, now moving with a jubilanty as though this had always been the point of the entire affair.
Someone spoke your name in celebration and suddenly the ground left you.
The sudden loss of ground startled something unguarded in you, your hand instinctively catching at the nearest solid thingโwhich, to your immediate and profound irritation, was Percy.
He, too, had been taken by surprise, though he hid it better, his posture adjusting as several men hoisted him upward with far less ceremony than you had been granted, the contrast not lost on anyone present.
Some women tried to take the various fabrics and pearls you were wearing, but they were only able to take out shoes and accessories in your hair.
A roar of approval rose through the hall.
โComfortable?โ he asked, his voice carrying to reach you over the noise.
You held his gaze, refusing to let the situation unbalance you further than it already had.
โIf I fall,โ you said, your tone even despite the circumstances, โI shall ensure you are blamed for it.โ
There were petals on the wayโscattered, thrown, caught in your hair and on your dress, their scent sweet.
The doors ahead grew fewer, more private.
And then, at last, you reached it; your shared chambers.
The doors were thrown open with force, the room beyond lit in warm gold, prepared in a way that left very little to the imagination of anyone who had arranged it.
You were carried inside first and set down with far more care than you expected, your feet meeting the soft bed.
A moment later, Percy was lowered beside you.
The noise lingered at the threshold as the last of the laughter and well-wishes spilling inward before the doors began to close, as though savoring the final moments of public presence before sealing you both as newly weds.
Your eyes really didn't know if they could meet those of your now husband; the room felt warmer than the fireplace should been able to bring.
Percy pushed himself up, his breaths heavy from the rough handling, and for you saw his body. The suit, a tailored thing of midnight wool with silver accents, had already been loosened during the toasts, all the buttons undone at the chest, exposing the tanned planes of his torso.
He moved first, sliding off the bed to kneel at its edge and moving you with him.
Your now husband caresses the fabrics; the wedding dress is heavy on velvets, rich wools, golden embroidery, and pearls. The truth is, it's not very easy to remove.
The bed was high, so you basically could see him, and damn, why was he on his knees fiddling with your silky clothes?ย
His fingers tugged at the layers of the dress, bunching the velvet skirts up your thighs. The fabric was so pretty on you but he wasn't sad about taking it off if he could connect with your body and you.ย
His fingers, callused from sword hilts and rigging sails, tugged at the laces of your gown, but the thing was a fortress of fabric, heavy with wools and pearls that resisted his impatience.
โFuck this,โ he muttered, voice low and rough, like gravel under boots.ย
He wasn't gentle about it, yanking at the bodice until the golden threads strained and exposed the swell of your breasts to the cool air. You gasped, but he didn't stop, his hands roaming lower, bunching the skirts up to your hips.ย
God, he didn't have enough patience right now to take all your clothes off properly so the poor wedding dress stayed half-on.ย
His mouth was on you before you could catch the breath, hot and insistent, trailing kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You felt the scrape of his stubble, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your dressed core, making your pussy clench in anticipation.ย
Percy Jackson, the man you hated so much, was now parting your legs with those strong hands, his eyes dark with want.ย
He hooked one arm under your knee, spreading you wider, and then his fingers were thereโthe rough fingerpads brushing against your underwear and finally swollen folds.ย
You were a soppy mess, slick from the tension of the day and the way he'd been staring at you during the vows, like he was undressing you with his gaze alone.ย
โYou're soaked,โ he growled, a hint of approval lacing his tone as he slid one finger along your slit, teasing the entrance before pushing in slowly.ย
The stretch was immediate, his touch firm but not rushed, circling your clit with the thumb while that finger curled inside you.ย
Oh gods, his mouth was so close now, lips brushing your thigh as he licked a stripe up the soft skin, tasting the salt of your anticipation. Your hips bucked involuntarily, chasing the heat, and he chuckled against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine.ย
Then finally, you felt the first lick of his tongueโflat and broad, dragging over your pussy with such slowness. His tastebuds rasped against your sensitive flesh, the slightest inch of his tongue squeezing in alongside his finger, probing deeper.ย
It was messy, the sounds of his breath filling the room as he lapped at you, sucking gently on your clit before delving back down.
To say that you were euphoric at this moment would be an understatement because you had possibly just opened the gates of heaven.
But stillโฆ still you felt nervous, with a million thoughts going on when his mouth connected your most intimate zone and so the words blurted out theirself.
โWait.. I'm not,โ a small moan comes out. โIโve never done this before..โ
His mouth, pink and wet with your juices, lets out a small sigh, โIโve never participated in these activities either.โ
His cheek rests against your thigh, looking up before muttering against your folds. โI learn as I wend.โ
And unfortunately, the only thing you can do in response is with your hips, moving them slightly against him as a new wave of slick follows.
Percy wonโt make you wait.
In no time his tongue has lapped all those juices and entered your cunt alongside his finger, trying to get more and more of the sweet flavor you are giving him, maybe heโs just getting addicted.
Again and again, you find yourself dragging out desperate pushes of your hips against his mouthโ riding your sensitive cunt down his straight nose and making it push on the button of your swollen clit.ย
You mewled, the pressure building fast, maybe too fast and he responded with a tiny slap to the cute nub! Even a glob of his spit mixed with your slick, and he rubbed it nice and good with your cunt, fingers circling and thumb pressing sloooow until you feel your walls fluttering around another invading fingerโ stretching you wider, his pads pressing against your squishy g-spotย making stars burst behind your eyelids.ย
โBe honest with me,โ Percy murmured against your skin, his voice muffled and lips slick with you. โLike your pussy isโฆTell me when you're close.โ
Gods, why couldn't you just say it? The words stuck in your throat as he worked you relentlessly, dragging out your orgasm so lengthily, his tongue tickling your constantly throbbing clit while his fingers pumped in a rhythm that had you arching off the bed.ย
โHow are you so good at this?โ you gasped finally, voice breaking as the edge rushed up. โIs this your first time? Are you kidding me?โ
He pulled back and gave a grin, chin glistening and eyes wicked. โFirst time, princess. But I've dreamed about eating your cunt plenty.โ No joke in his tone, just raw truth that made your core tighten.ย
โYou do kiss- ah.. you do kiss your mother with that mouthโฆโ
โAs of now I'm kissing something sweeter.โ
He dove back in, sucking harder, and you shattered, waves crashing through you as your pussy clenched around his fingers with slick gushing out. Percy didn't let up, milking every pulse until you were trembling, oversensitive and boneless.
