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reidshearts · 2 months

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Picture 1, summer lake party!

You had just turned 16 when you had finally been granted permission to stay out later and attend one of the infamous lake parties hosted by head councillors and the older campers. Your older siblings in the Ares cabin had prepped you of the activities that took place and what not to do to embarrass the Ares name. For example when one of your brother, Aiden had snuck in weed and accidentally misplaced it before realising, after Chiron had caught them, the wood nymphs had stolen it and … well they were forbidden to tell the rest by Mr D!

After many hours of changing outfits with your Clarisse's opinions, you had decided on a pink floral two piece swim costume before layering a cute tank top and your favourite denim shorts.

You gave yourself some encouragement in the mirror before heading down to the lake after your siblings, not before hugging Clarisse goodbye seeing as she was too young to attend.

Noticing a few crowds already scattered across the area. You paused, realising the only people you knew closely had already begun to mingle and join their friends. Of course this wasn't a good idea, there was no point trying to fit in with your siblings friend groups, they would reject you after noticing you weren't like them. Not brave like Lena, as pretty as Clarisse but you were too emotional and sensitive no matter how many times you had tried to change. You would never have the confidence.

Preparing to leave you had turned on your heels before a warm hand took a hold of your shoulder, forcing you to turn around and an unfamiliar voice spoke.

"I am so sorry i didn't mean to startle you, just wanted to see if you were okay was all"

After realising this person had meant no harm you noticed it was Luke, a son from the Hermes cabin. Smiling softly you admire his soft features, from his onyx curls to his mesmerising jawline.

Luke chuckled breaking you from your stare, of course he had also admired you however he had learnt to be more subtle.

"Sorry your...", you clear you throat and decide not to continue your trail of thoughts, "Oh yea I'm peachy just going to head back to my cabin, get some beauty sleep yanno?"

"You only just got here"

"You stalking me Luke?"

"Nope, just observant but I think I've been more subtle than you, my eyes are up here sweetheart"

You turned your head trying to hide you growing smile however your plan failed when your eyes met his again.

"C'mon you have to actually be by the lake to say you came to one of these things!", Luke exclaimed before giving you his best smile, saved for his favourite people and holding out his hand for you take take.

You threw your head back with a huff giving in and reluctantly placing your hand in his. He had definetly then suprised you when you were suddenly launched forwards trying to catch up with his running further towards the lake.

Luke made his way with his hand in yours towards the furthest end of the lake where only few campers sat, slowing his pace as he got closer. You couldn't help but admire the lake as, forgetting it's beauty in the glowing sunset. Trees scattered the landscape and vines dripped from the high branches creating curtains that sun snuck through and highlighted rows of hyancinths and tulips. This was beautiful you thought.

You were truly magnificent Luke thought, his gaze admiring you and your actions. Your hands were still clasped together as Luke softly pulled you down to sit on the nearest picnic blanket with him. It was an intimate moment, both sitting side by side, thighs touching as you got lost in conversation.

Time slipped by and you both hadn't noticed how campers had began to make their ways back to their cabins, only a few including you two still stayed. The moon had now shone down reflecting light against the lake waters.

"I love the lake like this", you expressed, "the most peaceful it probably is all day" recalling the number of people who swam and splashed in it earlier the evening.

"Are we personifying the lake now?", Luke teased.

"No, doof you know what I mean"

"Like you wanna capture it and keep it in your pocket?"

"Yea, well maybe not my pocket but a pretty box would be nice", you replied with a soft grin, your features were lit up by the night sky.

"Well then why don't we", he suggested.

Before you could question him, he was already calling out to another camper who he had seen previously to have a polaroid camera with her. The girl wondered over with a grin, pleased to capture a cute moment between the two of you. Luke pulled you closer, hand around respectfully around your back and your head dropping onto his shoulder.

"Cheese!", the girl exclaimed and you gave your best smile hoping Luke was doing the same, "Awh that was so cute guys, here you go, keep it safe".

She handed over the polaroid photo to you carefully before skipping back towards her friend group. Waving it around in the air you impatiently waited for the picture to develop.

"Shit, we should probably head back, the last group is leaving now, ready?", Luke jumped to his feet while lending out his hand to you.

