wc + pairing: 6.7k, luke x daughter of poseidon! reader
synopsis: you’ve been unclaimed for five years. you’ve loved your best friend even longer. the sea used to be your greatest solace, but after percy jackson comes to camp, it’s your cruelest reminder. (based on this ask!)
warnings: best friends to lovers <3, percy/reader sibling dynamic, fluff and angst then fluff again, hurt/comfort, shameless making out. sorry this one is so long but besties to lovers is my lifeblood!!! i get so attached!! designated song is true blue by boygenius:)
i. you said you wanted to feel alive, so we went to the beach
“Ahoy, sailor!”
The familiar voice ricochets across the lake. You turn, leaving glimmers of sun behind you as you stare back at the docks of Camp Half-Blood. An orange blob with a curly mop of hair is beckoning you. You laugh, wave back at him, and plunge into the water. It cools your face after staying above the surface for so long—you just love watching the light reflected off the waves. But the second you’re under the water, the soreness in your muscles, the heat on your face, the exhaustion from treading for so long, are washed away from you. You swim with precision and vigor, relishing the feel of the river cupping your limbs to spur you forward. Not to sound lame, but you fucking love swimming.
But maybe not as much as you love your best friend.
He laughs when your head pops out of the water at the edge of the dock. “Wow, that took you longer than usual,” he teases, brown eyes glinting in the dawn. “You getting sloppy?”
You huff, splashing some water up at him but it barely touches him. “I’m tired, you moron. I’ve been out there for an hour.”
Luke leans down at the edge of the dock, offering you a hand. His face is bemused when you latch onto him, and with a good flex of his bicep he pulls you up. “All right, c’mon,” he grunts.
All your energy evaporates the second your body’s out of the water. You’re far too lazy to be graceful, so you sprawl out onto the dock like a dying fish, letting the sun kiss every inch of you. “Eww,” Luke giggles overtop you, prodding your side with the tip of his shoe. “Get up, you mermaid.”
“Make me, you mailman.”
Your arm drapes over your eyes, and you sigh. There really is nothing better than these moments; droplets of water soaking into your skin after an early morning swim, your best friend right beside you.
He keeps nudging you with your shoe, over and over until your ribs start to hurt. You groan, swatting him away and stretching out your limbs with a groan, letting them pop and relax, until you blearily make your way to your feet.
“You forgot your towel again,” Luke condones, but like always, he’s brought one for you.
He goes through a practiced routine of drying you off, wrapping the towel around your shoulders and down your arms, across your back, scrunching the water out of your hair. It doesn’t matter how cold the water gets—this part always makes you warm.
“Thanks,” you smile as he hands the towel off to you. “Anything interesting happen this morning, O Captain, my captain?”
“Not yet, sailor, sir,” he replies in a stuffy, gruff voice the two of you have joked around with since you were kids. “Just grabbing you for breakfast.”
You giggle, following him past the docks and to the shore. Once you’ve grabbed all your stuff, you both fall in stride and head towards your cabin, your twin five-beaded necklaces hanging over your shirts.
Five years ago, when you got to Camp for the first time, you were as big a loser as any. You were bad at everything—everything—and had no real friends until you accidentally whacked some other friendless loser in the head with an oar when you were about to go canoeing. Luke got mad at you, but his little sister Annabeth was even more furious. He offered to be your partner for the day anyway. You’ve been partners ever since.
Over the years the two of you have grown in status at the camp, more so Luke than you. He’s an excellent cabin leader and by far the greatest swordsman in camp. You, still unclaimed, have found solace in giving younger campers swimming lessons and wading out there on your own till you get sunstroke. (It’s happened a few times. Luke is never pleased, but also refuses to let the Apollo campers take care of you. He nurses you back to health with ice cream and horrible gossip.)
But every night you return to the Hermes cabin with a hollowness in your chest. One bunk emptied, then immediately filled. You’ve had the same one for five years, and the only condolence is that it’s right next to Luke’s, and sometimes you spend hours at night making faces at each other till your laughter endangers other people’s sleep.
Yes, you love the water at Camp Half-Blood, but you love Luke most.
Rumours of a new kid are rustling at camp. You haven’t seen him, but you’re just dying to get in on the gossip. Apparently he slayed a minotaur. Apparently Annabeth has seen him. And apparently he’s unclaimed. You hate to admit it, but this is the most exciting news you’ve heard in weeks!
Your afternoon is spent giving some swimming lessons and taking some Demeter campers canoeing. (Some of them freak out on the water. so it’s a nice challenge to untangle the sea plants they get hooked around their boat.) It feels like you’ve been here forever. A break is in desperate demand right now.
You have no idea what kind of God heard your prayers, but your fellow counsellor has an unimpressed look on her face when she taps you on the shoulder and goes, “Your friend’s calling you.”
The way she says it is almost degrading. You turn to look back at the shore to see the dark curly hair you’d spot a mile away. Next to him is a much shorter orange blob, shuffling awkwardly as Luke attempts to flag you down. Score!
You shoot an apologetic look at her. “Uh … I’ll be right back.” You wince, already disposing of your baggy orange shirt (it’s Luke’s) with your bathing suit underneath.
“No you won’t,” she says dryly. “Just go.”
You flash a smile you hope is loaded with charm, and you’re off into water. As you swim, the only thing on your mind is I really really hope that’s the new kid, and I wonder what Luke’s face looks like right now. (He’s probably grinning, eyes crinkled at the sides as he tries to follow your figure beneath the waves. Maybe he’s doing that cute thing where his head tilts to the side as he watches.)
When you’re close enough to the shore, you come out of the water, wringing your hair. “Hey, guys!” It’s Luke, Chris, and some blonde kid you’re sure is the new one. “What’s up?”
Luke is about to say something, then he frowns. “Where’s my shirt?”
“Left it in the canoe, I’ll go back for it later,” you reply, limply gesturing behind you.
“And where’s your towel?”
“Okay, I did bring one this time!” You counter. “I just gave it to a little Ares kid ‘cause she forgot hers.”
Luke clicks his tongue, shakes his head at you, but of course he’s got one in his hands so what’s the worry? He’s endearingly amused when you take the cloth and dry yourself off, and the new boy, having watched this all raptly, widens his eyes and drawls, “Ohhhh, so you’re his gi—”
“This is Camp’s resident mermaid, Percy.” Chris butts in, adding your name almost as an afterthought.
After you fasten your towel around you, you’re put off by Percy’s scrutinizing stare. “Look, it’s been a pretty weird day so I cannot tell if you’re joking or not.”
“I’m not a mermaid,” you snipe, throwing Chris a dirty look. “People just call me that because I give swimming lessons here.” You stick your hand out to the blonde boy. “Nice to meet you, Percy.”
He gives a polite nod, a little awkward. “Right back at ya.” The two of you study each other as you shake. He’s young, probably about twelve, a smatter of freckles across his face. His eyes look like the lake. Something itches in the back of your brain. There’s a moment where the shake is suspended, neither of you have let go but are no longer actively holding on, and you see it in his face that he’s studying you, too. Huh.
The conversation continues as normal, but you almost start to feel queasy for a second. “We’re trying to find something Percy’s good at,” Luke says with a pat on Percy’s shoulder. “You got any ideas?”
“Yes, please, because I really would like to have a word with my father,” Percy clips. “Is Glory, like, purely a skill thing or can I get some if I tie someone else’s shoes or something?”
“I don’t have shoes,” you add unhelpfully.
“It’s okay, dude,” Luke squeezes Percy’s shoulder. “Camp is great, no matter where you end up.”
Even if you’re like her, he means without saying. Even if you don’t end up anywhere.
You meet Luke’s eyes. This is a kid that wants so badly to meet his father, to ease the ache inside him. You are the absolute worst person for this. One of the longest current unclaimed streaks and your ache remains. To Percy, you’re the biggest example of a failure there is, and Luke is only just now realizing it.
“Maybe try the infirmary?” You pipe, shuffling back and forth on the sand. “You might have a knack for medicine.”
Percy can’t see it, but Luke and Chris send you a shifty look and all you can do is widen your eyes to be like, Help! Don’t make me crush his dreams! I don’t want another kid to hate me!
You swallow. No matter how fast you think, you cannot come to a logical sentence. “I, uh—”
Just then, in another stroke of luck (wow, that’s two more than usual) an Athena counsellor that looks insanely disgruntled is running towards you. “Stolls put spiders in our cabin again,” he heaves once at a stop. “Please get rid of them.”
“Can’t you just squash ‘em?” Percy asks.
“Not the spiders, the twins.”
Chris is already nodding, but Luke looks to you first. He’s anxious, disappointed. You wish you could smooth out the creases in his brow with your thumb. “Don’t worry,” you stretch out a smile. “I’ll chill with Percy. It won’t take you guys too long.”
He’s still hesitant. You’re not sure this is a good call either. But he reaches out, quickly squeezes your shoulder and mutters, “Thank you.” Your skin feels gooey when he touches it.
His signature roguish smile returns as he looks back to Percy. The side of his face is shadowed by the sun so well it makes you jealous. “Don’t give her a hard time, eh?” He reprimands playfully.
Percy smiles a little. “I’ll try not to.”
You are once again reminded just how easy it is to love Luke. How effortlessly he moves into your heart. It happened to you after you slapped him with an oar. It’s already happening to Percy.
You’re sure he won’t like you nearly half as much.
After Luke and Chris leave, Percy resigns to staring out at the campers canoeing on the lake. Maybe now is a good time to admit you’re not good with kids. Luke has tried many times to make you his welcome partner, but you can’t take to the role nearly as well. You’re perpetually antsy. And sweaty.
“So, what cabin are you a part of that lets you do this all day?” Percy asks, squinting against the sun.
Your heart gets heavy. With a sigh, you sit yourself down, and Percy soon follows. “Hermes, actually,” you say as casually as you can.
Percy goes pale as a sheet. “Uh, what?”
“I’m unclaimed,” you clarify. “I don’t … I don’t have a parent.”
There’s always a pitiful pause whenever a camper figures that out. This one is somehow … clunkier. “Oh,” Percy says. “Oh. Okay, that makes sense. For a second I thought—phew.” Then his eyes trail down to the thread hooked around your fingers, the five beads you run your thumb over. “How long have you been here?”
“Five long, blissful years,” you hum dryly.
Water ripples over pebbles on the shore. Every new camper’s ambition is eroded by the truth you represent. Percy’s no different. His brows furrow and his face falls. “And you’ve never been claimed?” He asks, and you can feel the noxious mix of pity, confusion and despair laced beneath it.
You shake your head, watching some Demeter kids splashing each other’s canoes with their oars. “Nope. But it’s not so bad. I like my cabin, you know? I like my life. Doesn’t really matter who your parents are anyway, I think. You do the same activities as everyone else, just on different teams.”
“But doesn’t it make you mad?”
“It used to,” you shrug, “But not anymore. It’s just …” You sigh, rolling a bead against your thumb. “If I’m unclaimed, I’m unclaimed. That’s the way it is. You can’t force the Gods to do anything.”
“That’s what Luke said,” Percy remarks, almost bitterly.
“I’m a rare case though, Percy,” you half-lie to him, nudging him a bit with your shoulder. “You’ll get claimed. It’s your first day. And until then you’re kind of free to be whatever. You don’t have to fit into anything, which is kinda nice, and you can screw around as much as you want and nobody can really get mad at you ‘cause you’re new.” A smile rises on your face. “And I heard you killed a minotaur, so you’ve already got some cool points.”
His face screws up in a grimace, and it makes you laugh. “Oh joy, cool points. Can’t live without those.”
Okay, maybe you’re not bad with kids. Maybe you’re just bad with boring kids. Because this is going decent, right?
“What if I don’t get claimed, though?” Percy asks after a moment, a vulnerable note eclipsing him. It resonates inside your chest. You pause for a moment, heaving a loaded breath.
“Do you fart a lot in your sleep?”
His melancholy pauses. He looks at you like you’ve grown another head. “Uh … what? No? I think?”
“Then you can take the bunk above mine if you want. It’s empty now,” you say. “And if you’re never claimed you can come swimming with me, and we can find seashells to put under Luke’s pillow every night until he starts thinking they’ve always been there.”
Percy blinks. “Do you have any friends?”
“Yes, and I’m going to torture him until I die. Cabin eleven is oodles of fun, Percy, you’ll see!”
He looks a little horrified. “Luke said I was going to like you,” he mutters. “I … am not sure if he’s right.”
Oh, well. You’ll take it.
ii. you can't help but become the sun
You can’t sleep, and Luke knows it. His eyes burn into the side of your face as you stare up at your bunk. You sneak him a look. He smiles ruefully. Sweeping his arm up from beneath his covers, a makeshift tent is formed next to him. He nods to you. Before you know it, you’ve abandoned your own bed, taking a single step until you skirt into the pocket of his mattress Luke has carved for you. He lets the sheets fall, cocooning you with him the way he always does.
You’ve been sharing beds on occasion for years. One of you gets cold, has a nightmare, or wants to talk until your mind fades out, the only solution is a place next to each other. Whispers against cheeks, giggles muffled into pillows, necklaces knocking together. You used to be further apart. Now you can’t remember the last time Luke hasn’t latched onto you the second you’re within reach. It warms you a little more each time.
