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agirlsguidetolove · 4 months

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☆ POISON

“miss her, kiss her, love her, wrong move you’re dead, that girl is poison” - bell biv devoe (2.2k)

contains: luke castellan x daughter of aphrodite! reader. acquaintances to friends to secretish lovers. silena + drew mentions. during tlt.

kashaf’s note: u cant tell me a group of teenagers lived together at summer camp and no one had secret parties. dont @ me for the 90s music references (+ i imagine avantika vadanapu as silena, and momona tamada as drew)

i. and if there was a problem / yo, i'll solve it

“CASTELLAN?” YOU APPROACHED him slowly, tone cautious as if you were speaking to a wounded animal, although in this case, maybe you were, as you reached for his bruised knuckles, remaining persistent, even as he tried to withdraw his hands out of your grasp. “why’d you do that?”

“did i need a reason?” there is a forced jocularity to his words, a well-practiced mask he is never seen without, and you cringe slightly, your gaze catching the grimace that twists his lips. his attempt at a ‘roguish’ grin falls flat, the expression a discordant note against the backdrop of his injuries. luke’s already busted lip splits open, a thin line of crimson carving a river down his chin. he moves to wipe it off the back of his arm, but you’ve already pulled off the bandana tying up your hair (a birthday present from a half-sibling) and begun rubbing at his face.

luke’s eyes widened at the gesture.

despite being tentative acquaintances since your arrival, you’re still annoyed that luke castellan continues to underestimate just how much of his heart he wears on his sleeve — or rather, just how well you manage to see past his facade. his blatant lie hangs in the air, unacknowledged. instead, you deliberately shift your gaze to the purples and blacks that mar his knuckles, setting about wrapping them with your bandana, obscuring the damage.

“i could’ve done that myself,” luke says, amused, his words lightly appreciative. still, at your answering glare, he tosses his hands in the air in surrender as ‘ice ice baby’ continues in the background, uninterrupted, “but thank you, though.”

“i’m no apollo kid, but it’ll do,” you shrug instead of accepting the gratitude, tugging him to his feet, ensuring to grab his uninjured hand, and hauling him outside.

“you’re no apollo kid, and you decide to take the injured man away from where the apollo kids are actually gathered,” luke muses, once again entertained with himself (was there any other emotion this boy could experience besides amusement?), once the lights of the apollo cabin are so far behind you, neither of you could fully see each other.

“you’ll live,” you say, scowling at him through the darkness, forgetting he couldn’t actually see you.

“and you’re moody for a daughter of aphrodite,” he says, still holding onto your hand as he trails after you.

you stop in your tracks, pinch the bridge of your nose, count to three, and finally turn to luke, who still has his stupidly pleased-with-himself expression on his face. “luke castellan, if you don’t end up dying of some tragic fate or the other i will hunt you down myself.”

“duly noted.”

“holy hera, do you even want to know where i’m taking you?”

“nah, i think the mystery really adds some suspense.”

“that’s it, i give up,” you say, before beginning to drag him back to the apollo cabin, when he plants his feet in the dirt ground firmly, grinning crookedly at you as the moonlight finally shines through the clouds, suddenly bathing him in a luminescent glow.

“nah, c’mon, let’s go to your spot.”

you glare at him, watching how his stupid grin only seems to grow in size, an annoyingly endearing trait. with a sigh, you continued to drag him along, scowling each time he tried to make a quip.

“what if we get to your spot, and i find out this was all just a ploy to murder me?” luke muses out loud, looking thoughtful for once.

“do you seriously believe that if i was gonna murder you, i wouldn’t have done it by now?” you say, pausing when he shrugged in agreement, “we’re here though, whiney baby.”

luke’s eyebrows rose as he took in the secluded area near the dunes, finally meeting your gaze again. “aw, i can’t believe you just planned out our first date.”

“i seriously don’t know what any of my half-siblings see in you.”

“so you’ve discussed me then.”

“shut up, i dragged you all the way here, because even though i know you like attention, i don’t think you wanted the attention you were getting from punching that poor hephaestus kid in the jaw,” you say shockingly sincerely, startling both yourself and luke.

luke doesn’t say anything, letting what seems like a confession hang in the air, instead, sits down near the water, and rubs a hand across his jaw, watching you as you follow suit, sitting next to him.

after spending what seems like minutes in silence, watching the waves lap at the shore, luke finally speaks, staring out at the horizon, his tone slightly hollow, and devoid of all things you have come to label as luke castellan, looking eerily similar to the night he had returned from his infamous quest, “heroes aren’t meant to be happy.”

you drew your legs to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and resting your head. “i know — achilles, orpheus, theseus…” you trail off.