You laughed breathlessly, pulling him up for a kiss that tasted of you.ย
But the heat didn't fade; it built.ย
Percy stood, shedding the rest of his loosened suit with quick, impatient jerks. Finally, you saw itโhis cock pulsing, fat with red veins snaking along the length. A sensitive slit at the tip, already beading, and heavy balls hanging low.ย
He wasnโt just needy, he was ravenous, the angriest reddened tip flushed like it had a grudge.
He manhandled you onto the bed properly, moving you onto your back with hands that gripped your hips hard.ย
It was both of your first times, and lord, he was just using his tip to fuck youโrubbing the head along your slit, teasing the entrance without pushing in.ย
He was big, there was no way that would enter your poor pussy.
The stretch was immediate when he tried to push into your orifice, a burn that made you whine, but it mixed with the ache he'd already stirred.
You didn't know who was more pussy-drunk or cock-drunkโyou, with the way your walls fluttered greedily, or him, groaning like a man possessed as he nudged in. Just a few more inches out of the numerous ones eased inside your cunt with the most lecherous sounds as if your clingy walls were trying to suck him up and weren't able.ย
You were addicted to the way his girth was molding your channel to him, stretching wide, the burn blending into pleasure that had you clawing at his shoulders.
You guys started fighting a bit thenโplayful, your hands pushing at his chest as he tried to sink deeper, him pinning your wrists with one hand while the other guided his cock.ย
โStop squirming,โ he laughed breathlessly, but you twisted, half-protesting the overwhelming fullness, half-pulling him closer.ย
โIt's not- Oh fuckkk- It's not going to fit-!โ
Percy looked down, seeing that there was still some way to go, his cock was screaming in agony, needing to feel you squeeze him to oblivion, and that's how his hands released your wrists.
But it wasn't until you felt his hands on your legs that you understood what he was doing, lifting them up to his shoulders and beeeending you until your legs were giving him the perfect space.
โIt has to fit, fit, fit, fit...โ His hips moved like a piston, trying to fill you up until the sound of a resounding wap! echoed.
He finally made it fit, bottoming out with a shared groan that left you both dumb at the feeling, brains short-circuiting from the tight, hot clasp and his balls slapping your skin.
Percy started pumping then with no intention of giving a small break, the thick, vein-puffed length of his cock from tip to base to thwack! and plap! your cervix wetly.ย
The man was breathing heavily as his hips continued to make the luxurious bed creak over and over again, letting out small grunts that matched your joyful moans.
Your vision blurred when a hand wandered down to give tiny slap slap slaps to your reddened clit, body arching as pleasure bordered on too much, slick coating his shaft and dripping down your thighs.
Percy watched you, transfixed, his own control fraying in a matter of secondsโwhen he saw the tears streak your cheeks, the way your mouth fell open in silent pleasured cries, he couldn't hold it.ย
โShitโyou'reโโ He really couldn't hold it, hips stuttering as he filled you, hot spurts of cum flooding deep. Your cunt leaked out in both slick nโ his seed, the mess dripping onto the sheets.
The poor guy was trying to pull that high out of you, trying to wrench it as he gave you a puppy look, he just needed you to cum again. And you did, crashing over the edge with a big cry you muffled by biting his shoulder, teeth sinking into the muscle as your walls spasmed around him, milking him dry.ย
Percy was fucking you sloppily, the rhythm erratic as his cock dragged through the mess he'd made. His fingers reached down, joining to plug you up.ย
Aah, lucky you both were married because for sure he bred you, and in this moment, you were drooling into the cushions, dumb on it, your body limp and buzzing.ย
He laughed, dizzy and breathless over your look, collapsing half on top of you, his weight a grounding heat.ย
โLook at you,โ he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple, affectionate even in the haze as you rolled onto your stomach, expecting him to rest next to you, catch his breath but oh no no noโhe was playing with his cum between your legs, fingers scooping the leaking seed and rubbing it back in, making you whimper.ย
Your man pushed up your hips, ass in the air, and you felt the blunt press of his cock against your stuffed cunt again. โCan't just stop at one,โ he said, voice teasing as he eased in, the stretch easier now with the slick mess.ย
You moaned into the cushions, face buried, as he started thrusting shallowly.ย
He even joked, breathing hot against your ear, โShip's arriving at the portโhope it's ready for round two.โ
You managed a weak โDon't mess around,โ but it dissolved into a gasp as he fucked deeper, his cock pushing out globs of his own cum, mixing it with your fresh slick.ย
Your pussy was red from the smack of his hips against your ass, swollen and tender, and his pubic zone was also messy with your fluids, dark curls matted, and you heard the wap! plap! plap! sounds echoingโwet, obscene, driving you both wild.
Percy was so loving even when teasing you, one hand stroking your back while the other gripped your hip, pulling you back onto him.ย
โYou feel incredible,โ he groaned, pace quickening, the lewd squelches growing louder as he chased his release. Your body responded despite the ache, walls clenching around him, drawing him in deeper as he came inside once more, hard and sudden, flooding you until it was just an overspilling mess, thick ropes leaking down your thighs in rivulets.
The citadel's bells tolled midnight outside, but in the chambers, the real merging had just begun. Percy pulled out slowly and you both collapsed in a tangle of limbs and rumpled sheets.ย
His arm draped over you, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. โThink we can skip the morning feast?โ he asked, voice muffled against your shoulder.
You chuckled, turning to face him and a hand coming up without thinking, brushing a loose strand of his hair back from his forehead.
โThe court would consider that a declaration of war.โ
Percy shifted slightly closer, as though the space between you had become completely unnecessary. There was none of the earlier tension left in him now, none of the heat or provocationโjust a look of love in his eyes.
โThen we are already off to an excellent start as a married couple,โ he said.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
The bells outside faded into silence, the palace beyond your chambers distant and irrelevant, as though the world had politely stepped away to allow this peace to exist without interruption.
