Kylie

you sit on the dock watching the water move underneath you your feet sway just touching the water enough to make it ripple

the water reflects the night sky and you feel someone sit next you you but you don’t look up since you already know who it is “you didn’t have to get up” you say to him still not looking up

“i can’t stay asleep if your not next to me” he said as if it was something you should know

he moved your hair behind your ear “what’s on your mind, hermosa?” you move the water more with your feet not sure how to say what your feeling

“do you think we would still be together if it weren’t for hera messing with our heads?” you said softly “oh baby” leo muttered under his breath

he put his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer “of course we would” he adds “how can you be so sure?” you say in a voice barely above a whisper

you look up at him and he wipes your tear stained cheeks “carino i don’t love you because of our fake memories together i love you because of who you are and i know i would still love you even if we didn’t have those memories” he said rubbing your shoulder

he kissed the top of your head “i love you for you” he said again and wrapped you into a hug “i love you too” you whisper into his ear

Behind him, Tyson tilted his head, watching with wide, curious eyes. "Percy is this the girl whos picture you kept staring at and always talking about her at breakfeast?"

Percy blushed, but he didn't let go of your hand. He pulled you toward the giant. "Tyson, this is Y/N. She’s... she’s the best thing about this camp."

You smiled, your curls bouncing as you reached out to the nervous Cyclops. "Nice to meet you, Tyson. Any brother of Percy's is a friend of Hera's daughter."

Percy watched you, a goofy, lovestruck grin on his face. He was back at camp, the world was ending, and he had a giant for a brother—but as long as you were there to tackle him, he figured he could handle

The atmosphere at Camp Half-Blood was brittle. As the borders flickered and the scent of poisoned pine filled the air, a crowd of campers gathered at the base of the hill, their eyes locked on the towering, singular eye of Tyson.  

"A monster?" one Ares camper sneered, reaching for a celestial bronze spear. "Percy, you brought a monster inside the camp?"

Percy stepped in front of Tyson, his hand hovering over Riptide. "He’s not a monster. He’s my brother."

"He’s a mistake," someone else hissed.

The air suddenly turned heavy, shimmering with a sudden, golden heat. You stepped forward, your wild curls practically sparking with divine energy. As the daughter of Hera, the goddess of family, you found the insult to a sibling bond even a monstrous one utterly loathsome.

"Enough!" Your voice didn't just carry; it resonated with a royal authority that made several campers instinctively drop their gaze. "Family is sacred. If Percy claims him, then by the laws of my mother, he is under the protection of this house. Does anyone here wish to argue with the Queen of the Heavens?"

The silence was absolute. Percy looked at you, his eyes wide and full of a new kind of awe. He had seen you fight, but he had never seen you wield your birthright like a weapon of pure, dignified peace.

The Escape

Hours later, the three of you stood at the edge of the beach, the waves of the Long Island Sound lapping at your boots. Tantalus and the camp guards were closing in, determined to stop your unauthorized quest.

"We’re cornered," Annabeth muttered, checking the distance. "They'll be here in two minutes."

"Not if I can help it," you said, stepping toward the tree line.

You closed you eyes, reaching for the connection to your mother. Being a child of Hera wasn't just about family; it was about the air, the stars, and the protection of those on a journey. You raised your hands, and suddenly, the mist from the water surged upward, twisting with a brilliant, peacock-blue light.

The air didn't just fog over; it wove itself into an intricate, illusory wall. To anyone looking from the camp, the beach now looked completely empty just sand and crashing waves. You had effectively folded the space around your group.

"Whoa," Percy breathed, watching as a patrol of campers walked right past the 'wall' you’d created, completely oblivious. "Y/N, that was... incredible."

Annabeth adjusted her backpack, a proud, smug grin on her face as she looked at her best friend. "Yep. That's my girl. Regal and dangerous."

