TIDES, percy jackson
pairing percy jackson x fem!reader
summary poseidon notices where percy jackson’s heart rests, and the sea makes sure she knows it
the ocean never touches my shoes.
i notice it one evening when the sky over camp half-blood is fading into that soft, bruised purple that means dinner’s already been missed and no one’s going to care. the shoreline smells like damp earth and salt, even this far inland, and the cicadas are loud enough to make my head buzz.
percy walks beside me, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders hunched like he’s trying to make himself smaller than he is. he keeps glancing out at the water like it might jump him.
the waves roll in. pause. stop just short of my toes. then pull back again; obedient, careful.
“that’s weird,” percy comments.
i look down, then shrug. “you’re literally the son of poseidon. i think weird comes with the territory.”
i’m joking. i can tell because i smile. i expect him to smile too—his crooked, uncertain one, the one that always looks like it arrived half a second late. he doesn’t. instead, his brow furrows, eyes darkening as he watches the water retreat again.
“yeah,” he says, but his voice sounds tight. distracted. “guess so.”
we keep walking. i try not to think about the way the water only moves when i move. how it mirrors my steps like it’s waiting for permission.
that evening, i tell myself it was all a coincidence.
camp is full of them—strange things, unexplainable moments that fade if you don’t stare at them too hard. i eat dinner, listen to the chatter echoing through the pavilion, let the smell of burnt bread and strawberries ground me. percy sits across from me, quieter than usual, eyes flicking toward the horizon like he’s listening for something no one else can hear.
by the time i crawl into my bunk, the image of the obedient waves has dulled around the edges. i decide not to name it. not to wonder.
the next morning, the lake is calm again. too calm. when i kneel at the dock to rinse sand from my hands, the water settles the moment my reflection breaks its surface, smoothing itself like it’s been waiting.
i pull back, heart ticking a little faster than it should.
i don’t say anything.
it keeps happening after that.
little things. easy to ignore, if i try.
when i sit on the dock with my feet dangling over the edge, the lake smooths until it’s glassy, reflecting the sky so clearly it looks fake. when i laugh—really laugh, the kind that shakes my chest—the breeze picks up, cool and gentle, lifting my hair off my neck like a hand.
percy notices before anyone else does. he’s always been good at noticing; monsters, lies, shifts in the air right before something goes wrong.
he starts hovering. not in an obvious way. just close enough to feel, far enough to pretend he’s not.
he walks a half-step ahead of me now. when we sit together, there’s space where there wasn’t before. his hands stay clasped tight in his lap, knuckles pale, like he’s afraid to move them too suddenly.
“you okay?” i ask one afternoon as we’re heading back from training. the sun is high, heat pressing down on my shoulders, my shirt sticking to my spine.
he blinks at me, like i caught him somewhere far away. “what? yeah. yeah, i’m fine.”
he smiles then. quick. wrong.
i don’t push it. i tell myself i’m imagining things. i tell myself he’s just tired.
except the days keep stacking up like that—small moments i don’t know what to do with. percy forgetting to wait for me outside the arena. percy choosing the edge of the table instead of the seat beside mine. percy watching the water like it’s a clock he doesn’t trust.
when i catch his eye, he always looks guilty. like he’s been caught thinking about something he doesn’t want to explain.
once, during training, i trip—nothing serious, just a clumsy misstep—but the air shifts so suddenly it makes my ears ring. the lake sloshes hard against its banks. percy swears, breath hitching, and for a second i swear he looks more afraid than i am.
after that, he keeps his distance on purpose.
not enough for anyone else to notice. just enough that i do.
but the quiet starts to itch.
i try to drown it out. i throw myself into training the next day, let the clatter of weapons and shouted instructions fill the space where my thoughts keep circling back to him. percy’s there, of course—always somewhere in my peripheral vision—but he feels slightly out of reach, like we’re standing on opposite sides of a thin pane of glass.
we exchange easy words. familiar ones. nothing heavy enough to justify the weight sitting in my chest.
by evening, i’m exhausted in that hollow way that doesn’t actually fix anything. camp settles into its usual rhythms—firelight, laughter, the smell of smoke drifting between cabins—but none of it quite lands.
when clarisse snaps at me during dinner, it shouldn’t matter. i’ve heard worse. i know how to let things slide.
still, i find myself down by the shoreline alone, arms wrapped around my middle, staring out at the dark water.
i don’t hear percy approach. i just feel him—like the air changes when he’s near.
