bvrnesher

[bvrnesher]

So, I like this guy, but I'm talking to this other guy, but this one is kinda cute and he just followed me... I don't know what I'm doing with my life, but now there’s three guys and... shit

[bvrnesher]

Well... he’s not that bad

So, there’s a guy flirting with me ?

"At least I made you smile." Dude...

[bvrnesher]

I just looked at your rules/guidelines, & it said not to request any weird kinks, would you consider stuff like choking/hair pulling weird—Which would be funny if you did, because I found you through your somnophilia Percy fic (I'm only saying this as a joke, not to sound rude!)

I was actually talking about like... y'know, Daddy/Mommy kink and that weird shit HAHAHA

[bvrnesher]

Jackass

So, there’s a guy flirting with me ?

"At least I made you smile." Dude...

[bvrnesher]

Manchildddddd

[bvrnesher]

So, there’s a guy flirting with me ?

"At least I made you smile." Dude...

[bvrnesher]

My crush has a crush on Alexandra Daddario

[bvrnesher]

Hi

So...

I'm valedictorian now

Lol

So

Hi

I hate school

[bvrnesher]

So

Hi

I hate school

[bvrnesher]

*giggling and kicking my feet*

smells like you

pairings: jason grace x reader

summary: y/n accidentally takes home jason’s hoodie after a bonfire and now wears it pretty regularly. she debates giving it back to him before she receives an unexpected knock at her cabin late at night, and the culprit is none other than jason grace himself.

warnings: pretty cute, fem! reader, nothing crazy or out of the sorts, stalker-ish reader implied

A/N: my first fic on here! still testing the waters so i apologize if this is horrible lol! i love love love jason grace and unfortunately there is indefinitely not enough writing for him. i hope you enjoy and feel free to request more pjo/hoo/toa characters!

jason grace was undoubtedly the most perfect man you had ever laid your eyes upon.

i mean come on!

the son of zeus had every girl at camp fawning over him from the moment he first arrived at camp half blood.

so naturally of course you find yourself wound up in a sticky situation regarding stolen property of his (stolen by none other than yourself,) after a bonfire.

the scent of camp fire smoke and a gentle night breeze penetrated the air heavily. you and your fellow cabin mates, along with practically every other camper which currently resides at camp halfblood, were gathered around a bonfire sharing jokes, laughs, and songs together. it was a perfect night, the sky being clear and the breeze being warm. however your sights were currently set on the piercing blue eyes directly across from you.

jason grace.

he was laughing with his group of friends. you don’t know what could possibly be so funny that he was doubled over laughing, however you wished it was you envoking the sweet noise from him.

after a long hour and a half of staring hopelessly, with the fire being put out and your cabin mates scurrying off before curfew, everyone begins to disperse leaving you sitting on a log, freezing, and contemplating talking to the blond haired boy whom you had been staring at for the past two hours.

a chill runs down your spine as you stand up in search of something to quench the cold that is slowly overtaking you as the moon settles further into the deep night sky.

after aimlessly analyzing your surroundings, you come across a blue hoodie sprawled on the grass.

maybe you shouldn’t have practically stolen it, but i mean it was just sitting on the grass begging to be worn! and you were freezing!

this split second decision now leads to your current dilemma regarding who you had stolen it from.

after returning to your cabin in the hoodie, which was decidedly more comfortable than you had expected, you had begun to pretty regularly wear it as you slipped in and out of consciousness each night.

no one had even missed it.

or so you thought.

after a particularly challenging sparring session with one of your siblings, you come across none other than jason grace and percy jackson sparring themselves.

once you get the whole aimlessly staring out of your system, you overhear bits and pieces of their conversation.

his voice faded in and out but you had basically caught the gist of a missing hoodie of jason’s which had mysteriously dissappeared before he could retrieve it after the bonfire. the only thing he made out was a retreating figure with (y/h/c) hair he saw slip into your cabin.

cheeks flushed, your shirt suddenly felt unbearably tight as you tugged gently at the collar and stalked back to your cabin ever so embarassed that it had been his hoodie you had basically thieved.

you cursed the gods above. of course this would happen to you. there was the option of not telling him entirely, however it probably wouldn’t be hard for him to distinguish which of your cabin mates took it considering he had caught a glimpse of you walking away.

decidedly, it would spare you much less embarrassment if you simply returned it and came up with some half-assed excuse to save your behind from looking entirely like a stalker.