When your head hits his pillow, the two of you just stare at each other for a moment, lips pursed in amusement. His face is so wildly nostalgic to you—five years seems like too short a time to have known him. His eyes are pitch-dark and soft with exhaustion, but you can still pick out the trademark Hermes mirth glimmering through. You sometimes forget his scar, probably because you know he wants you to forget it. He’d kill you for thinking this, but you kind of like the way it hugs the curve of his cheek, bunches up when his dimple appears. It makes you sad. It makes you happy. It makes you love him.
“Percy likes you,” he whispers, opening himself up so your chin brushes his shoulder. “That’s a first.”
He’s only wearing a tank top to sleep, so his warmth seeps through his skin when you tap him on the chest. “Shut up!” You hiss back, tapering into a giggle. “Has he picked up on anything yet?”
Luke bites the inside of his cheek, regretfully shaking his head. “Nope. But all that skill stuff is kinda arbitrary anyways. He’s still hung up on kleos, though, so … that’ll come in handy for Capture the Flag.”
“Ah, yes. Using a child’s misguided need for fulfilment as a weapon. A camp classic.”
“Well someone’s gotta be useful for Capture the Flag in this cabin and it sure as hell isn’t you, mermaid,” he barbs back.
Your jaw drops in mock offense and you squeeze a hand around his shoulder to shake him. “I will put you in a headlock right now, Luke, I’ll break your arm—”
“Be quiet!” He giggles as you attempt to wrangle yourself on top of him. “I’ll be nice to you, I’ll be nice, stop!” You get absolutely nowhere before the bed creaks and Luke shoves you back down. Your pulse rattles through your mouth as you laugh silently. “You’re the worst,” he mutters in your ear, raising the hairs on your neck.
“Well Percy likes me, so,” you turn your nose to the sky like a haughty old lady.
“Percy’s a funnier, less annoying version of you,” he pokes your side. “That’s how I knew you’d get along, you weirdo.”
The momentary adrenaline this conversation has brought you is mellowing. “Hey, I’m very—very funny,” you mumble through a yawn.
Luke laughs quietly. “Sure you are.”
He pulls you back to him, arm slung around the dip of your waist. When you make no protest, he seals you against his shoulder again. It’s started to feel a little different, him holding you like this. There’s an uncertainty your body faces about how to respond. His thumb runs over your spine and you decide to relax into him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. Your chin knocks against his collarbone and you have the urge to curl yourself against his chest, just to feel him breathe.
“Get some sleep, sailor,” he murmurs, fingers brushing through the roots of your hair. You don’t think he realizes he’s doing it. Your cheeks warm, and you bury yourself even further into the space against his shoulder and his pillow. Gods, there’s something wrong with you, isn’t there?
“Will do, soldier.” The campy voice you do is half hearted at best as you find yourself absorbed in the closest thing to a full home you’ll ever get. In this sleepy hollow with bedsheets and a boy, there is acceptance.
Well, mostly. You think you dream about Luke brushing a kiss along your hairline in your last bit of consciousness. You think you wish it was real. You think you want him to do it again.
iii. when you don't know who you are, you fuck around and find out
The last time your cabin lost a game of Capture the Flag, you’d still been taller than Luke. That’s how long your winning streak has felt. There’s no reason you foresee that changing today. Even when Annabeth drags Percy along with her on whatever surely precarious quest to victory she’s created. It’s unlike her, to bring a newbie along. It’s concerning.
“He’s fine,” Luke drawls to you when your face has been tense for twenty minutes. “Annabeth’s got a plan.” He’s a little winded after clearing out some Ares kids with Chris. You aren’t much use when it comes to weapons—your friends take the lead as you wait from a distance, ready for backup. Thank the Gods they didn’t need it this time. You’re content to just watch, but whenever Luke grins after getting another kid to surrender, veins in his arms raised like rivers on a map, you get a little distracted and you’re not sure why.
You just huff back at him, totally normal when he wipes a sheen of sweat off his jaw. “Annabeth’s gonna use him as cannon fodder,” you mutter back, and Luke hits your arm with an appalled grin.
Annabeth did, in fact, have a plan. So you won. Obviously.
You’re still doubtful Percy wasn’t cannon fodder, though, with how beat up he looks on the shoreline when the rest of your team flocks to the stolen flag to claim victory. He’s slumped down on the rocky shore, a few equally beaten Ares kids straggling away from him.
“So I was right, huh?” Luke hums in your ear, pulling your eyes to him.
He’s revelling in newfound glory, and damn it, you get confused when you look at him when he’s like this. You’re not sure when it happened but you want to tear your heart out of its chest because of how sick it makes you. Some of his curls are stuck to his forehead with sweat, his hair suffering a serious case of helmet-head. But it’s the pride oozing off him, the infectious happiness laced through his smile, that makes you fond of him in a way you’re not sure you should be. He’s beloved for a reason—he looks almost prophetic after winning a match, and he knows it. A glaring difference between the gangly boy you met all those summers ago. If you weren’t his best friend, you’d probably be one of his many admirers, watching his teammates fawn over his talent and wishing you were beside him.
But you are beside him. And you’re his friend. Not an admirer. So everything’s fine.
“You wouldn’t be saying that if we lost,” you retort, knocking your chestplate against his. It’s meant to be a friendly nudge, but Luke leans into it until you swear you feel his heart beating through the metal.
He’s grown into his smile, less boyish and more wry. “You know I never lose, sailor.”
You want to reply, but his eyes are startlingly pretty in the sunlight. That’s normal. Whatever. A heat rises in the apples of your cheeks so you scoff lightly and turn away as soon as possible. You feel Luke’s gaze following as you turn attention elsewhere. Your sternum feels fluttery.
Percy catches your attention again. Gods, he looks beat. He’s talking to Annabeth as she helps him up, and you see the gnarly scrape marring his cheek. You should probably check on him, right?
You’re halfway to the kids when Annabeth shoves Percy backwards into the water. Like, shoves.
“Annabeth!” You’re scowling at her the same way she scowled at you when you first hit Luke with that oar, rushing over to help Percy.
“What is wrong with you?” Percy sputters out lying in the lake, but you’re ankles-deep in the water before you know it. He’s glaring daggers at Annabeth, but she looks relatively unimpressed. What happened during this game?
“Thanks,” Percy mutters as you help him up.
You say something to shrug it off but you can’t remember what, because your eyes are drawn to the scrape on his cheek. You have to blink a few times to get it, but you’re pretty sure it’s dissolving. Vanishing off his skin. “What the hell?”
Everyone on the shore is watching him now, trying to memorize his injuries before they wash away. Percy’s staring down at himself like he’s just been body-swapped. “I don’t understand.”
You’ve never seen anything like this before. The strangest feeling fuels you—your bones feel firmer somehow, like the blood inside your body has weight to it. Like something is happening. A fear pierces your gut.
Annabeth’s eyes have raised, and so have Percy’s. Your mouth goes dry. Right above him is the symbol of a trident, radiating so blue it washes out the sky itself.
The claiming symbol of Poseidon.
“Your dad’s calling,” Annabeth says, a smile itching the corners of her mouth.
Percy looks like he’s going to pass out. You probably do too. “Told you you’d get claimed,” you manage to squeeze the words through the knot in your chest.
You’re smiling until Percy looks at you, then looks up. His face goes white as a sheet. Or, as white as it can bathed in a pale blue glow. “Uh…” He blinks slowly, and your stomach twists. “I think she was talking to you.”
When you look up and see an identical trident looming over your head, you know something’s wrong. It’s made worse when Chiron rings out your and Percy’s name, branding you as children of Poseidon.
Poseidon.
You have a father. And he’s known you all this time. Your ears hollow out like a rush of water in a cavern.
Luke is the first to kneel. The rest of the camp follows. You watch as the entire camp basks in the glory of newcomer Percy Jackson, so quickly claimed by one of the most powerful Gods of Olympus. And you, who has waited five years to earn even a shred of his favour.
This thing you’ve wanted for so long is suddenly the greatest insult in the world. Your best friend can’t even meet your eyes.
iv. i remember who i am when i'm with you
You stare at Percy as he unpacks his things. Waiting to see traces of yourself in his face, traces of your father. Anything that could give you an inkling of what he looks like. Of what you look like. Of how this happened in the first place.
It’s a futile search. Percy’s blue eyes, his freckles, the bridge of his nose, they’re all … nothing. Half of you is half of him, but there’s no indication of which parts. The cabin is cold. You’re not going to sleep well without Luke nearby. You’re not going to sleep well ever again.
You feel nothing but strife, your throat closing in every time you take even a second to think. You don’t want Percy to see you cry. So you do what you always do.
This has to be in the running for most overwhelming day of all time ever. Even when submerged in your favourite place on earth, you can’t get away from your dad. Your dumb stupid dad that has made the things you love and has ruined your life.
You swim hard, and you loathe how good it feels. At least you know why now, but that doesn’t do much to ease you. When you pop up again, the sun has started to sink into the sea. And Gods, you have to give your dad credit. The landscape is so gorgeous you almost forget how long he’s ignored you.
You wonder if this is the last time you’ll find solace in the lake. If eventually, it’ll be nothing but an extension of your father’s neglect.
The water ripples around you. You frown, barely having noticed it when someone taps your shoulder. You turn. “Luke?” You swallow, but why are you surprised?
He’s panting, cheeks splotched with sun as he treads water, droplets worming down his face from his soaking curls. “Been looking for you,” he puffs, “Percy’s worried. Called you from the—from the thingie but don’t think you heard me.”
You assume he means the docks, but you don’t say anything as he takes a deep, grounding breath. “You’ve been out here for hours. Hours. For a second I thought you drowned.”
“Now we know that can’t fucking happen,” you mutter a touch too bitterly, staring down at your legs warped beneath the water.
Luke’s silent as he watches you. “…Have you been crying?”
When you don’t reply, Luke tugs on your wrist. “C’mon, sailor, let’s go.”
“Not tired,” you say, frozen by the hot tears brimming on your lashes.
“I’m not leaving you out here. Come on.” He frowns when you yank your hand away as he tries pulling you again. “You’re gonna get heatstroke.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
He reaches for you again and you try to reject it for a moment, but he’s stronger than you, and he loves you better than even the water could. The second he has you close your resolve falters. He holds you against his shoulder, knees knocking against yours as you tread.
“It’s okay,” he croons when you involuntarily start to cry. For a Poseidon kid, you can’t seem to control your waterworks. “It’s okay, I know.”
His hand cards through your scalp and you relish in the warmth of his bare skin on your cheek. He smells like comfort. You cling to it with all you have, until your nails start to dig into his skin and your eyesight blurs.
“Come back with me and I’ll dry you off, okay?” He kisses the top of your head, the way you dreamed it last night. “I’ll take care of it.”
You’re not sure which it he’s referring to, because it could honestly apply to anything. When you both set off for shore, you’re so distracted by your own misery that Luke’s actually able to keep up with you. He’s up on the dock before you so he can pull you out.
The second you’re out of the water you feel like you’ve been gutted with a lead pipe. All the energy it gave you leaves, and you realize just how right Luke was about spending too much time out there. You can’t feel your legs.
You buckle over almost instantly, but Luke holds you before you can even think of falling. “I’ve got you,” he assures, guiding you down to sit on the dock. Your eyes are too weak to even admire the sunset. Luke drapes a towel over your shoulders, rubbing it over your arms, a welcome familiarity. He takes his time, wringing your hair and drying your back as you gaze blankly ahead. There’s a tenderness to it now. Luke’s ruthless when it comes to a lot of things. When it comes to how he loves, too. But there’s nothing demanding here. He lets your tears fall in silence, undisturbed, the touch of his hands through the cloth a silent promise.
When you’re fairly dry, he fetches something then quickly comes back. “Here.”
It’s his shirt. You only notice you’ve been shivering as he pulls it over your head, lets you fill in the sleeves, gently gathers your hair back. “Thanks,” you say. His fingertips brush your neck as he hooks them around your necklace to rest it over the shirt. You think he does it to remind you you’re still the same. You’ve had five years together. It doesn’t have to end now.
“Why did it take him so long?” You struggle to say, eyes glossed like sea glass. “Why—why now? What did I do?”
Luke puts an arm around you. “I don’t know,” he mumbles honestly.
You sink into his warmth like a wave meets the shore. “Five years, Luke. He ignored me for five years. And he takes Percy right—right away.” It’s hard not to choke between every word. “I just thought I’d never get claimed, and I was fine with that, and now I’m … this!”
Its hard to tell if the dampness of your cheeks are the remnants of saltwater or your tears. “I don’t want this,” you sniffle. “I waited so long … and I just don’t want it.”
Luke rubs your shoulder, lips pursed against your head. He murmurs into your hair, “I know, sailor. It’ll be okay. Promise.”
His voice is reserved. You look up at him. His jaw is resolute, his eyes red-rimmed in a way you hadn’t noticed before. “You’re upset too,” you comment quietly.
