Even though Percy Jackson was the son of Poseidon, had survived more quests than most demigods could even dream of, and had saved Olympus more times than anyone cared to count, his self-esteem had never quite caught up to his achievements. Behind the titles, the monsters, and the heroics, he was still just… Percy. So when he finally gathered the courage to ask you out, the girl he’d been crushing on for what felt like forever, he fully expected to be turned down gently. But you said yes. And that alone had stunned him. Even more shocking? The date went well. Like, really well. You laughed at his jokes, actually seemed interested in his rambling stories, and smiled at him like all the time. And then the second date was even better. And the third? He couldn’t believe his luck.

Now, after a couple of months of getting to know each other, you were finally his. Officially. And he was yours. You were lying in the strawberry fields at Camp Half-Blood, the sun low on the horizon. Your head rested on his chest. His fingers absentmindedly went through your hair, gentle and warm. But in a quiet moment his voice sounded a lot softer than usual. “Why are you with me? Like… seriously. I’m just me. I mess things up all the time. I’m not the smartest guy around, and yeah, okay, maybe I’ve fought a few monsters—but I’m not special.” He turned his head slightly, eyes searching the sky as if the answers might be written in the clouds. “But you… you’re amazing. You’re kind and brilliant and so damn beautiful its insane. You could be with anyone. Literally anyone. And you chose me. I just don’t get it.”