Meme

Percy was not expecting to fall in love before lunch.

(He’d barely even brushed his hair. Like— at all.)

It started simple enough. Morning swim, a few laps with the sea turtles. Shelly, Bob 2.0, and the absolute menace that was Bubbles. They were gossiping, as usual (and yes, sea turtles gossip. it’s a thing).

He’d just been about to head back to shore, dripping saltwater and sunshine, when he saw her.

You.

Riding a wave like you’d been born from it. board slicing through the water, hair glinting gold in the light, those tiny rhinestone straps of your Y2K bikini glittering like seashells. Anklet. Sun-kissed grin. The whole early-2000s teen-movie scene happening in real life.

Percy blinked.

Then blinked again.

Then immediately sank under the surface because oh gods was she so pretty. ♡

Bubbles floated up beside him, unamused.

“You okay, dude? You’re turning as red as a crab.”

“I’m— I’m fine!” Percy hissed. Which was, objectively, a lie.

Bob 2.0 squinted.

“You should totally ask her out.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not? You talk to scary sea monsters all the time!”

“She’s scarier.”

(He didn’t mean that, but… kind of true?? you had confidence.)

They all started snickering, Bubbles smacking against your board, making you wobble above, and Percy decided this was, officially, mutiny. So, naturally, he tried to swim away. Which— okay, maybe that was mistake number one.

Because when he surfaced again, you were right there ! catching another wave, turning the board with a flick of your body, laughing when the spray hit your face. And he just… stared. For a long time. Too long.

She must be new, he thought. He knew all the camps kids by now — you looked an Apollo kid, basking in the sunlight, though most of apollos kids were different than you. Flower-crowns and mossy sandals. But you? You looked like sunshine and saltwater. Like nature’s chaos in the best possible way.

And then, because the universe has a sense of humor, you spotted him.

You spotted him staring in the corner of your eye.

Cue panic.

He tried to raise a hand, say something cool like “hey” or “nice form” but what came out was somewhere between a dolphin noise and an awkward wave.

You gasped, startled  balance gone  and splash.

Straight into the water.

“Oh my gods—!” Percy shot forward instantly, guilt crawling up his spine. He hadn’t meant to scare you. He just… existed too close, apparently.

When you popped up, sputtering, hair plastered to your cheeks, you looked like a furious sea nymph. “Were you spying on me?” you accused, pushing wet strands from your face.

“No! No, no, definitely not spying— uh— swimming! I was swimming! With, uh, friends.” (gestures vaguely to the turtles, who promptly abandoned him watching his embarrassment. traitors.)

You blinked at him. Then looked at the turtles. Then back at him.

“They have names, don’t they?”

“…Maybe.”

You laughed ( and oh gods, that sound. Percy thought it could rival any siren song. ♡)

He helped you steady the surfboard, and you grinned, all teeth and sunshine. “You’re the Poseidon guy, right?”

He groaned. “Do people actually call me that?”

“Only when you randomly appear from the sea and scare innocent girls off their boards.”

“Right. Fair.”

You kicked lightly at the water, still smiling. “I’m from Cabin Four, Demeter’s.”

Percy blinked. “Demeter? Seriously? You’re— you’re like, surfing! I thought you guys only grew, like, wheat.”

(He wondered what you were doing in his ocean. Demeter usually claimed the meadows.)

“Maybe,” you teased, “but wheat loves sunlight, and so do I. Nature’s not just plants, you know. The ocean’s alive too.”

Something about the way you said that ,so sure, so gentle, made his chest ache. Maybe that’s why the waves curled soft around you, like they agreed.

He smiled, shy and dazed. “Guess we’ve got something in common, then.”

You tilted your head. “What’s that?”

“We both love the sea.”

The turtles surfaced again, whispering (loudly) to one another.

“He’s so down bad.”

“He so is.”

Percy flushed crimson. You didn’t seem to hear, just brushed water off your arms and said, “Maybe you can teach me how to talk to them sometime.”