He laughs listlessly. “Yeah, of course I am. I’m losing my favourite cabin mate.”
You sniff and try to smile. “Percy?”
He rolls his eyes fondly, and it feels like all you want. He squeezes your shoulders tight and you long desperately to be closer. “I just don’t know what I did wrong,” you whisper, pressing your cheek into him. “Why didn’t he see me until he saw Percy? Am I just … unremarkable or something?”
“No, no. Absolutely not—c’mere.” Luke loops an arm around your waist and manoeuvres you into his arms, cradled on his lap so you can bury your face in his neck. You can’t stop fucking crying, but his patience for you is infinite. “You are by far the most remarkable person I know.” He seals you against his chest, scratching your scalp the way he knows you like. “None of this is you, okay? Your dad’s an idiot. You are—you’re everything. They’re all mindless up there, they don’t know how to love you. They don’t deserve to.”
An edge seeps into his timbre that gives you pause. You feel weak, discarded. It sounds like he’s talking about a different person. But he’s right. He has to be, because he knows you better than you know yourself.
Luke keeps going. You peek at his face when he speaks. Stubborn as ever. “He doesn’t have any fucking right to you. If he wanted that he should’ve claimed you when you got here. You have a life. You … you had a home. And now just because he’s got another kid he kills two birds with one stone? He pretends like this is some Godly intervention? Like he didn’t ignore you the whole time you’ve been here because he couldn’t stand how much you didn’t need him? How much better you are? You’re my …” He struggles, brows furrowed, the sun melting in his eyes. “You’re my best friend, and we’re supposed to be together. He’s not allowed to take that from you.”
Your heart stirs. “Sounds like you’re jealous,” you try to tease.
Luke heaves a sigh, his muscles rippling against your chest. You’re suddenly aware of the fact that he’s got no shirt on. And that he’s pressed against you in a way that makes you question if you should be this close. Beads of water cling to the divots in his skin, and you linger a little too long on one nestled in his collarbone. You swear you think this every time he goes swimming with you: when did he get so … hot? And every time you think it, you want to gouge your heart out with a spoon.
“Can you blame me?” A melancholy smile plays on his face. “I liked having you all to myself.”
Tears spring to your eyes all over again. “I liked that too.”
It’s a whisper that sends you forward, Luke bringing his forehead to your own, and you want to live in the warmth that coils through you. His nose catches against yours when he laughs, but he doesn’t move. You take a moment to savour it. You think he does too.
He wipes a tear off your face as you say, “I’m still yours.”
“Yeah?” Luke hums a bit, his hand sliding up your waist in a most unfriendly manner. “How?”
You catch the glimmer in his eyes, that plucky smile he’s had since fourteen. Something shifts.
“What are you asking me, Luke?” You can’t fight the smile.
“What do you want me to ask you?”
“I dunno, what do you want me to want you to ask you—”
“My Gods, you’re a pain in the ass.”
He groans, throws his head back, and kisses you like you aren’t the most annoying person in the world.
It’s so cliché, but for a brief moment your strife is well worth it. You yank him closer before he pulls away. It’s a little unsure, the two of you so used to toeing the line, but soon you’ve given in and your hands are in his hair, mouths parting, and it’s messy and wanting and everything you need.
Luke slips his hands beneath the hem of your shirt, palms flattening against your sun-beaten skin. It feels so good, better because the shirt is already his, a whine scratching your throat as he moves up so his thumbs graze the skin beneath the tie in your bathing suit.
“Oh, sailor,” he coos against your mouth. You want to retaliate but it’s lost when he squeezes your thighs, warming you in all the right places. It’s hard to understand this is even happening—it feels like you’re underwater, a blissful fuzziness growing in your head entirely at his mercy.
He razes kisses down your still-damp neck, catching pearls of water on his tongue. You cling to his shoulders, raking your hands down his back just so you can feel more of him. Luke’s dropped down to your collarbone at this point, tugging the neck of your shirt down as his teeth graze the bone. “You’re my best friend,” he mutters over your skin. “Still mine. Always mine.”
“Mmhm,” is all you can say back, the husk in his voice making your eyes screw shut. He teases a spot so sensitive you groan and laugh at the same time. The regret is immediate, but you feel a chuckle pass his lips, too. “Luke,” you purse a smile. He dots kisses back up your neck until you start returning the favour.
You kiss his jaw, a few spots on his neck, feeling the flex of his muscle all around you as he squeezes the fat of your hips. You finally sweep up the water in the hollow of his collarbones, and his grunt of your name makes you, frankly, delirious.
He brings your mouth back to his, skin sticking to each other. It’s harder to kiss as fervently when you’re both giggling against each other’s tongues, running fingers along the planes of each other’s bodies trying to see which places feel new and which are known from memory. It’s a fifty-fifty split, and you love it.
Somewhere along the way he peeled off your shirt because it was clinging in places you knew he wanted, but now you’re panting and giggling into his hair, his nose pressed into your neck, both of you melded together with salt and sun. “You really know how to cheer a girl up, mailman,” you grin.
His lips fix to your skin. “Really? You’re still gonna call me that right now?”
“Yeah.”
“Like it better when you call me captain,” he murmurs, nose grazing along your pulse.
You swallow, “That doesn’t work unless we’re doing the whole sailor-ship bit.”
“We’re always doing the sailor-ship bit.”
“I seriously can’t believe I’m in love with you.”
He sighs warmly at the words. “You have no idea how much I’ve been dying for you to say that. Even though I knew you would.”
You roll your eyes as he presses his forehead to yours, and you’re more glad than ever that his face is the one you love so much. It’s a pretty great face.
“You’re gonna be okay,” he says tenderly. “You’re too incredible for Poseidon. You’re worth more than that.”
He still looks gorgeous blurred by your tears. You listen to the beat of his heart and the waves rolling. “More than any water anywhere?”
“More than the fucking Styx, sailor. I’ll promise you that.”
That night, Luke stays with you and Percy in your cold chapel of a cabin. You exchange stories until Percy falls asleep in his bed, curled up like a sea otter. “He’s a drooler,” Luke notes fondly, eyes flicking to yours. “Like you.”
You shove his chest playfully until he wraps his arms around you and anchors you to sleep, like every night before. This time, as you drift off, he kisses your forehead again. Once because he loves you, and twice to make sure you know it’s real.
★ Synopsis: You've always felt out of place, everyone's faces blurred, your dreams seemed like an escape, but when someone comes into your life and ends up not only interfering in reality but also in your dreams? Will you have the courage to declare yourself or will you keep everything in your little notebook?
★ Tags: yandere, you can't trust anything, romance, this happens before percy arrives (vol 1), good luke (before cronos), paranoid reader, unclaimed reader
★ Ep: 01. 02. 03. 04...
You stayed with your aunt, Sally, for almost your entire childhood. You had a mother and a father, but you don’t quite remember their faces. You saw Percy being born and were there for most of the boy’s childhood. Unlike your cousin, you weren’t transferred between schools, even though you had the same issues as him—ADHD and dyslexia. But you had something your cousin didn’t: narcolepsy. At least, that’s what the school doctors said. You’d suddenly fall asleep anywhere, and because of that, you started being transferred along with your cousin. At least you kept him company.
Then, one day, while accompanying your aunt on the subway to the grocery store, a man stood up. No one else seemed to notice, but he was becoming less human. You started tugging at your aunt’s shirt, trying to get her attention, but she just tried to calm you down. You had reached that age, and unfortunately, like all demigods, you were being hunted. Whether by luck or some kind of curse, your "condition" kicked in, and you ended up falling asleep against your aunt. She looked shocked, trying to wake you up, watching as the monster approached—until she collapsed onto the subway floor, asleep.
Sally looked around and realized that not only the creature but everyone in the nearby subway car had fallen asleep—except for one man. He approached Sally, and before she could say anything, she noticed something: his legs were anything but human. That was the night she discovered the truth, and unfortunately, you were no longer safe—not for your own health, nor for the people around you.
Sally came home that day. Percy was still at school—a new one—and unfortunately, he wouldn’t learn the truth anytime soon. She left with the satyr in his car, with you in the backseat among the luggage. The satyr talked about everything, and Sally, of course, mentioned you.
She handed you over to the satyr, who was still asleep, and said goodbye—wondering if her own son, Percy, might be just like you.
From the moment you woke up in that camp, everything was thrown at you. Things felt lonely without Percy or Sally around. You had no one, not even in the Hermes cabin. Unclaimed, it seemed like everyone avoided you. If someone tried to approach and talk, they’d feel an overwhelming urge to sleep—sometimes even passing out. Because of that, most didn’t want to be near you.
Though in Capture the Flag, you seemed surprisingly useful. Even if you weren’t strong, those who fought you would grow tired, sluggish. But when the game ended, you were alone again, as always.
You often slept in the forest or isolated places. Dreams felt like an escape. You started writing in a notebook—one that had come with you to camp. It became your safe place, where you could express yourself or write about your dreams. It was just you and that notebook.
That is, until they showed up.
Since most people avoided you, you rarely felt like doing anything at camp. So, to avoid feeling useless, you sometimes helped clean the kitchen, carried supplies, or did small tasks around camp. Even if only for a short time, you were alone—as always.
Then he arrived.
He seemed taller than you. He introduced himself as Luke—Luke Castellan. Was he new? No, he wasn’t. But you didn’t care. Faces were always blurry to you—you never paid attention to anyone. You avoided him, knowing he’d probably figure things out and leave. But he refused.
And over time, his face stopped being blurry.
He introduced you to Annabeth, someone younger, and soon her face wasn’t blurry either. Even though you grew closer, you always kept a little distance—for their safety. They reminded you of Percy and Sally, whom you missed dearly. You wrote letters to her, updating her and Percy. Percy… you missed him. How you used to watch TV together, pretending to be monsters you saw, acting out scenes and playing.
But the letters were never sent. They stayed in a box, waiting for the day you might finally mail them.
It was Capture the Flag. You walked alone, scouting as always, making some Ares kids feel drowsy and less alert—until you heard a snap behind you.
“Well, well, the little lone wolf, as always.”
It was someone from the Ares cabin—an enemy in the game. But, as usual, you couldn’t see their face clearly. You barely remembered any campers’ names except the two who stuck by you. You raised your sword in readiness. You’d never had proper sword training like the others—you didn’t want to risk making someone pass out. And since everyone avoided you, you never bothered with activities. Most of the time, you were lost in the world of dreams, the world of the moon.
Often, Luke would wake you up, looking worried, when you fell asleep in the forest—again. He’d lead you back to the Hermes cabin, where you’d lie on a bunk bed, everyone else sleeping far away. The only one who slept on the same bunk was Luke. He didn’t seem to mind.
You blinked back to reality as the Ares girl’s sword clashed with yours, making you stumble back, nearly hitting a tree. Even though her face was still blurry, you heard the anger in her voice.
“I’ve lost so many games because of you!”
She was furious. Just as she was about to strike, you closed your eyes, bracing for impact—but nothing came. When you opened them, Luke was there in armor, his sword blocking hers.
“Clarisse, so good to see you,” Luke said with a confident smile.
She growled, irritated by his tone. He pushed her sword back, making her stumble.
“Game over.”
A cheer erupted as the blue team carried the red flag in victory. Clarisse grunted before storming off, dragging an unconscious teammate with her.
Once they were gone, you noticed Luke holding out a hand to help you up. You stood on your own, not wanting to risk knocking him out. You still didn’t know how to control whatever it was you did to campers.
Brushing off the dust, you muttered, “I-I’m fine. Don’t worry. Sorry about that.” You stumbled over your words as you picked up your sword, feeling his gaze on you.
“Thanks for… saving me,” you murmured, stepping back.
“Don’t worry about it. We’re a team.”
Luke watched as you shakily sheathed your sword. He studied you for a moment.
“W-we should go.”
You walked quickly away, not even joining the celebrating team. You took a different path, your hand stinging—it was bleeding. Normally, campers would go to an Apollo kid or Chiron for healing, but you didn’t want to be a burden.
So, as always, you went to the empty Hermes cabin, dug out your first aid kit, and treated yourself. Ever since the last time you went to the infirmary—when you accidentally made a camper helping you pass out, causing them both to fall off a bed and get hurt—you’d learned to take care of yourself.
Once done, you took a nap—curled up against the wall or sometimes in the forest. You tried to sleep in isolated spots now. The last time it happened in a crowded place, you’d made campers collapse.
You woke up to Luke shaking you. Behind him stood Annabeth, analyzing the situation. You rubbed your eyes, still drowsy.
“You said you weren’t hurt,” Luke sighed, eyeing your hand. He reached for it, but you pulled away, yawning.
Annabeth placed a hand on his shoulder, silencing him. “Let’s go eat. It’s time.”
Luke hummed in understanding, walking beside you to the pavilion. You sat at an empty table, watching as Luke and Annabeth joined you. You poked at your food, nervous.
“I was thinking,” Luke started, clearing his throat, “maybe I could help train you.”
You looked up.
“Only if you want, of course.”
You glanced down. The answer was obvious—no. You didn’t want to risk knocking him out.