You exhaled, your curls falling back into place as the illusion stabilized. You looked at Percy, whose expression was a mix of pure love and utter shock. "Don't look so surprised, Seaweed Brain. I told you I’d protect you."

it’s often you find yourself snapping at percy during training, rolling your eyes when he plays around too much for your liking, you simply act like his presence is something you tolerate.

everyone falls for it.

everyone thinks you can’t stand percy jackson.

but what they don’t see is the way you gawk at him when he’s not looking. the way your breath catches when his sea green eyes catch yours across the room.

the way those are your favourite parts of the day, you replay those moments at night, lying awake when the world is sleeping, wondering how someone could be so brave, so beautiful, so kind and unfairly gorgeous without even trying.

it feels like a cruel joke, honestly. like the universe is playing jokes on you.

because liking someone like him feels dangerous. liking percy jackson feels like losing control of yourself.

percy is not as inattentive and oblivious you think, though.

he notices the way your jabs are always laced with a nervous stutter. how you stand with your shoulders narrowed and stiff whenever he’s within 6 metres of you. he notices that despite all your defensive words, you never actually walk away from him when he speaks to you.

and he most definitely notices the way you look at him with pink cheeks when you think no one’s watching you.

that’s why, when the campfire approaches on the beach, when everyone is loud, distracted, and wrapped up in each other’s shenanigans, percy eyes you sitting apart from the group.

the firelight sparkles behind you, but you’re turned towards the ocean instead, watching the waves lap against each other under the pale moonlight.

the water is dark and endless in hindsight, and percy notices that… you look… small, harmless… unguarded.

percy hesitates, and then he makes up his mind and walks over and sits beside you, close enough that your knees almost make contact.

you tense instantly, wrapping your arms around yourself. “what do you want, jackson?” you ask sharply. “ran out of people to annoy?”

he grins, soft and patient, like the front you put up didn’t clock to him whatsoever. “i just wanted to sit with you.”

you scoff in disbelief. “don’t you have literally anyone else to sit with?”

“i do,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous gesture you don’t notice.“but i don’t want to.”

well…that threw you off balance.

you hide your face in your arms. “you’re so weird.”

“sure,” he says as if he’s agreeing with you. “but you’re avoiding me.”

you turn towards him, all a sudden defensive. “i’m not avoiding you. i just don’t like you.”

percy doesn’t bat an eye.

“you really don’t have to pretend,” he whispers quietly.

your heart drops. “pretend what?”

“that you hate me.”

you move to stand abruptly. “gods… you-you’re full of yourself.”

before you could walk away, percy stretches his arm out and places his hand gently over yours where it rests in the sand.

you could still leave, his grip is light enough, but you… don’t.

his hand is warm on yours, his touch sparks something in your body… you like it.

“don’t go,” he mutters softly.

your breath catches in your throat.

“i… i know you like me,” he continues, voice unsteady and nervous. “and i know that probably scares you.”

your defences snap up again instantly, why is he treating you like your weak? like your some baby. “you don’t know one thing about me.”

“i know you look at me like i’m something you’re not supposed to like,” percy snaps. “like it’s a burden to you that i exist.”

your cheeks redden instantly.

“percy, you’re imagining things,” you murmur.

he grins, ears pink and almost shy. “you stare at me when you think i don’t notice. and when i catch you, you get all flustered and mean... like now…”

“i do not—”

“you do,” he says gently. “it’s kind of…adorable.”

you groan, covering your face in embarrassment. “gods, you’re actually insufferable.”

percy laughs quietly, then looks at you with that serious face again. “i like you,” he whispers, as if it’s only a secret the ocean and you could hear. “a lot. probably more than i should.”

you glance at him through your fingers. his eyes are that same bright green, firelight and ocean glimmering in his eyes all at once. looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters to him in that moment.

“you really shouldn’t,” you whisper.

“too late,” he shrugs. “you kinda ruined my life by not being mine.”

your heart skips a beat.

“that’s… well, dramatic,” you say weakly, defenders crinkling under his warm words.

“yeah, it is,” he agrees. “but it’s true.”

you swallow that stupid lump in your throat, hating the direction of vulnerability you’re heading towards. “i hate that you’re so… brave. and kind. and stupidly handsome.”

his smile widens. “you think i’m handsome?”