“and hercules,” luke adds, almost melancholy.

“i think i’ve pretty much accepted i’ll die young,” you say, your words coming out in nothing but a whisper despite the two of you being alone.

luke nods in solidarity, lost in thought. “it shouldn’t have to be like this,” he finally says, voice hardening.

ii. talking sweet and looking fine / i get kinda hectic inside

“okay, for this technique, i’ll need a partner,” luke says, looking straight at you. “can you come up here?”

deciding to oblige him, you rolled your eyes good-naturedly, smiling as you joined him in front of the other campers, who had begun whispering when he called out to you. in the crowd, just past your half-siblings looks of shock, you can see the stolls passing around a wad of cash.

luke addresses the crowd once more, “i need everyone to be paying close attention here, we’ll be demonstrating how to parry, or counterblock for the newcomers.”

as both of you get into position, luke smiles, “don’t forget to go easy on me.”

you laughed, “don’t bet on it, castellan.”

your demonstration ends up feeling like eons, as the two of you continue to dance around each other, parrying and jabbing, and lunging, and striking, and parrying. both of you are panting, your faces flushed as you continue, and just when it seems like you have the upper hand, luke side steps, and easily parries your finishing blow, disarming you in the process.

you laugh as you yield, loving the exhilaration from the fight, but when the two of you face the campers once more, more than half of the crowd is slack-jawed.

luke, ever the showman, can’t resist a grin, “not only was that your lesson to not underestimate aphrodite cabin, but also to show you the level we’re trying to get you guys to. now, partner up and spread out.”

before you can turn back to address luke again, drew is suddenly at your side.

“what the fuck was that?” drew hisses, grasping your elbow and leading you away from the training session in full swing, pulling you into your cabin, where silena sits on your bed (still in her armor), clearly awaiting this impromptu confrontation.

“what was what?” you choose to feign innocence, examining your nails before glancing up to see the twin expressions of horror on both silena and drew’s faces.

“do not act dumb,” drew eyes you coolly, “it’s so beneath you.”

“i’m not acting dumb,” you rolled your eyes at the both of them.

“yes you —”

“you and castellan,” silena interjects, “we want details, now.”

“what details even are there to give?”

silena grabs drew’s arm, pulling her back from apparently nearly pouncing on you.

drew rolls her eyes at the hand on her arm, and then focuses on you, “you’re literally our next head counselor and you and castellan had never so much looked at each other until this week and now he’s asking you to help demonstrate training techniques, like hello?”

silena snapped her fingers in agreement, “c’mon, you can’t deny that something didn’t happen.”

“nothing did,” you crossed your arms across your chest.

“you know what,” drew says, “if you wanna be like this fine. come find me when you finally decide to — i don’t know — talk to your sisters?” she storms out of the cabin, leaving you alone with silena, who sighs, gives you an apologetic look and goes after drew.

“well, that was a shit show.”

you whirl around to see your head counselor standing at the entry of the cabin, poised as ever, not a hair out of place as she stood, examining her manicure, looking bored, as usual.

“couldn’t agree more,” you sigh, sitting on your bed, head in your hands.

your head counselor takes a seat beside you, “look, i don’t care for whatever petty drama just unfolded, you’ll get over it, daughters of aphrodite and all,” she waves a hand in the air, “— but for now, we have more pressing issues. i’m gonna leave for college soon, and the entire cabin knows you’re my successor.”

you nod as she paused, meeting your gaze, and you can’t help but examine the perfect shape of her eyeliner, scanning her entire picture-perfect face in an attempt to discern her mood.

“i don’t care whatever it is you have going on with castellan, but you need to complete the rite of passage, before you become head counselor.”

“the rite of passage?” you asked, having only heard the phrase in hushed conversations around camp, the knot in your stomach tightening as she continued.