“We could also work on your… ability,” Annabeth added, searching for the least offensive word. “So you could control it. Wouldn’t that be good?”
You felt embarrassed. Your friends wanted to help you. Friends.
“I’ll… think about it.”
You didn’t see Luke and Annabeth fist-bumping under the table in celebration. They’d clearly planned this.
Now, it was up to you whether you’d follow through.
Being claimed by Hypnos is a sacred thing. It means you are chosen to walk the space between; waking and sleep, between life and prophecy, between memory and forgetting. Even daydreaming falls under Hypnos' realm.
You are often underestimated. But you see more than meets the eye. You see more when your eyes are shut.
𝑊𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝐼𝑠 𝐶𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑛 𝐹𝑖𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝐿𝑖𝑘𝑒?
Cabin Leader: Clovis
Cabin Appearance: The cabin is a small, low-to-the-ground building, looking like a log cabin. It is tucked into a shady corner of Camp Half-Blood, surrounded by grass and wildflowers, particularly poppies and other sleep-associated plants.
Over the cabin’s door is a symbol of a closed eye carved into wood (some fan sources also mention a brass key, but the books focus on the closed eye).
The atmosphere around the cabin is very calm and drowsy, as if walking near it makes people feel sleepy.
The inside of the cabin is described as very cosy and comfortable, with beds with thick quilts rather than bunks.
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔 & 𝑨𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝑯𝒚𝒑𝒏𝒐𝒔
Hypnos' children are natural lucid dreamers; they know they’re dreaming and can shape the dreamscape.
Campers are known for sleeping the longest at Camp Half-Blood.
They are often called upon to help other campers recover from trauma, nightmares, or memory loss.
"The world moves so fast... We just help it slow down a little. Close your eyes. Listen. Dream."
— Clovis
She heals, he runs. Camp Half-Blood brings them together through music and silence. June and Luke learn that love doesn’t arrive loudly it lingers, waits, and chooses to stay to finally create the perfect pair.
Word count : 12k (I got carried away)
A/N: this story doesn’t follow the original plot at all , Luke is not a villain in this, sorry if there’s incoherence it’s my first time writing in the percy Jackson universe !
June stood at the edge of the hill and watched her mother’s car disappear down the winding road.
It didn’t honk.
It didn’t pause.
It didn’t come back.
The dust settled slowly, drifting back to the earth as if nothing important had just happened. June stayed where she was, pink backpack heavy on her shoulders, fingers curled tightly around the strap. For a moment, she thought very stupidly that maybe her mom would change her mind. That she’d turn the car around and roll down the window and say she was sorry. That she’d say something like I’ll miss you or be good or I love you.
None of that happened.
June swallowed and looked down at her shoes. They were old sneakers, scuffed at the toes, the laces a faded but unmistakable pink. She nudged a small pebble with her foot and felt something heavy settle in her chest.
She didn’t even look back, June thought.
She hugged her journal to her chest, the familiar weight grounding her just a little. The cover was soft from use, decorated with pink stickers and pressed flowers she’d collected over the years. She hadn’t written yet ,not about today. She didn’t know how.
Ahead of her, just beyond the hill, something strange shimmered in the air. The world seemed to bend slightly, like heat rising off pavement in summer. Beyond it lay the camp though June didn’t know that yet. All she knew was that she felt like she was standing at the edge of somewhere important, and she wasn’t sure she belonged there.
Her feet wouldn’t move.
What if they don’t want me either?
She hesitated, heart pounding. She was twelve years old, alone, and everything she’d been told sounded impossible. Gods. Monsters. A camp for kids like her. Her mom had explained it all in a rush, voice flat and distant, as if reading instructions off the back of a box.
“You’ll be safe there,” she’d said.
Then she’d driven away.
June took a shaky breath.
“Okay,” she whispered to herself. “Okay, June. You can do this.”
She took one step forward.
Then another.
As she crossed the invisible boundary, the air seemed to warm instantly. The scent of strawberries drifted toward her, sweet and bright, and the sky beyond the hill opened up ,blue and endless and welcoming in a way that made her chest ache.
She blinked rapidly.
Don’t cry, she told herself. Not now.
“Hi!”
June startled so badly she nearly dropped her journal.
A girl stood a few feet away, smiling like she’d been waiting for her. She looked a few years older maybe fifteen or sixteen with pale skin and a beautiful long black hair pulled back with a ribbon that shimmered faintly, like it was made of light. She wore a camp T-shirt splashed with colors that reminded June of rainbows after a storm.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” the girl said quickly, hands lifting in surrender. “I just—new campers usually come in looking like they’re about to faint.”
June laughed weakly before she could stop herself. “I… kind of am.”
The girl’s smile softened. “Yeah. I remember that feeling.”
She stepped closer, not crowding June, just enough to make her presence reassuring. “I’m Joy. Joy Park.”
June hesitated, then shifted her journal to one arm and offered her hand. “June.”
Joy’s eyes flicked briefly to June’s pink backpack, her journal, her shoelaces. Her smile widened. “June suits you.”
Something about the way she said it ,like she meant it ,made June’s shoulders relax for the first time all day.
Joy glanced back toward the road, then back at June. She didn’t ask questions. She didn’t push. She just nodded gently. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”
They walked together down the hill.
As they descended, Joy began explaining things in an easy, conversational tone, like she was talking about a favorite summer camp rather than ancient gods and dangerous monsters.
“So, this is Camp Half-Blood,” Joy said, gesturing broadly. “It’s for demigods ,kids who have one mortal parent and one godly one.”
June’s stomach fluttered. “So… it’s all real?”
Joy chuckled. “Oh, very real. But don’t worry. You’re safe here. Mostly.”
June made a face. “Mostly?”
Joy laughed, bright and unafraid. “You’ll get used to it.”
They passed the strawberry fields, the scent growing stronger, and June found herself staring in awe. Campers moved about freely some laughing, some training, some just lounging in the grass. No one looked scared. No one looked like they didn’t belong.
“I’m a daughter of Iris,” Joy continued. “Goddess of rainbows, messages, that sort of thing.”
June’s eyes widened. “That’s so cool.”
Joy shrugged, but there was pride there. “It’s pretty fun. You’ll find out who your godly parent is eventually. Until then, you’ll stay in the Hermes cabin.”
“The god of… mail?” June asked.
“Among other things,” Joy said dryly. “Mostly it’s where unclaimed kids stay. It’s loud, but everyone looks out for each other.”
As they walked, June felt something shift inside her. The tight knot in her chest loosened. She found herself smiling ,not the polite kind she used to reassure adults, but a real one. She adjusted her backpack and straightened her posture, pink hoodie catching the sunlight.
“Oh!” June said suddenly. “Do you have music here?”
Joy blinked. “Music?”
“Yeah. Like do people listen to music? I have playlists for everything. Sad days. Happy days. Walking days. New place days—” She stopped, realizing she was rambling, then flushed. “Sorry.”
Joy laughed, delighted. “You’re going to fit in just fine.”
By the time they reached the big house, June was talking animatedly, her earlier hesitation replaced by bright curiosity. She gestured with her hands as she spoke, pink bracelets clinking softly.
Inside, the air smelled like old wood and something warm and comforting. A tall man waited near the desk, his posture calm and steady. He smiled kindly when he saw them.
“Ah,” he said. “A new camper.”
Joy stepped aside slightly, letting June stand in front. “This is June,” she said. “She just arrived.”
The man inclined his head. “Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, June. I’m Chiron, the activities director.”
June swallowed her nerves and smiled. “Hi.”
Chiron explained the rules gently about staying within camp boundaries, attending activities, respecting cabins. He spoke as if he expected her to understand, not as if she were a problem to manage.
“You are safe here,” he said finally. “And you are welcome.”
Something warm spread through June’s chest at those words.
Afterward, Joy walked her to the Hermes cabin. It was chaotic and loud and full of life, but June didn’t feel overwhelmed. She felt… included.
As Joy helped her pick a bunk near the window, June pulled out her journal and flipped to a fresh page.
Day one, she wrote.
I was scared. But I met Joy. She has rainbow energy. I think I’ll be okay.
Outside, the sun shone warmly, lingering just a second longer on the girl in pink as she smiled and hummed softly to herself.
Somewhere far above, a god of light noticed.
And for the first time that day, June didn’t feel alone.
Two months after arriving at Camp Half-Blood, June no longer stood at the edge of things.
She sat right in the middle.
The girl who had once hesitated at Half-Blood Hill journal clutched to her chest, heart pounding with the fear of being unwanted now moved through camp like she belonged there. Like the paths had learned her footsteps. Like the strawberry fields recognized her laughter.
She was still unclaimed.
But no one treated her like she was alone.
June could usually be found somewhere bright. Not just because of the sun ,though it did seem to follow her ,but because she was almost always dressed in pink. Pink hoodies tied around her waist. Pink hair clips. Pink bracelets stacked up her wrists. Even her camp beads were threaded onto a pale rose string instead of the usual leather.
“You know,” one camper muttered one afternoon, watching her pass, “I’d bet a drachma she’s Aphrodite’s.”
“No way,” another argued. “That’s Iris energy. She’s basically a walking rainbow.”
June, hearing neither, waved cheerfully as she went by.
That morning, she was sprawled on a picnic blanket near the cabins, surrounded by the daughters of Aphrodite.
They were older ,most of them between fifteen and eighteen ,and somehow all impossibly graceful, even when lounging in the grass. They adored June.
“Sweetheart,” said Lila, one of the older girls, delicately adjusting June’s hair clip, “if you’re going to sit with us, you might as well let us fix this.”
June giggled. “It was fine!”
“It was almost fine,” another girl corrected gently, handing her a strawberry. “There’s a difference.”
June accepted the attention happily, leaning into it without embarrassment. She had learned quickly that affection at camp didn’t come with strings attached. No one was asking her to be quieter, smaller, or less pink.
“You know,” Lila said thoughtfully, “when you get claimed, you’re always welcome back here.”
June blinked. “Even if I’m not Aphrodite’s?”
Lila smiled, warm and sincere. “Especially if you’re not.”
That was the thing about June ,people felt comfortable around her. The Hermes cabin kids trusted her with secrets. The Athena campers liked explaining things to her because she listened like it mattered. Even the Ares kids were gentler when she was nearby, as if picking fights felt wrong in her presence.
Joy noticed it most.
From the very beginning, Joy had been June’s quiet model for how to exist at camp not loud, not demanding, but open. Joy never tried to be the center of attention, yet people gravitated toward her all the same. June watched the way she spoke kindly without being a pushover, how she laughed freely, how she welcomed new campers with the same warmth she’d shown June.
And June learned.
She learned to remember names.
To sit beside kids who looked lost.
To offer help without making it feel like charity.
Sometimes, she caught herself doing something and realized ,with a soft, surprised warmth ,that it was something Joy would have done.
“Careful,” Joy teased once, watching June braid a younger camper’s hair on the steps of the Hermes cabin. “At this rate, you’ll steal my job.”
June smiled up at her. “I learned from the best.”
Joy didn’t say anything after that, but she glowed faintly, like light through mist.
Despite her dislike of fighting, June participated in nearly every activity camp offered.
Not to win.
Just to be there.
She played capture the flag but laughed too much to stay hidden. She joined sword practice but always pulled her strikes, apologizing every time someone stumbled. She ran races not to come first, but to cheer for the last camper to cross the line.
The counselors had learned to stop scolding her.
“She’s not training for battle,” one of them said once. “She’s training for joy.”
June was good at sports, though naturally good. Her balance was excellent. Her reflexes sharp. She picked up games quickly, adapting with ease. When she practiced archery, it was always off to the side of the range, shooting at targets shaped like flowers or painted with silly faces.
She treated it like a game.
Still, her arrows flew straight and true.
Campers began to notice.
“She doesn’t even look like she’s trying,” someone whispered one afternoon as June loosed arrow after arrow, each landing near the center.
June only shrugged when complimented. “It’s just fun.”
Music, though ,that was where she truly came alive.
June’s Walkman was rarely out of reach. The plastic was scratched from use, the headphones patched together with pink tape, but it worked perfectly. She carried a small pouch of tapes everywhere, each one carefully labeled in neat handwriting.
Morning Songs
Rainy Day Feelings
Campfire Vibes
When I Miss Home
For Happy Days
She shared them freely.
Sometimes she’d sit under a tree with other campers, passing around one side of the headphones so they could listen together. Other times, she’d lie in the grass near the cabins, humming along softly, fingers tapping out rhythms against her journal.
Joy joined her often, sitting close enough that their shoulders touched.
“What’s this one?” Joy asked once, as June slipped a tape into the Walkman.
“Uh…this one’s for days that feel like sunshine but not too bright,” June said after thinking for a moment.
Joy smiled. “That’s oddly specific.”
June grinned. “I have a lot of those.”
Music drifted through camp more often now. Someone started bringing a guitar to dinner. Another camper borrowed June’s tapes and began learning the songs on a lyre. It became normal ,expected, even that somewhere nearby, June’s playlists were playing softly in the background of camp life.
Chiron noticed.
So did Mr. D, though he pretended not to.
As weeks passed, speculation about June’s godly parent grew louder.
