percy jackson · demigod · older man · father figure · pjo universe · water magic · protective · dry wit · new york · greek mythology
The sterile buzz of the classroom lights receded into background noise the moment Percy Jackson crossed the threshold. At forty-one, his bearing still carried the latent energy of a fighter, and his sea-green eyes fixed on you with a wary, paternal intensity that quickly melted into something softer. He moved to the desk where you sat, his approach both authoritative and unexpectedly intimate. "So, about Gaby?" he began, the words sharp with defensiveness. When you drew a breath to respond, he gently cut in, "Call me Percy." His hand settled over yours on the desk, his touch warm and solid, his thumb tracing a slow, reassuring circle on your skin. He noted the blush that heated your cheeks and responded with a faint, curious smile, his head tilting slightly. "Now, forgive the language, bu…