—

it was precisely 10pm. it was nearing curfew and you were the only one in your cabin as of now, trying to take advantage of the empty bathroom before your siblings came rolling in and consuming what little space it provided entirely.

you were brushing your hair in the mirror, plotting meticulously what excuse you would come up with tomorrow when you gave jason’s hoodie back when suddenly three knocks on your cabin’s door rang through to the bathroom.

surely it wasn’t one of your siblings. there would be no reason to knock when entering your own shared living space.

you made your way to the door, talking your time. still groggy and half asleep as you were getting ready for bed.

what stood outside the door when you gently opened it was definitely a wake up call.

none other than, you guessed it, jason. grace.

there he stood in all his glory, his messy blond hair, glasses, a t-shirt, presumably to sleep in along with casual sweatpants.

even in his leisure moments, he still resembled perfection.

his hand rested on the back of his neck and he flashed you a sheepish smile.

“i think you have something of mine?” he chucked lightly. you however, were frozen with panic.

there was no point in lying now, as his hoodie was very obviously neatly folded and resting on the chest in front of your bed, very obviously in his line of sight.

your plan now? profusely apologize!

“look, i’m really sorry. i promise i don’t normally steal! it was just really cold out, and i was shivering, and it was just sitting there-“

he cut you off with another laugh. there wasn’t any anger on his face and he honestly looked nearly as embarrassed as you.

“honestly, if it gives me an excuse to talk to you, feel free to steal another one.”

your lips parted in shock. you had never even seen him flash you a look before. let alone assume he had even given you a thought before.

you stammered before replying, “so, you’re not upset?”

“hmmm, no. i’m sure it looks better on you anyway.” he leaned against the door frame. his smile was quite literally dazzling. you felt as though you could barely move.

the familiar sound of footsteps approached from outside your cabin which was undoubtedly your siblings rolling in to go to bed.

“talk more tomorrow, yeah?” his voiced snapped you out of your daze.

you nodded your head lightly. “yeah.” finally returning his smiles with a grin of your own.

hopefully, this would be the start of a new beginning.

who knew stealing would get you a boyfriend?

[bvrnesher]

hii could you make a headcanons or a blurb with percy & hypnos!reader? it could be smut/fluff, whichever makes it easier for you

sooooo, i trieeeed. here.

[bvrnesher]

✦ Sleeping Beauty — percy jackson

warnings:     semi-conscious sex.     somnophilia themes.     percy is down so bad.     hypnos!reader. unfairly soft sex.     slow and deep.     sleepy praise. 

word count: 1114. ﹙request﹚

THERE'S SOMETHING SACRED ABOUT something sacred about the way you sleep. He doesn’t know how else to describe it.

It’s not just peace—it’s stillness, thick and warm like honey, the kind of quiet that makes the air itself feel drowsy. The entire cabin breathes with you. Curtains shift gently in the breeze, candles burn down into little bowls of wax, and even the moonlight tiptoes past your skin like it’s afraid to wake you.

Percy’s not even supposed to be here. Not really. One minute you were teasing him in that hazy Hypnos way of yours—“just lay down, Seaweed Brain, it won’t kill you”—and the next, you were curled against him like a second heartbeat. Fast asleep. Out cold.

He should leave.

He really should.

But gods, you’re so soft against him. Your legs are tangled with his, your fingers resting lightly on his bare stomach. And you smell like dream stuff—lavender and old books, mixed with something warmer. Human. Familiar.

Dangerous.