“She’s definitely Aphrodite,” the campers said, watching her laugh among the older girls, pink ribbons catching the light.
“No, Iris,” others insisted. “Look at her with Joy. They’re practically glowing.”
Even June herself wondered sometimes.
She didn’t feel anxious about being unclaimed ,not really. She had a place in the Hermes cabin. She had friends. She had Joy. Still, on quieter nights, she wrote in her journal beneath the soft glow of a lantern.
I don’t know who my godly parent is yet, she wrote once.
But I think they must like music. And kindness. And pink.
She closed the journal with a small smile.
Outside, camp buzzed with laughter and life. June lay back on her bunk, headphones on, listening to a song she’d labeled Safe. She thought of how far she’d come in just two months ,from a scared girl at the hill to someone cherished by campers older and stronger than her.
She wasn’t claimed.
But she was loved.
And for now, that was more than enough.
Six months after June arrived at Camp Half-Blood, the afternoon felt like it had been made just for her.
The sky was clear and wide, painted in gentle blues that stretched endlessly above the strawberry fields. The sun rested high and warm, not harsh or demanding just present, like a quiet companion. A soft breeze carried the scent of grass and summer, rustling the leaves overhead.
June lay on a picnic blanket near the edge of the commons, surrounded by friends.
Someone had brought strawberries. Someone else had brought juice. June had brought, as always, her Walkman and a carefully chosen cassette tape. She wore a pale pink dress that fluttered around her knees when the breeze caught it, paired with her favorite cardigan also pink, of course. Bracelets chimed softly at her wrist as she shifted, laughter bubbling easily from her chest.
She looked happy.
Not the nervous happiness she’d worn when she first arrived. Not the hopeful smile she used when she was trying to convince herself she belonged.
This happiness was easy. Settled. Real.
Joy sat beside her, leaning back on her elbows, sunlight threading itself through her hair like strands of color. She watched June with quiet fondness, the way she often did like she was witnessing something precious without needing to name it.
“You always pick the best days for picnics,” one of the campers said, popping a strawberry into their mouth.
June grinned. “I don’t pick them,” she said lightly. “I just notice them.”
She clicked the Walkman on, the familiar whirring sound comforting in its routine. Music spilled softly into the air, warm and melodic. It was one of June’s favorite song :king by Olly Alexander, something that felt like sunshine filtered through curtains.
She passed one headphone to the camper next to her, sharing without hesitation.
They listened together for a while, sprawled on the grass, basking in the afternoon. Somewhere nearby, laughter echoed. Camp life hummed on around them, peaceful and alive.
June closed her eyes.
The music wrapped around her like a blanket, familiar and safe. Without realizing it, she began to hum along, her voice soft at first just a quiet harmony under the melody.
Joy stilled.
She felt it before she saw it.
The air shifted not dramatically, not with thunder or tension but with a subtle warmth that made her skin prickle. She lifted her head slowly, eyes narrowing toward the sky.
“June…” she murmured.
June didn’t hear her.
She was humming more confidently now, the tune flowing naturally from her chest. Her fingers tapped lightly against her journal, which lay beside her on the blanket. The sunlight seemed to cling to her, brushing gold along the edges of her hair, her sleeves, the pink fabric of her dress.
Then the world changed.
A sudden, blinding golden light burst into being, centered directly above June.
Gasps rippled across the grass.
The music cut off as the Walkman slipped from June’s hands, landing softly on the blanket. She stopped humming mid-note, eyes flying open as warmth flooded her senses ,not heat, not pain, but something deeper. Like standing in sunlight after a long winter. Like being wrapped in arms she hadn’t realized she’d been missing.
The light expanded, brilliant and radiant, yet gentle enough that June didn’t feel the need to shield her eyes.
Above her head, the symbol formed.
A golden sun, perfect and glowing, hovered in the air. From it extended twenty-one radiant rays each one sharpened into the unmistakable shape of an arrow.
For a heartbeat, everything was silent.
Then—
“Apollo,” someone whispered.
Joy smiled.
June stared upward, breath caught in her chest. The symbol felt… right. Familiar. She didn’t feel surprised so much as understood.
“Oh,” she breathed.
The arrows gleamed, light pulsing softly in time with her heartbeat. June felt warmth settle into her bones, into her hands, into the place in her chest where music lived. It wasn’t overwhelming. It wasn’t loud.
It was kind.
Tears welled in her eyes not from fear, but from relief so sudden and complete it stole the air from her lungs.
Apollo.
It made sense.
The sun above her seemed to linger for just a moment longer, as if savoring the recognition. Then, slowly, the light faded, leaving June bathed in the afternoon glow once more still pink, still soft, still herself.
For a split second, no one moved.
Then the camp erupted.
Cheers broke out from every direction. Campers rushed forward, clapping, laughing, calling her name. Someone lifted her gently to her feet. Another pressed a strawberry into her hand like it was a gift of celebration.
“She’s claimed!”
“Did you see the arrows?”
“I knew it!”
June laughed through her tears, brushing them away with the heel of her hand. Her heart felt so full it ached.
Joy stood and pulled her into a hug without hesitation.
“I’m proud of you,” Joy said softly into her hair.
June hugged her back tightly. “Thank you. For… everything.”
Joy pulled back just enough to grin. “I knew it wasn’t Aphrodite.”
June laughed, wiping at her eyes again. “They’re going to be so disappointed.”
“I don’t think so,” Joy said, nodding past her.
June turned and froze.
The children of Apollo were approaching.
There were older campers among them, confident and sure, sunlight glinting off bows slung across their backs. Younger ones followed too, eyes bright with curiosity and excitement. Their expressions weren’t smug or distant.
They were proud.
One of the older Apollo campers stepped forward, smiling warmly. “June, right?”
She nodded, suddenly shy. “Yeah.”
He glanced at her hands, then toward the archery range in the distance. “That explains a lot.”
Another camper laughed. “We were wondering when he’d notice you.”
June blinked. “You… you were?”
“Of course,” a girl said gently. “Music. Archery. The way people feel better around you. You’ve been glowing since you got here.”
They ushered her forward, surrounding her with easy acceptance. Someone draped a golden cord around her wrist, careful not to disturb her pink bracelets. Someone else adjusted the strap of her backpack for her.
“Welcome home,” one of them said.
Home.
The word settled deep in her chest, warm and steady.
As they walked toward the Apollo cabin together, June glanced back once more.
Joy stood where she’d left her, watching with a soft, knowing smile, sunlight refracting faintly around her like a halo of color. When their eyes met, Joy gave her a small wave.
June waved back, heart light.
Later, as the excitement settled and the cabin buzzed with introductions, June slipped her journal from her bag and opened to a fresh page.
Her hands trembled just a little as she wrote.
Today, the sun chose me.
I think I’ve been his all along.
Outside, the afternoon lingered golden and warm.
And for the first time since she’d arrived at Camp Half-Blood, June felt completely, unmistakably claimed ,not just by a god, but by a place, a family, and a future full of light.
The Apollo cabin smelled like warm wood and sunshine.
June noticed it the moment she stepped inside how the light seemed to live here, pouring in through wide windows and catching on every golden surface. The walls glowed softly, polished to a honeyed sheen. Bunks lined the room neatly, each one draped in yellow blankets and embroidered pillows, sun symbols stitched carefully into the fabric.
It was beautiful.
It was also… very yellow.
June stood just inside the doorway, her pink backpack hanging from one shoulder, and took it all in. For the first time since being claimed, her excitement fluttered with a hint of nervousness. This wasn’t just a cabin. This was her cabin.
Her siblings’ cabin.
“Don’t just stand there,” one of the older Apollo campers said with a grin. “Pick a bunk before someone steals the good one.”
June laughed softly and nodded, moving toward an empty bed near the window. Sunlight streamed across the mattress, warm against her hands when she brushed her fingers over the blanket.
This one, she decided.
She set her backpack down and knelt, unzipping it carefully. The first thing she pulled out was her journal—the pink cover instantly vivid against the gold tones of the cabin. She placed it gently on the pillow.
A few of her siblings noticed immediately.
One of them a girl with braided hair and a sunburst necklace tilted her head. “Wow,” she said. “That is… very pink.”
June glanced up, bracing herself out of habit.
Then the girl smiled.
“I like it,” she added. “It’s kind of iconic.”
Relief bloomed in June’s chest.
She continued unpacking. Pink sweaters folded neatly. A small pouch of cassette tapes. Her Walkman. A bundle of ribbons tied together with twine. As each item found its place, the contrast grew more obvious rose against gold, soft blush against bright sunlight.
Another camper leaned against the bunk across from her, arms crossed thoughtfully. “You know,” he said, “this might be the first time our cabin’s ever had a color scheme clash.”
June froze. “Oh— I can move them if—”
“No, no,” he interrupted quickly, laughing. “I mean it in a good way. It’s like… sunrise colors. Pink skies, yellow sun.”
He gestured around the cabin. “Feels right.”
June smiled, the tension slipping away completely.
As she hung her pink cardigan on the hook beside her bunk, she noticed how the sunlight caught on the fabric, warming it, softening it. The gold didn’t overpower the pink. It complemented it.
She stepped back, looking at her little corner of the cabin.
It looked like her.
Someone tossed her a spare sun-emblem pillow. Another offered to help string fairy lights along the window. June accepted both with a grateful laugh, warmth spreading through her chest.
This wasn’t a place she had to fit into by shrinking herself.
They were making room for her exactly as she was.
As the dinner horn sounded in the distance, June sat on the edge of her bunk, hands resting on her knees, heart full and steady.
For the first time since arriving at camp, she wasn’t borrowing space.
She had one of her own.
Dinner at Camp Half-Blood was always loud.
June had eaten at the Hermes table for months, surrounded by chatter and movement and the constant shuffle of campers coming and going. She’d loved it but this was different.
This time, she followed the children of Apollo toward their table.
It sat near the center of the pavilion, bathed in warm torchlight that seemed brighter there than anywhere else. Golden plates gleamed softly, and the air around the table hummed with easy conversation. As June approached, a few campers glanced up, smiling when they saw her.
“Hey,” someone said.
“June, right?”
“Over here!”
She hesitated for only a second before sliding onto the bench, smoothing her pink skirt instinctively. The plate in front of her filled at once with food ,her favorite, she realized with a start. Strawberries, grilled vegetables, warm bread.
Her throat tightened.
Across from her sat a boy about sixteen with sandy hair and an easy grin. “I’m Tom,” he said, offering her a napkin like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I play lyre. Badly.”
June laughed. “I love lyres.”
“I love that you love lyres,” he said solemnly.
To her left, a girl with freckles and sun-kissed skin leaned closer. “I’m Daphne. Archery,” she said simply, then added with a wink, “Don’t worry. We won’t make you compete unless you want to.”
June smiled, relieved. “I like shooting for fun.”
Daphne nodded approvingly. “That tracks.”
As the meal continued, June learned bits and pieces about her siblings.
One of them healed campers in the infirmary. Another composed songs for the campfire. Someone else liked predicting the weather just by the way the light fell through the trees. They talked over one another, passing dishes and laughing easily, but they always made space for June asking questions, waiting for her answers.
“So you’re really into music?” Tom asked between bites.
June nodded enthusiastically. “I always have something playing. I make playlists for everything.”
“For everything?” Daphne asked.
June grinned. “Absolutely everything.”
“That explains the humming,” someone said fondly.
June blinked. “I hum?”
All of them laughed.
When it came time to offer food to the fire, June stood with the others, holding a small portion of her meal. She hesitated, then dropped it into the flames.
“For Apollo,” she said softly.
The fire flared gold in response, warm and bright.
June sat back down, heart racing not with nerves, but with something like joy too big to hold quietly.
As the dinner wound down, conversations drifted and softened. June listened, smiling, occasionally chiming in. She realized, slowly, that she wasn’t trying to be liked.
She already was.
When the horn sounded again and campers began to disperse, Daphne nudged her gently. “Ready to head back, sunshine?”
June laughed at the nickname but she didn’t dislike it.
As she stood, she glanced once more at the table. Her table.
Six months ago, she’d been unsure if she belonged anywhere.
Now, she had a seat in the sun.
By the time the Apollo cabin settled for the evening, the sky outside had deepened into soft purples and fading golds.
Someone dragged a low table into the center of the room. Someone else dumped a box of board games onto the floor with a dramatic flourish. The cabin buzzed with the kind of energy that only came from a full stomach and good company.
June sat cross-legged on the floor, her pink socks peeking out beneath her skirt, watching as her siblings argued good-naturedly over which game to play.
“No strategy games,” Tom declared.
“That’s because you always lose,” Daphne replied.
“I lose artistically.”
June laughed, hugging her knees to her chest. She hadn’t laughed this much in… she couldn’t remember when.
They settled on a game that involved teamwork, shouting, and absolutely no keeping track of rules by the end. June wasn’t very competitive she cheered more than she played but no one minded. Every time she laughed, it felt like sunlight bouncing off the walls.
At some point, June slipped away briefly and returned with her Walkman and a small stack of cassette tapes.
“What’s that?” someone asked, eyes lighting up.
June held them up proudly. “My music.”