You studied him in that quietโthe way the torchlight softened the features of him, the way he looked at you now without challenge or the distance between kingdoms that had defined everything between you.
Your fingers drifted from his hair to his cheek, resting there lightly.
โThey will expect us,โ you said after a moment.
โThey can expect whatever they like,โ Percy replied, his gaze soft on yours. โWeโve already done everything they required of us.โ
Your hand slipped from his face, but he caught it before it could fall away entirely, threading his fingers through yours.ย
You exhaled softly, letting your forehead rest briefly against his.
โJust this once,โ you said quietly, โwe stay.โ
โA generous decree,โ Percy murmured, his voice low with sleep and softer, it did not sound like the prince who argued in the council chambers or provoked you in gardens. โI should thank my wife for such mercy.โย
โDo not grow accustomed to it,โ you replied with a small laugh. โI grant it only because you have ensured that walking tomorrow would beโฆ unnecessarily difficult.โย
โI see,โ he said slowly, as though considering this with more seriousness than it deserved, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him. โThen I must accept this kindness with proper gratitude, my queen.โ
You narrowed your eyes at him.
โCareful,โ you warned, though it lacked the bite it once would have carried. โYou will make a habit of saying things you cannot take back.โ
โI do not intend to take them back.โ His thumb moved faintly against your hand, absent and thoughtful.ย โWe could go for a walk in the morning to see your favorite flowers.โ
โSleep,โ you said. โIf you insist on embarrassing us both in the morning, you will at least require the rest.โ
A faint breath of laughter escaped him at that as his arm tightened around you.
๐ญ: Guys this is not proofreaded LIKE 70% sooo hopefully you won't find many weird typos or stuff TT Still I'm reallly happy because I don't tend to write such long oneshots, yippieeee!!
โก. ๐๐ฒ๐ง๐จ๐ฉ๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ฌ : Percy resents you, a daughter of Zeus who has been able to live a normal life without having to see the horrors of wars and prophecies. Still, you remain oblivious to his one-sided rivalry and the advance of his crush on you.
Percy couldnโt stop thinking that it was unfair in a personal way, the kind of unfairness that didnโt explode but instead settled into his ribs and stayed there, heavy and persistent, because you walked through Camp Half-Blood like someone who never had to learn to survive.
You didnโt look powerful in the way Percy knew from children of the Big Three; you looked like someone who had gone to school, who had complained about homework, who had worried about college applications instead of prophecies, and he found himself irrationally angry at the way you asked questions about cabins and chores and dinner schedules, normal questions.
Maybe he hated himself for noticing how normal it all sounded coming from you.
It wasnโt that you were arrogant about being Zeusโs daughter, because you werenโt, and that made it worse!
You just accepted the truth the way someone accepted a late train or a sudden change in weather, with mild surprise and adjustment rather than anger or fear.
Percy watched you while Chiron explained the gods, the wars, the prophecies, and he expectedโ wantedโ you to look shaken, but you only nodded slowly, like you were absorbing information instead of grieving a stolen childhood.
And about that; the boy couldnโt stop thinking about how his own childhood had never been normal, how it had been carved into pieces by monsters and choices he never got to make.
Maybe he was angry about how you had been allowed to grow up without any of that, protected by the same God who had let Percy nearly drown in responsibility before he could even fucking drive.
He told himself that was why he was irritated when you trained with the other cabins and struggled in ways that made sense for someone new at combat, because every missed strike and hesitant dodge was proof that you didnโt belong here with the rest, that you hadnโt earned this place the way the rest had.
He told himself that was why he snapped when you accidentally crossed his path on the way to the arena.
He was always angry around you.
Percy found you in the armory when he was very deliberately trying not to, standing by one of the weapon racks with a sword that was clearly heavy for you, your brow furrowed in concentration rather than frustration, this was a problem you fully intended to solve.
โYouโre holding it wrong,โ he said, sharper than necessary, because everything about the situation rubbed him the wrong way, from the way you were allowed to be here at all to the way you looked mildly inconvenienced.
You turned at the sound of his voice, surprise flickering across your face, instead of bristling or snapping back the way he half-expected, you just adjusted your grip slightly and asked, โLike this, or am I still about to lose a foot if I swing it?โ
Percy clenched his teeth, because you werenโt defensive or offended, and that somehow made it harder to justify the irritation buzzing under his skin as he stepped closer.
โNo, your stance is wrong too, and if youโre going to train with a blade that heavy youโre going to wreck your shoulder before you manage to hurt anyone else.โ
โOh,โ you said thoughtfully, shifting your feet without any visible embarrassment, โthat explains why it feels like Iโm wrestling it instead of using it. Everyone keeps telling me itโll come naturally and it really, really isnโt.โ
That did something unpleasant to his chest, you sounded genuinely confused, and the boy hated that his brain immediately supplied the image of himself at twelve, small and terrified and being told the exact opposite, that nothing would ever be natural for him again.
โWell,โ he said stiffly, โitโs not supposed to be easy, especially not for someone whoโs only been here five minutes.โ
You nodded, thinking that was fair, as if he hadnโt meant it as a dig. โThatโs okay, I wasnโt expecting it to be easy, I just donโt want to be dead weight while everyone else actually knows what theyโre doing.โ
โYou donโt really get it,โ he muttered, not looking at you, if he did he might see something in your expression that would make this harder. โThis place isnโt a summer camp, no matter how much Chiron pretends it is, and people donโt just survive here by trying.โ
You blinked at him, clearly trying to understand where this was coming from, before replying evenly, โI know itโs not a game, Percy, and Iโm not treating it like one, but trying is kind of my only option right now unless youโd prefer I sit in the cabin and stay out of everyoneโs sight.โ
He hated that you used his name without hesitation, hated that it didnโt sound reverent or fearful or impressed, just matter-of-fact, like he was another person instead of the hero everyone whispered about.
He hated, hated, hated you.
โThatโs not what I meant,โ he snapped, then immediately wished he hadnโt because your expression shifted, not hurt but alert. โI justโ people who come here late donโt usually understand what theyโre stepping into.โ
You considered that for a moment, then shrugged lightly.