“don’t push it, jackson.”

he leans closer to you, slow enough that you could stop him… but you don’t.

“i thought maybe you felt the same,” he whispers. “but if i’m wrong—”

you cut him off by leaning in and placing your lips against his soft ones.

it’s gentle. soft. everything you’re not. it’s as if you’re both afraid of startling the moment. his lips are warm, and he freezes for a second before kissing you back, slow and steady, as he’s savoring it, altering the shape of your lips into his brain chemistry.

when you pull back, you immediately panic.

“i— i shouldn’t have—” you stutter, cheeks burning under his gaze.

percy smiles so wide, so adorably to the point that it makes your chest ache.

“gods, you’re really damn cute when you’re flustered,” he says before he leans in again, this time more confident, brushing his thumb along your jaw before kissing you once more. it’s still soft, still dripping in sweetness, but it’s deeper now, more passionate. like he’s telling you without words that this is safe, that it’s more than okay.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.

“so,” he murmurs. “does this mean you don’t hate me?”

you let out a genuine laugh, heart racing, you almost don’t believe this is real. “don’t get used to it.”

he grins. “i don’t need to. i just like that you’re here, with me.”

you stay like that, waves crashing in beside you, the campfire crackling behind you, percy’s hand still warm and intertwined in yours.

and for the first time, you stop pretending you don’t want him, because he’s gorgeous.

and you finally know, he’s yours too.

𝖱𝖤𝖡𝖫𝖮𝖦𝖲 𝖠𝖯𝖯𝖱𝖤𝖢𝖨𝖠𝖳𝖤𝖣 ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

© blairenqs 2026 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

✧ 𝑓. yes i actually wrote this whole fic bc i thought of percy while listening to the song gorgeous. what about it… ALSO HELLO HARRY STYLES ALBUM ANNOUNCEMENT?? we’re winning fr. & my walker scobell crush is getting out of hand plz free me 😭😭💔

One knee bent, boot hooked lazily against the rung, metal arm resting against the railing, breath puffing white every time he exhaled. You watched him from inside, glass sweating in your hand.

Get a grip, you told yourself.

This was fine, right? You were only friends with benefits.

After all, you told Bucky he could come over for New Year’s Eve because you were bored.

That was the lie you gave him, sent in a text you stared at for far too long before hitting send.

I don’t really have plans, you had texted, You can come by if you want.

You typed it like it didn’t matter. Like he was just filling space. Like you hadn’t been staring at the calendar all week with a pit in your stomach, knowing New Year’s Eve was coming and you’d be alone if you didn’t do something about it.

The truth was that the idea of starting another year without him near you felt unbearable. That you wanted him on your couch, his boots by your door, him in  every corner of your apartment.

But you couldn’t say that.

So you said you had nothing else to do.

When he arrived, he climbed through the window like always, snow clinging to his jacket, cheeks pink from the cold. He smiled when he saw you like he was relieved to be there.

And now, an hour later, your chest was tighter now that it had been all year, an ache sitting just beneath your sternum like it had been waiting for midnight to hit and finish the job.

You were… spiraling.

Because New Year’s did that. It made everything feel like it needed definition. 

And Bucky Barnes, God, Bucky Barnes had a way of existing in your life that felt anything but indefinite.

He had a toothbrush in your bathroom. He knew which mug was yours. He slept on the side of the bed closest to the window because you liked the wall. He replaced the batteries in your smoke detector without asking. 

But that didn’t mean anything. Right?

It had to be physical. It was comfort, habit, trauma bonding, maybe. Two lonely people clinging to warmth, call it what you will. 

If it wasn’t, if this meant something to him, you would’ve known. He would’ve said something, right?

Right?

So this was just… sex. And friendship. And you were stupid for wanting more.

Your fingers tightened around your drink as jealousy crept in uninvited. Out there, people were kissing their partners at midnight. Holding hands. Making promises. 