Tom leaned closer. “You’re the Walkman girl.”
June beamed. “I am.”
She popped in a cassette and pressed play, setting the Walkman in the center of the room so the music could spill outward. The sound was soft but clear, filling the cabin with gentle guitar and a familiar, comforting rhythm.
Daphne tilted her head. “Who is this?”
“Beabadoobee,” June said. “She’s my favorite.”
A few of them exchanged glances, intrigued.
“It’s cozy,” someone said.
“It sounds like summer,” another added.
June’s heart swelled.
As the song shifted, June began to hum without thinking soft, steady, natural. Tom noticed first.
“You have a really pretty voice,” he said quietly.
June froze. “I do?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
The next song started The Perfect Pair and June smiled automatically. This one lived deep in her chest, tucked between memories and feelings she didn’t always have words for.
She started singing.
Her voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t demand attention. It wove gently through the cabin, warm and clear, carrying the melody like it belonged there. One by one, her siblings fell silent, listening.
Then softly ,Daphne joined in.
Tom followed, tentative at first, then smiling as he found the tune. Soon, the whole cabin was humming, singing bits and pieces, laughing when someone missed a line.
It wasn’t perfect.
It was better.
June felt something settle inside her, something she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying. As the last notes faded, the room lingered in a soft hush.
“That,” Tom said finally, “was amazing.”
June ducked her head, cheeks warm. “Thanks.”
Someone clapped. Someone else bumped her shoulder affectionately.
When the lights dimmed and campers began drifting toward their bunks, June curled up on her bed, pulling her headphones on gently. The cabin quieted, filled with soft breathing and the glow of moonlight.
June opened her journal and began to write.
Tonight, I sang with my siblings.
I think the sun was listening.
She closed the journal, pressed play, and let the music carry her toward sleep safe, warm, and exactly where she was meant to be.
Two years after June arrived at Camp Half-Blood, she had become part of its rhythm.
She moved easily through camp now ,pink cardigan fluttering behind her, bracelets chiming softly at her wrist as she walked beside Joy along the path leading away from the infirmary. The building’s white columns gleamed in the afternoon sun, and June still smelled faintly of nectar and ambrosia, sleeves rolled up from helping bandage scrapes and soothe bruised egos.
“You’re going to burn yourself out one day,” Joy teased, nudging her shoulder.
June laughed. “I like helping. Besides, most of them just want someone to tell them they’re brave.”
Joy smiled fondly. “You’re very good at that.”
They were just about to turn toward the cabins when someone jogged up behind them.
“June!” one of her Apollo siblings called, slightly out of breath. “Hey—sorry. Chiron needs a favor.”
June stopped immediately. “What’s up?”
“There’s a new camper. Actually two. One of them’s younger, and she’s overwhelmed. Chiron thought you might be good at showing her around.”
June’s face softened instantly. “Of course. Where is she?”
“By the Big House.”
June nodded, already turning. “I’ll take care of it.”
Joy watched her go with a knowing smile.
June spotted the girl right away.
She was small around twelve, maybe with stormy gray eyes and dark long braids pulled into a messy ponytail. She stood stiffly near the steps of the Big House, arms crossed like she was bracing herself for something terrible.
June approached slowly, careful not to startle her.
“Hi,” she said gently. “I’m June.”
The girl eyed her suspiciously. “You don’t look scary.”
June grinned. “I get that a lot.”
After a pause, the girl relaxed slightly. “I’m Annabeth.”
“Well, Annabeth,” June said, gesturing toward the camp spread out below them, “welcome to Camp Half-Blood. It’s a lot at first, but I promise it gets better.”
As they walked, June explained the basics cabins, training areas, strawberry fields keeping her tone light and reassuring. Annabeth listened closely, asking sharp questions, her curiosity peeking through her guarded exterior.
“I came with someone,” Annabeth said suddenly as they passed the archery range. “My friend. Luke.”
June glanced at her. “Oh?”
“He’s the same age as you,” Annabeth continued. “Fourteen. I think you’d get along really well.”
June smiled politely. “I’m sure he’s nice.”
Annabeth opened her mouth to say more then froze.
“Luke!” she called suddenly, waving.
June turned.
He was standing near the pavilion, sunlight catching in his dark curls. He looked taller than most campers, shoulders squared but relaxed, a sword strapped easily at his side like it belonged there. When he turned at the sound of Annabeth’s voice, his expression softened immediately.
June felt it then a brief, unexpected stillness in her chest.
He walked toward them, easy confidence in every step, brown eyes warm when they landed on Annabeth.
“Hey,” he said. “You disappear fast.”
Annabeth pointed proudly. “This is June. She’s been showing me around.”
Luke’s gaze shifted to June.
Up close, he was… handsome. Not in a flashy way more like the kind of person you noticed without trying to. His smile was quick and genuine, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly.
“Nice to meet you,” he said. “I’m Luke.”
June’s brain stalled for exactly half a second.
Then she smiled, just as warm. “June. Welcome to camp.”
She didn’t let herself stare. She didn’t let the flutter in her chest show. She’d learned how to keep those things tucked neatly away.
Annabeth beamed between them. “Told you I’d introduce you.”
Luke chuckled. “She’s been doing that all day.”
They ended up walking together toward dinner, conversation flowing easily. Luke talked about sword training and traveling. Annabeth talked about architecture and strategies she wanted to learn. June talked about the infirmary, about music, about how camp felt like home once you let it.
“You work in the infirmary?” Luke asked, impressed.
June nodded. “Mostly helping. Talking. Making people feel less awful.”
He smiled at that. “That tracks.”
At the Apollo table, June slid easily into place, greeting her siblings as they arrived. A few of them glanced curiously at Luke, then at June but said nothing.
She felt oddly aware of him sitting nearby. When their eyes met across the tables, he smiled like he was genuinely glad to be there.
Later, as the sun dipped low and camp buzzed with evening energy, June realized something quietly, without drama or fanfare.
Luke Castellan felt like someone important.
She didn’t know why yet.
She just knew.
And somewhere deep inside, something warm and bright stirred like the first hint of sunrise.
Luke Castellan already knew June.
At least, he knew her name.
He knew her smile the warm, easy one she’d given him when Annabeth had introduced them.
He knew she worked in the infirmary, liked music, and wore pink like it was a second skin.
What Luke didn’t know what he was only beginning to understand was how deeply June was woven into Camp Half-Blood itself.
It started quietly.
A few days after arriving, Luke was near the training arena, adjusting his grip on his sword while watching two campers spar. One of them hissed in pain, dropping his weapon.
“Great,” the other muttered. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Go to the infirmary.”
The camper hesitated. “June’s there, right?”
“Yeah,” someone else chimed in. “June will take care of it.”
Luke paused.
June, he thought not confused, just… attentive.
Later that afternoon, Annabeth was pacing near the Big House, deep in thought, when she stopped abruptly.
“Do you think June would know where the maps are?” she asked him.
Luke blinked. “The infirmary girl?”
Annabeth shot him a look. “She’s not just the infirmary girl.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know,” Annabeth sighed. “But yeah. June probably knows. Or she’ll know who does.”
Luke watched Annabeth jog off toward the cabins without another word. He frowned slightly, that same name echoing again.
He saw June that evening really saw her near the archery range.
She stood off to the side, not competing, not training for combat. She was shooting at a target someone had painted with little flowers, laughing softly when an arrow landed just wide. Her pink sleeve was rolled up, sunlight catching on her bracelets as she reached for another arrow.
A younger camper hovered nearby, clearly nervous.
June noticed immediately.
“Hey,” she said gently. “Wanna try again?”
The kid nodded.
Luke watched as she stepped closer not correcting, not commanding. Just adjusting the camper’s hands, showing them how to breathe, how to relax. The next arrow flew straighter.
The kid’s face lit up.
“That was you,” June said brightly.
Luke frowned not in disapproval, but in thought.
She wasn’t trying to impress anyone.
She wasn’t even aware she was being watched.
The realization followed him.
At dinner, someone slid into the seat beside Luke and asked, “Hey, do you know if June’s coming?”
Luke hesitated. “I—maybe?”
“Cool,” the camper said. “She makes the tables better.”
Luke didn’t ask what that meant.
Later, passing the infirmary, he heard music drifting through the open door soft, melodic, familiar in a way he couldn’t quite place. June sat on one of the steps, a bandage kit beside her, Walkman balanced loosely in her hands. She was humming quietly while a camper talked to her, voice low and earnest.
She nodded as she listened. Really listened.
Luke slowed without meaning to.
She glanced up then and recognized him instantly.
“Oh—hi, Luke,” she said, smiling. “How’s camp treating you?”
There was no awkwardness. No hesitation. Just kindness.
“It’s… good,” he said. “Busy.”
She laughed softly. “Yeah. It’s like that.”
He nodded, then moved on, heart beating just a little faster than before.
Over the next few days, it kept happening.
People waved at June as they passed.
Campers leaned toward her when she spoke.
Arguments softened in her presence.
Luke noticed something else too something subtler.
June never positioned herself at the center of attention.
She just ended up there.
One afternoon, Luke mentioned her casually.
“She seems popular,” he said to Annabeth as they walked.
Annabeth snorted. “Popular isn’t the word.”
“What is, then?”
“She’s… trusted,” Annabeth said after a moment. “There’s a difference.”
Luke thought about that.
That night, he passed the Apollo cabin. Golden light spilled from the windows, laughter echoing softly into the dark. Inside, June sat cross-legged on the floor with her siblings, a board game between them. Someone said something funny June laughed, head tilting back, joy effortless and unguarded.
Luke stopped.
He remembered the way she’d looked at him when they met open, curious, unafraid. Like she expected the world to be kind.
He wasn’t sure how someone like that survived.
But she had.
And not just survived she’d thrived.
Luke exhaled slowly and kept walking.
He already knew June.
But now, he was starting to realize
He wanted to know her better.
Luke didn’t mean to end up in the infirmary.
It wasn’t anything serious just a stupid mistake during training. He’d pushed himself a little too hard, distracted, overconfident. The sword slipped. His grip faltered. The result was a sharp sting across his palm and a dull ache settling into his shoulder.
He stared at the scrape for a moment, jaw tight.
“I’m fine,” he muttered.
“You’re bleeding,” someone pointed out helpfully.
Luke sighed. “Yeah. I noticed.”
And then, like it always did, the answer came immediately.
“Go to the infirmary. June’s there.”
Luke hesitated.
He wasn’t avoiding her not exactly. He’d spoken to her before. She’d been kind. Easy to talk to. Too easy, maybe. Still, something in him resisted the idea of sitting still while someone looked at him too closely.
But his hand throbbed, and the cut was deeper than he’d like to admit.
So he went.
The infirmary was quiet when he arrived, sunlight streaming through the open windows and spilling across neatly organized shelves. The scent of nectar and clean linen hung in the air. Somewhere, soft music played gentle, familiar, comforting.
June stood at one of the tables, sleeves rolled up, carefully wrapping a camper’s ankle. Her pink cardigan was draped over the back of a chair, and her hair was pulled loosely away from her face. She laughed softly at something the camper said, the sound warm and unforced.
Luke stopped just inside the doorway.
She looked up almost immediately.
“Oh—hi, Luke,” she said, smiling like she’d expected him. “Come on in.”
The camper hopped off the table with a grin and waved at Luke as they passed. “She’s the best,” they whispered conspiratorially before leaving.
June turned her attention fully to Luke. “What happened?”
He held up his hand. “Just a scratch.”
She raised an eyebrow not accusing, just amused. “Uh-huh. Sit.”
Luke obeyed.
She moved closer, her presence calm and unhurried. When she took his hand, her touch was gentle but confident, like she knew exactly how much pressure to use.
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
“A little.”
She nodded. “You can squeeze the edge of the table if you need to.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “I’ll survive.”
“I figured,” she said, smiling. “Hermes kids usually do.”
That caught his attention. “Usually?”
She shrugged lightly as she cleaned the cut. “You all have this way of bouncing back. Like you’re made for roads and falls and getting up again.”
Luke looked at her then really looked.
She wasn’t staring at him. She wasn’t trying to read him. She was focused on her work, careful and kind, humming softly under her breath.
The music from her Walkman played low in the background, something mellow and warm.
“You like music,” he said quietly.
She glanced up, surprised. “Yeah. A lot.”
“I’ve noticed.”
She smiled, a little shy this time. “It helps.”
“With what?”
“Everything,” she said simply.
She finished wrapping his hand and stepped back. “There. Try not to reopen it.”
He flexed his fingers. “Thanks.”
They sat in silence for a moment not awkward, just… present.
Luke broke it first. “You’re really good at this.”
“At bandaging?” she teased.
“At making people feel okay,” he corrected.
June blinked, clearly caught off guard.
“Oh,” she said softly. “I just… do what Joy did for me.”
“Joy?” he asked.
“My friend,” she said, smiling fondly. “She helped me when I first got here. I figured ,if I could be that for someone else, I should try.”
Luke nodded slowly.
That made sense. Too much sense.
“You don’t have to do that, you know,” he said. “Carry everyone.”
