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supercutszns · 9 months

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rotten to the touch; luke castellan

series masterlist

wc: 3.2k

pairing: pre-tlt luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: you’re pretty sure you’re an awful person. you’re pretty sure luke castellan is too. and you’re pretty sure you want to make out with him.

warnings: reader is flawed & not the greatest, luke is ... a little dark🫣, small mention of blood, swearing, lots of making out but no explicit nsfw, a bit toxic, & no more more ‘i can fix him’ or ‘i can make him worse’ it’s ‘he can make ME worse’

notes: this is… sluttier than my usual stuff so it’s not as good but i’m trying, feedback is appreciated! also i wonder what cabin we think this reader would be in, let me know where you’d place her im curious :) maybe i’ll write more of her in the future she’s interesting!! and thank you for 100 followers i am so grateful<3 designated song for this fic is crush by ethel cain

You are a miserable, wicked, asshole of a person, and everybody knows it. Including you.

It’s unclear to you why you turned out this way—every reason to blame never satiates the fury searing your insides. All the campers hate you. The counsellors, too. Even Chiron looks down on the viciousness inside you. You are Camp Half-Blood’s black sheep; a mean, bitter person with no love for the people around you. And it’s not just for show. You know you’re rotten. You know the anger will never go away.

It’s evident in the things you think about other people—the way you pick them apart in your head, toss them aside, because they just don’t see it. This miserable, unforgiving world, with children sleeping on wooden floors because the people who created you think you disposable. Because they can just make more of you. More, more, more, until one of you comes out rotten, born of all the ugliness they have inside them. You are the worst parts of Godly blood. The wrathful parts.

Everyone hates you. Everyone hates a person with an unquenchable anger.

But everyone loves Luke Castellan.

He’s a saint at Camp Half-Blood if there ever was one. Handsome, generous, kind. Goes out of his way to help out the new kids and gives them homes in his cabin. He’s the best swordsman in camp by a mile. Shit, you’d even love Luke Castellan if you didn’t know any better.

But you do, and you don’t, and it’s complicated, okay?

Because there’s something you know about Luke Castellan that nobody else does: he’s miserable and wicked, too.

You see it in his eyes sometimes. The way they look at you at dinner, when you’re picking at your food away from anyone else at your table. Something familiar rises in them, and your stomach twists. His body tenses whenever someone mentions his father, but the smiles he flashes are so charismatic nobody notices. But you do. It’s exciting.

During sword practice, he quips back and forth with the kids and laughs whenever they take a jab at him. He’s light, easy, carefree. But you see how he holds back, the tension in his shoulder, the way the arc of his sword never fully finishes. So you wait until everybody leaves and he’s alone, with the training dummies and the setting sun. And you. Hiding.

He slashes through them and spears through their heads. You see it, the gnashing of his teeth, the sweat curling down his cheeks. There’s something there. A chasm he’s hopeless to fill.

Before you know it, you’re going out of your way to catch him training alone. It’s creepy, you know, and awful, you know, but the more you watch him the more you see a sort of violence scabbed under his skin.

Whenever you see him now, the feeling you get is entirely foreign to you. It’s almost . . . longing.

Wherever she is, you’re pretty sure Aphrodite’s having a cosmic fucking laugh. And you’re sure she’s laughing double tonight.

The Aphrodite cabin is hosting some secret party for the older counsellors. You’re definitely of age to be a counsellor, but you’ve never been made one because that would probably make half the campers drop out. Chiron and Mr. D don’t know what to do with you. You’re sure you’ll be kicked out of camp soon for good.

But you’re here anyways, for a reason you don’t want to admit, and you stay tucked in a corner as the world around you mingles. Luke is on the other side of the room, lovely as always, laughing with a few other counsellors. He brings a drink up to his lips, and you have a startling thought of what it would be like to kiss him. And you’re fucked. You’re so fucked. Because for the first time in your life you want something tangible, something real. You want to hear him and feel him and pry him apart, and a part of you wants him to actually see you, see all the awful things that might make you the same. You feel like a teenage girl with a crush, and it is infuriating.

An Aphrodite girl comes up to you with a foolish smile. “Hey, sorry, you want a drink?”

“Fuck off, you idiot,” you snarl.

You wait for her to leave. She doesn’t. “You know, you don’t have to be so mean all the time,” she says evenly. “If you’re here, you might as well enjoy it. So yes, I want to give you a drink.”

“Have you ever thought that I’m not being mean? Maybe I just am.”

You glare at her. She looks you up and down. “Sure,” she shrugs, walking away. There’s a vivid picture in your mind of her falling through a hole in the cabin floor. It doesn’t soothe you, but at least the fantasy is there.

The night drones on. You’re sick of the smells and the laughs and the heat. And you’re sick of yourself. You can’t believe, underneath all your sourness, you came here to stare at a boy you barely know, and you don’t even know why. He’s fascinating, and you resent him, and he’s also beautiful. But he’s looked back at you all of three times tonight and you’re sick of the way your skin crawls when he does.