โMaybe not in the same way you do, but Iโm not completely clueless, and I didnโt exactly get a handbook for being hidden from monsters my entire life either.โ
That caught him off guard, you were so honest, and Percy found himself staring at you before he could stop himself.
โLook, if you donโt want to help me train, thatโs fine, I wonโt hold it against you, but Iโd rather you be blunt than angry at me for something I donโt even know.โ
Silence stretched between you, uncomfortable and charged, and he realized with a sick sort of clarity that you genuinely didnโt understand why he was upset, that his jealousy and resentment were invisible to you because you had no idea you were standing in the middle of it.
โIโm not angry,โ he said automatically, that was easier than unpacking the truth.
You hummed softly, unconvinced but not pushing, and replied, โOkay, but you do sound like someone who hasnโt slept enough, so Iโm just going to assume itโs not about me.โ
Percy saw you set the sword back on the rack and turn to smile at him in a way that was polite but not appeasing.
โIf you change your mind and want to explain the stance thing again without looking like youโre imagining pushing me into the lake, Iโll be around.โ
You walked away before he could respond, leaving the boy standing there with his hands curled into fists and a sinking realization settling into his chest that you werenโt his rival at all, and that whatever was growing between irritation was entirely one-sided and entirely his problem.
Still, he would never, ever, end up training with you.
In the end you did end up training together...
Percy was irritated when Chiron paired you together, the decision in that calm, authoritative tone that made it clear there would be no arguing and no switching partners.
โYouโll learn faster if you work with someone experienced,โ Chiron said mildly, as if Percy wasnโt standing there with his jaw locked and his arms crossed like a little kid.
โIโm okay with it, if you are.โ You glanced at the boy.
He didnโt look at you when he replied a little โSureโ.
Training started badly and got horrible.
Percy corrected you constantly, his voice impatient as he circled you on the arena sand, tapping your ankle with his wooden sword when your footing slipped and striking your guard harder than necessary when your block was late.
โTry to keep up,โ Percy muttered as he advanced, his first strike hard, wood cracking sharply against wood as he tested your guard.
You barely blocked it, the impact jarring enough that you stumbled back a step, surprise flashing across your face before you reset your stance.
โOkay, that was a little faster than I was expecting, but I can adjust if you give me half a second.โ
Percy didnโt give you half a second.
He pressed forward again, his movements aggressive, each strike landing a little too close and a little too hard, the frustration heโd been swallowing for days bleeding into every swing.
You blocked what you could, dodged what you couldnโt, but the difference in experience showed, and he was ignoring the way your breathing hitched or how your footwork grew uneven.
โYouโre dropping your guard,โ he snapped as his blade clipped your side, the dull thud enough to make you wince.
โI know,โ you said through clenched teeth, trying to reposition, โyou donโt have to hit me that hard.โ
โThatโs how you learn,โ Percy shot back, already moving again.
Stopping meant thinking and thinking meant acknowledging that he was taking this too far.
The next hit knocked the air out of you completely, wooden sword slamming into your ribs hard enough that you staggered back, one knee hitting the ground as a involuntary gasp tore out of your chest.
โPercy,โ you say, voice strained, โthat actually hurt.โ
โSo would a real weapon,โ he fires back immediately, not even pausing. โYou donโt get special treatment just becauseโโ
'' Because what? '' you wonder distantly, because you didnโt grow up afraid, because you didnโt bleed early, because you werenโt forged the same way he was?
Your chest tightens with frustration and something else unfamiliar building too fast for you to untangle, and when he lunges again you react without thinking, instinct overriding intention as you throw a hand up defensively and shout, โStop!โ
The hairs on your arms stand on end, as the sound hits, a violent crack that comes out of your hand and sends a bolt of white-blue lightning.
The force throws him back, his sword flying from his hand as he hits the ground hard, skidding across the dirt before going still, smoke curling faintly from the scorched earth where the bolt struck.
The arena goes dead silent.
Percy ended up in the infirmary, laying on the bed with a throbbing shoulder, a bruised ego, and a few singed strands of hair sticking up like heโd been electrocutedโ which, technically, he had.
He groaned softly when the door opened and there you were, small and frantic in the doorway, holding something behind your back.
โOh my gods, Percy, I am sosososososo sorry, I didnโt mean to do that, I swear I didnโt, I donโt know how I did it and Iโoh gods, youโre hurt, I canโt believe Iโโ you babbled, practically bouncing on your toes as you held out a ridiculous little basket of fruit that looked borrowed from the Apollo cabin.
Percy raised one skeptical eyebrow, his voice flat with disbelief. โA basket of fruitโฆโ
โYes!!โ you said, thrusting it forward like it was somehow going to make everything better.
โApollo cabin told me nectar would help but I didnโt want to do that, andโ well I got you fruit! Please, Percy, Iโm so sorry, I really didnโt know I could do that, Iโโ
The boy stared at the basket like it was some alien artifact, his frustration and throbbing muscles battling with the strange warmth in his chest at the sight of your frantic sincerity.
โYou zapped me into the infirmary, and your apology is a basket of fruit?โ
โYes!โ you said again, flinging your hands up like punctuation, and then added, softer, โI wanted to do something to fix it, because I feel awful, Percy, and I really didnโt meanโโ
Percy groaned again, burying his face in his hands for a moment before muttering, โOf courseโฆ of course itโs a basket of fruit.โ
You leaned forward, still panicked, and whispered, โ Iโm really sorry, Iโll do anything to make it up to you, Percy. Anything.โ
He peeked through his fingers, caught the earnest tilt of your head and the slight tremor in your hands, and felt a dangerous little part of his grumpiness soften, just enough to think that maybe, against all logic, he could get past being zapped if you kept being thisโฆ obliviously sincere.
Maybe he didn't hate you that much, just maybe.
Percy expected to avoid you for a while after the whole electrocuting him incident, because that was his strategy when emotions got tangled and uncomfortable, but Chiron had other plans when he assigned the two of you to night watch at the edge of the woods.
You arrived wrapped in a borrowed jacket that was too big for you, arms crossed for warmth, and when you noticed Percy already there you hesitated.