"Thank you kind sir", you replied letting him pull you up, holding the polaroid tightly in one hand and keeping his in yours as you wandered back through the woods. The walk wasn't long and seemed to have unfortunatley quickened as you both shared whispers, hoping to not wake the sleeping campers with loud voices.

Standing in front of your cabin with a blush and a honest smile was not how you anticipated the night to end when you first arrived at the lake. But you weren't disappointed.

"I had a nice time", Luke spoke, matching your smile.

"Me too"

Your hands were both still tightly strung together before you reluctantly let go, leaving a final squeeze.

"Night Luke"

"Night sweetheart", he gave you a brief kiss on your forehead before making his way back to his cabin, looking back twice as he watched you open the cabin door.

With one final glance over your shoulder you quietly shut the cabin door and head to your bunk. Thankfully not dropping the polaroid in your fingers you figured it had probably developed by now. Holding it up your smile only grew wider. You had a smile on your face in the picture and where you had expected to see Luke's also towards the camera it was not. His eyes glued to you, leaning on his shoulder, and had a soft smile, admiration only seen.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x you #percy jackon and the olympians #percyjackson #annabeth chase #charlie bushnell

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reidshearts · 2 months

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wow

kiss of life (i.)

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!daughter reader

summary: in a universe where soulmates are interlinked by shared pain (senses) and emotions, luke castellan refuses to have anything to do with his soulmate because of what it did to his mother, but he can't ignore fate.

—or: luke castellan and the soulmate he never wanted.

word count: 4.03k

warnings: suppperrr angsty, luke castellan pov, long reading time, descriptive injuries, blood, pre-tlt, luke is a dick, annabeth carries her 5 seconds of screen time, there's no happy thoughts in this whatsoever, slight reader pov during capture the flag, i lowkey messed up but whatever!!

a/n: i wanted to make a cute lil fic for valentines day but uh... that didn't happen. this will definitely be a two (maybe 3) part fic so pls bear with me guys. this is based on this request! (sorry i babe this probably isn't what you expected). i'm working on a tag list! lmk if you wanna be added! make sure your tags are on

Luke Castellan had always known of soulmates, a covenant bestowed by the goddess Aphrodite after Zeus' condemnation. In this tapestry of fate, each person had a counterpart, a soulmate crossing the expanse of the world in search of their other half. Aphrodite offered the assurance as an unspoken promise that no soul would tread the journey of life alone.

It was undeniably a blessing, an ethereal gift from the divine.

However, within the enchanting threads of destiny lay the knots of a curse, a double-edged sword cutting through the hearts of those entangled in its mystic web.

If caught in a love affair with the gods themselves, to have a soulmate is to be cursed.

It is a curse.

To be bound by an unseen force to another being carried the weight of uncertainty. The love meant to be shared might be misplaced, bestowed upon one undeserving of such devotion. The anticipation of finding one's missing half, the yearning for completion, came with the haunting possibility of realizing your soulmate is a terrible person (or a god).

Luke Castellan, haunted by the thought of his own mother's despair, struggled with the contradictory idea of soulmates.

He had witnessed the agony of misplaced trust, the shattered promises of an everlasting bond that crumbled into abandonment. The bitter taste of reality lingered in his memories, and he found solace in mistrust. The once-a-believer had been wounded by the fickleness of fate, and the shards of shattered hopes had left him jaded.

For Luke, the concept of soulmates had become a distant echo, a melody drowned in the clamour of broken vows. The elaborate dance of destiny, with its promises of eternal love, had left him disillusioned and wary.

The mere thought sends shivers down his spine. There was a time when the uncertainty of meeting his soulmate fueled his excitement, the prospect of finding the one who could empathize with his scars and decipher the intricate labyrinth of his thoughts. But it all crumbled under the weight of bitter revelations. It was all from a time before he understood the depths of his father's betrayal of his once hopeful mother.

May Castellan, who, like her son, had yearned for the embrace of a soulmate, had fallen victim to the callous actions of the gods, of Hermes. The invisible bond that tethered her to a true soulmate, forever elusive, disintegrated into ash as Hermes, with deceitful promises, claimed her love, gave her a child, and then abandoned her.