“Only if you promise not to fall off your board again.”

You grinned, already paddling out. “No promises, kelpie .” 

And just like that, she was gone , chasing another wave, sunlight glinting off her hair, leaving Percy Jackson completely, utterly, hopelessly doomed.ᐟ

you and percy jackson had been dating for almost three months until you decided to break up with him. 

It wasn’t that he was ignoring you or was a bad boyfriend, but something deep down made you feel like you were dragging him down with you. 

you never really understood why percy seemed to have feelings for you, it kept you up at night but you never found the courage to talk to him about it. you found those doubts stupid and so you tried to move on with your day. 

but those doubts kept growing every day and some part of you thought that you weren’t good enough for him. you two had always been total opposites and at first it didn’t bother you, but as you and percy became closer you realised that you both were making a terrible mistake. 

you felt as if you were failing on the role of the ‘good girlfriend’ and made you feel so anxious that you almost threw up. 

so, you did what you were good at. 

you run away. 

you broke up with him, leaving percy no room to react or fight for this so-called relationship. you collected some hoodies and pyjamas that you had forgotten in his dorm and left. 

you felt guilty for leaving like that, without giving him an actual reason, just a dry ‘there’s no future in this relationship’. you still couldn’t forget the way percy tried to reason with you, find a solution to this problem that he had no idea existed and was jeopardising your relationship.  

“tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it”  you kept replaying this conversation in your head like a movie stuck in a loop. his voice was soft and you had to refrain from taking your words back. 

“you can’t fix it this time percy” you said and almost immediately; a frown formed on his lips, looking as if you had stabbed him on the back. 

that’s all you had said and had walked out of his dorm. 

it had been a month since you had broken up and everything felt weird. no one was sending you good morning texts, no one knocked at your door to walk you to your class, no one stayed over and watched a cheesy romcom with you and kept saying how similar you two were to the main characters. 

just silence. 

when your friends annabeth and grover (you had met them through percy and had somehow instantly clicked) found out about the break up, they thought that you were pulling a prank. 

you had decided to meet up in the library and you had to burry your face deep in whatever essay you had to write, in an attempt to ignore how intense they were looking at you.  

“but percy is crazy about you” grover reasoned, and he looked as if someone had discontinued his favourite snack. 

“we were too different” you clenched this admission as tight as you could so you wouldn’t think you made a mistake. This was better for the both of you and you could imagine percy doing better now that you parted ways. 

even if it hurts you. 

annabeth pulled you out of your thoughts by placing her hand on your shoulder and gave you a look that you knew all too well. she was silently offering you comfort without judging you or feeling pity. 

you gave her a smile and the three of you silently tried to finish your essays without saying anything else. maybe they didn’t understand why you broke up with him but they made you feel a little less shitty about yourself. 

**

your dorm was uncharacteristically quiet. 

usually, you would have music blasting through your laptop or have some friends over and gossip about your college life. you didn’t have the energy to do anything though, so you were simply laying on your bed. 

you were supposed to feel better. 

you weren’t allowed to want him back when you knew that you weren’t the best girlfriend. there had been a lot of times where it was hard for you to open up or simply enjoy the moment without overthinking it. 

perseus jackson deserved the whole god damn world and even though you loved him, you knew that you weren’t the one for him. 

it hurt more than you could admit. 

was this even possible? to love someone but know that you are hurting them unintentionally? 

you decided that at least now, you'll try to be better. you didn’t know if you would be able to move on but you could try and get rid off the ugly parts of yourself. 

you took one glance at your lock screen-it was a picture of you and percy that you had forgotten to change-and let out a sigh. you might have broken up but that boy was still the owner of your heart and you weren’t sure if you actually wanted  him to give it back. 