You wondered, bitterly, if Bucky would leave after tonight. If this was just another one of those nights to him. 

You hated yourself for how badly you wanted him to stay.

“Hey,” he called gently. “You gonna join me, or you just burn a hole staring at the floor?”

You stood up, stepping closer, and leaned against the window frame. If you got too close, you might say something stupid. Or honest. “Shut up, Barnes.”

He studied you for a moment, brows drawing together. “You okay?”

You nodded too fast. “Just… New Year’s stuff.”

He huffed a small laugh. “That’s ominous.”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Everyone makes it such a thing. Like the clock hits midnight and suddenly you’re supposed to have your life figured out.”

Bucky tipped his head back to look up at the sky. “I’ve had a hundred-some New Years. Trust me, none of ‘em came with instructions.”

Your chest twisted at the reminder of how much he’d lived, how much he’d lost. And how easily he still slipped into your life, like it didn’t mean everything to you.

You pushed yourself out onto the fire escape, sitting beside him but leaving a careful inch of space between you. 

This was stupid. You were being stupid.

You’d agreed to this. Whatever this was. And if you said what you thought out loud—I want you to be mine—and he looked at you with that tragic sympathy he reserved for things he couldn’t give… you didn’t think you’d survive it.

“Fireworks’ll start soon,” Bucky said, nudging your knee lightly with his own, throwing a blanket over the both of you casually. “You usually watch from here?”

You nodded. “Best seat in town. No drunk strangers, no freezing crowds. Up here, I can be all alone with my thoughts.”

“And me?” he teased.

You snorted. “You’re not a stranger.”

Bucky turned to look at you fully now. His knee almost touching yours. “What am I, then?”

He said it as a joke, but your heart stuttered anyway.

You laughed, too loud. “A very annoying man who steals my blankets and leaves coffee cups everywhere.”

He smiled fondly, like he liked being that for you. He thought you were just teasing. “Of course.”

The city below grew louder as midnight crept closer. Someone started lighting sparklers from a balcony three floors above you, early and obnoxious.

Your thoughts spiraled.

You noticed everything. You noticed how close his hand was to yours, how warm he felt even in the cold, how easily he fit into your space like it had always been meant for him. You thought about the way he slept curled toward you, arm draped over your waist. About the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

That wasn’t how friends with benefits looked at each other.

Unless you were imagining it.

Unless you were projecting because you wanted more.

You swallowed hard. This has to be physical. It has to be.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, quieter. “You’re in your head.”

You blinked. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only to me.”

That made your throat tighten.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to distract yourself from the pathetic crush you have on this man. “How much longer?” 

“Couple minutes,” he said, looking at the watch he kept on his metal wrist. “They’re gonna be starting the countdown soon.”

Soon.

Your stomach twisted.

This means nothing, you reminded yourself.

People kissed at midnight all the time. It was tradition. Ritual. 

It didn’t mean love.

You told yourself that as your mind betrayed you, imagining his hands on your thighs, the way he kissed like he was memorizing you, like he was afraid you might disappear.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Bucky said.

You scoffed without meaning to, turning away from him. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“What’s going on?” He asked, eyebrows raised. He certainly did not expect that. 

“Don’t,” you warned with a gulp, “don’t worry about it.”

“C’mon, sweets, it’s me,” he asked worriedly. He always worried when it came to you, because he cared. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Your throat tightened.

What were you supposed to say? Hey, I think I’m in love with you and it’s probably one-sided and I’m terrified this kiss is going to ruin me?

Instead, you stared at the night sky lit with stray fireworks instead of him. “I just… I don’t like pretending that we… that this is nothing.”

He tilted his head, genuinely baffled. “But it’s not nothing.”

You laughed once, bitter. “Isn’t it?”

Before he could answer, a chorus of voices from the street below started counting down.

“Ten.”

Your heart skipped.

“Nine.”

You thought about all the nights he’d climbed through your window soaked from rain, still apologizing for tracking mud. About the way he stayed when you had nightmares even though you never asked. About how he brushed your hair out of your face after you got out of the shower.