She tilted her head. “I don’t feel like I’m carrying them.”
He met her eyes.
“It feels lighter when you’re not alone,” she added gently.
Something in his chest tightened.
He looked away first.
“Guess I should go,” he said, standing. “Before Annabeth decides I’ve died.”
June laughed softly. “Probably a good idea.”
As he reached the door, she spoke again.
“Luke?”
He turned.
“If your shoulder still hurts later,” she said, “come back. I’ll check it.”
Her smile was easy. No pressure. No expectations.
“Yeah,” he said. “I will.”
He stepped outside, sunlight hitting his face, heart beating a little faster than before.
Luke Castellan had come to the infirmary for a scrape.
He left with something else entirely.
About ten days after Luke’s visit to the infirmary, talking to June stopped feeling like a coincidence.
It became… normal.
Luke found her near the cabins sometimes, pink cardigan tied around her waist, helping a camper carry supplies. Other times, she was at the infirmary, sleeves rolled up, focused and gentle. They exchanged small conversations nothing heavy. Comments about training. About Annabeth. About how camp felt louder in the evenings and quieter just before sunset.
Easy things.
Still, Luke noticed that he started looking for her without meaning to.
That was how he ended up near the Apollo cabin that afternoon.
June sat on the steps, knees pulled to her chest, sunlight brushing her hair gold at the edges. Her Walkman rested beside her, a cassette case open, tapes arranged neatly like they mattered which Luke suspected they did.
Annabeth sat nearby, sketching something in the dirt with a stick, eyes flicking between the two of them with sharp, unreadable focus.
“Hey,” Luke said.
June looked up and smiled instantly. “Hi.”
He sat down a few steps away, careful not to crowd her. “Annabeth says you have… a system.”
June laughed. “I do not.”
“You label your tapes by mood,” Annabeth said flatly. “That’s a system.”
June shrugged. “It’s practical.”
Luke glanced at the cassette case. “Can I?”
She hesitated for just a second then nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”
She picked one up carefully before handing it to him. The label was written in soft pink ink.
The Perfect Pair.
Luke tilted his head. “That sounds… optimistic.”
June smiled, smaller than usual. “It is.”
She slipped one headphone off and held it out to him. Luke took it, their fingers brushing briefly. The contact was light, accidental but it lingered in the air between them.
The song started softly.
Gentle guitar. A steady rhythm. June closed her eyes almost immediately, breathing out as if she’d been holding something in.
Luke listened.
The song wasn’t loud. It didn’t demand attention. It felt intimate like something meant to be shared in quiet moments rather than broadcast.
After a while, June spoke, voice barely above the music.
“This song… it reminds me of feeling safe,” she said. “Not perfect. Just… okay.”
Luke didn’t interrupt.
“I used to listen to it a lot before camp,” she continued. “When things were quiet. Or when they weren’t, and I needed them to be.”
He glanced at her. “You don’t strike me as someone who had it easy.”
She smiled faintly. “I didn’t. But I learned how to make my own soft places.”
The song swelled gently, then softened again.
“I think,” June added, after a pause, “that being a perfect pair doesn’t mean matching. It’s just… choosing to sit in the same moment.”
Luke swallowed.
“That’s a good way to put it,” he said.
June opened her eyes and looked at him. Their gazes held not intense, not overwhelming. Just steady.
Annabeth watched from a few feet away, arms crossed.
She didn’t say anything.
But she noticed.
She noticed how Luke leaned in slightly, unconsciously.
How June’s smile shifted less bright, more real.
How neither of them rushed to speak when the song ended.
Annabeth sighed quietly.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m going to go. You two look like you’re about to have a moment, and I refuse to witness it.”
June startled. “What? No—we’re just—”
Annabeth stood, brushing dirt from her hands. “Talking. I know.”
She shot Luke a knowing look. “Be back before dinner.”
Luke nodded, slightly flustered.
When Annabeth disappeared down the path, silence settled again comfortable, warm.
“That song means a lot to you,” Luke said.
June nodded. “Yeah. It’s one of the first ones I shared with my siblings.”
“Why this one?”
She thought for a moment. “Because it feels like trust. And because… it doesn’t ask for anything.”
Luke absorbed that.
“I like it,” he said finally.
She smiled. “You can borrow it. Just be careful.”
He took the cassette gently. “I will.”
As the sun dipped lower, painting the camp in gold, Luke realized something quietly, without panic.
This wasn’t sudden.
This wasn’t overwhelming.
It was slow. Soft. Like music easing into a room.
And June ,June felt like the kind of song you didn’t skip.
Luke listened to the cassette more than once.
That was the problem.
He’d told himself he would play it once just to hear the song again, just to understand what June meant. But “The Perfect Pair” had a way of settling into the quiet spaces, filling them gently instead of demanding attention.
He listened while sharpening his sword.
He listened while lying awake in his bunk.
He listened when camp felt too loud and his thoughts felt too sharp.
It reminded him of her voice soft, steady, choosing kindness even when it would be easier not to.
By the third day, Annabeth noticed.
“You’re distracted,” she said flatly, sitting across from him at breakfast.
Luke glanced up. “I’m always distracted.”
“No,” she said. “This is new.”
He sighed, setting the Walkman down. “What are you implying?”
Annabeth leaned forward. “You like June.”
Luke opened his mouth to deny it.
Then closed it.
“That obvious?” he asked instead.
Annabeth smirked. “Painfully.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not… doing anything about it.”
“You don’t need to,” Annabeth said. “You already are.”
Luke frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You listen,” she said. “You notice. You soften.”
He looked away.
“I’m just saying,” Annabeth added, gentler now, “don’t hurt her.”
Luke met her gaze seriously. “I wouldn’t.”
Annabeth studied him for a long moment, then nodded once. “Good.”
That afternoon, Luke found June near the lake, seated on a blanket dotted with tiny suns and flowers. Her journal rested beside her, open, pen tucked between her fingers. She looked peaceful completely herself.
He approached quietly.
“Hey,” he said.
She looked up, surprised, then smiled. “Hi. Did you like it?”
He held out the cassette carefully. “Yeah. I did.”
She took it, fingers brushing his again. “You can keep it longer if you want.”
Luke shook his head. “I think it’s better if you have it.”
She tilted her head. “Why?”
“Because it feels like something you shouldn’t lose.”
Her smile softened. “You listened more than once.”
It wasn’t a question.
He didn’t deny it. “Yeah.”
They sat together, silence settling easily between them.
“I like that you listened,” June said quietly. “It means a lot.”
He glanced at her. “You make it easy.”
She laughed softly. “I don’t think that’s true.”
“I do.”
Later that evening, the campfire was already lit when June arrived. The flames crackled warmly, sparks dancing upward into the darkening sky. Campers gathered in loose circles, laughter and conversation blending into a comfortable hum.
June sat near the fire, guitar resting lightly in her lap. Luke took a seat a few feet away, close enough to hear, far enough not to intrude.
When she began to sing, the camp quieted.
Her voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It carried in a way that felt personal, like she was singing to each person individually.
Luke felt it settle into him.
He watched her fingers move across the strings, watched the way she closed her eyes on certain lines. He noticed how the firelight danced across her pink sweater, how her expression softened completely when she sang.
Annabeth sat on the opposite side of the fire, arms crossed, watching Luke watch June.
She smiled to herself.
When the song ended, applause followed but June ducked her head, bashful. Luke clapped too, heart steady but full.
After the fire, as campers drifted away, Luke lingered.
“You were really good,” he said.
June smiled. “Thanks. Music’s easier than talking sometimes.”
He nodded. “I get that.”
They stood together in the quiet aftermath, embers glowing softly.
“I think,” June said after a moment, “that music shows you who someone is when they’re not trying.”
Luke met her gaze.
“Then I’m glad you shared it with me,” he said.
She smiled gentle, genuine.
And for the first time, Luke felt something settle into place.
Not urgency.
Not fear.
Just warmth.
Something that lingered.
By the time six months had passed, it felt strange to remember a version of camp where Luke Castellan and June weren’t always together.
They didn’t make a show of it. They didn’t cling or announce anything. It just… happened.
Luke walked June back from the infirmary most evenings.
June saved him a seat at campfire without thinking.
They trained separately but always found each other afterward, sitting somewhere quiet by the lake, the steps of the cabins, the edge of the woods where the air felt calmer.
Annabeth noticed, of course.
She and June had grown close too ,closer than June had ever expected to be with someone so sharp-edged and brilliant. Annabeth borrowed June’s music sometimes. June listened patiently to Annabeth’s theories and plans. They talked late into the night in June’s cabin, whispering about everything and nothing.
But Luke—
Luke was constant.
One afternoon, June sat on the dock by the lake, feet skimming the water, Walkman beside her. Luke lay back on the boards, arms folded behind his head, staring up at the sky.
“You ever think about leaving?” he asked suddenly.
June glanced at him. “Camp?”
“Anywhere,” he said.
She considered it. “Sometimes. But I like staying where people choose me.”
He nodded slowly.
After a moment, he spoke again voice quieter this time. “I didn’t always have that.”
June turned fully toward him.
He didn’t look at her as he talked.
“My mom… she tried,” he said. “But things were hard. I ran a lot. Learned not to rely on anyone too much.”
June didn’t interrupt. She didn’t rush to comfort him.
She just stayed.
“I didn’t think I’d like camp,” Luke admitted. “Didn’t think I’d stay.”
“And now?” June asked gently.
He finally looked at her. “Now it feels different.”
Her heart stuttered but she didn’t push.
That was how it always was with them. Trust, offered slowly. Taken carefully.
Later that week, something unexpected happened.
June was helping organize supplies near the pavilion when one of the older campers a girl from the Demeter cabin laughed and touched Luke’s arm as she spoke. Luke smiled politely, nodding along.
June felt it then.
Not anger.
Not fear.
Just a small, unfamiliar tightness in her chest.
She looked away, embarrassed with herself.
Luke noticed immediately.
He excused himself without fuss and crossed the space toward her.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
June blinked. “Yeah. Of course.”
He studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”
But later, as they walked back toward the cabins, he said casually, “You know I don’t like it when people assume things.”
She glanced up at him. “Assume what?”
“That I belong to them,” he said simply.
Her breath caught.
“Oh,” she said.
He didn’t say anything else but his hand brushed hers as they walked, just barely. Enough to mean something.
The night of the almost-confession came without warning.
The campfire burned low, embers glowing like stars fallen to earth. Most campers had drifted away, laughter fading into the distance.
June and Luke sat side by side, shoulders nearly touching.
“I’ve been thinking,” Luke said.
June looked at him. “That’s dangerous.”
He smiled faintly. “Yeah. But worth it.”
He hesitated then spoke, voice steady but careful. “June, you make things feel… easier. Like I don’t have to run.”
Her heart pounded.
She turned to him fully. “Luke—”
Before she could finish—
“Luke! June!” Annabeth’s voice cut through the quiet as she jogged toward them, waving a scroll. “You will not believe what Chiron just told me.”
June closed her eyes briefly, then laughed softly.
Luke exhaled, shaking his head but he wasn’t angry. Just… amused. Resigned.
“Timing,” he muttered.
Annabeth stopped short, noticing the look between them. She raised an eyebrow. “Did I interrupt something?”
“No,” June said gently.
Luke added, “Yes.”
Annabeth groaned. “I knew it.”
She flopped down beside them anyway, launching into her news but June and Luke barely heard it. They sat closer now, the space between them gone, something unspoken resting comfortably where words would come later.
Six months in, nothing had been said.
And yet
Everything had.
The campfire burned slower that night.
Not weaker just calmer. The flames curled lazily upward, amber and gold, sending sparks drifting into the dark like tiny wishes no one bothered to make out loud. Campers sat scattered in loose circles, voices low, laughter softened by the late hour.
June sat cross-legged on a blanket near the fire, pink cardigan pulled tight around her shoulders. The day had been long helping in the infirmary, laughing with Annabeth, music shared and stories traded. She felt pleasantly heavy, the kind of tired that came from being surrounded by people who cared.
Luke sat beside her, close enough that their arms brushed when one of them shifted.
They didn’t talk much.
They didn’t need to.
June yawned quietly, trying and failing to hide it. Luke noticed immediately.
“You okay?” he murmured.
She nodded, eyes already drifting shut. “Just… comfortable.”
A few minutes passed. The fire crackled. Someone strummed a guitar softly on the other side of the circle.
Then, without thinking June leaned sideways.
Her head rested against Luke’s shoulder, warm and light, like it belonged there.
Luke froze.
For exactly two seconds.
Then he relaxed, barely daring to breathe, afraid that any movement might wake her. June shifted slightly, sighing as she settled in, her weight steady and trusting.
She was asleep.
Luke stared straight ahead, heart thudding so loudly he was sure someone could hear it.
Annabeth noticed first.
She glanced over, took in the scene ,June asleep against Luke, Luke stiff with awe and smirked.
“Oh,” she said mildly. “This is happening.”
One of June’s siblings leaned closer, whispering loudly, “Is she asleep?”
Another nodded. “She does that.”
Luke swallowed. “I—she just—”
“Relax,” Annabeth said, far too amused. “If she didn’t want to be there, she wouldn’t be.”