**

you thought that percy would be doing a lot better now that he wasn’t yours anymore. 

well you couldn’t be more wrong. 

when you walked into your english class, you had taken a glimpse of him from his seat and your breath hinged. 

percy was leaning against his chair, black circles covering his beautiful face and his hair was a mess. he was wearing a black hoodie and seemed like he was zoning out. 

you had learnt through a trusted source (annabeth) that percy had been rejecting every girl that had tried to take up your spot. you would be lying to yourself if you said that you weren’t surprised. 

you sat down in your seat at the back of the class and tried your hardest to ignore the way his eyes followed your movements. 

you couldn’t help but start to worry about him because he needed to move on. you knew that you weren’t good for him and deep down he knew it too. 

but a part of you seemed to be relieved at the fact that he hadn’t done anything with another girl yet. 

at the cafeteria, you saw him sitting at a table near the corner. percy was sitting alone, looking like a completely different person. 

your percy would be talking excitedly, moving his hands in the air to give more emphasis to his words and his eyebrows would be knitted together as he tried to concentrate at the story he was telling and not have his attention drift away. 

this one was sitting quietly in his seat, looking at his food like it had betrayed him. 

it perplexed you as to why he was sitting at that particular table when he usually sat at the center of the cafeteria, talking to either jason or grover. 

but then it hit you. 

that was the table where you first met. 

it had been a hectic day and your friends had been nowhere to be found. you scanned the cafeteria, hoping to find an empty table and somehow you saw a table near the corner that seemed empty. 

you had walked towards it and sat down. 

as you let out a sigh, you realised that someone was sitting on the other end of the table. 

percy had stared at you, surprise and curiosity flashing in his eyes as you gave him an awkward smile. he hadn’t been rude; didn’t tell you to sit somewhere else, just stared back at his phone and ate his sandwich. 

you never really learnt why he sat there; at the time you thought that he also couldn’t find his friends and just sat at a random table. 

but now you know. 

he had admitted it to you once, when he had stayed over and was cuddling you like you were something fragile. 

“it was an excuse to talk to you” he had said, tracing absentmindedly circles on your waist. he had said it so casually like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“but why?” you couldn’t help but ask as you buried your face on the crook of his neck. 

“my friends had been begging me to make a move on you and well, that’s all i could come up with” he admitted with a sheepish smile and you could only laugh. 

you felt butterflies in your stomach. 

percy still remembered, you thought that he was silently inviting you to sit next to him and pretend like everything was like before. 

and you so badly wanted to pretend but you didn’t. 

because you knew how it would end. 

a part of you wondered if it had been a mere coincidence but you knew it wasn’t. it was the way he was staring at the seat across from him like if percy wished hard enough, you would appear in that seat and keep him company like before. 

like how it should be. 

you dragged your legs at your friends’ table and tried to eat your food without bursting out in tears in the middle of the college cafeteria. 

** 

you couldn’t really remember what made you come to this campus party but here you were. 

everyone had been talking about it for the past week and even if you didn’t have the energy for it, something told you that it would be a good distraction. 

the music was loud, people were dancing and screaming at the top of their lungs and it was enough to ignore the racing thoughts in your head. 

your friends were also there and they had dragged you into the dance floor and you couldn’t help but just relax. you moved your body and shook your head like it was the first time that you felt so carefree. even for a few minutes you felt better. 

you decided it would be a good idea to go grab a drink and so you moved through the crowd of sweaty teenagers. 

when you arrived at the table with the red cups filled with beers, you went to grab one and suddenly your hand grazed someone else’s. somehow they went to grab the same cup. 

you didn’t even have to look at the stranger to know who it was. 

“oh” percy stared at you and your breath hinged. it had been two months since your break up but your heart still fluttered at the sight of him. he was wearing a light blue shirt with baggy jeans. he had also left three buttons undone and it took everything in you not to stare at the way a part of his torso was peaking out. 

you had no idea what to say. what was the appropriate response in seeing your ex at a party? you just stared at him, hoping that the ground would swallow you whole. 

 you decided to stay quiet and took a sip off your cup. this was way too awkward for you to handle so when you saw that percy hadn’t replied to you a few seconds later, you turned around to hide among the crowd. 

but before you could walk away; you heard his voice, soft and quiet and you wondered how you were able to hear it. 