Hermes, in the eyes of Luke, was never deserving of the love May once held for him. The curse woven by him and Aphrodite condemned not only May but every parent of Half-Bloods, forcing them to lose their soulmates the moment they fell for a god unbeknownst to them. A life of loneliness, unless deemed worthy of a second chance.

The wicked curse that hangs like a shadow. Luke harbours a desire to curse each deity responsible, yearning to reverse the relentless march of time and rescue his mother from the clutches of an ill-fated love. His gut turns to spare himself from the knowledge that his soulmate is burdened with every ache in his bones, every cut against his skin, every burn etched into his soul, and all the hatred festering within his heart.

A bound linkage to someone unseen, someone he wishes never to encounter, so he can evade the piercing gaze that would reflect the damage he unwittingly wrought upon their shared destiny. The very thought of this entwined fate, tinged with regret and resentment, casts a dark pall over Luke's existence.

He had never desired to cross paths with you, and he dreaded the thought of it, actually. And now, in the cruel twist of fate, he is intimately acquainted with every nuance of your existence. The touch of your hands lingers on his skin, your smile etches itself into his mind, and he has meticulously memorized every curl and detail of your hair.

Luke hates himself because of it.

Even before he met you, he sensed the gentleness that resonated within your heart during the quiet hours of the night. In the shadows of darkness, he felt the healing energy from you, mending his wounds with an invisible touch. The cuts on Luke's skin were yours as much as they were his. The unspoken link between your souls allowed him to witness the subtle acts of kindness, and Luke grapples with the conflict between the soft purity he perceives in your heart and the darkness he knows resides within his own.

Luke reluctantly admits that meeting you has broken down the barriers he built against the concept of soulmates. He sought refuge in the hectic pace of camp life, immersing himself in caring for the needs of others and teaching classes nonstop. The hope was to drown out the impending meeting, to avoid the inevitable collision with the person he believes is destined for a lifetime of torment, told to love a fractured soul like his own.

He battles against the current of fate, fearing that he, like his father, will ruin someone deserving of far more than what he is willing to give. Luke Castellan, with his decaying and rotten heart, grapples with the impossibility of being loved the way a soulmate should be.

Luke used to avoid the infirmary as if it were a contagious plague. He observed other campers entering with the innocent thoughts of treating their injuries, only for some (most) to depart, hands entwined with another camper bearing matching scars.

At Camp Half-Blood, discovering your soulmate was a rare alignment of stars and celestial threads. However, if one dared to tread the delicate line of hope the best place to look in was the sanctuary where most children of Apollo thrived—the infirmary, a haven where wounds were healed, and the whispers of shared pain lingered in the air.

Knowing himself, Luke carried the confidence that his soulmate must be among the group who spent hours of the day in the infirmary. The persistent pain in his body, a result of late-night training sessions when the cloak of darkness allowed him to unleash a more violent, heartless side with his sword, left an indelible mark on his consciousness.

If he aches, you ache with him.

And as you used to pass your days with the intent of healing, he embarked on a self-destructive journey. Rest remained elusive, sleep a forgotten companion, all of it was a relentless chase of distraction from you before even meeting you. It was excessive, and he knew it.

The awareness that he shared hurting wounds and silent pain with a soulmate haunted him long before he set foot in camp. But the realization of you being so close scared him, and it came swiftly when the first breath of the air in the camp seemed to carry a lighter touch than anywhere else, his bruises throbbed less, and the sting of cuts transformed into a light buzz, resonating with the rhythmic pound of his heart. He was fourteen years old when he realized his soulmate wasn't as far away as he thought.

Yet, despite this, Luke avoided any acknowledgment of you. He dismissed the whispers from those who bore similar bloody knuckles or heard rumours of others awakening with jabs on their arms, reminiscent of his own accidental self-inflicted cuts while sharpening his sword. The passage of time at camp became a delicate dance of evasion, each day spent in a fervent hope to remain blissfully unaware of the person who mirrored his wounds and pain.

Driven by guilt and fear, Luke deliberately sidestepped any potential encounters with his soulmate. His days were crafted meticulously to maintain this distance.

And it worked.

At least for a while.

Until the fatal return to camp after a failed quest, a burden placed on him by his father. Hopes and ambitions lay crushed and battered, and Luke's spirit shrunk from the pitiful gazes of other campers and the wallowing anger toward his father grew.