Leaving the cabin brings the relief of the cool night air, and the singularity of your body. You are the only one who feels this rage. You are the only one who hates.

To stave off your discomfort you walk around to the back of the cabin, to the crest of the hill facing the water. The stars above twinkle at you in spite. There’s a bitterness in your throat you want to wash down with something worse (maybe you should have taken that drink), but you know it won’t matter. Nothing matters. Those stars and whatever they hide are apparently the only important things in the universe, so why should anyone care about anything?

They stars only get brighter. It’s probably their goal to piss you off. You grunt, “Oh, fuck you,” to them. It’s not enough, never nearly enough to expel the rotten part of you. “Fuck you. Fuck off!” You groan at the sky. Nothing happens. Until:

“I’m guessing you’re not having a fun night.”

You whirl around. It’s hard to see in the dark, but whatever light is left catches a long scar on a cheek. Your stomach knots.

“Yeah, me neither,” Luke Castellan says, hands in his pockets as he meanders towards you.

Even when he’s close enough, you don’t say anything. If you do, you’re afraid it’ll be something ugly. Like I kind of want to make out with you. Are you awful too? I need a lobotomy.

The thoughts almost make you laugh. Been a long time since you’ve been funny.

He nods at the sky. “Those things don’t talk. You do know that, right?” He’s still so captivating, so self-assured, even when there’s no one around but you.

“Gods, you’re the worst,” you scoff. You really mean it, so you can’t look him in the eye.

“Then why have you been staring at me all night?”

It catches you so off-guard that you whip back to face him. He has an eyebrow raised and the itch of a smile that makes you burn with shame. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He shrugs, leaning against the cabin wall. “I’m not stupid. You’ve been brooding in the corner watching me the second you came in.” He cocks his head to the side, adding, “Actually, you stare at me all the time. At meals and stuff. I really hope you don’t think you’re being subtle.”

You huff. “Okay, if we’re really being honest here, you started that! You do it too! All the time!”

His hands shot up like he was being arrested. “Hey, I never said I minded it. A guy’s . . . just gotta wonder. What’s up with you spying on me when I’m training alone, anyways?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You watch me when there’s nobody else around. I’m not blind. It’s weird. If you want tips you can just ask me. Or if you like what you’re looking at, at least be upfront about it.”

You speak before you can take in that last sentence, or the way his smile took pride in itself when he said it, or how embarrassed you should probably feel. “You didn’t answer my question about why you started staring at me first.”

The anger (shame) blinding you made you forget how close you are to him right now. Close enough to touch, but not enough to see. But almost there. Almost.

“People think you’re mean,” Luke says after a moment, his dark eyes probing you. The words curl out of his mouth slowly, like he’s choosing them all with care. “You’re rude. You never listen to anyone. You judge everything. They all think you’re awful.” Again, he looks you over. “I’m not so sure.”

“If I’m awful, then you’re awful,” you spit before he can say anything else.

He just shrugs. “Well, I guess that’s why I’m not sure.”

It’s irritating, his calmness. He has the same anger you do. How come he can just . . . shove it down? You try to unearth any fury in his eyes, but it’s too far back. Simmering. “Jesus,” you mutter, “You’re worse than me.”

He looks genuinely taken aback by this. His scar deepens when his brows wrinkle. “What?”

“You’re a pretender—that’s what you are.” It’s your turn now, to step closer, to make his skin crawl. “Look at you. Everyone loves you. You’re this perfect golden boy and you’re sweet and attentive and whatever the fuck but you know it’s one giant lie. At least I’m honest, but you just sit pretty and act like you don’t have that . . . thing that I have. Resentment. Insanity. Whatever you want to call it. We’re the same, but I’m the only one getting shit for it.”

Now, you are close enough to really see him. The patterns on the wood behind him frame the vision of his ever-shifting face. You realize that this, like most things are to Luke Castellan, is a challenge. You also can’t remember the last time you saw him lose one.

But when you play, you play to win.

“You don’t know that,” he dares.

“Oh, I do. You’re rotten, Castellan,” you sneer, index finger jabbed into his chest. You can feel his heartbeat if you concentrate. “And you’re not owning up to it, so you’re also a coward.”

However scathing you look, it isn’t enough. If anything it only makes Luke’s manner more playful. Nothing feels playful anymore. Everything, inside and outside of your mind, feels like constant, exhausting war. Maybe that’s why you don’t slap his hand off you when it wraps around your wrist, keeping it pressed to the middle of his chest. His heartbeat thrums through you.

He tilts his face towards you, grinning, “Then why do you want to kiss me?”

All right. What the fuck. It feels like you’ve been electrocuted.

“What the—what are you talking about?” You blunder, but he knows, of course he knows, because there’s something between the two of you that has been formed and understood by eye contact alone. He can probably read your mind. As much as you don’t want to admit it, you’d like to read his just as much.