“why?” one word that was somehow more painful than him completely ignoring you. at first you froze, blinked a few times to make sure that it wasn’t your mind and as you were about to answer, percy took you by the hand and was leading you away from the party. 

you two ended up in a room (it was probably the host’s but you couldn’t care less) and percy closed the door as he let out a sigh. 

you stared at him again, debating on whether you should admit the truth or bury it even deeper. 

“why did you leave?” percy rephrased his question and was now leaning against the door. you found it normal that he wanted an explanation since you never bothered to give him one. 

“percy-” 

“tell me the truth” he cut you off as if he knew that you would try to avoid the question. you hated how well he could read you sometimes. 

you took in a quick breath and felt your heartbeat ringing through your ears. 

“does it matter?” you asked and took a step back, creating more distance between you. but as if on instinct, percy took a step closer and clenched his fists in a way to prevent himself from pulling you into his arms. 

he would be lying if he said that he hadn’t missed you but right now he needed closure. it had bothered him a lot; the way you decided to walk away without an explanation but percy couldn’t blame you for that. 

he knew how clingy he got when he was comfortable with people let alone with his girlfriend. he could be rambling about random stuff that popped up on his brain and had to share it with someone or else he would explode. 

percy understood how you could get bored of him. 

he just wanted you to verbalise it so he would stop going back and forth, analysing every moment you two had and try to see when exactly you started feeling this way.  

“I think I deserve to know why you broke up with me out of the blue” he wasn’t pissed. how could he be when you were still looking at him with those big eyes that could make him turn the world upside down? 

“because you need someone better” you admitted while fidgeting with the ends of your skirt. percy’s eyes widened at your confession but didn't say anything. he left you space so you could explain yourself and it was so hard not to fall for him deeper. 

“I'm not the best person to be around” you carried on. “I..Ι thought that you’d be better off without me” 

”that’s not true” it surprised you how fast he was in disagreeing with you. after everything; he still managed to see the best in you. 

he let out a sigh of relief. 

and now everything made sense; you hadn’t gotten bored of him but simply thought you weren’t good enough for him. 

which was a huge lie. 

silence fell between you but not an awkward one. you could see how percy was trying to put his racing thoughts into words and you ended up fidgeting with your hands. 

“there hasn’t been a day where I haven’t thought of you” he confessed which caught you completely out of guard. “you might think that I deserve someone better but all I want is you” 

your breath hinged in your throat. you hadn’t really thought about the fact that percy loved you no matter what. 

percy cupped your face with his hands and rested his forehead against yours.  a part of you told you to pull away from him, get away fast before it was too late. 

that’s what you’ve been telling yourself; running away was the right thing. 

but him holding you so close made you realise that you didn’t want to be scared anymore. you wanted him to know everything about you, your favourite dessert, your biggest fear, literally anything you could think of. 

you were determined to make things right this time, no more hiding and endless what ifs. percy was still trying to fix things so why couldn’t you give it another shot? 

“I’m-” you tried to say but he immediately cut you off. 

“I don’t care what you are, we’re doing this together and you don’t have a choice” he said firmly, earning a chuckle from you. you had forgotten how stubborn percy was so even if you wanted to tell him every romantic thing you could think of, it died in your tongue. 

“I don’t mind your overthinking or your doubting” percy reassured you, placing a kiss on your temple. “I’ll overexplain everything if I have to”   

your heart was beating so fast making you believe that percy was able to hear it. “sorry for running away” you said and that only made him place a hand on your waist and pull you closer. 

“just promise me that you’ll never do it again” he brushed a few strands of hair away from your face and you almost got lost in his eyes. 

the next thing you know, you’re leading percy back to your dorm and you try to hide the huge grin that had formed on your lips. the two of you enter the dorm and before you could say anything, percy’s lips are on yours. 

his lips still tasted like saltwater and forever. 

percy walks beside me, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders hunched like he’s trying to make himself smaller than he is. he keeps glancing out at the water like it might jump him.

the waves roll in. pause. stop just short of my toes. then pull back again; obedient, careful.