Your breath hits his collarbone in gentle waves. And then—

“Percy…”

You say it like you’re dreaming him. Like his name tastes good on your tongue.

He freezes. Heart slamming. It’s not the first time you’ve murmured in your sleep—he’s heard you whisper nonsense, or whimper at nightmares—but this is different. This is him. You’re reaching for him in your dreams. Calling for him. Your fingers twitch, your body shifts closer. And when your thighs part slightly, just enough for your sleep-warm skin to graze his hip, Percy almost groans.

This is wrong. He knows it. You’re not awake. You’re vulnerable. He should pull away, should breathe through it, should run.

But then your hips press back—slow, almost instinctive. And you moan. Soft. Real.

“Don’t go,” you whisper, barely audible. “You’re so warm…”

Your body rocks against his just enough to make him dizzy.

And that’s when Percy realizes: you’re wet. He can feel it. Damp heat against his thigh. The thin sleep-shirt you borrowed from him is bunched at your waist now, exposing the smooth curve of your ass. No shorts. No underwear.

His cock is already hard—has been since you murmured his name—but now it throbs, heavy and flushed. He swears under his breath.

He should stop. But your body’s answering his without hesitation. As if some part of you wants this, even in sleep. As if the veil between dreams and touch has slipped just enough to make this real.

So he asks—because he has to. Because he needs to be sure.

“Are you awake…?” he whispers, voice rough, brushing a kiss to your shoulder.

And then you whimper.

Not a word. Not a command. Just a soft, needy sound that sends lightning straight to his spine.

“Okay,” he breathes. “Okay.”

He touches you like you’ll disappear.

Fingers trailing up your thigh, brushing over your slick folds. He can feel your pulse there, fast and fluttering. He circles your clit gently, slow enough to drive himself insane, and you whine—still caught in that half-dream, but reacting all the same.

Percy kisses your shoulder. Then your neck. He mouths at your skin like he’s trying to memorize the taste of you. You’re so warm under him, so soft, your body arching into every touch like you’ve been waiting for this all night.

He guides his cock to your entrance and pauses—panting, forehead pressed to the back of your shoulder. He could still back out. He should.

But you shift again. Your hips tilt. And your soaked cunt presses against his tip like it’s inviting him in.

“Fuck,” he groans.

And then he sinks into you.

The stretch is slow, deliberate. You’re hot and tight, and Percy swears the world stops turning. He bites down a moan as he bottoms out, completely buried in you, breath caught in his throat.

You make a soft noise—something between a sigh and a moan—and gods, you feel perfect. Your body welcomes him like it was made for this. For him. Like you’d been dreaming of him just as much as he’d been losing sleep over you.

He doesn’t move. Not at first. Just stays there, overwhelmed, both arms wrapped around you like he’s trying to hold the moment still.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin. “I know I shouldn’t… but you feel so good, I can’t—”

You rock your hips back into him. Once. Wordless.

It’s all the permission he needs.

Percy starts to move. Slowly. Rolling his hips into yours with smooth, rhythmic thrusts, his cock dragging along every nerve-ending inside you. Your body clenches around him, heat building in tight pulses. He moves deeper, faster, one hand sliding under your shirt to cup your breast, thumbing your nipple until you arch with a soft gasp.

“Fuck, you’re so responsive,” he groans. “Even asleep.”

You moan his name again. Like a secret. Like a prayer.

And that’s when he knows—you’re with him. Maybe not fully awake, maybe still straddling the edge of some dream-plane, but your body knows him. Trusts him. Craves him.

He’s never felt anything like it.

It builds slowly, the way dreams do. Time doesn’t move right. His thrusts get deeper. Rougher. But never rushed. Never careless.

He whispers things in your ear—filthy, reverent things.

“So wet for me… gods, baby, you feel like heaven…”

“Let me make you cum in your sleep… let me fuck you into the dream…”

“You’re mine like this, huh? Even when you’re not awake, you still want me…”

You answer with moans. With the way your hips grind back against him. With the tension coiling in your stomach.