He cocks his head. “I mean, you did call me pretty,” he teases, and it’s almost endearing. “You’re pretty like this too.” His other hand comes up to your face, and you’re surprised you don’t flinch when his thumb gently smooths the crease in your eyebrows. “Don’t call me a coward, heathen. Then we’ll both be embarrassed.”

The nickname makes you want to fight, but the touch makes you dizzy. “You don’t want to kiss me, Luke,” you say with all the control you have, which, right now, is increasingly sparse.

“You’ve gotta stop telling people what they want,” he muses. The hand on your wrist traces further down your forearm. The one on your face snakes around your hips. “One of your more disagreeable qualities.”

His words fan over you. That fire simmering in his eyes has finally come to the surface.

“One of?” You challenge.

“You let me make out with you and I’ll give you a whole list.”

You snort, hoping it hides the shortness in your breath. “What a charmer you are.”

His lips brush yours. “Well, that’s what makes me so rotten, isn’t it?”

There’s hardly time to unravel if that’s a question or a statement because you grab a fistful of his shirt and he kisses you. Your heart detonates. It is not rotten in the slightest.

His body is warm and firm. You smell the cabin wood and the drink on his breath. It all matters, and none of it does. You’re warm everywhere as he wraps both arms around your back, and the way he kisses is, unfortunately, exactly how you thought he would. Your hands are tentative in his hair. So is your mouth on his. But Luke is so deliberate in the way he kisses that you know he’s thought about this, too. It makes you all the warmer.

His hand takes your jaw and tilts it up. You know your neck is shaky with breath, and you’re pretty sure he’s admiring it. You don’t complain when he presses a kiss to your jaw, then another one, like he’s testing the waters. “You’re so nice like this,” he mutters almost to himself, thumb running across your neck. “If only people could see you.”

“Then they’d see how mean you are too, no?” You huff. “You don’t want that.”

Another kiss to your jaw. “Not yet, sweetheart.”

Whatever feeling is harbouring in your body right now, it’s so fulfilling it almost makes you uncomfortable. You want to reject it. You’re not supposed to want things. Worse, you’re not supposed to get things. Luke starts marking a path down your neck and you are so determined to enjoy this that you’d kiss a fucking baby if someone asked you to. You might as well be a saint.

He bites the pulse point on your neck, sure to leave a mark, and a shudder rips through you. You’re pretty sure the bastard starts laughing. You hit his shoulder in retaliation.

“Easy, heathen,” he reprimands in your ear, and you know he’s still smiling.

“Don’t—don’t call me that.” You hate that you start to smile, too, and that your stomach burgeons with butterflies when he pulls back to look at you.

He touches the corner of your upturned mouth, kiss-bitten and red. His expression is boyish. “Hard to when it makes your face do that,” he goads. “I thought it was impossible for you to smile.”

“Be quiet.” You thread a hand through his camp necklace and bring him closer. You can almost taste his mouth on yours, but he sweeps past you at the last minute.

He gently tugs your earlobe with his teeth and whispers, “Yes ma’am.”

Fuck him. Seriously. You might have to.

It’s a tangle of teeth and hands and smiles kept hidden, as you slip your fingertips beneath his shirt and he does the same, and you’re both angry and greedy and incredibly destructive, but it doesn’t matter yet. Now you’re just teenagers fooling around at the back of a party, and it’s the first good thing either of you have had in a long time. Luke leaves you gasping whenever his mouth hits certain places, maybe too many places, and he teases you accordingly. “So sensitive,” he taunts, pressing his knee between your legs so he can see you squirm. You rake your nails through his scalp and he tilts his head back to groan. It shuts him up for a while.

He bites your neck until you say his name. You trace lines on his stomach till he takes your hand in his own. You’ve been hungry for something your whole life, and you finally have something to sink your teeth into. For better or for worse.

After Hades knows how long, laughter floats out from the front of the cabin. Sounds of feet tripping over each other and muffled goodbyes. You pull away from Luke, chests heaving together. His hair is wild, his shirt crumpled, and he looks entirely satisfied with it. Smug little shit. “Party’s letting out,” you mutter.

“What a damn shame.” His hand rubs your jaw, and it’s too tender a gesture so you angle your head away to peek over the side of the cabin. You barely pay attention to the kids straggling back to their bunks.

“Is now the time you tell me all my horrible qualities?” You ask once you’re ready to look at him again.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Actually, I came up with more since I said that so I’m pretty sure it’ll take more than one night.” He fakes a wince, “Might have to spread it out for a few days.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, you ass.”

“I’ll give you one for starters.” You feel like a tornado when he kisses the juncture between your jaw and your neck. “Your hands are too cold.” They’re tucked underneath his shirt right now, pressed against his back. You don’t move them. “And,” he adds, “you’re incredibly crass.”

“Thanks, dipshit.”

“Thank you for proving my point, heathen.”

The commotion at the front gets louder, and you know your time to go undiscovered runs short. “You meet me again tomorrow, and I start telling you the rest?” He raises his brows.