Annabeth ushered him to the infirmary the moment she laid eyes on him.

And for once, Luke never fought her against it.

There, in the quiet confines of the healing haven, Luke sat in a vulnerable silence. His head hung low as an older Apollo child skillfully stitched up the wound on the side of his face, wrapping it to keep it from infections as it healed. By then, tears had become a rarity for Luke, but that night was an exception. When the son of Apollo left the cabin, he could feel them stream down his cheeks, the ache in his chest returning as he sobbed into his hands.

At that moment, he felt like a child again, hiding in his bedroom, hiding anywhere he could; under his bed, in his closet, locked in the bathroom. He only ever wanted his mom. He was scared, fear gripped him, in his heart, and he wanted his mom to hold him and reassure him that everything was okay and that the monsters were only from the stories. That they'd never hurt him. But May Castellan was the one who-

"You're Luke, right?"

He was snapped back to the present as he heard the soft voice, a gentle interruption to the echoes of his past. A pair of old shoes appeared at the foot of his bed, their white socks and lace trim capturing his attention.

Initially, he assumed it might be a random camper stuck on bed rest offering words of encouragement or recognition for his efforts on the quest. Maybe even a pat on the back. However, the soothing tone and genuine concern prompted his clenched fists to uncoil.

Luke looked up with rosy cheeks and glossy eyes, unable to hide the traces of his tears. There you stood, the toe of your right shoe tracing patterns on the floor.

Despite the weariness, a glimmer of hope shone in your eyes as you tilted your head and softly spoke his name again.

The world seemed to... stop. Luke felt himself sinking into the soft mattress, softer than the one on his bed in Hermes' cabin. Tunnel vision enveloped him, rendering him oblivious to the lingering ache on the side of his face, the lingering humiliation, and even his festering hatred toward his father. For that fleeting second, he was acutely aware of nothing but you and the rhythm of his heart, pounding against his ribcage.

He tried to stop staring, but it was difficult. Your eyes, filled with curiosity, roamed across his face, and his figure, before finally settling on his gaze. Luke felt the pull, a silent exchange. You raised your chin ever so slightly, an uncertain smile etched on your lips as if grappling with the urge to ease his pain without knowing how.

Luke couldn't help but think that you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

"Hi." You say, voice quiet. It felt familiar, and Luke found himself sitting up, his body finally coaxed back to life. A soft wave accompanied your introduction, and you shared your name.

He repeated it, savouring the sound of it. Luke nodded, clearing his throat before finally acknowledging, "Yeah, I'm Luke." As you looked at him, a sense of familiarity lingered in your gaze, prompting him to question, "Have we met before?"

Considering the number of Half-Bloods at camp, he might have seen you in passing and might have heard your name in others' conversations. He wasn't surprised when you shook your head. "No, I don't think so. Not officially at least."

Gratitude flooded him as you refrained from prying into his well-being or questioning the details of his quest. It was as if you inherently knew not to press him. Yet, there was an undeniable shift in your demeanour.

It only took a few more seconds for it to click.

Alarms started to ring in Luke's head as you tucked strands of hair behind your ears, revealing your full face. A jolt of realization struck him like a punch to the stomach. His gaze fixated not on you but on the healing stitches adorning the right side of your face — eerily similar to the ones he had recently received, wrapped and hidden to ward off infections.

His stare shifted from you to the delicate ridges of your skin, where the cut appeared in far better condition than his own. A pang of bitterness surfaced as he realized you had tended to your injury promptly, unlike him, a failure who had journeyed back to camp shrouded in defeat, covered in grime, sweat, blood, and tears.

Your cut would heal nicely, leaving behind a faint scar visible only under the summer sun's ray in the camp. Meanwhile, Luke knew his own would bear the mark of an ugly scar, a haunting reminder of his losses, of his anger, of how he hated pieces of himself and every piece of the gods. But in between, Luke liked to think of how in the summer months, your matching scars would serve as a silent testament to your contrasting yet interlinked connection as...

Oh.

Oh, no.

You seemed on the verge of saying something, brows creased, a nervous laugh bubbling within you, but Luke avoided meeting your eyes. The unspoken sentiment hung in the air, clear as day, and he didn't need you to say it.