“that’s weird,” percy comments.

i look down, then shrug. “you’re literally the son of poseidon. i think weird comes with the territory.”

i’m joking. i can tell because i smile. i expect him to smile too—his crooked, uncertain one, the one that always looks like it arrived half a second late. he doesn’t. instead, his brow furrows, eyes darkening as he watches the water retreat again.

“yeah,” he says, but his voice sounds tight. distracted. “guess so.”

we keep walking. i try not to think about the way the water only moves when i move. how it mirrors my steps like it’s waiting for permission.

that evening, i tell myself it was all a coincidence.

camp is full of them—strange things, unexplainable moments that fade if you don’t stare at them too hard. i eat dinner, listen to the chatter echoing through the pavilion, let the smell of burnt bread and strawberries ground me. percy sits across from me, quieter than usual, eyes flicking toward the horizon like he’s listening for something no one else can hear.

by the time i crawl into my bunk, the image of the obedient waves has dulled around the edges. i decide not to name it. not to wonder.

the next morning, the lake is calm again. too calm. when i kneel at the dock to rinse sand from my hands, the water settles the moment my reflection breaks its surface, smoothing itself like it’s been waiting.

i pull back, heart ticking a little faster than it should.

i don’t say anything.

it keeps happening after that.

little things. easy to ignore, if i try.

when i sit on the dock with my feet dangling over the edge, the lake smooths until it’s glassy, reflecting the sky so clearly it looks fake. when i laugh—really laugh, the kind that shakes my chest—the breeze picks up, cool and gentle, lifting my hair off my neck like a hand.

percy notices before anyone else does. he’s always been good at noticing; monsters, lies, shifts in the air right before something goes wrong.

he starts hovering. not in an obvious way. just close enough to feel, far enough to pretend he’s not.

he walks a half-step ahead of me now. when we sit together, there’s space where there wasn’t before. his hands stay clasped tight in his lap, knuckles pale, like he’s afraid to move them too suddenly.

“you okay?” i ask one afternoon as we’re heading back from training. the sun is high, heat pressing down on my shoulders, my shirt sticking to my spine.

he blinks at me, like i caught him somewhere far away. “what? yeah. yeah, i’m fine.”

he smiles then. quick. wrong.

i don’t push it. i tell myself i’m imagining things. i tell myself he’s just tired.

except the days keep stacking up like that—small moments i don’t know what to do with. percy forgetting to wait for me outside the arena. percy choosing the edge of the table instead of the seat beside mine. percy watching the water like it’s a clock he doesn’t trust.

when i catch his eye, he always looks guilty. like he’s been caught thinking about something he doesn’t want to explain.

once, during training, i trip—nothing serious, just a clumsy misstep—but the air shifts so suddenly it makes my ears ring. the lake sloshes hard against its banks. percy swears, breath hitching, and for a second i swear he looks more afraid than i am.

after that, he keeps his distance on purpose.

not enough for anyone else to notice. just enough that i do.

but the quiet starts to itch.

i try to drown it out. i throw myself into training the next day, let the clatter of weapons and shouted instructions fill the space where my thoughts keep circling back to him. percy’s there, of course—always somewhere in my peripheral vision—but he feels slightly out of reach, like we’re standing on opposite sides of a thin pane of glass.

we exchange easy words. familiar ones. nothing heavy enough to justify the weight sitting in my chest.

by evening, i’m exhausted in that hollow way that doesn’t actually fix anything. camp settles into its usual rhythms—firelight, laughter, the smell of smoke drifting between cabins—but none of it quite lands.

when clarisse snaps at me during dinner, it shouldn’t matter. i’ve heard worse. i know how to let things slide.

still, i find myself down by the shoreline alone, arms wrapped around my middle, staring out at the dark water.

i don’t hear percy approach. i just feel him—like the air changes when he’s near.