The prospect both repulses and excites you, although perhaps they’re hand-in-hand. You tentatively reach up to trace the scar on his face. A faint, jagged line that holds scripture within it. His eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Even though I’m rotten?” You ask, and there’s an echo of mischief in your voice, too.

He’s got a strange expression when he looks at you. “That’s not true.”

He leans down, angles his head to kiss you. It’s slow, but bitter, and he bites down on your lip until you’re pretty sure there’s blood. “Luke,” you murmur, and he kisses you softer. You lean into him like a hapless, lovesick fool.

After you part, he loosens his grip on you. The bumbling campers have gotten louder. He stares at you, and you see the chasm in his eyes again, brimming with fire. Same as yours. You know you’ll see him tomorrow.

He says, “You’re not rotten. You’re right.”

And damn it, you really do believe him.

#perrie’s fics #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo x reader #pjo series #pjo tv show #luke castellan smut #pjo #heroes of olympus #charlie bushnell #i like sexy evil people making out okay.#maybe will make a part 2 to this series because i’m just so fascinated by their weird little dynamic but we’ll see #i kind of hate this but WE MOVE ANYWAYS!!

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calliopeslyrics · 8 months

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i won't say (im in love)

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of Aphrodite!reader, wc: 5.1k

no warnings, just some kissing and miscommunication. this is my first fic ever :)

You didn’t believe in love at first sight.

It was so cliche, always the same story whenever you asked a couple how they met. In fact, you thought that anyone who said they fell in love at the first sight of their significant other was lying through their teeth. You were pretty sure most of the couples at camp were forcing it, there was no way everyone had a crush on someone else from another cabin except you.

It was no secret that you were a hater, as some of your half siblings would say, always making a comment about every couple that passed your way. It seemed ironic - the daughter of Aphrodite detesting love. But it wasn’t like you had many choices to begin with. The dating pool within Camp Half Blood was lacking, to say the least.

There was Chris Rodriguiz, always hanging around his half-siblings in the Hermes cabin or strolling beside Clarisse. He was a decent fighter, strong willed and determined, and his smile never seemed coy like his half-siblings. But with the daughter of Ares always around, you doubted Clarisse would appreciate your sudden interest in her buddy, especially after the Ghost King incident.

Then there was Charles Beckendorf, a son of Hephestus who was sweeter than he seemed. He was nice to talk to, more of an attentive listener than talker, though you didn’t mind his silent company. Although you found Charles nice to look at, there was nothing else that interested you in him. He seemed more interested in his machinery and staying within the forgery, especially since you’ve caught him eyeing your half sister Silena a couple of times during dinner.

And finally, there’s Luke Castellan, head of the Hermes cabin and your number one hater. You’re not sure when he first started to hate you, though you could only count the number of decent interactions you shared on one hand. He used to be close with you, always guiding you through the countless camp activities and even teaching you his sword fighting tricks.

He was your first friend at Camp Half Blood, the first one to greet you with a welcoming smile and treat you like you’re normal. Luke didn’t mind that you were unclaimed and shared a cabin with his half siblings, always reminding you that his father Hermes protected the travelers and roads.

Luke never seemed to realize the effect he had on you. You weren’t sure what it was, if you were clinging onto the first person that showed you basic human decency or if you really were warming up to him.

You remembered how quickly things changed between you two, how you became friends to strangers within an instant. It always haunts your mind, the same situation happening over and over again in your dreams and nightmares as if the gods wanted to punish you with the failure of your only friendship.

Luke was fixing your armor during your sword lessons, his hands expertly tucking in the straps and buckles that you had awkwardly put on. It was the same routine - he’d fix your armor and playfully tug at your chest armor, asking if it felt comfortable. You’d tug at Luke’s armor in return with a teasing smile and nod, both of you

You remember glancing up at him, noting how gently he was with you as he guided your hands along the hilt of your sword. His hands were rough and calloused, most likely from the years of training he had at camp. But when his fingers gently traced along yours, fixing your grip and adjusting your position, you could’ve sworn he was being softer on purpose.

You knew of his reputation at camp, word spread about the best swordsman at camp as soon as you arrived. And you’ve seen how Luke trained with the more advanced campers, directing orders sternly as if he were commanding an army of men rather than abandoned half-bloods. But with you, Luke was always kind and gentle, never raising his voice or handling you with roughness like his with the other demigods.

It felt nice, normal almost, to have someone to help you when you first arrived at camp. Still unclaimed and unsure, you were able to find solace and comfort in Luke’s presence. He was smart and kind, so willing to help the new campers find their way amongst Camp Half Blood’s many opportunities for glory.

Luke always spoke to you in a soft voice, kind and patient, as he instructed you. Raise your arms, grip the hilt tighter, and slash the dummy. When you followed his lead, Luke gave you a small smile of approval and helped you get back into position. The summer sun burned brighter and you could’ve sworn you felt yourself grow hotter as well.

And then it happened.

A thick, red haze enveloped all around you, fogging your vision as the sound of a woman’s sweet laughter filled your head. The smell of roses surrounded you, so strong and intense, and yet you couldn’t do anything but wave away the thick haze that blocked your surroundings.