“no child of aphrodite is a true child of aphrodite without having broken their first love’s heart,” is all she offers as an explanation, completely straight-faced. “castellan is perfect for your rite of passage.”

your eyebrows furrow as you consider her words, and with a final nod, and gentle squeeze of your arm, she leaves you with both her legacy and your mother’s legacy in your hands.

“oh, and before i forget, whoever doesn’t do it always ends up cursed.”

iii. now let me pray to keep you from / the perils that will surely come

luke’s shoulder brushing against yours has turned out to be extremely distracting, and now you can understand why your cabin is more notorious for breaking hearts, rather than falling in love. you can’t seem to focus on anything except how close his hand is to yours, even the golden hue of the fire or the sing-alongs can’t divert your attention.

the distance between the two of you grows imperceptibly smaller when luke suddenly clears his throat, on the verge of saying something, when a twig snaps behind the two of you, causing you to jump apart and look at the intruder.

annabeth is standing behind the two of you, looking faintly apologetic, but also terrified. “sorry if i interrupted you guys,” she offers, rubbing her arm.

you share a glance with luke, nodding at him. “you weren’t — luke can always talk to me later,” you say, offering her your trademark smile.

annabeth nodded, “thank you,” as luke gently squeezed your hand before getting up to comfort her.

“don’t thank me, sweetheart.”

you’re at your usual spot when luke rejoins you, running a hand through his curls. “sorry,” he says, “someone left a spider in athena cabin, and no one could kill it.”

you chuckled, “if it wasn’t a total accident, i’d bet money it was travis and connor.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up at the mention of his siblings, “i think you’re spending too much time around them to pick up on their habits.”

“or maybe, i’m spending too much time around you,” you offer, smirking at him, trying to ignore the funny feeling in your chest as he smiles genuinely at you.

“i like to say i’m an acquired taste,” luke shrugs, sneaking a glance at you as you laugh at him.

“i think i’ve acquired that taste,” you say, without thinking, before realizing how phenomenally stupid that sounded.

luke smiled widely, “y’know, if you weren’t a daughter of aphrodite, i would’ve told you how corny that was —” you shoved him here, “— ow, let me finish, but i actually am really glad to hear that.”

“no wonder,” you smirked, “i can practically hear your heart beating out of your chest.”

“okay, look who’s confident all of a sudden.”

you shut him up with a soft kiss that has him seeing stars.

iv. i know what’s weighing on your mind / you can be sure i know my part

“again, what the hell is going on with you and castellan?” silena asks one early morning before breakfast, birds chirping as she’s lining her eyes with kajal, glancing at the mirror in her hand as she sits at the top of her bed.

“nothing.”

“i literally saw you guys making out and had to scrub my eyes out with soap,” drew adds, looking extremely disgusted at the thought of relieving that experience, as she paints a fresh coat of nail polish.

“fine, you’re right,” you concede, curling your eyelashes.

“don’t you have to do the rite of passage, though?” drew asks, pausing to look up at you.

“i’m not doing the rite of passage,” you say slowly, setting the eyelash curler down on the vanity.

“excuse me?” your head counselor has her hands on her hips, the annoyed expression on her face marring her perfect features, towering over you as she stands in front of your bed.

“i said, i’m not doing the rite of passage,” you enunciate, looking up at her, maintaining eye contact.

the temperature of the cabin seemed to drop ten degrees, and for a minute or so, your stare remained unbroken until she shrugged. “your decision... but don’t say i didn’t warn you,” before dramatically whirling around and heading to the pavilion.

silena gave you a look as drew arched her brow, and you simply shrugged in response.

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agirlsguidetolove · 4 months

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“notice me”

luke castellan x aphrodite!reader

content/trigger warnings: fem! reader, doesn’t follow the plot of tlt!, mentions of smut, sexual tension, manipulation?, groping, reader making luke jealous

a/n: the show has once again sparked up my love for the percy jackson book saga and charlie bushnell has me weakkk ughhh.. i normally don’t write for pjo characters but oh well, lmk if y’all want a continuation of this or just more luke castellan in general ;)

you had always been so used to being the center of attention. as a daughter of aphrodite, you had always been the most popular girl in school, and there was no shortage of boys falling for your charms

arriving at camp half-blood didn change that, nothing was different. except that, for the first time in your life, you found yourself chasing after the attention of a certain boy. luke castellan, the son of hermes and the head counselor of his cabin, he just wouldn’t fawn over you like the others would. despite your best efforts, luke had always remained indifferent to your constant flirting, leaving you feeling frustrated and determined to change his mind

