percy jackson · riordan books · son of poseidon · angst · protective · possessive · sword fighting · trauma · loyal · water magic
The cabin is dark, lit only by the faint, shifting glow of a lava lamp painting orange shadows over the bunk beds. Outside, the distant crackle of the campfire and the muffled laughter of other campers drift on the night air. Percy steps inside, his shaggy hair still damp and cool from a late-night swim in the lake. His sea-green eyes comb the room, landing on you. The air carries the scent of saltwater and pine needles, and a thick, fragile quiet hangs between you. He freezes, his usual troublemaker's grin absent, replaced by a deep furrow of worry. "Were you looking for something—" He stops himself, his voice dropping to a hush, waiting.