You felt different within the haze, your regular training armor felt silky and lighter and your hair no longer felt damp with sweat. It was as if you were changed into a different body completely, no longer awkward but confident and sure.

“What’s happening?” you asked, coughing as the haze began to fade. A crowd of campers had entered the sword fighting area at some point, watching you as if you were the designated entertainment for the night. Maybe you were, if the gods felt vicious enough to make you pay for your right to earn a heritage.

Luke’s eyes never left your face, his mouth parted slightly in shock as he just looked at you. A shocked gasp from the crowd of campers had you glancing over at them in confusion. And then you saw it - your reflection in one of the camper’s sunglasses.

A pink hue surrounded your body, following your every movement. Your hair was braided with gold strands woven between your strands of hair. Your armor was replaced with a white sleeveless gown that stopped at your ankles, showing off golden sandals that wrapped along your ankles and up your shins like delicate vines. Your makeup was done flawlessly, not a single smudge on your new winged eyeliner or glossy lips despite the training you had done just moments ago.

“You’ve been claimed,” Luke said, his voice still soft and filled with disbelief. You flushed under Luke’s intense stare and you glanced away, meeting the stares of the other campers around you. “By Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty, the laughter loving goddess.”

Ever since that day, Luke had avoided you as if you had the plague. He avoided you during your shared archery and pegasus riding lessons, hardly sparing you a glance when you struggled with your gear over and over again. During dinner, he sits with his back turned towards you, never moving from his seat until you finally leave. Even during the nightly campfire visits feel awkward when the son of Hermes is looking everywhere but your direction while the children of Apollo are leading the singalong.

Even after your blessing had worn off and your makeup eventually smudged again and you stopped smelling like fresh roses, Luke still made the effort to avoid you entirely. You tried approaching him during sword fighting lessons and walking by the Hermes cabin when you were ready for the day to no avail. It was as if he were never there anymore, disappearing when you entered a room and reappearing right when you left.

It took every bit of courage you had within yourself to go to your half siblings one night, bitterly ranting about Luke’s sudden change in demeanor. In true fashion, all of your siblings gathered around your bunk bed, the love experts of Cabin 10 listening intently to your ramblings even as curfew was set into place and Silena was supposed to call for lights out a while ago.

“He’s definitely avoiding you,” Silena commented with confidence after hearing your complaints. You let out an annoyed huff as you picked out a nail polish from one of the hanging racks along the walls, distracting yourself with the bottle as your half-siblings murmured in agreement. “Guys do that when they don’t know what to do with themselves,”

“But I didn’t do anything to him!” you huffed, shaking the nail polish a few times before opening the bottle. Silena stayed silent as you started on your left hand, carefully painting your nails a sparkling pink color. You stared at the sparkles now adorning your nails, shining brightly against the pink of your freshly painted nails, and thought of how your mother’s blessing ruined everything.

A comfortable silence fell amongst your siblings, all of them watching you with intensity. It was as if they were waiting for you to say something else, to add more to your story. You glanced up from your nails and raised an eyebrow at your siblings, waiting for more input about your lack of action.

“Maybe it's not you, maybe he’s just intimidated because of the blessing.” one of your sisters offered, her voice full of hope as if she were also trying to convince herself. You hummed in agreement, blowing at the nail polish as you stayed lost in thought.

There had to be a better reason, it didn’t seem like Luke to just stop talking to you because of a pink glow that followed you for a couple of days. He was smart, attentive, he had to have seen one of your other siblings get claimed in a similar way. It didn’t make sense that he would only avoid you.

What if he hated the way you looked after you received your blessing, what if the perfectly done makeup was too much? Doubt began to cloud your mind as small insecure thoughts filled your mind again. For the first time in weeks, you felt small and insignificant again, as if you were still the same unclaimed demigod that just entered camp.

“At the end of the day, he’s just a guy,” one of your brothers, Mitchell, added with a roll of his eyes. Your shared siblings hummed in agreement and began to conspire amongst themselves, sharing theories and stories about Luke’s sudden change. He always kept more to himself, hardly opening up to anyone but Annabeth Chase of the Athena cabin it seemed.

You let out a sigh of defeat and laid on your bed, staring at the pink ceiling above you. There wasn’t much for you to do, not when you had so many questions and hardly any answers. You hated this feeling, this uneasy feeling in your stomach like you did something bad.

“So what am I supposed to do? Just be ignored by my only friend at camp?” you asked, almost annoyed. Your nail polish had dried on your left hand and you began to paint your other hand. Even distracted with anxious thoughts, your hand never shook as you expertly coated your nails with the nail polish - one of the many talents you had as a child of Aphrodite.

“You can pray to Mother,” one of your siblings suggested, glancing up at you through a skin care mask. You made a face but didn’t say anything else, not when your Mother could hear within your own cabin. It was your only hope, your only way to figure out why Luke was avoiding you all of a sudden and how you could fix this.