โHi,โ you said softly, settling onto the log a few feet away from him, careful not to crowd his space.
He didnโt answer right away, staring out at the dark tree line and feeling the familiar irritation try to surface, only to fizzle out before it could catch, dulled by the memory of you in the infirmary with that stupid basket of fruit and your eyes wide with guilt.
โYou donโt have to sit that far away,โ he said eventually.
โOh,โ you muttered, shifting a little closer but still leaving space, and then added apologetically, โI figured you might still be mad, and I didnโt want to make it worse.โ
That tightened something in his chest in a way he didnโt like.
โI wasnโt mad,โ he replied fast, then sighed and corrected himself, โOkay, I was, but not about the electrocuting me thing. That part was kind of my fault.โ
โYou were pushing me pretty hard, but I also did get you into the infirmary, so I think weโre even.โ
Despite himself, Percy let out a quiet huff of a laugh before shaking his head. โThatโs not what I mean. I was mad before that, way before that, and I didnโt really have a good reason.โ
You blinked, genuinely surprised.
But you didnโt rush to fill the silence, you waited, eyes focused on the firelight flickering.
โI thought it was unfair,โ he admitted, the words scraping on the way out. โThat you got to grow up normal, that you didnโt have to deal with any of this until now, and that you still get to be here anyway, like the gods just decided to give you the pass.โ
You were quiet for a long moment before answering.
โI get why it looks like that, but it didnโt really feel like a pass from the inside.โ
He frowned and turned to look at you as you continued, still staring ahead instead of at him.
โI always knew something was off,โ you keep going. โThere were rules that didnโt make sense, places I was never allowed to go, people I was told not to get close to without ever being told why, and I spent a lot of time thinking I was different in a bad way, weird.โ
A breeze cut through the clearing, colder than before, and Percy noticed the way you shivered even as you kept talking.
โWhen Zeus finally told me the truth, it wasnโt relief like everyone expects. It was grief, because suddenly every strange thing in my life had a reason, and I realized Iโd been living a version of myself that wasn't real.โ
Without making a big deal out of it, Percy reached up and tugged his sweater over his head, the familiar worn fabric still warm from him, and held it out toward you like it was nothing, as if he wasnโt crossing some invisible line.
โHere,โ he muttered. โYouโre cold.โ
You paused mid-sentence, blinking at the sweater like it had personally offended you before carefully taking it and pulling it on, the sleeves swallowing your hands.
It was so warm and smelled like him.
โOhโ thanks but you really didnโt have to.โ
โYeah, well,โ he shrugged, turning back toward the woods as if the conversation hadnโt shifted into something more vulnerable, โitโs not a big deal.โ
He didn't hate you that much to let you die of a cold.
What was his head even thinking about?
โI shouldnโt have taken it out on you,โ he said after a moment. โYou didnโt choose any of it, and hating you for surviving differently than I did doesnโt make my past any easier.โ
You finally looked at him, your expression gentle rather than relieved.
โPercy, I never thought you hated me. I just thought you were hurting.โ
That hit harder than lightning, because it meant youโd never seen him as an enemy, just as someone carrying too much weight and handling it badly.
Percy snorted under his breath, the tension easing just enough to let something soft settle in his chest, and as you tugged the sweater tighter around yourself like it already belonged to you, he realized that whatever he was starting to feel wasnโt rivalry anymore.
Percy told himself that things were normal after that night, that how you didnโt flinch when he corrected your stance during training was just the natural result of not actively hating on you anymore, and not something he needed to overthink.
He told himself this while noticing that you still wore his sweater sometimes when the evenings turned cold, even though youโd returned it once with a thank-you that was casual enough to make him shove it back at you and mutter something stupid.
โYou know you donโt have to keep giving this back,โ he said one afternoon by the lake, arms crossed as you held the sweater folded neatly in your hands. โItโs not like Iโm running out of clothes.โ
โI know,โ you replied, smiling at him, โI just donโt want to steal it.โ
โYouโre not stealing it,โ he said, a little too quickly. โItโs justโฆ clothing.โ
Although it was one of his favorite sweaters.
You nodded, accepting the answer without teasing him, and draped it over your shoulders, settling beside him on the dock.
The thing Percy didnโt expect was how quiet the jealousy became, turning into something else when he heard other campers talk about you in that offhand way. They didnโt resent you for being Zeusโs daughter, but somehow that made him more protective than angry, especially when someone joked too lightly about how โluckyโ you were.
The realization crept in one night while the camp slept, when Percy found himself awake and thinking about how you listened when he talked, how you never treated his past like a big and incredible legend but something that had weight and consequences, how you didnโt expect him to be kind but appreciated it deeply when he was.
How you gave him that stupid basket with fruits.
He realized it when he pictured you leaving camp one day, stronger and more confident, no longer needing advice or protection or his badly disguised concern, and the thought left his chest hollow in a way that had nothing to do with jealousy and everything to do with loss.
โOh,โ he muttered to himself, staring up at the ceiling of his cabin. โOh, thatโs bad.โ
This was a crush.. A real one.
The kind that made his stomach flip when you laughed, the kind that made him irritated when other people made you smile in ways he hadnโt, the kind that made him notice stupid things like the way you tucked your hair back when you were thinking.
The worst part was how obvious it was in hindsight.
Of course heโd been angry at first!
The anger was easier than envy, and envy was easier than admitting that you were pretty and funny and... Okay, you get it.
Of course heโd been watching you, memorizing your reactions, cataloging your moods like they were important, because apparently his brain had decided you were important.
But you didn't noticed.
You still treated him the same way you always had, still talked to him like he was a familiar one and not currently spiraling because heโd realized he liked you in a way that absolutely did not fit into the whole thing you guys had going on since you met.
โYouโre thinking,โ you say one evening by the fire, nudging his knee lightly with yours before turning your attention back to the flames.
โIโm not,โ he said quickly, suspicious of himself.
You hummed, unconvinced, and leaned back on your hands, completely unaware that youโd just confirmed his worst fear.
Percy stared into the fire, heart doing something unhelpful and traitorous, and accepted the truth with a grim sort of resignation.