you found yourself spending every waking moment trying to get his attention, trying to find some way to charm him and make him see you the way the other boys did. but no matter how hard you tried, luke remained distant and unimpressed

this week you were extremely busy, you were helping out in the infirmary, one of the apollo kids who usually worked in the infirmary had been sent on a quest and you were asked to fill in until they came back. juggling that with all your other responsibilities as counselor had you beyond occupied

during that week, annabeth barged in with two other guys; percy and luke. apparently their sparring session had gone a little out of hand and they were both injured

luke was already aware of how you’ve been trying to get his attention these past few years. he actually seems to quite like having you, the most fawned over girl at camp, fawning over him instead. he liked the attention you gave him, though he knew that if he ever gave in to your charms you would stop, so he didn’t

he was fully prepared and expected you to be the one to tend to him, so when he sees you head to percy and tend to him while an apollo girl tended to him he was confused

what happened? why would you choose percy over him? we’re you tired of him? did you give up on trying to win him over? luke’s confusion quickly turned to frustration, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as he watched you tend to percy’s wounds

"how are you feeling, percy?" you asked, giving him a warm smile, one that always had the boys weak in the knees. "n-not great, but i’ll manage" he laughed awkwardly, suddenly nervous. you put your hand on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze "oh, i’m sure you’ll live”

out of the corner of your eye, you saw luke. he was watching you, watching the way you cared for percy. this was the first time you had ever caught him staring at you with such intensity

so you’re plan was working. you had tried everything to get his attention and you had only one trick left in your arsenal; jealosy. no boy is immune to jealousy, and that was exactly how you were gonna get him

in the end, all you had to do was throw some water at percy and he was good to go. luke though, he had to spend the night in the infirmary

the other apollo kid had left a few minutes ago, something about ‘having other things to do’. so it was just luke and you in the infirmary. you walk over to luke's bed and start tending to his wounds

“oh so now you wanna take care of me? how nice of you” he speaks, sarcasm dripping from his words. “you can tough it out, can't you?" you tease, dabbing away at his cuts with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball. luke is watching you intently and you can feel the tension in the room increasing, his eyes fixated on your hands as you work

luke’s eyes narrow, and you can see the rage boiling beneath the surface. he’s frustrated, jealous, and he doesn't know what to do with all these emotions. you’ve never seen him like this before, and it's a thrill to know that you have the power to make him feel this way

you try to ignore the tense atmosphere in the room, focusing instead on luke's wounds. you finish cleaning and bandaging the cut on his wrist, holding it up to your face to land a soft kiss on the bandages. “all done” you whisper. he tenses at the feeling of your soft lips, and you can see the anger in his eyes. however, you can also see a hint of something else— desire

you look up at him with a smile, knowing that you've got him right where you want him. his eyes are locked on your every movement. you know that you have him wrapped around your finger, and it's a delicious feeling of power

luke’s expression is one of confusion, a mix of rage and desire. he wants you, and he wants to hate you at the same time. it’s a weird combo, but it's working for you.

you lean closer to him, your lips inches away from each other. you can feel his breath on your skin, the heat of his body as he's lying there

"you’re not stopping me" you state, breaking the silence. it’s a quiet, soft whisper, filled with a tiny bit of amusement

"maybe.. maybe i don’t want you to stop" he says, his eyes locked on yours, voice low and husky. you can see the desire building in him, how his gaze trails down to your lips

luke’s breathing quickened, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. he knew that this was a game for you, a game where you would always be determined to win him over, but now, in this very moment, he felt like he was losing

he lets out a hiss of frustration, of desire, of... something. he’s sure knows that you're proud of it, but he’s not quite sure what to do about it

you leaned in for the kiss, your lips pressing gently against his, your hand running through his hair. you could feel his body tensing, his hands gripping your waist as he attempted to pull you on top of him

you pull away from the kiss slowly, your lips still pressed to his. luke is still trying to catch his breath, his eyes fixed on yours, searching for any hint of what your next move will be

"not bad" you whisper. "you’re playing a dangerous game here” he chuckles lowly, making your lower regions throb. you smirk softly and brush his hair out of his face “i’ll take my chances”

despite being injured, he pulls you on top of him, making you realize just how hard he’s been this whole time. his eyes are dark, and you can see the lust burning within them

you lean in for another kiss, this one soft and gentle. luke groans when he feels you grind against him, his hands moving down to grab hold of your ass