That night you put your favorite pair of shoes on your mother’s altar, an expensive pair of heels you had gotten for your birthday a couple years ago. You weren’t sure how to feel about asking for help when you had gone out of your way to detest the very thing your mother represented, though you were half hopeful that she’d at least hear your pleas for help. You never prayed to Aphrodite before, never really knew how to speak to the goddess that called herself your mother.

Sleep didn’t come easy to you. You tossed and turned all night, huffing in annoyance when you just couldn’t get comfortable in your own bed. You tried sleeping at an angle and on your side and on your back, but nothing seemed to lead to you exhaustion. It wasn’t until you finally looked out the window, gazing out at the Hermes cabin with a wistful sigh, that you felt your eyes grow heavy and heavy until you finally gave in to the lulling comfort of slumber.

The sound of soft waves crashing upon the shore filled your ears, the familiar scent of roses prominent once again. When you opened your eyes, you knew you were dreaming. You weren’t in your cabin anymore, now standing in ankle deep waves that never seemed to truly reach the beach.

You knew where you were, yet you didn't. Something within you longed to stay at this beach, to stay home. But this wasn’t your home, no. It was your mother’s, you were sure. Somehow you were in Cyprus.

Before you could open your mouth and call out for your mother, sea foam began to crash faster and faster upon the waves. The foam gathered along the sand and rocks, growing larger and larger until the foam blanketed along your feet and legs. From the horizon, you could see the same pink aura that had surrounded you when you first got claimed - Aphrodite’s blessing.

Rising from the sea foam, your mother appeared before you, radiating nothing but pure loveliness and beauty. You glanced up at her in awe, you could see why gods and mortals alike fawned after the goddess for centuries.

Her appearance was infinite, constantly changing when every blink you took. One second she had honey brown eyes, another she had sea green eyes, then she had sky blue. Her hair flowed perfectly with an invisible breeze behind her. Curly blonde hair turned to straight black hair turned to coily hair, but you recognized her all the same.

Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty, your mother.

Your mother glanced down at you at last, a gentle smile on her red painted lips. Gods, she was so intimidatingly perfect, you weren’t sure if you were supposed to bow or kneel in her presence. “Child, you have rejected your heritage for so long,” she said, her voice soft and lovely. But you could hear the slight annoyance in her tone, as if she were waiting for you to finally come to your senses.

You bowed your head and fiddled with your hands, playing with the golden rings that adorned your fingers. Your appearance had changed too, now dressed in the very outfit your mother had given you when she claimed you. “I know, I’m sorry….mom…” you said softly, almost embarrassed. You really didn’t want your first interaction with your mother to be a lecture.

Aphrodite said nothing, still staring down at you with her ever changing eyes. Centuries worth of knowledge swirled within her irises, knowledge of ancient lovers and broken hearts beckoning you closer. You wondered what appearance she took when she met your father, if she even took a mortal appearance. “Your heart is not happy,” she said at last, confident and all knowing.

“How do you know?” you asked, almost defensively. You were plenty happy. You enjoyed strawberry picking with the children of Demeter, you enjoyed teaching the younger campers how to make friendship bracelets before dinner, you enjoyed the karaoke competitions with the children of Apollo when it was one of their birthdays.

You were plenty happy at camp, you told yourself, you just needed help. Platonic help with a friend.

Your mother tilted her head at you slightly, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at you. She looked like one of those rich moms that stayed at home, silently judging your question like the answer was obvious.“Your heart is not happy,” she repeated in the same tone, as if it were enough to answer your question.

“I didn’t come to ask about my love life, I just need some advice.” You said, your cheeks heating up at her statement. Maybe your mother was confused, maybe you should’ve prayed to one of her children instead. Romance and friendship were often confused, you told yourself, maybe she thought you wanted relationship advice. “My….friend, Luke, won’t talk to me anymore. Ever since I got claimed it’s like he wants nothing to do with me.”

Aphrodite stayed quiet for a moment, her body still changing and glowing as she stayed lost in thought. You didn’t know where to look, at her perfect face or perfect body, still adorned in a similar gown to yours. She radiated pure confidence, casually posed as the sea foam still gathered around your feet.

“Have you heard of Pygmalion and Galatea?” she asked, looking out into the distance of the sea. A distant look clouded her face, as if she were remembering how long ago she met the couple. You didn’t bother wondering how long ago those people lived.

You racked your brain for those familiar names, you knew them from somewhere. Lovers, they had to be lovers. But from where, you didn’t remember. Memories of ancient myths filled your mind. Eros and Psyche, Orpheus and Eurydice, Pyramus and Thisbe, but no recollection of a Pygmalion and Galatea.

The image of a statue of a woman so perfectly made that she was almost human came to your mind. Beside the statue was a man, tenderly tracing along her arms, her waist, her neck, as if she were his lover. “He fell in love with his statue, right?” you asked suddenly, the myth coming to mind. You had remembered now, a man painfully in love with something that couldn’t love him back, a tragic tale.

