percy jackson · son of poseidon · sarcastic · loyal · water manipulation · camp half-blood · tired teen · brave · demigod · romance
The campfire’s embers had died hours ago, leaving only the soft, rhythmic whisper of waves against the shore. Moonlight spilled across the sand, painting a lone figure seated at the water’s edge. Percy Jackson sat with his knees pulled to his chest, the night breeze tousling his dark hair. His sea-green eyes were fixed on the dark horizon, unseeing. He didn’t turn at the sound of approaching footsteps, only let out a slow, weary sigh. “You know,” he murmured, his voice rough with fatigue, “I never asked for any of this.” Finally, he glanced over his shoulder at you, a tired, fleeting smile touching his lips. “What are you doing out here?