How could this happen to him of all people? The luckiest daughter of Zeus in the world who he hated at first had him flushing and you didn't even notice.
He had a crush on you and that was going to be a problem.
๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ง๐จ๐ฉ๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ฌ : A daughter of Aphrodite has the weight of expectations on her and knows that loving another girl is not what she should want, but oh, Clarisse La Rue is there.
๐๐ฐ : angst w comfort )) internalized homophobia // comphet girl // fingering // oral! fem // scissoring
You learned that love was supposed to be easy for you the moment Aphrodite claimed you at a bonfire.
Love is something that happens to you, not something you reach for with small shaking hands or a racing heart. Itโs the way people look at you when you enter a room, the way conversations with rude people softens, the way boys trip over their words and call you beautiful like itโs a revelation rather than a fact.
Love is supposed to arrive 'pre-packaged', already approved and expectedโ boys with hopeful smiles and offerings at your feet, crushes that bloom and fade when you decide they should.
โYouโre a daughter of Aphrodite,โ your siblings say, smiling like theyโve solved you. โOf course they fall for you.โ
And you nod, because that is the answer you needed, right? They must know what they're talking about.
You do your hair until it lies perfectly, obedient and shining. You laugh when youโre supposed to laugh, tilt your head when youโre supposed to be charmed by someone. You let boys hold your hand and tell yourself the warmth you feel is attraction, not relief that youโre doing this right.
Youโve learned how to want the correct things. To want men you don't even think are that interesting.
You tell yourself that the flutter in your chest when someone compliments you is desire, not validation. That the way you pick your favoritesโ safe boys, kind boysโ is proof enough. That everyone feels a little detached sometimes.
You are perfect.
And perfect girls do not feel their pulse stutter when Clarisse La Rue walks into their vision.
Clarisse doesnโt fit into any of the scripts youโve memorized, that's horrible.
Sheโs loud and unapologetic, rough and real in a way that makes you feel painfully over-edited by comparison. Her armor is dented, her knuckles bruised, her presence overwhelming without trying to be.
She doesnโt flirt with you.
Which somehow makes everything 10 times worse !!
You tell yourself the pull you feel toward her is admiration. Envy, maybe. A desire to be more like her.
Girls can admire girls. Girls can want to be other girls.
Girls can't be with other girls. That's not normal.
So when Clarisse sits beside you at the campfire instead of across from you, when she tosses you a water bottle without warning and grins when you catch it, when she says โ you're tougher than you lookโ like itโs a compliment instead of a joke, you catalog every reaction.
Heart racing? Thatโs adrenaline.
Warmth spreading through your chest? Thatโs pride.
The way you think about her long after sheโs gone?Curiosity.
You are very good at explanations.
Like the boys you date are checking boxes.
You go on walks, hold hands waiting for something to spark and tell yourself it will, eventually, if you just give it time. After all, everyone says attraction grows.
When you kiss them, itโs fine. Pleasant on a good day. You think about how you look while doing it, whether youโre doing it well. You feel accomplished afterward, like youโve passed a test.
When they pull away, flushed and flustered, you feel relieved... well, actually, you donโt examine it too closely.
But even when you try to keep going with what you usually do it feels useless.
The problem with secrets is that they donโt stay quiet.
They curl inside your chest, grow heavier, until every accidental brush of La Rueโs arm feels like a risk and every laugh shared across the dining pavilion feels like youโre swallowing yourself back down.
Your heart jumps when she leans close to whisper strategy during capture the flag, her breath warm against your ear, her voice low and serious in a way that makes your knees feel weak.
You tell yourself itโs you didn't sleep well that night.
When Clarisse steps between you and a wild swing during sparring, blocking it without hesitation, you tell yourself itโs instinct since she's a daughter of Ares.
When she smiles at you across the campfire, crooked and easy and not trying to impress anyone, you tell yourself youโre imagining the way her gaze lingers.
You tell yourself a lot of things, don't you?
As if love isn't something you know or how the people act when in love !
The night it all unravels, Clarisse ends up at your cabin almost by accident.
Emphasis on almost.
Thereโs been a campfire, laughter lingering in the air, cups passed around more freely than usual. Youโve laughed too hard, let yourself relax just enough to feel dizzy and giddy in a way you donโt usually allow.
Clarisse walks you back, hands shoved into her cargo pockets, quieter than usual.
โYou okay?โ she asks, stopping outside the glowing pink light of the Aphrodite cabin.
โFine,โ you reply automatically.
She arches a brow. โYou always say that.โ
Something about her toneโ not accusing, just observantโ makes your chest ache.
โDo you want to come in?โ you ask before fear can stop you.
Clarisse hesitates. โYou sure?โ
You nod.
Inside, everything is soft and warm and enchanted, silk curtains catching the light from outside, mirrors reflecting a version of you thatโs always pretty. Clarisse looks painfully out of place, armor set aside like it might offend this space just by existing.
You sit on your bed. Too close?? Not close enough??
You talk about nothing. Training. Camp gossip. How Clarisse hates poetry and you pretend you donโt love it. Time blurs, hours slipping past unnoticed.
At some point, Clarisse reaches out, tentative, uncertain, and begins braiding your hair with clumsy fingers.
You let her as your heart pounds, loud and uncooperative.
You wish it cooperated.
She takes a sip from her cup, throat working as she swallows, and you find yourself watching the motion before you force your gaze away, biting your lip without realizing it, a nervous habit youโve perfected over years of pretending youโre calm.
Clarisse tells a jokeโ something dumb, something so stupidโ and you laugh harder than it deserves, like youโre trying to outrun the feeling blooming in your chest.
She doesnโt laugh with you right away, instead she looks at you.
Not in the way boys usually do, not like sheโs waiting for a reaction or approval. She watches you like sheโs noticing the way your smile lingers, the way your hands twist together in your lap, the way your breath hasnโt quite settled back into place.
Sheโs memorizing something she doesnโt want to forget.
The air feels thick, suddenly, heavy with things you donโt have language for. Your knee brushes hersโ barelyโ and it sends a shock through you that feels nothing like the polite sparks youโve trained yourself to expect.