“hey,” he says softly. “you disappeared.”

i shrug, eyes still on the lake. “needed air.”

the water ripples. not violently, but uneasily. like it’s restless.

percy freezes.

i see it out of the corner of my eye—the way his shoulders lock, the way his breath stutters. he looks at the water, then at me, then back again, panic flashing across his face before he can hide it.

“what?” i ask. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” he says too quickly. “i just—are you mad?”

i shake my head. “no. just… annoyed.”

the water surges closer, colder now, licking at the sand with more force.

percy swears under his breath.

i turn fully toward him. “percy. you’re freaking me out.”

he opens his mouth. closes it. runs a hand through his hair, blonde curls sticking up messily afterward. “i think we should head back,” he says. “it’s getting late.”

“since when do you care about curfew?”

his jaw tightens. “since now.”

i don’t argue, but the walk back is tense. the air feels charged, heavy, like a storm that doesn’t know whether it wants to break.

that night, i wake with salt on my lips.

i sit up in bed, heart racing, pressing my fingers to my mouth like i’ll find seawater there. the cabin is quiet, moonlight spilling through the window.

i haven’t been swimming.

the ocean shouldn’t be anywhere near me.

and yet.

the next day, percy avoids me.

not completely. just enough to hurt.

when i finally corner him outside the dining pavilion, i don’t bother easing into it.

“did i do something wrong?”

he looks stricken. “what? no. no, you didn’t do anything.”

“then why are you acting like i’m radioactive?”

he laughs weakly. “i’m not.”

“you are,” i insist. “you won’t look at me. you won’t sit next to me. you barely talk to me anymore.”

his eyes flick around us, like he’s checking for witnesses. then he exhales, long and shaky.

“come with me,” he says.

we walk down to the shoreline again, though i can tell he hates it. every step closer to the water makes him more tense, like he’s bracing for impact.

we stop where the sand meets the lake.

the water is calm. waiting.

percy turns to me, hands shaking just slightly.

“i didn’t want you to find out like this,” he says.

“find out what?”

he swallows. “the ocean… it’s not reacting to me.”

my heart stutters. “what do you mean?”

he gestures helplessly between us. “it’s reacting to you. or—through me. i don’t know. but it only does this when you’re around. when you’re calm. when you’re not.”

my chest feels tight. “that doesn’t make any sense.”

“i know,” he says, voice cracking. “i know it doesn’t.”

he looks at the water, then back at me, eyes bright with something dangerously close to tears.

“poseidon noticed,” he admits quietly. “not me. you.”

my stomach drops.

“he sent a sign,” percy continues. “nothing dramatic. just… acknowledgment. like he was saying, ‘i see this.’”

“see what?” i whisper.

percy’s gaze softens, unbearably so. “how much you matter to me.”

the water stills completely. the world feels like it’s holding its breath.

i step closer to him without thinking. “percy—”

“that’s what scares me,” he says quickly. “not the gods hurting you. but them knowing. knowing where my heart is. knowing exactly how to get to me.”

his voice drops. “i didn’t want to make you a target.”

the realization settles over me slowly, heavy and warm and terrifying.

the ocean isn’t listening because i’m powerful.

it’s listening because i’m loved.

i reach for his hand. he flinches instinctively, then lets me take it.

the water laps gently at the shore, softer now.

“you don’t get to decide this alone,” i say. “you don’t get to decide what’s worth the risk for me.”

his fingers curl around mine. “i just wanted to keep you safe.”

i squeeze his hand. “from what? loving you?”

he laughs weakly, a tear slipping free despite his best effort to blink it away. “you make it sound so simple.”

“it is,” i say. “hard and scary but simple.”

we stand there together, the lake calm and quiet at our feet.

percy leans his forehead against mine, breathing me in like he needs the reminder that i’m real.

“i don’t want to stop,” he murmurs. “even if the gods know.”

“good,” i whisper. “because i don’t want you to.”

the water doesn’t surge. it doesn’t roar.

it stays still.