“Eight.”

You pressed your nails into your palm.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

This didn’t mean anything. 

“Seven.”

Bucky scooted a little bit closer. “Hey.” 

You looked up at him. He was so close. He was always so close.

“Six.”

You could smell him now. Your heartbeat went wild.

“Five.”

He reached for you without hesitation, metal hand resting on your hips and human hand cradling your cheeks like they belonged there.

“Four.”

Your brain screamed don’t.

Your heart screamed please.

“Three.”

Fireworks cracked early, light spilling across the sky in quick flashes.

“Two.”

You looked up at him, searching his face for something, anything, that would tell you this wasn’t going to destroy you.

“One.”

He leaned closer.

“Happy new year!”

The city exploded into light and joy. 

Everything seemed to have collided at once. Bucky kissed you like the world had narrowed down to this exact moment. Like there was nowhere else he’d rather be. Like he wasn’t counting the seconds, but rather savoring them.

It was warm and familiar in the way that hurt the most. The kind of kiss that begged you to stay.

When he pulled back, forehead resting against yours, breath uneven, he smiled certain.

“Happy new year, sweetheart,” he said. “I love you.”

The world tilted.

“What?” you whispered.

His smile faltered. “I—”

“You love me?” Your voice cracked in disbelief.

Bucky looked confused now. “Yeah. I thought you knew.”

Your chest ached. “I thought we were just… sleeping together.”

He stared at you like you’d spoken another language. “What? No. I’ve been with you. I’m with you.”

Tears burned behind your eyes. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

He swallowed. “I thought you didn’t need me to.”

The fireworks kept going, loud and brilliant and chaotic, but all you could hear was your own heartbeat.

And suddenly… oh.

Suddenly everything rearranged itself.

The nights he stayed even when he had a mission early in the morning the next day. The way he brought groceries without asking. The way he introduced you by name every time. The way he remembered the date of your big presentation and waited outside after.

The way he looked at you like you were already his.

You’d been so focused on labels you’d missed the love woven through everything else.

For a split second, you genuinely considered climbing back inside and pretending the last thirty seconds had never happened.

Oh. You were so stupid.

Your face burned. Not a cute warmth, but rather a full-on, mortifying heat that crept up your neck and settled behind your ears. 

You wanted the city to swallow you whole. Melt into the fire escape. Phase through the metal. Become one with the brick wall.

“Oh my god,” you blurted, covering your face with both hands. “Oh my god.”

He didn’t look angry. He wasn’t hurt. He just looked… baffled. Like you’d told him the sky was actually green and he’d somehow missed it his whole life.

You covered your face anyway. “I thought… fuck, I thought we were just… I don’t know. Comfortable.”

His smile only grew. “Yeah,” he said, rather amused. “We are.”

You peeked at him through your fingers. “That’s not helping.”

He chuckled again, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Sorry. It’s just—” He paused, tilting his head ever so slightly. “It’s cute.”

You dropped your hands. “Don’t call this cute.”

“But you are.”

You groaned. “Bucky.”

“I just… how—“ he shifted closer, boots scraping against the metal beneath you, voice affectionate. “How did you not figure it out?”

You laughed weakly, shaking your head. “Because I thought you were just… nice.”

He stared at you for half a second.

Then he laughed again, eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s what we’re calling it?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered. “You’re nice to everyone.”

“No,” he said immediately. “I am not.”

You hesitated. “…Okay, maybe not everyone.”

Bucky let out a disbelieving laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Sweetheart.”

That single word did not help your dignity.

“You thought I was just nice,” he went on, sounding incredulous now, “when I—” He stopped, pointed at you. “Okay. We’re doing this.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” he said, nodding to himself. “Because apparently I have been failing to communicate in very obvious ways.”

He started counting on his fingers.

“First of all,” he said, holding up one, “I spend more nights at your place than my own. I have a cabinet here. Not a sock pile. A cabinet with three drawers.”

You winced.