Yeah, this is too close now.
You should pull away and laugh it off.
But Clarisseโs eyes flick to your mouth, just for a second, and before you can think better of it you lean in, heart racing, breath shallow, and everything youโve been carefully holding back finally tips forward.
She stillsโ just long enough to give you an outโ and when you donโt pull back, she closes the distance instead, steady and sure, her hand coming up to your waist like it's encouraging you.
Itโs a kiss that feels nothing like the ones youโve practiced.
Thereโs no performance in it, no awareness of angles or appearances, no mental checklist running in the background. Itโs warm and grounding and devastatingly gentle, Clarisseโs thumb pressing lightly at your side as if to say Iโve got you.
And then the panic hits.
It's not because the kiss is wrongโ but because itโs so right.
All the rules youโve lived by come crashing down at once. The future youโve rehearsedโ boysโ shatters on impact. The image of yourself youโve protected fractures irreversibly.
You pull back abruptly, breath shaking, heart pounding like youโve done something reckless and unforgivable.
Clarisse lets you go immediately. You can see her hands drop. She doesnโt chase the kiss and doesnโt try to hold you there. She watches you, eyes searching, confused but still open.
โIโโ Your voice catches. You shake your head like you can shake the truth loose. โIโm notโโ
Clarisse gets closer despite herself, quiet and urgent. โHey. Itโs okay. We can slow down. We donโt have toโโ
โIโm not a lesbian,โ you blurt, the words tumbling out sharp and rehearsed, a line youโve said in your head a thousand times. As if it was a spell youโre hoping will put everything back where it belongs.
The silence that follows is brutal.
Clarisseโs hurt is immediate, sharp, unmistakableโ not loud, just there in the way her expression closes in on itself.
โOh,โ she says. Then, firmer, even colder. โRight.โ
She steps back, giving you space you didnโt actually want, reaches for her armor with hands that are suddenly very careful not to touch you again.
And she leaves.
The silence Clarisse leaves behind is unbearableโ because for the first time, you know with sickening clarity that what you said wasnโt relief but fear.
After that day you, you try to go back.
Back to boys and flirting.
But everything feels hollow now, like youโve seen behind the curtain and canโt unsee it. Compliments ring false the kisses feel rehearsed. You catch yourself watching Clarisse from across the pavilion, stomach twisting when she laughs with someone else.
You were never confused.
You were trained to interpret safety as attraction, approval as desire and the expectation of loving a boy as destiny.
You werenโt straightโ you were just obedient.
At night you can't stop tossing and turning in bed, thinking and rethinking about the kiss with Clarisse. Hugging your stuffed animal while staring at the ceiling of the cabin and then turning to the side over and over again.
It's horrible, you never had to wear much make up to cover dark circles under the eyes.
After weeks of this, you make a decision.
You find Clarisse on the training field at dusk, striking a practice dummy with frustrated precision as if trying to destroy it.
She stops when she senses you, jaw tightening. โWhat do you want?โ
You swallow hard. Your heart feels too big for your chest.
โI was scared,โ you say.
She laughs once, bitter. โYeah. I figured.โ
โNot of you,โ you rush to say. โOf what choosing you would mean. Of disappointing everyone, you know... not being who Iโm supposed to be.โ
Clarisse turns to face you, eyes sharp.
โAnd what am I supposed to be?โ she asks. โYour mistake?โ
The word cuts deep but you know it's deserved since you hurt her.
โNo,โ you say, stepping closer despite the fear curling in your stomach. โYouโre the only thing thatโs ever felt real to me.โ
Something flickers across her faceโ hope, disbelief, pain all tangled together.
โIโve been taught my whole life that love is something I owe people,โ you continue, your voice trembling. โThat it has to look a certain way and that Iโm only worthy if it's that way.โ
You reach for her wrist, grounding yourself in the warmth of her skin. "But when Iโm with you," you whisper, "I donโt feel perfect. I feel so weird... My heart aches and I canโt be without you anymore."
Clarisse studies your face, searching for doubt.
"You donโt get to half-choose me," she says at last. "I wonโt be your secret."
"I know," you say, tears spilling freely. โI donโt want you to be.โ
She exhales, long and shaky, then closes the distance in two strides, pulling you into a fierce, steady embrace that makes your knees go weak.
"Good," she murmurs into your hair. "Because Iโm terrible at pretending I donโt care."
You laugh softly through your tears and when she kisses you this time, itโs certain. Out in the open, for anyone to see.
โI really thought I messed it up,โ you admit, shaking your head.
You shove her shoulder, laughing harder, and she stumbles exaggeratedly like sheโs been wounded, clutching her chest.
"Wow," she says. "Cruel. Aphrodite would be ashamed."
You roll your eyes. "Sheโd say you deserved it."
Clarisse grins at you, wide and unguarded, and before you can overthink it, youโre kissing her againโ quick, breathless, smiling into it. She laughs against your mouth, the sound vibrating between you, hands coming up to steady you when you lose your balance on uneven ground.
You start walking without really deciding to, fingers interlaced, bumping shoulders, stealing soft kisses between words and laughter. Clarisse nearly trips on the path and drags you down with her, both of you laughing too hard to care.
You are happy.
The Aphrodite cabin glows ahead of you, warm and welcoming. Clarisse hesitates at the door enough to look at you, expression softer than youโve ever seen it.
"You sure?" she asks.
"Yeah," you say, smiling. "I am."
You kiss her once moreโslow this time, certainโ and then reach behind you to open the door and the light spills out around you as you step inside together.
Your siblings were outโ luckily enough at some activity or flirting their ways outโand the space was yours. You kick the door shut behind her, your laugh rough and real as she backed you against the wall, her body pressing flush against yours.
"I'm not gonna lie, I've wanted this," she murmurs, her breath hot against your neck. Her hands were everywhereโ tugging at your shirt, sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through your bra.
You gasped, arching into her touch, your own hands yanking her shirt over her head. Her skin was flushed, muscles shifting under your palms as you explored, tracing the faint scars from battles. No one had ever felt like thisโ solid.
"Clarisse," you whisper, pulling her back for another kiss, tongues tangling in a messy rhythm that leaves you both breathless.