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 good— 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 in— 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 morning— "Study sesh at 7. Don't make me wait, geek"— 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 move— 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 did— 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 mouth— 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. "I— I said sorry that day. We don't—"

"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 race— 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. Good— 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 tits— 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 I— I—ah, shit—"

It hit you as your pussy clenched on nothing, juices leaking out to soak the sofa, and your legs spasmed visibly— 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 ribs— 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 hard— 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 this— really close, for the first time without the frenzy— 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 again— 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 him— 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 forward— 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 moving— 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 it— 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 that— 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 gaze— 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 all— the closeness, the way his body heat enveloped you—stirred 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 tight— 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 much— 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 away— 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.

"Gonna—" 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.."

💭 :: It's been a very intense few weeks, so for now I'll continue reposting fics from my old account.

♡ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

♡ 𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⸝⸝ 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You and Leon always share the pleasure of each other's companies on the nights when the two of you don't have any obligations. When the two of you are not occupied by fulfilling your duties as stalwart warriors of the unceasing monsters that haunt the night.

Only then you may enjoy the delight of sitting with Leon in the lounge that no one else uses. Then you may shelter in this oasis with this man who occupies your attentions so perfectly across from you.

There's something so handsome about him, even in this terrible lighting, as you regard the way that he sits in casual, languid repose. It's something that you're only granted sight of when the two of you may relinquish the burdens of the day.

When you watch the way that his hand knuckles around the neck of the beer bottle, the bob of his Adam's apple as he allows himself a heady swallow—as he settles it at crooked angle against the bend of his knee.

(This is problematic in itself, for it prompts you to direct your gaze up the slope of that thick, muscular thigh barely housed by his practical clothes.)

When Leon speaks, you have to pretend that you were not admiring the details of his body. You must act with utmost normalcy in comparison to other avenues that your thoughts were wandering down.

His voice is rugged, it's familiar, it's of a cadence that informs you he has relieved himself of the burdens of the day.

His eyes remained trained on the distant horizon as he confides to you, "Think I'm getting too old to drink."

There's a self-deprecatory smirk that makes foundation on his face, something weary in his eyes as he admits this: this is a confession to you. This is an admission that he can share in your company alone. You mind reels against the soporific effect of alcohol as you find something to reply to him with.

"Perish forbid the thought, Leon." You smile, turning yourself against the plush cushion of the couch to address him. Your hand wields your own beer with adamant determination.

"You can keep up with the best of 'em." You tell him, letting your own sincere smile take occupation on your face. In return, you are given the sight of a grimace, the crow's feet taking ample display around the squint of his eyes—something that you think suits him quite nicely.

"No—"—He disagrees with a dismissive wave that his free hand makes—"—Think I gotta head home. Sherry says I'm starting to enter grandpa territory."

The statement, at the signal of his departure, sends a rush of adrenaline through you—worry that he may actually depart. And desperation fuels you to ensure that he remains.

But you keep your voice level, you ensure your smile appears easy, to avoid the roiling turmoil from within being displayed.

"Sherry says that because you're her parental figure." You grin across from him, halting him from the tightening of muscle that indicate his exodus home. He looks at you with nonplussed airs, wondering what you will say next.

And what you say next is the truth—but perhaps not as well articulated as it should be. "But you're like, totally a DILF."

You don't realize just how deeply you have descended past the point of no return until you observe the crinkle of his brow, the oblivious tilt of his head.

"DILF?" He echoes your statement, watching the details of your face for clarity. "What's that?"

Here you are rendered totally at a loss for any sufficient vocabulary. You search for the most available wording that will not render you a fool. Nor Leon deeply uncomfortable.

But you're at a loss for any way to mollify the definition; so instead, you decide to opt for honesty.

"Well—uh—"—You stare askance to the ground, back to Leon's expectant face, where he awaits elaboration—"—It's a …dad I'd like to fuck."

The words feel as though they are clawed out of your mouth, as a steaming, nascent heat blossoms under the spread of your cheeks, under the sinew of your skin. To say that wishing for a swift demise would be drastic understatement, as the moment endures for prolonged eternity.