“Second,” another finger, “I have a toothbrush here. And not a travel one, an electric one. I bought a red one because yours is blue and I didn’t want to mix them up.”

You opened your mouth. When you realised you had no way to respond to that, you closed it.

“Third,” he continued, warming up now, “I know your coffee order, your bedtime, your work hours, everything. I know which mug is yours because you get annoyed when I use it. I know the brand of pasta you like and the kind of wine you hate but drink anyway because it’s cheap.”

“Bucky—”

“Fourth,” he said, undeterred. “I replace things around your apartment. Batteries. Lightbulbs. That weird cabinet hinge. People don’t do home maintenance for someone they’re ‘casual’ with.”

You groaned, pressing your palms to your eyes again in embarrassment. “Bucky, please.”

“I’m not done,” he said gently, not stopping. “Fifth— I spent Christmas Eve and Christmas with you.”

Yeah, he did, didn’t he?

You remembered it all: his arm around you on the couch as you told him to finish your mulled wine, the way he’d pressed a kiss to your temple when you’d dozed off.

“And not because you asked me to,” he continued, “but I wanted to be with you. I wanted to wake up next to you. I wanted to watch you pretend you weren’t excited about opening presents.”

“I was not pretending,” you muttered.

“You were excited when I got you that plushie you asked for,” he said, grinning. “And when you fell asleep on the couch with your head on my shoulder, I didn’t move for an hour because I didn’t wanna wake you up.”

The fireworks reflected in his eyes now, bright and gleeful.

“I watched you waddle around in socks that didn’t match, in my ugly Rogers: The Musical sweater. That’s not… nothing.”

Your eyes burned as you laughed weakly. “That could still be friends.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Could it?”

I guess not. 

“I helped you decorate your tiny tree,” he continued as the city seemed to fade around you. “I don’t do that unless it means something.”

You swallowed hard, shame and ache twisting together in your chest.

“I just…” Your voice wavered. You stared at the fireworks instead of him, blinking fast. “I just wanted you to want me, too.”

It sounded small and terrifying once they were out in the cold air.

Bucky’s eyes changed immediately.

Any teasing he had left in him vanished. He reached for you without hesitation, pulling you into him like it was the most natural thing in this life or the next. You melted instantly. 

“I do,” he said sweetly, without a trace of doubt. “I clearly do.”

You shook your head, overwhelmed. “I just thought… I didn’t want to assume.”

He smiled, impossibly gentle. “You didn’t assume because you were protecting yourself.”

Your hands curled into his jacket.

“I’m so dumb,” you said again, voice muffled against the fabric on his chest

He chuckled and kissed the top of your head, lips staying there longer than it needed to be. “You’re not. You were just scared. And that’s okay.”

You breathed him in, letting out a shaky, self-deprecating laugh. 

After a moment, he pulled back just enough to look at you, thumb brushing your cheek.

“Just so we’re clear,” he said, a hint of amusement returning to his eyes, “you feel the same. Right?”

You leaned into his side, resting your head against his shoulder.

Fireworks bloomed overhead, reflected in his eyes. The city felt far away now, it felt muffled and distant.

“Yeah,” you said. “I love you too.”

He kissed you again, quick and teasing this time, like he couldn’t help himself. When he pulled back, there was that familiar glint in his eye, the one that always meant trouble.

“Y’know,” he said, grinning, “this is a hell of a way to start the year.” His hand slid easily to your waist, thumb tracing lazy circles like it’d always belonged there. “Getting into a relationship I thought I was already in for, what— Three months?”

You laughed, heat rushing to your face, and swatted at his chest. “Oh my god, don’t.”

His human hand caught yours mid-swat, fingers locking around yours as he leaned in close again. “What?” he asked innocently, lips hovering just a little too close to yours. “I’m just impressed by my own commitment.”

“You are unbelievable,” you said, trying, and failing, to glare at him.

“Mm,” he hummed, stealing another kiss, playful and smug and entirely too pleased with himself as the fireworks finally started to die down. “Yeah. But you love me.”

Of course you did. How could you not?