He could almost picture you then, collapsing, your skin tearing as Ladon dug his claws into Luke's face. The echoes of your screams intertwined with his own, and the lingering pain painted a vivid tapestry of shared suffering. It struck him — you never deserved the consequences of his failed quest.

The weight of having Luke as a soulmate felt like an inescapable curse, a burden you never asked for. It was a curse he never wanted to bestow upon anyone, especially you. In the sheer minutes of meeting you, he already felt that you deserved better.

The day had already unravelled into a series of unfortunate events — a failed quest, pitiful glances, and now, an encounter with a soulmate. While others might interpret this moment of fate as the gods offering forgiveness for his quest's failure, Luke perceived it as a cruel mockery. The gods, it seemed, were determined to make him hate them.

When his eyes finally met yours, he was taken aback by the kindness reflected in them. There was no trace of hatred, despite the bodily harm he had indirectly inflicted upon you. A part of him hoped that, in time, you would come to despise him enough for Aphrodite to redirect the course of your fate, steering you toward a soulmate other than Luke.

But she didn't.

And he refused to talk to you since.

When he woke up the next morning, you were there, sitting by the bed nearby, reading a book quietly. When you saw him awake, already looking your way, you seemed to brighten in a way that he could think the sun looked like until he met you. Before you could say anything, he turned the other way.

You got the hint and let Luke settle with the newfound information placed upon the two of you. You gave him time. Surely, he'd come around eventually.

But hours turned to days, and days turned to weeks and you were sure he could feel the way your heart sank every time he'd leave the room the moment you entered. He never gave you a chance.

Luke was being an asshole and he knew it. But it was complicated and the root of it all made his head spin. You started to cloud his judgement and change his beliefs, and he'd only spoken three words to you at most. What kind of sick and twisted fate was this?

Before, glimpses of you were brief and fleeting, mere blurs in the edge of Luke's attention. He could have sworn he spotted you in the company of Silena Beauregard and Piper McLean, and that led him to assume that you were, ironically, a daughter of Aphrodite.

But now, you seemed to be everywhere, appearing in every corner of camp.

You were there by the strawberry fields when he searched for solace. At the lake, you were teaching the youngest campers how to swim, a nurturing figure amidst the laughter and splashes. Even at the Dining Pavilion, he couldn't escape the proximity of you and your friends, sitting so close to his own table.

Luke pretended not to notice the soft smile you sent his way, a silent plea for acknowledgment. Instead, he rose abruptly. Luke retreated to the ritual of burning offerings without uttering a word and left, ignoring the way your eyes followed.

The ache in his chest intensified with each passing moment, and it made him wonder if he could die from the heartache of avoiding his soulmate. Surely, it wouldn't kill him, Luke told himself, his mother was still alive, wasn't she?

Throughout late spring and into the swelting days of summer, you saved time to break through Luke's walls, to get him to talk to you. You couldn't fathom the idea of having a soulmate so near, let alone hate for reasons unknown to you.

One day, you cornered him admits the chaos of Capture the Flag, the end of your sword at his chest. Up close, he noticed the subtle differences in your demeanour - the determination hidden beneath your helmet, the armour wrapped tightly around you, the clinking of metal as you moved.

Instinctively, Luke reached for his sword.

But to his surprise, you made no move to attack. You only wanted to talk.

"There's nothing to say," Luke shrugged, his tone guarded. "Unless you want to surrender your flag."

"That's not what I want to talk about," you countered, your voice firm yet tinged with an edge of annoyance. It was a change from the shy and nervous tone you had shown in the infirmary months ago, or during your previous attempts to confront him.

He shifted uncomfortably, his grip tightening on the handle of his sword. You removed your helmet and placed it by your feet, the vibrant red feathers stark against the lush green grass, and you rose to your full height and met Luke's gaze.

"Luke," You started.

"No," he interjected, defensive as if the mere sound of your voice threatened to unravel him completely.

"I didn't even say anything."

"I know what you're going to say."

You tilted your head in a gesture of inquiry. "I thought you said there was nothing to talk about?"

Your words seemed to fall on deaf ears as Luke withdrew his sword, taking a step back to maintain distance between you. With a firm grip on his weapon, he pointed it in your direction, it clashed against the blade of your own, a warning to keep your distance.