But then to your greatest surprise—a smirk takes root on the full of his mouth.

"Oh, yeah?" He asks, and there's a degree of interest, of mischief in undertone of his voice. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

You can only endure so many surprises. You feel as though your heart is going to combust within the caging of your ribs.

"Well—I—"—You exercise the best of your vocabulary—"—Wha—?"

The smile doesn't lose its cant of playfulness; if anything, it becomes more wicked in bearings. And to your growing astonishment, he makes sidelong travel across the couch to you, his wide palms guiding his path.

"Could've saved us a lot of hassle." He continues, as he still makes his endured travel to you—letting you ogle the way his thighs flex and shift as he nears.

"Well—um." You continue, still trying to search for anything to articulate the unmooring you feel. "You see—"

"I know, I know." Leon continues, and there's a touch of abashed direction to his statement; now, his eyes dart away from you to search the details of the flooring. "I was too nervous to say something myself."

Perhaps three times is the charm—you drag your eyes up from the intense appraisal of his legs to meet his. To meet the marked intensity that bears in the arc of his gaze as he watches.

"But it's good it's out in the open now." He asserts. This makes you draw up short, your train of thought disrupted at this acknowledgement of him.

You supply the only thing that resurfaces at the foreground of your mind. "Yeah, Leon?"

"Yeah." He agrees with eager candor. "Because now I can take you on a real date. Instead of this excuse for hanging out, like the kids say."

You blink in surprise, realizing that you must provide him with sufficient response, even though internally—it is chaos.

"Oh, uh—"—You clear your throat with a disruptive chord —"—Where do you want to go?"

The roguish quality diminishes. It becomes replaced with a slow gentility that you are more familiar with seeing on the landscape of his handsome face.

"How about I surprise you?" He asks, and from the way he articulates it: here, there is a sweet-blooming excitement, a definitive joy at the prospect. He wants to take you out.

And, you realize, with sobriety that has replaced any minute inebriation you feel—you would be an absolute fool to deny this oppotrunity when it's levied your way.

"Sure." You respond. Through all the shock and awe that you've endured, you can feel your own shaky smile that makes presence on your face.

"You free tomorrow at 6?" He asks of you, his voice re-orienting you to the path available to you both. A path, you realize, you are all-too-happy to meet him at, hand-in-hand.

"You know I am." You return back to him. He chuckles—he does.

But it seems as if he's searching for the privilege to court you than go through hurried motions. That in itself makes something flip in the housing of your chest, makes something spark precious and loving.

"Then I'll see you then." It's with a slow, deliberate movement he makes as his hand reaches to find yours. You let him take the curve of it, perfect complement for your own.

His thumb grazes over the staccato of your wrist's pulse, his eyes unswerving from you. It is another prolonged eternity as he raises it to the seam of his lips, and presses his mouth to the meter of your heart.

A brand, a mark of loyalty, a token of his affection. The smile that you cannot see, though you feel it against the span of your wrist, is verbalized well in the glory of his eyes.

You feel the punctuation of his breath as he pulls away, his eyes matched against yours. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Leon makes a quick call after he leaves you, inclining his ear against the illuminated screen of his phone. There is a crackle of static as someone picks up; Sherry's perky voice speaks through the other end.

"Did it work?" She asks, with an undercurrent of necessity—she must know, that much is clear.

"It did." Leon says—now that the two of you have parted, he can make the relief, the cheer, more evident in his voice. "We're going out tomorrow."

Sherry's laughs rings out through the receiver. "It only worked because you're an old man, dad."

Leon doesn't resist the chuckle, even if the joke is made at his expense. "Well, at least this dad's still got it"

Sherry laughs again. She'll let him have this. "Talk to you tomorrow. Send me a pic of your outfit before you leave."

"Will do." Leon offers in means of farewell, before he pockets it away, starting for home. After all, he's got a lot of plans to take care of before tomorrow arrives.

banner and dividers made by me :)

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