“i need you s’bad” he mutters out. you smirk as you slide off him, making him furrow his brows in confusion. you land a soft kiss on his cheek. “let’s do this when you’re not injured” you whisper in his ear. now he was alone and hard in the infirmary, how nice

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agirlsguidetolove · 4 months

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_ Jealous boy

pairing- dark! ex! Luke x gn! mortal! reader

tw- Yandere content, overprotective behavior, violence, slight mention of murder, slight mention of stalking, mist messing with reader, manipulation, not proof read, book spoilers???

a/n- this is my first post on this platform!! I hope you enjoy

“Your the most jealous man I know!” “You know other men?..”

You stare dumbfounded at your phone as you scroll through manic messages from a number you swore you had blocked. Your break-up with your ex, Luke, was far from clean. Luke had begged and cried for you to love him but you had already made up your mind.

His jealousy was suffocating. Even though your relationship was primarily long-distance, he always seemed to know who you had been with and what you had done. It was all too much.

dread churned painfully in your gut, as you stared at Luke's latest message. "I can't wait to see you..." Something was off. Your parents should have been home, but yet their absence remained. Perspiration gathered uncomfortably at the nape of your neck, as the feeling of being watched clung to you.

Taking a deep breath, attempting to tame your fraying nerves, you stand with intent to grab a glass of water. But you're stopped dead in your tracks as a cracking thud sounds at the door to your apartment. You don't dare move as the door shudders again, again, and again. The door spilters with one final impact, sending spare wood your way.

In walks Luke blood coating his clothes and skin, as he gripped something you couldn't quite make out . Your head swam as a headache found its way into the back of your skull. "Y/n..." Luke breathes, hungrily drinking in your terrified features. "You have no idea how much I have missed you."

You don't dare move as he takes one step closer to you . "You broke me the second you said you didn't love me." He sucks in an agitated breath. "Even after I sacrificed everything for you." pulling out a busted phone he holds it out in front of him. "Cell phones are dangerous to demigods you know. " You titled your head slightly "Demigods?…” in that moment your head swam with pain and your vision blurred revealing a sword gripped in Luke’s hand. You stumble backwards, a new panic rising to the surface.

Seeming to read your mind a cruel smile stretches Luke’s lips. He twists his wrist admiring the blood coated bronze as it seemed to glow in the faint light. “I thought mortals like you couldn’t see through the mist. But I guess this makes it all the more easier.” He turns his blade on you, the very tip pointed at you in a threat.

“Get away from me!” You yell finally finding your voice. Luke smiles coolly inching forward until the tip of his blade is placed on the tip of your nose. “It doesn’t have to be like this,” he coo’s “We can be whole again, and I can forget your little outburst.” You swallow thickly not breaking eye contact.

“How about a cruise huh? Maybe that will be enough to bring you back your senses.” Before you can interject Luke presses his blade to your neck “it’ll just be you and me babe. Where no one can take you away from me.”

You’re helpless as Luke grabs you, blade still pressing on your throat. The gruesome end of your parents finally clicking as Luke drags you out of the apartment, hopeless to stop your new fait.

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agirlsguidetolove · 4 months

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the search for glory

pairing: luke castellan x ares!daughter reader

summary: you're stubborn and relentless; he's calm and taunting. two opposites put aside their differences after years to meet in the middle to understand what glory truly means, and in the meantime, they start to question why drifted apart in the first place.

—or: desperate, you ask luke to help you learn how to fight with a sword so that you can be the best, he sees it as a way to spend time with you.

word count: 6.9k (i need help)

warnings: luke castellan, violence, long reading time, rivals to lovers, teenage angst, tooth-rotting fluff, angst, clairsse and annabeth being done with reader, percy and grover being the best duo, i used the fuck outta a thesaurus website, percy being head over heels for annabeth, kinda angsty ending... sorry not sorry!!

explicit warnings: allusions to sex, mentions of sex, kissing, kissing and more yearning!!!

a/n: luke castellan has been plaguing my mind. i need that evil man in my BONES!! INSTANTLY. charlie bushnell as ruined me like i need to remind myself who the enemy is like i'm tryyyinggg :( anyways this is a fic i wrote based on this request! i clearly got ahead of myself and once i started i couldn't stop.

enjoyyy :)

You hate swords.