A third sibling grinned. “Guess you’re stuck now, Hermes.”
Luke shot them a warning look. “Please don’t call me that.”
Luke huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head but he didn’t move.
The fire burned lower. Campers drifted away until only a handful remained. June slept peacefully, breathing slow and even, fingers curled loosely into the fabric of Luke’s shirt like an unconscious anchor.
Eventually, one of the Apollo kids cleared their throat.
“She should be in bed,” they said gently.
Luke nodded. “Yeah. I know.”
He hesitated then carefully shifted, sliding one arm behind June’s back and the other under her knees. She stirred slightly, brow furrowing for half a second then relaxed again, face soft.
Luke lifted her effortlessly, heart pounding.
“She trusts you,” Annabeth said quietly as he stood.
Luke met her gaze. “I know.”
He carried June through camp slowly, careful with every step. The night was cool, quiet except for the distant chirp of crickets and the soft rustle of leaves.
She murmured something unintelligible against his chest.
Luke smiled.
At the Apollo cabin, he eased the door open with his foot and slipped inside. Golden light glowed faintly from enchanted lanterns. The air smelled like sunlight and music and warmth.
He laid her gently on her bed, tucking the blanket around her shoulders.
She didn’t wake.
Luke stood there for a moment, hands clenched at his sides, chest tight.
This was it, he realized.
If he didn’t say it now, he might never say it at all.
He sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle her.
“June,” he whispered, knowing she couldn’t hear him.
Her breathing stayed steady.
He swallowed.
“I don’t know when it happened,” he said softly. “Or how. You just… made everything feel quieter.”
He hesitated, voice catching just a little.
“I’ve spent my whole life running,” he continued. “From places. From people. From things that mattered.”
He looked at her really looked.
“And you made me want to stay.”
Luke laughed quietly, shaking his head. “I guess this is the only time I’m brave enough to say it.”
He reached out, brushing a strand of hair gently away from her face.
“I love you,” he whispered.
The words settled into the quiet like a promise.
He stood, heart lighter and heavier all at once, and slipped out of the cabin.
June stirred sometime later.
She didn’t remember dreaming but she woke with a warmth in her chest, a sense of safety lingering like a song she almost remembered.
She smiled in her sleep.
June woke up with the strangest feeling.
It wasn’t panic.
It wasn’t fear.
It was warmth deep and lingering, like sunlight still clinging to her skin long after stepping out of it.
She lay still in her bed in the Apollo cabin, staring at the ceiling as the early morning light filtered through golden curtains. For a moment, she thought she’d dreamed something important. Not a picture, not a voice just a feeling. Like she’d been held. Like someone had stayed.
Her chest felt full in a way she couldn’t explain.
June sat up slowly, fingers brushing the edge of her blanket. She pressed a hand to her heart, brows knitting together.
Something changed, she thought.
She couldn’t say how. Or why. But the certainty settled in her bones.
At breakfast, she scanned the pavilion instinctively.
Luke wasn’t there.
That was… unusual.
She told herself it meant nothing. Maybe he slept in. Maybe Annabeth dragged him somewhere. Maybe he was training early.
Still, the warmth in her chest dimmed just a little.
The infirmary was busy that morning sprained ankles, scraped knees, a minor burn from someone mishandling Greek fire. June moved through it easily, pink sleeves rolled up, voice gentle, hands steady.
Normally, Luke stopped by.
Not always for a reason. Sometimes just to sit. Sometimes just to ask how her day was going.
He didn’t come.
At archery practice later, June laughed with a group of campers, shooting at painted targets, joy genuine but every so often, her eyes flicked toward the path leading from the training grounds.
Nothing.
By midday, the feeling in her chest had twisted into something quieter.
Doubt.
June sat on the steps of the Athena cabin an hour later, knees pulled to her chest, Walkman resting uselessly beside her. Annabeth emerged, took one look at her, and froze.
“Oh,” Annabeth said. “That’s not good.”
June looked up. “What?”
“That face,” Annabeth said, sitting beside her. “That’s your something’s wrong but I don’t want to say it face.”
“I don’t know,” June said quietly. “He’s not… avoiding me exactly. He’s just gone. Not looking for me. Not checking in.”
She twisted the hem of her cardigan between her fingers. “And I feel like something happened last night. Like… like something important, and I missed it.”
Annabeth’s expression shifted sharp mind working fast.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “First of all: you didn’t do anything wrong.”
June swallowed. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Annabeth said firmly. “And second stay here.”
She stood. “I’ll talk to him.”
Luke was at the climbing wall, halfway up, movements sharp and controlled. Annabeth waited until he dropped down before speaking.
“You’re being weird,” she said immediately.
Luke blinked. “Good morning to you too.”
“Why are you avoiding June?”
“I’m not,” he said too quickly.
Annabeth crossed her arms. “You haven’t talked to her all day.”
Luke looked away.
“Luke.”
He sighed, rubbing his face. “I didn’t mean to.”
Annabeth softened just a fraction. “Then why?”
Silence stretched.
Then, quietly: “I told her.”
Annabeth froze. “You what.”
“I told her I love her,” Luke said, voice low. “Last night. When she was asleep.”
Annabeth stared. “You- are you serious?”
“I thought she couldn’t hear me,” he said, panic edging his words. “But now I keep thinking what if she did? What if she woke up and didn’t say anything because she didn’t feel the same?”
Annabeth’s mouth opened.
Then she laughed.
Luke scowled. “This isn’t funny.”
“Oh, it absolutely is,” Annabeth said. “You confessed to the sunniest person in camp and are now hiding from her.”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to pressure her.”
“She’s June,” Annabeth said. “Of course she noticed.”
She took a breath, then said more gently, “Luke. I knew you liked her months ago.”
He looked at her, startled. “You did?”
“Yes,” Annabeth said. “And she likes you too.”
His heart skipped. “She—she never said—”
“She doesn’t have to,” Annabeth said. “She leans on you. She looks for you. She trusts you with her quiet.”
Luke stared at the ground.
“Go talk to her,” Annabeth said. “While she’s awake this time.”
June watched Annabeth approach from the steps, heart pounding.
“Well?” she asked softly.
Annabeth smiled. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Relief hit June so hard she almost laughed.
“But,” Annabeth continued, “Luke did something incredibly stupid and incredibly sweet.”
June’s breath caught. “What?”
“He loves you,” Annabeth said simply. “And he panicked.”
June froze.
Her chest warmed then bloomed.
“He… what?”
Annabeth squeezed her hand. “He told you last night. When you were asleep.”
June’s mind raced back to the warmth. The safety. The feeling of being held even after waking.
“Oh,” she whispered.
Annabeth grinned. “Yeah.”
“Does he think I heard him?”
“Yes.”
“And that I—don’t feel the same?”
“Yes.”
June stood so fast Annabeth barely had time to react.
“I need to talk to him,” June said, voice steady but urgent.
Annabeth smiled proudly. “That’s my girl.”
June didn’t go looking for Luke right away.
Instead, she turned her steps toward the Iris cabin.
The structure shimmered faintly in the afternoon light, colors shifting softly across its surface like it was always halfway between places. June paused at the entrance, drawing in a breath that felt steadier than the one she’d had moments ago but not quite calm.
Joy sat on the steps, braiding colorful thread into a bracelet, sunlight catching in her hair.
She looked up immediately.
“There you are,” Joy said warmly. “You’ve been pacing camp like you’re trying to solve a puzzle.”
June huffed a quiet laugh and sat beside her, pulling her knees close. “Am I that obvious?”
“To me? Always.”
June stared out at the path ahead for a moment, then exhaled.
“I think Luke told me he loves me,” she said quietly.
Joy didn’t gasp. Didn’t tease.
She just smiled soft, knowing.
“And you’re panicking,” Joy added.
June nodded. “I didn’t hear it. Not really. I was asleep. But I woke up feeling like something had changed, like I wasn’t alone anymore.”
Joy turned toward her fully. “June. That doesn’t sound like nothing.”
June swallowed. “He thinks I heard him and didn’t say anything back. And now he’s scared.”
Joy hummed thoughtfully. “And how does that make you feel?”
June hesitated.
Then honest, gentle truth spilled out.
“It hurts,” she admitted. “Because I don’t want him to feel alone. Or foolish. Or like he shouldn’t have said it.”
Joy tilted her head. “That’s not what I asked.”
June looked at her.
“How do you feel about Luke?”
June opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Joy waited.
June’s voice came quieter this time. “He feels like home.”
Joy’s smile widened not triumphant, just tender.
“He listens to me,” June continued. “He sits with me when I don’t talk. He never rushes me. When he’s near, everything feels… safer. Lighter.”
Joy reached for June’s hand.
“That sounds like love,” Joy said gently.
June’s eyes burned. “But I never said it. I didn’t even realize I felt it until he wasn’t there today.”
Joy squeezed her fingers. “That’s usually how it happens.”
June laughed weakly. “I thought love would feel louder.”
Joy chuckled. “For some people, it is. For you? It’s quiet. It settles in. Like music playing softly in the background until you realize it’s been there the whole time.”
June wiped at her eyes, smiling despite herself.
“I was scared,” she whispered. “Of wanting something that could leave.”
Joy’s expression softened. “You’ve been afraid of that since you were twelve.”
June nodded.
“But Luke stayed,” Joy continued. “Even before he knew why. And you stayed too.”
June breathed in slowly.
“So what do I do?” she asked.
Joy grinned. “You go tell him.”
June laughed nervously. “Just like that?”
“Yes,” Joy said simply. “Because love doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to be honest.”
June stood, heart pounding but lighter now.
Joy rose too and pulled her into a warm hug.
“You’re allowed to be chosen,” Joy murmured. “And you’re allowed to choose back.”
June hugged her tightly, then pulled away, smiling with renewed certainty.
She turned toward the path toward Luke.
This time, she knew exactly what she was going to say.
Luke noticed June before he was ready.
He felt it first the shift in the air, the way his chest tightened like it always did when she was near. He stood near the edge of the training grounds, hands flexing uselessly at his sides, heart pounding far too fast for someone who had faced monsters without blinking.
Okay, he told himself. Breathe.
She was walking toward him, pink cardigan fluttering lightly in the afternoon breeze, sunlight catching in her hair. She looked determined but not upset. That somehow made it worse.
Luke’s thoughts spiraled.
What if she heard me?
What if she didn’t?
What if I ruined everything?
He almost turned away.
Almost.
“Luke,” June said softly.
He froze.
“Hey,” he replied, voice betraying him just slightly.
They stood there for a moment, neither quite sure where to start. The camp buzzed faintly around them laughter, distant training, the sound of life going on as it always did.
June broke the silence first.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said gently.
Luke blinked. “I—”
“I know,” she continued. “I talked to Annabeth. And Joy.”
He winced. “Of course you did.”
She smiled. “They helped me understand something.”
He swallowed. “June, I’m really sorry if I made things weird. I didn’t mean to put anything on you. I just—”
“Luke,” she said again, stepping closer. “I didn’t hear you last night.”
His shoulders sagged with both relief and something else disappointment, maybe.
“But,” she added softly, “I felt you.”
He looked at her then.
Really looked.
Her eyes were warm, steady, open in a way that made his chest ache.
“I woke up feeling safe,” she said. “Like someone had stayed. Like I wasn’t alone.”
Luke’s breath caught.
“I’ve been trying all day to figure out why it hurt so much when you weren’t there,” June continued. “And I think… I’ve known for a while. I just didn’t name it.”
She reached for his hand, fingers threading through his without hesitation.
“I love you too,” she said simply.
The world went quiet.
Luke stared at her, stunned, like someone had finally said the right answer out loud.
“You—really?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
June laughed softly, eyes shining. “Yes. Really.”
He didn’t rush it.
He lifted one hand slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wanted. She didn’t. Instead, she leaned in, closing the distance herself.
Their kiss was gentle,soft and unhurried, like they had all the time in the world. Luke’s forehead rested against hers afterward, eyes closed, as if he needed the contact to ground himself.
“Hi,” June murmured.
He laughed quietly. “Hi.”
They didn’t say anything else right away.
They didn’t need to.
They walked together toward the hill overlooking the camp, the sun dipping low and painting the sky in shades of gold and pink June’s favorite.
They sat side by side in the grass, shoulders touching.
June pulled her Walkman from her bag, fingers practiced as she clicked it open. She offered him one headphone, smile soft and knowing.
“The Perfect Pair,” she said.
Luke took it, their hands brushing. The music started, familiar now gentle, steady, full of warmth.
June leaned her head against his shoulder.
Luke rested his cheek against her hair.
They watched the sun sink behind the trees, music playing quietly between them, the world feeling finally exactly right.
back to navigation & latest: back to the old house / girls on film
pairing. luke castellan x fem! reader
contains. set in a mortal universe; reader is percy’s babysitter; luke is annabeth’s older brother; mutual pining; strangers to lovers; baby! percabeth; lowkey college au.
Percy Jackson social media au
genre: crack
warning: none
note: why are all the white pants see-through like if i wanted to to show my ass i would wear a miniskirt
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