“hey,” he says softly. “you disappeared.”
i shrug, eyes still on the lake. “needed air.”
the water ripples. not violently, but uneasily. like it’s restless.
percy freezes.
i see it out of the corner of my eye—the way his shoulders lock, the way his breath stutters. he looks at the water, then at me, then back again, panic flashing across his face before he can hide it.
“what?” i ask. “what’s wrong?”
“nothing,” he says too quickly. “i just—are you mad?”
i shake my head. “no. just… annoyed.”
the water surges closer, colder now, licking at the sand with more force.
percy swears under his breath.
i turn fully toward him. “percy. you’re freaking me out.”
he opens his mouth. closes it. runs a hand through his hair, blonde curls sticking up messily afterward. “i think we should head back,” he says. “it’s getting late.”
“since when do you care about curfew?”
his jaw tightens. “since now.”
i don’t argue, but the walk back is tense. the air feels charged, heavy, like a storm that doesn’t know whether it wants to break.
that night, i wake with salt on my lips.
i sit up in bed, heart racing, pressing my fingers to my mouth like i’ll find seawater there. the cabin is quiet, moonlight spilling through the window.
i haven’t been swimming.
the ocean shouldn’t be anywhere near me.
and yet.
the next day, percy avoids me.
not completely. just enough to hurt.
when i finally corner him outside the dining pavilion, i don’t bother easing into it.
“did i do something wrong?”
he looks stricken. “what? no. no, you didn’t do anything.”
“then why are you acting like i’m radioactive?”
he laughs weakly. “i’m not.”
“you are,” i insist. “you won’t look at me. you won’t sit next to me. you barely talk to me anymore.”
his eyes flick around us, like he’s checking for witnesses. then he exhales, long and shaky.
“come with me,” he says.
we walk down to the shoreline again, though i can tell he hates it. every step closer to the water makes him more tense, like he’s bracing for impact.
we stop where the sand meets the lake.
the water is calm. waiting.
percy turns to me, hands shaking just slightly.
“i didn’t want you to find out like this,” he says.
“find out what?”
he swallows. “the ocean… it’s not reacting to me.”
my heart stutters. “what do you mean?”
he gestures helplessly between us. “it’s reacting to you. or—through me. i don’t know. but it only does this when you’re around. when you’re calm. when you’re not.”
my chest feels tight. “that doesn’t make any sense.”
“i know,” he says, voice cracking. “i know it doesn’t.”
he looks at the water, then back at me, eyes bright with something dangerously close to tears.
“poseidon noticed,” he admits quietly. “not me. you.”
my stomach drops.
“he sent a sign,” percy continues. “nothing dramatic. just… acknowledgment. like he was saying, ‘i see this.’”
“see what?” i whisper.
percy’s gaze softens, unbearably so. “how much you matter to me.”
the water stills completely. the world feels like it’s holding its breath.
i step closer to him without thinking. “percy—”
“that’s what scares me,” he says quickly. “not the gods hurting you. but them knowing. knowing where my heart is. knowing exactly how to get to me.”
his voice drops. “i didn’t want to make you a target.”
the realization settles over me slowly, heavy and warm and terrifying.
the ocean isn’t listening because i’m powerful.
it’s listening because i’m loved.
i reach for his hand. he flinches instinctively, then lets me take it.
the water laps gently at the shore, softer now.
“you don’t get to decide this alone,” i say. “you don’t get to decide what’s worth the risk for me.”
his fingers curl around mine. “i just wanted to keep you safe.”
i squeeze his hand. “from what? loving you?”
he laughs weakly, a tear slipping free despite his best effort to blink it away. “you make it sound so simple.”
“it is,” i say. “hard and scary but simple.”
we stand there together, the lake calm and quiet at our feet.
percy leans his forehead against mine, breathing me in like he needs the reminder that i’m real.
“i don’t want to stop,” he murmurs. “even if the gods know.”
“good,” i whisper. “because i don’t want you to.”
the water doesn’t surge. it doesn’t roar.
it stays still.
like it understands.