They were too long and heavy, an extra weight for you to carry on your body that only slowed you down. Your preferred knives, daggers you can throw with perfect precision, blades you can tuck in your boots and hide anywhere on yourself.

For years your ego had you refuse to ever touch a sword. You knew your weakness, and there was no need for anyone else to know.

"Again."

The rain pours nails against the trees. It's cold and seeping through your clothes, yet you are still outside, circling the head of the cabin and eldest son of Hermes in Camp Half-Blood. In the summer, there are storms so strong that pass by that not even the Mist can deflect. Luke Castellan has a smug glint in his eyes, directed at you, at the sword clutched in your hands and the way you still cannot control your swing. He's been trying to teach you the art of swordsmanship for days now, a necessity, he claims.

You only agreed because you thought you could've mastered it easily, much like everything else you've ever done in your life. You wanted to spite Luke and be the best, even where he thrives. But you were too rash, too much in a hurry to end things.

"Again." He repeats.

"No," you say.

"No?"

He almost laughs at you.

He's doing it to wound your pride, you know it. For years, Luke Castellan has been an itch on your back, crawling under your skin, setting everything in its path ablaze until there was a wildfire in the pit of your stomach.

"A daughter of Ares can't wield a sword?" He teases.

You take honour to your father's name. It makes you feel worthy of something, a strength that fuels your ambitions. Luke knows this; he had been there when you got claimed after a month of moping like a kicked puppy in the Hermes cabin. He'd seen the way it gave you purpose. He told you he had seen it coming from miles away--from the moment you first met eyes.

"You have the battle of fire in your soul," he said to you after the ceremony, and you never knew if he meant it endearingly or to mock you. You remember glancing at him, and the warm light of the lantern sitting on the dockside between you flickered before the flame cracked to life again. The moon hung low when he continued, "Now you need to find your glory."

And then Luke reached over to push you into the lake. You had grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, bringing him down with you. Luke spluttered when he emerged, shoulder-deep in the lake as he stared at you, hair dripping into his eyes, and oh, he was mad.

But that was years ago when you were kids.

But even then, you would have done anything for Ares. The loyalty you harbour for your father was one of the things Luke held against you. He hated it. You never knew why. You didn't care enough to ask him.

The blades of the daggers gifted to you by or father, Ares, burn against your skin, tucked away by your waistband as you tremble in the cold rain. Your fingers twitch, eager to grab and launch them in Luke's direction when he stands tall and repeats himself one more time.

"Again."

You leap at him. A shout rips from your throat as your feet stomp against the muddied ground, splashing over puddles while raising your arms to swing your sword at him.

Luke saw your attack coming from miles away. He swats you, kicking your stomach. It sends you to a tree trunk, your sword falling out of your hands. You were panting and shaking from the cold or anger or both. You slowly get back up on your feet, jaw clenched and knuckles white.

"Again."

"Fuck you!" You explode, walking angrily towards him. You've had enough of him and stood your ground. It's been hours. You missed dinner, and you were hungry and tired and sick of his shit. Once you're close enough, you shove Luke with all your might, and he stumbles into the mud.

It almost makes you smile when he looks up at you, his face twisting into something between shock and a tinge of annoyance.

"What's the point in all this, huh? Make me catch a fucking fever? Hypothermia?"

"You don't know how to use a sword," He says simply.

It spurs you further. "So what? I don't need a stupid sword to beat you."

He stays quiet for a beat, then two. The rain continues to fall as he looks up at you again, squinting as water falls into his eyes, dripping from his dark hair. "I know," Luke says. "You gotta do something about that anger, though. Restrain it."

You take a step back, watching him closely as he pushes himself back on his feet. "You said you wanted to learn." He tells you and picks up the sword you've discarded by the tree. Luke hands it back to you, shoving it into your hands. "So, I will teach you and you will learn."

The blade is heavy in your hands.

"Maybe after this, you'll be the second-best swordsman in camp."

Your eyes snap to him. "Second?"

He smirks, amused, "You didn't think you'd be better than me, did you?"

When you don't answer, his smile widens. Luke holds his sword up, nodding at you to step closer. "C'mon. Let's go again."