Percy slips his hand between your thighs again, rubbing tight circles against your clit as he fucks into you. Your body spasms, wet and pulsing, and suddenly you’re clenching around him, crying out—high and breathless—as your orgasm hits.

He fucks you through it, whispering your name, mouth pressed to your spine, hips stuttering from the way you squeeze him.

“Shit—fuck, I’m close—”

You turn your head, eyes fluttering open for a second. Half-lidded. Glazed. But present.

“Percy…”

That’s all it takes. He groans, hips snapping forward as he spills into you, cock twitching deep inside. His whole body shudders against yours, breath ragged, hand fisting in the sheets.

The room is silent, except for the sound of your breathing. Of his. Of two bodies tangled together, covered in sweat and something warmer.

He doesn’t pull out. He stays there, cock softening inside you, arms wrapped tight around your waist.

And for the first time in weeks, Percy Jackson closes his eyes.

And sleeps.

STORMY: hehe, I don't know what I just wrote 💀

masterlist. here reqs info. here

[bvrnesher]

So, ppl say I don't look my age

[bvrnesher]

【 SOCIALS 013 】 ─── just a ray of sunshine ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒ㅤ

﹙ one of the nicest assholes you could ever hope to meet ﹚ ! stormy's world isn't pretty big, is it ? 𐒘𝛠 — ✉️ letters for u . . .

MEDIA ꢾ𓍢ִ໋

stormy's world

Instagram ﹙sunlvsher﹚

tiktok ﹙bvrnesher﹚

roblox ﹙milkywxn﹚

airbuds ﹙sunlvsher﹚

c.ai ﹙lvlygraces﹚

letterboxd ﹙bvrnesher﹚

[bvrnesher]

𝒜nd baby, i'm so terrified that if you ever walk away...

... i'd never walk cornelia street again .𖥔 ݁

[bvrnesher]

not a request, but how long did it take for your fics to gain traction?

Huh, no idea honestly. A month maybe?

[bvrnesher]

❝ Awkward is Right... right? ❞ ― j. grace

warnings: cuddling. bf ! jason. kind of awkward jason. reader's pov. it’s actually fluff with sexual/awkward tension. camp jupiter.

words count: 1108. short.

WE HADN'T PLANNED TO fall asleep like this. Honestly, I wasn’t sure Jason ever planned to fall asleep around anyone—especially not curled up on a couch that was way too small for his broad shoulders, blankets tangled around us, the fire in the hearth throwing shadows across the room.

It had been a long week. Being praetor looked good on him—gold armor, Roman discipline, the weight of expectations—but it was exhausting too. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but I saw it in the way his shoulders stayed tense even when he laughed, the way his eyes always scanned for danger even in moments of quiet.

So when he showed up at my door, hair wind-tousled and eyelids heavy, mumbling something about just needing a minute, I didn’t ask questions. I just let him in. Small talk, kissing and two shared blankets later, he was half-asleep behind me, body relaxed in a way it never was during the day.

I tried not to move. I really did. But my arm was dead asleep and my leg was at that weird angle that felt like it was seconds from cramping, so I shifted—just a little.

Bad idea.

The moment I pressed back into him, I realized how close we actually were. His arm was draped over my waist, his chest warm against my back, and now my hips were—oh gods—pressed right up against his.

I froze.

So did he.

For a second, all I could hear was his breathing, soft and slow against the back of my neck. Then a tiny, almost imperceptible gasp slipped from him, like his body had registered the contact before his brain had. His grip on my waist tightened reflexively, and his face nuzzled deeper into the curve where my neck met my shoulder, like he was trying to hide. Or pretend this wasn’t happening.

“Um,” he murmured, voice hoarse with sleep, lips brushing my skin accidentally—or maybe not entirely accidentally. “You, uh... you good?”

I wasn’t sure if he meant physically or emotionally, but neither answer was simple.