Undeterred, you persisted, unwilling to let him slip away without a fight. "You're my soulmate, Luke."

He shook his head dismissively. "You don't know that."

In response, you scoffed, pointing to the thin line that mirrored the scar he hid beneath his helmet. "I don't?" you countered, your tone laced with incredulity.

Your scar had indeed healed beautifully over the summer, unaffected even by the harsh rays of the sun. It adorned your face like a badge of resilience, a mark of strength that Luke couldn't help but envy. To him, it only served as a reminder of his own perceived flaws - a source of insecurity and self-doubt.

"You can't keep ignoring me," you persisted, taking a step closer to him, your determination unwavering. "At least tell me why. I don't blame you for the pain you've caused, Luke. So, stop looking so guilty when you see me."

Luke remained stubborn, his resolve unyielding. Without warning, he lunged at you, his sword poised to strike.

Startled, you stumbled back, your own sword drawn instinctively in defence. While your prowess with a sword may not have been the greatest, you held your own, maintaining a defensive stance against his relentless onslaught.

"Why are you so against it?" you pressed, your voice tinged with frustration. "Do you not believe in soulmates? What are you so afraid of?"

Luke grunted in response, pulling back when you pushed him away, his expression unreadable as he turned his back to you.

Left standing there, feeling utterly hopeless, you tightened your grip on your sword, its weight heavy in your hand. "Is it me?" you questioned softly, the weight of rejection bearing down on you.

To be rejected by a soulmate was a rare occurrence, one usually shrouded in untold reasons and unspoken pain. Yet, as Luke kicked your sword away and forced you to surrender for the remainder of the game, compelling you to raise a white flag in defeat, you couldn't shake the nagging doubt that perhaps Aphrodite had been mistaken.

Luke had seen it reflected in your eyes – that deep-seated fear of being unwanted. It was a fear he knew all too well, one that had haunted him every time he caught his own reflection in the mirror. However, you never brought yourself to believe in a mistaken fate, clinging to the hope instilled in you by your mother's unwavering faith.

You signed up for counsellor activities you don't usually take on, hoping for a chance to engage with Luke, but time and again, it was Chris who appeared in his place, offering apologetic smiles and half-assed excuses for Luke's disappearances. As a last resort, you left a note attached to the sheath of his sword.

He had found it hours after sword practice, long after the clang of blades had ceased and the eager shouts of campers had faded into the twilight. The training grounds lay deserted, bathed in the soft hues of the setting sun as its golden rays cast long shadows across the empty expanse. He looked for you in his surroundings, but you were nowhere to be found.

In the note, you'd asked him to meet you by the lake the next full moon. You pleaded for an opportunity to talk, no snarky comments, no sarcastic jabs, no running away. You only wanted to understand why he had been avoiding you. You told him you'd wait for him by the dock.

And you did.

The moon cast its light upon the waters, and you waited patiently, the soft ripples of the lake lapping gently at the shore. The night air was cool and crisp, carrying with it a hint of anticipation that mingled with the rustle of leaves in the nearby trees. You hugged yourself tightly, a futile attempt to ward off the chill that crept beneath your skin.

Hours passed in silence, the passage of time marked only by the soft murmur of the water and the distant call of nocturnal creatures. Yet, despite the solitude that enveloped you, you remained steadfast in your guard, your determination (or perhaps stubbornness) unwavering.

Luke stood by the shadows of the treeline, clutching the note you had left tightly between his fingers. From there, he watched you sitting alone by the docks, a lone silhouette against the moonlit expanse of the lake. He felt a pang of guilt tug at his heart as he watched you shiver in the night breeze, the weight of your unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

For a fleeting moment, he contemplated approaching you, the urge to bridge the growing chasm between you almost overwhelming. Yet, as uncertainty clouded his thoughts, he hesitated, paralyzed by his own insecurities and fears.

In the end, Luke made his choice. With a heavy heart, he tossed the note, watching as it fluttered to the ground. With a sigh, he turned and retreated into the darkness, seeking solace in the shelter of Hermes's cabin, leaving you by the water's edge.

He knew then that he'd been right: to have a soulmate is to be cursed, and you eventually were to realize that you cannot love a fractured soul like his own, even if it was what the Fates had in store for you, it only led to despair.

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