“After detesting marriage for so long, yes.” Aphrodite answered fondly, as if she were amused by the story. Perhaps she was, you knew of her resentment for those who openly despised love itself. “But his heart was not happy alone, and he wanted the perfect woman to be beside him - his own creation.”

You stayed silent for a while, unsure of how to respond. What did this have to do with Luke? Was he the sculptor and you the statue? That didn’t seem motivating, though you doubted your mother knew what it felt to be on the other side of unrequited feelings. “You turned his statue into a real woman after he prayed to you, when he finally fell in love though.”

Aphrodite turned to you, a small smirk on her lips. She looked at you as if waiting for you to say something, to realize the point of this story. You blinked up at her, confusion still evident on your face. Maybe there was something wrong with you, maybe she accidentally claimed the wrong child. There was no way she was implying that this story reassembled your own problems.

“What does any of this have to do with me?” You asked finally. This was a mistake, you shouldn’t have listened to your half-siblings. Of course they would suggest you talk to your mother, they all were in relationships. They probably got a better blessing, getting a gift of successful love lifes while all you got were steady hands when you did your nails and makeup.

“A hardened heart does not open for opportunity,” she said, flashing eyes turning to yours. Her eyes were gray now, resembling some of the children of Athena with that knowing look in her eyes. Was she trying to tell you that Luke’s heart was rejecting you?

As if she could read your mind, Aphrodite shook her head. She gave you a pointed look, now dark brown eyes staring directly at you. Your heart skipped a beat at the intense gaze of your mother, it was exactly how Luke looked at you when your first got claimed. Gods, were you really getting flustered over a single glance?

“Not Luke’s heart,” she said, her voice fading as the waves stopped moving. The sea foam slowly melted into the waves, taking your mother with them. She gave you a sympathetic look, as if she didn’t want to leave so soon. But she was a busy goddess, you understood, love waits for no one. “Your brother has done his part, it is up to you to do yours.”

You woke up with a start, your shirt sticking to your back as you sat up from your bed. Below you, one of your siblings groaned in their sleep before their soft breathing resumed. Soft, classical music played from someone’s side of the cabin, though you didn’t mind this particular song.

Your brother has done his part, what was that supposed to mean? You sighed as you wiped your brow, sweat sliding along your forehead. Gods above, how long were you sweating in your sleep?

Carefully, you got off of your bunk bed, your feet softly padding along the cabin floor as you grabbed your slippers from the shoe rack. No one stirred from their slumber, and you silently celebrated as you double checked you were the only one awake in the cabin. The moon was still overhead, the moonlight pouring into the pink stained glass of your cabin and dancing along the countless crystal chandeliers.

A walk wouldn’t hurt, you told yourself as you quietly tiptoed out of your cabin. You just needed to clear your head, dreams were often filled with messages that were difficult to understand.

You kept to the trails that were long walked upon before you first arrived to camp. The moonlight illuminated the camp, no need for any lanterns or fire as you made your way past the other cabins. Neatly made paths guided you from the common area to the sword fighting arena, an old habit. You hadn't realized you were standing at the entrance until soft footsteps followed behind you then stopped.

With a quick glance, you turned to face whoever was behind you, ready to make up an excuse for your late night stroll. You weren’t even properly dressed, still in your pajamas and fluffy slippers. Instead of facing Mr. D or even Chiron, you met a familiar face. Curly brown hair, now unruly and tussled, and soft brown eyes met yours.

You didn’t believe in love at first sight.

Until you met Luke Castellan.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low and raspy. You nodded, suddenly shy. Maybe if you didn’t speak, Luke wouldn’t recognize your voice and avoid you again. He ran a hand through his curls, letting out a soft yawn as he rubbed at his face and slowly woke up.

You stood still, unwilling to ruin this moment. You didn’t even know what to say to him, how nice of you to talk to me again sounded snarky and why haven’t you approached me sounded clingy. Gods, what did your mother tell you again? Something about you needing to do your part? You didn’t even know what brother she was talking about either, though you were sure Mitchell didn’t have any part of her plan.

“I just needed some air,” you said softly, daring a glance up at him. He was a couple feet away from you, the moon shining upon him as if Artimes herself gave him a spotlight. His beaded necklace was half tucked into his shirt, almost as if he were in a hurry to get changed, though you paid it no mind. You weren’t the best dressed at the moment either.

It was quiet again, neither of you saying a word. Somewhere in the distance, a hellhound howled. Shifting your weight from one foot to another, you glanced away from Luke. If he didn’t want to say anything else, you wouldn’t either.

A hardened heart does not open for opportunity, your mother’s voice echoes in your mind, reminding you with a mockingly sweet voice. You scowled at the reminder and made a mental note to grab your shoes from her altar when you returned to your cabin.

“How have you been?” you asked, looking back at Luke. You let out a small breath, your heart pounding wildly as he looked back at you. Did he always look at you like that? As if you had given him the moon and stars and everything in between? “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Luke flushed at your question, rubbing a hand behind his neck. For once, Luke looked unsure. Gone was the confident camper that always had an answer for everything, ready to comfort the newbies and unclaimed demigods alike. “I’ve been alright. Nothing interesting has happened, you know.”