Lightning strikes as the metal of the swords clash against each other again. And again. There are grunts of effort coming from you, of exhaustion, and a great fury to see that Luke's barely broken a sweat, that he's enjoying every second spent with you under the rain.

With a gaze as sharp as your blade, you were fueled by the inexplicable thirst for excellence in swordsmanship; you know it was out of your expertise. Luke Castellan was the first person you turned to, despite your best efforts. And you're not surprised when he agreed, and he was shocked, yes, but he agreed nonetheless.

You only chose him because you knew he wouldn't go easy on you and that maybe, once you lash out at him enough times, stubborn, testing his patience, he would give up and leave you be.

But it's been weeks, and he's still here.

The clash of blades between you two isn't just about skill anymore; it's pride, it's a puzzle of the invisible line between the two of you, testing the boundaries, toeing at them.

And you still can't help but imagine the look on his face once you finally beat him. So you swing harder, move faster.

Luke has trouble catching you off guard or forcing you on the defensive side or even finding an opening to sweep your feet. But you were getting frustrated again, every time the two of you met in the middle, every time your shoes stepped into another puddle, every time he blocked your hits, or if the wind blew too strong. He finds your gaze when it happens, catching the way your lips twist into a deeper frown and the way your brows furrowed, how your jaw clenched and unclenched, huffing as you pick up your pace again.

In your haste to beat him, your restraint evaporates, leaving your movements once again sloppy and uncalculated. It isn't hard for Luke to knock the sword out of your hand, sending it flying backward. But you don't stop, you only grab his by the blade and throw it aside as well.

Before Luke knows it, your fist collides with his cheek. He blinks as his body registers the pain, wiping the warm wetness dripping down his nose. The rain washes the blood from his hands quickly.

His eyes trail up your tense form to settle on your face, then your eyes. His fingers flex in restraint against engaging in close combat with you. He knows he can't win this one. So he waits for the explosion that will come. And it does.

It comes in a blur of vengeful fists, kicks and grunts.

In a flash, he jumps back to avoid your hook punch, then your uppercut. He rolls to avoid your kick, but he doesn’t see your hands coming up to grab his throat and slam him back into the same tree he kicked you to.

Your hands are tight on his throat, but your rage blinds you to the knife he draws from your own waistband. In a quick motion, he slashes your forearm. You draw back your hands and release his throat at the same time.

Luke jumps out of the way. He sees the defiance in your eyes, as well as the satisfaction.

"What the fuck was that?" He sputters, tossing your dagger by your feet.

"Are you angry?" You taunt.

Finally, you think when you can see that familiar flare in his eyes once he realizes you've been meaning to rile him up. The same flare you saw when you dragged him into the lake with you. You tuck your dagger back in its place.

Luke crouches to pick up both swords again, then he throws one at you. "I showed you what restraint looks like. Lesson over." He wipes the blood from his face again, "Now, let me teach you channelled anger."

Whatever you expected, none of it prepared you for the beating you were about to receive.

The next morning, you owned bandages, bruises and healing cuts. Your foot bounces restlessly under the table as you glare at the breakfast in front of you. You have no appetite, not after last night, not after Luke had crushed every inch of your pride with every hit from the back of his sword to each time his blade would slice your skin just enough for it to leave a scar.

Clarisse was grinning, a wide knowing smile that sets your own teeth on edge when she sits next to you, your headache worsening when you catch sight of Luke slouched a few tables away.

He has a purple mark on the side of his face where you had hit him, his bottom lip split, and he has a bandage wrapped around his bicep. He doesn't look at you, eyes on his food, wincing.

It makes you feel better, knowing you had gotten a few good hits back before you threw your sword at him and stormed off.

"A little birdy told me Castellan could barely get out of bed today," Clarisse snickers. She reaches to your plate, taking a strawberry. She bites into it, humming while nudging your arm playfully.

You roll your eyes, "whatever Chris told you--"

"Annabeth, actually." Clarisse corrects you, her voice cutting through the air with a touch of authority. "She also told me she saw you two walk out of the infirmary late last night. Look, I know you guys are just sparring, but there's a line and you need to set limits and bring it down a notch. You're going to kill each other one day."

