you know what i mean
Title: you know what i mean
Author: twilight_rush
Fandom: Percy Jackson & the Olympians
Summary: He was Hermes’s son, not some savvy Apollo kid.
Pairing: Connor Stoll/Katie Gardner
Rated: G
Disclaimer: Rick RIordan owns PJ&O, blahblahblah
Note: This pairing has taken over my life.
Connor could tell Katie a thousand times how beautiful she was and the word wouldn’t lose its meaning. A blush would stain her cheeks as she stared at him like he was being ridiculous (again). Whether she told him to “hush” or “No, I’m not---,” it wouldn’t matter.
“Yeah, you are. You’re beautiful.”
She just was.
He wasn’t poetic. He couldn’t write about her heartbeat against his chest, the way she breathed in when he touched her, or how sick he felt with how much he liked (loved?) her sometimes. And he couldn’t draw worth crap. Can’t show her the way her freckles spread across the bridge of her nose, how she looked with her hair fanned across a pillow, or the lighter shade of blue her eyes became when she was happy. He could try, but it wouldn’t come out right, and he wasn’t fond of embarrassing himself.
(He was Hermes’s son, not some savvy Apollo kid.)
Until he could figure out a way to get her to see the all things he wished he could write and draw about her, a simple kiss and “You’re beautiful” would have to do.
Author: twilight_rush
Fandom: Percy Jackson & the Olympians
Summary: He was Hermes’s son, not some savvy Apollo kid.
Pairing: Connor Stoll/Katie Gardner
Rated: G
Disclaimer: Rick RIordan owns PJ&O, blahblahblah
Note: This pairing has taken over my life.
Connor could tell Katie a thousand times how beautiful she was and the word wouldn’t lose its meaning. A blush would stain her cheeks as she stared at him like he was being ridiculous (again). Whether she told him to “hush” or “No, I’m not---,” it wouldn’t matter.
“Yeah, you are. You’re beautiful.”
She just was.
He wasn’t poetic. He couldn’t write about her heartbeat against his chest, the way she breathed in when he touched her, or how sick he felt with how much he liked (loved?) her sometimes. And he couldn’t draw worth crap. Can’t show her the way her freckles spread across the bridge of her nose, how she looked with her hair fanned across a pillow, or the lighter shade of blue her eyes became when she was happy. He could try, but it wouldn’t come out right, and he wasn’t fond of embarrassing himself.
(He was Hermes’s son, not some savvy Apollo kid.)
Until he could figure out a way to get her to see the all things he wished he could write and draw about her, a simple kiss and “You’re beautiful” would have to do.