You nodded in understanding. The days leading up to Spring were often dull, with most activities halting to a stop until the Sun could shine again and give comfort to the campers of the earth gods and goddesses. Even some of the Apollo kids were complaining of the lack of warmth in the camp lately, though Mr. D chalked it up to them being dramatic as usual.

“I heard you were training that Jackson kid,” you said softly, raising an eyebrow at Luke. He smiled at the mention of the newest camper, a blond haired kid barely the age of 12 that had apparently killed the minotaur right before he arrived. “I heard he gave Clarisse a nasty drench in the bathroom.”

Luke huffed out a laugh, covering his hand as the sound echoed around the arena. You smiled at the sound, you forgot how nice the feeling was to make him laugh like this. “How did you know about that?” he asked when his laughter had subsided.

You gave him a small shrug, though a playful smile tugged at your lips. It felt so easy to fall back into normalcy with Luke, as if there were never any problems between you at all. “Gossip spreads. People talk when they're getting facials, you know.” you said with a smile.

Another laugh came from Luke and you prided yourself in making him laugh twice in a row. You were sure you’d be caught by now, the noise echoing around the arena. The ears of the monsters on patrol were always precise, though you hadn’t heard the hellhound from earlier since you arrived at the arena.

“Can I ask you something?” Luke took a small step toward you. You nodded, taking in a small breath as he slowly stepped closer and closer to you. He stopped right in front of you, where you could faintly make out the scar along his cheek. It took all of your effort to not reach out and trace it, just to hold his cheek in your own hands. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

You nodded again, “I do, actually.” Tilting your head up to get a better view of Luke, you noted all the small details of his face. His dimples never left as he smiled at you, light freckles dusted his cheeks from grueling days in the sun. A soft pink blush spread along his face, and his eyes looked at you and only you. “Do you?”

“I do.”

A comfortable silence fell between you again, and you took in a shuddering breath. He was close, so close to your face, almost inches away from sharing the same breath as you. “Can I ask you a question?” you asked, glancing up at him through your lashes. “Do you feel like-”

“You’ve been shot by Eros’s arrow?” Luke gave you a small smile, leaning in ever so slightly until his lips met yours. He tasted like sweet ambrosia, addicting and inviting, and you leaned closer to get another taste before he could pull away. You wanted more, more, more until there was nothing left for Luke to give you, and he seemed willing to give you everything you wanted.

A small huff left your lips when Luke eventually pulled away, panting slightly and blushing profusely. “Took you long enough,” you said softly, your own cheeks burning. You couldn’t believe your own mother, much less your godly half sibling. You made a mental note to offer some of your favorite chocolates to them both as a thanks for helping you out.

Luke let out a chuckle, brushing some hair away from your face with a fond smile. He looked good like this, happy and relaxed without the weight of his burdens filling his mind. You wished you could make him happy like this forever.

“Sorry for avoiding you,” he said softly, his voice barely a whisper. His fingers gently traced along your cheeks, your jaw, your lips. He gently wiped his thumb along the corner of your mouth, and your heart fluttered at the slight touch. “I thought…you wouldn’t want to be seen with me after getting claimed.” “Why wouldn’t I want to be seen with you?” you asked, tilting your head in confusion. You grabbed his hand, gently interlacing your fingers with his and giving his hand a gentle squeeze. He returned the gesture, squeezing your hand back as he stared at your hands.

“I didn’t think you wanted to have me when you looked so…” Luke blushed slightly, and you covered your mouth to hide your smile. Perhaps your siblings were right, perhaps he truly was intimidated by your mother’s blessing. “You just looked so beautiful, and I didn’t know if you wanted someone better, someone fit for a daughter of Aphrodite.”

“Luke,” you said softly, giggling slightly at his reluctance to meet your gaze. You gently cupped his cheek with your hand, your thumb tracing the scar along his face. Luke leaned into your touch slightly, and you gently kissed his scarred cheek once, twice, three times. “Shut up.”

Luke smiled at your response, moving his face to meet your lips instead. His hands found their place at your hips, pulling you closer to him. Beneath the milky twilight of the moon’s shine, you wrapped your arms around Luke's neck, tiptoeing to reach his height as your lips molded against his once more.

You didn’t care about getting caught, you didn’t care about the footsteps that seemed to lead towards the arena when Luke chased your lips like he needed salvation. You’d worry about your punishment tomorrow, whether it was an extra month of kitchen duty or losing desert privileges, you didn't care. Not when Luke was holding you so tenderly, kissing you like it was the only thing he was made for on this Earth.

You used to say you didn’t believe in love at first sight, but that was before you met Luke Castellan.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo tv show #pjo series #charlie bushnell #au where Luke isn't evil because I wish things were better for him #the lightning thief #tlt #percy series #pjo #pjo fandom

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