She breaks away only to strip you both further, shirts and pants hitting the floor in a haphazard pile. Her eyes raking over you, dark and intent, as she unhooked your bra and let it fall.
"Gods, you're beautiful," she says, voice low, her fingers tracing the curve of your hip, dipping lower to hook into your underwear. You did the same to her, heart hammering as you peeled the fabric away, revealing the strong lines of her body, the dark bush of hair between her thighs making your cheeks flush.
You tumbled onto one of the plush bedsโ yours, with it's silk sheets, scattered pillows and plushiesโ laughing again as you bounced, her weight settling over you. Skin on skin, her breasts pressing against yours, nipples hard points that sent sparks through you with every shift.
She kissed you deeply, shared breaths mingling, her hand cupping your face.
"I love you," she says against your lips, the words simple, unadorned, but they hit you hard.
"I love you too," you reply, the confession freeing something inside you.
You'd never said it to anyone like this, not with the weight of truth behind it.
Her mouth trails down your jaw, your neck, sucking lightly at your collarbone, leaving faint marks that you'd hide tomorrow if you had to.
Clarisse's hands are skilled, calloused fingers teasing your nipples into tighter peaks, pinching enough to make you whimper. She's grinning against your skin, that sharp sarcasm flickering in her eyes.
"You like that, huh? All that time pretending with those boys... But they never touched you like this." Her voice was teasing, but there was an edge of curiosity, of care.
You shake your head, threading your fingers through her hair.
"Never. It was always... wrong." The expectations had kept you with menโ awkward hookups, fumbling hands that never ignited you. But this, with Clarisse, felt right, you knew it for how you were getting wet.
She hums in approval, kissing lower, her tongue flicking over one nipple while her hand kneaded the other breast. Heat pooled between your legs, your pussy aching as she worked her way down, nipping at your ribs, your stomach.
You spread your legs instinctively when she settled between them, her breath ghosting over your inner thighs.
"How does it feel?" she asks, looking up at you with those intense eyes. "Finally being with a girl. With me."
Your breath hitches a little. "Like I can breathe."
She smiles at your words, a rare softness breaking through her tough exterior, and then her mouth is on you.
Clarisse ate you out like she foughtโ with focus and without holding back. Her tongue parted your folds, lapping at your clit in firm, deliberate strokes that made your hips buck.
You moaned, loud and unfiltered, the sound echoing off the cabin walls as she gripped your thighs, holding you open, fingers digging in just enough to bruiseโ marks you'd cherish later, hidding under your clothes.
Her tongue delved deeper, circling your entrance before sucking your clit between her lips, the pressure building fast and relentless.
"Fuck, Clarisse," you gasped, your hands fisting the sheets.
She hummed against you, the vibration shooting straight to your core, and slid a finger inside you, curling it against that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
She fucked you with it steadily, her mouth never stopping, tongue flicking and sucking in a rhythm that had you writhing. Wet sounds filled the roomโ your arousal coating her fingers, her chinโ as she devoured you, obsessed, as if she'd been starving for this.
You came hard and unexpected, thighs clamping around her head, a cry tearing from your throat.
But she didn't stop right away, easing you through it with gentler licks, her fingers slowing until you were trembling and spent. When she finally pulled back, her lips glistened, and she crawled up to kiss you.
"I love you," she whispered again, forehead pressing to yours, breaths shared in the quiet aftermath.
But you weren't done. The ache in you shifted, turning outward.
"I want to make you feel good too," you said, a little bit shy.
You'd never done this beforeโ not with a woman at leastโbut the want was fierce. You knew about straps but you didn't have anything like that; you'd never even considered it, boxed in by what you thought you should be.
But now? Improvisation was your best friend.
Clarisse raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh yeah? Show me what you've got, pretty girl."
You flipped her onto her back, straddling her thigh for leverage, your bodies aligning. She was wet already, her pussy slick against your skin as you positioned yourself, legs intertwining.
Scissoringโ you'd heard about it in parties late at night, but doing it was instinctual.
You rocked against her, clits brushing with each grind, the friction building heat where you connected. Her hands found your ass, pulling you closer, guiding the motion as you found a rhythmโ slow at first, not really sure about yourself but when you heard her moan softly you got faster, rolling the hips in sync.
"You're good, lover girl," she groaned, her rough laugh dissolving into moans.
Your breasts bounced with each thrust, nipples grazing hers, and you leaned down to capture her mouth, kissing her messily as your pussies slid together, slick and hot.
The pressure built again, different this timeโ shared and more intimate. You could feel her clit swelling against yours, her arousal mixing with yours, the wet slap of skin echoing louder each time.
She came first, her body tensing under you, a guttural "Shit, I love you" spilling from her lips as she shuddered, thighs quaking.
It tipped you over too, orgasm ripping through you both in tandem, breaths mingling in gasps and whispers of affection as you collapsed together, sweaty and tangled, her arms wrapping around you like she was finally claiming what was hers.
Youโre both breathing hard, bodies warm and heavy, the world narrowed down to the quiet space between you.
Clarisseโs forehead rests against yours, her breath uneven, she laughs disbelieving like she still canโt quite wrap her head around the fact that this is real. She presses a slow, lazy kiss to your mouth, unhurried, she's practically savoring it.
You kiss her back as gently, smiling into it, stealing another brief kiss when she lingers close.
"Wow," she mutters, voice rough, a little dazed. She exhales, glancing vaguely around the cabin as if remembering where you are all at once. โWe should probably get dressed before someone gets back.โ
Thereโs no urgency in it just practicality layered over contentment.
You hum softly, brushing your thumb along her jaw, leaning in to kiss her againโ slow, lingering, the kind that leaves both of you smiling and a little breathless all over again.
"I thought of that," you murmur.
Clarisse raises an eyebrow, amused. "Of course you did."
"I put a hairband outside," you add, completely serious. "No oneโll get in. We can rest for a while."
She blinks and then she laughs, quiet butfond, shaking her head as she pulls you closer.
"Gods," she says softly. "You really are an expert."
You smile against her shoulder, exhaustion finally settling into something sweet after fighting against yourself.
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