I tried to shift again, awkwardly trying to create space, but he groaned—actually groaned—and muttered, “Stop squirming.” His voice was muffled against my skin, low and scratchy and a little too intimate for someone who definitely did not mean to sound that intimate.

“Or I’m gonna—” he cut himself off, jaw tensing. “Just. Don’t move, okay?”

His whole body was stiff behind me now, in every possible way, and I knew—knew—he was very awake.

So was I.

And neither of us knew what to do about it.

The silence stretched between us, thick and a little too loud, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire and the thudding of my heart. I wasn’t breathing normally. I couldn’t. Not with the feel of his hand still splayed on my waist like he didn’t know where else to put it. Not with how his nose was still tucked against my neck, and I could feel—feel—his breath catch every few seconds like he was overthinking even that.

I should’ve said something. Moved. Laughed it off. Anything.

But instead, I just lay there, entirely still, hyper-aware of every inch of contact between us, waiting to see if he’d pretend to fall asleep again.

He didn’t.

“Okay,” he blurted, voice still low but absolutely panicked now. “Okay, that—that wasn’t on purpose.”

I blinked. “You sure?”

His hand jerked back from my waist like I’d burned him. He nearly rolled off the cot trying to put space between us, knocking into the edge of the wooden bunk behind him with a dull thud.

“Yeah! I mean—no! I mean, I wasn’t—I wasn’t trying to...” He trailed off, running a hand through his mess of blond hair, eyes wide and horrified like he’d just committed a war crime instead of accidentally spooning me too enthusiastically.

I sat up slowly, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders, mostly to avoid the awkward stare we’d inevitably have to share. “It’s fine, Jason. I didn’t think you were, like... assaulting me.”

His eyes went even wider. “Gods, no! I—of course not—I would never—”

“I know!” I said quickly, trying not to laugh. “I was joking. Relax.”

He stared at me, mouth open, a soft pink flush creeping up the back of his neck. Then, finally, he let out a long breath and dropped his head into his hands.

“Can I go back to pretending I’m asleep?” he muttered through his fingers.

I bit back a smile. “Only if you promise not to threaten me again.”

“I didn’t mean to threaten you,” he groaned. “I was tired.”

“You said, and I quote, ‘Stop squirming or I’m gonna—’ and then you just left it there.” I tilted my head. “What exactly were you gonna do, Grace?”

He made a strangled noise, then dramatically flopped back down on the cot, arm thrown over his eyes like the most dramatic Roman demigod in existence.

“Please let lightning strike me,” he mumbled to the ceiling. “Right now. Just—boom. Gone.”

I lay back beside him, careful to leave a bit of space this time, but not too much. Close enough that our shoulders still brushed, and I could feel the heat radiating off his skin.

“You could just say you like cuddling, you know,” I offered gently. “It’s not illegal. Even for praetors.”

He groaned again. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely between us. “Be... normal. Close. Not completely weird about it.”

I turned my head, watching him through the firelight. His cheeks were still flushed, hair sticking out in about six different directions, shirt rumpled from sleep and nerves. But his eyes—when he finally looked at me again—were warm, and unsure, and honest in that Jason Grace kind of way.

“You’re doing fine,” I said softly.

He blinked.

“You’re awkward, yeah,” I added. “But endearingly so. Very Roman. Very noble.”

“I think that was an insult.”

“It was not.”

Jason stared at me a beat longer. Then, very slowly, he shifted back onto his side and reached out—hesitantly, carefully—resting his hand just barely on my arm.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I’m, uh... going back to sleep now. For real this time.”

“Mhm,” I hummed, turning my face into the pillow to hide the grin spreading across my lips. “Sure you are.”

And this time, when he settled behind me again, face pressed against my neck and breath slow and steady, I didn’t move.

And neither did he.

STORMY: sooo, weekly comeback? just jason fluff featuring him being an awkward boyfriend because I love him, like... he’s so dreamy *giggles*. Oh, and a poor attempt at reader pov lol.

masterlist. here reqs info. here