It's troubling when Clarisse, the epitome of combat resilience, steps in to address things that are becoming too violent. Her concern is a rarity, a signal that a boundary has been pushed. You do need to bring it down a notch. And you want to try. You really do. But there's this persistent itch in your bones, a phantom tug on your finger that refuses to let go.

"Whatever," you say, because you cannot find a way to explain it. You want to be the best, but Clarisse knows that. Everyone at camp wants to be the best, everyone has that craving for glory stitched into their veins with golden string. But your hunger doesn't stop there, you didn't want to be better than anyone, you wanted to be better than Luke. At everything he does.

There's an intangible presence that envelops Luke Castellan, an invisible aura that chases him through the air, and you're pulled to it with an almost magnetic pull. It's something you desire, something you want to claim as your own, willing to be consumed entirely by its intriguing draw. This unsaid yearning has been simmering in your mind from the moment he shoved you into the lake.

Last night, in the cold grip of the rain-soaked ground, whatever it is that chases him, slipped through your fingers. Your back against the wet earth, teeth chattering in the cold, you held your sword defensively, trying to fend off his strike from above. It was in that unsettling instant, as the rain mingled with the blood from a thin cut on your cheek, that you felt it—the pulse of something profound. That's your glory.

When he froze, your eyes brimming with angry tears, a sudden softening overtook Luke's face as he looked at you. For a fleeting second, you almost felt a twinge of remorse for your earlier outburst. That brief vulnerability, however, vanished as fast as it appeared. In the next heartbeat, your sword lay discarded on the ground, and the cold steel of his blade pointed at your neck.

"Honestly..." Clarisse starts, pulling you out of the memory. "The way you guys flirt is concerning. I think you just need to work out that sexual tension without killing each other." She grabs her empty plate and begins to stand. "Just don't do anything I wouldn't."

You would've laughed at her joke if you didn't burn at the insinuation of flirting. And sexual tension. With Luke fucking Castellan.

It makes you think of every time he's made you curse, scream, bleed, cry and laugh. You can't even say anything because Clarisse walks off, dumping her strawberry stems into the fire and disappears to meet Silena, probably.

Suddenly, you can feel your stomach twist into ugly shapes when you accidentally catch Luke's gaze. Of course. Just your luck. He's already looking at you when you're flustered. You bite down the inside of your cheek and start to stand, hoping Clarisse hasn't gone too far yet. Or maybe you could find Grover and see what he was up to.

The boy beats you to it, as always, already making his way towards you before you can even pick up your plate, still full of food.

"Hey," Luke says breathlessly. He looks smug as he stands in front of you. Too smug, you realize, for someone who has an equal amount of wounds as you do.

You hate it.

You hate his brown eyes, the way they catch the sun and look like honey. You hate the smattering of freckles he gets every summer, the scar on his face, the ones you know litter the rest of his skin. You hate his hair, how it falls into his eyes when he gets mad at you, how he gets too focused on you to push it back.

The way he holds the fresh ice pack between you irks you, a gesture that feels more like a taunt than sincere worry. "In case you need it," he says with a smile, and you can't help but think he's teasing, revelling in the fact that he got the upper hand last night. The unspoken message lingers—that you lost, that he's superior with a sword.

Nonetheless, a voice of reason nudges you to reconsider. Maybe just maybe, he's offering the ice pack out of genuine concern, untainted by the competitive undertones. Maybe you're reading too much into it, and his smile is merely a sign of kindness rather than a subtle mockery.

It still hurts your pride. "I don't want it."

"I didn't mean it like that," Luke says hastily, as if he can sense the turmoil of thoughts crossing your mind. "I just... I feel bad. I was too hard on you."

His words catch your attention, and you finally meet his gaze, a curt nod recognizing the rare admission of wrongdoing. It's remarkable for Luke to admit regret, and the weight of this confession lingers in the air.

"You were."

"But you can't really blame me," He adds. And, of course, he finds a way to turn it back on you. “You kinda started it."

"I know."

"So, I think we're even."

"You think?"

"You literally went ballistic."

You huff out a breath, annoyed, "I get it." And you finally take his stupid ice pack.

When he doesn't move, you look at him again, squinting at the early morning sun, "What do you want?"

He smiles again, swaying on his feet. "I'm taking a few kids hiking."

"Okay?"

"I need another counsellor to look after them. If you wanted to come with me," he suggests, the words carefully chosen.

"Why?" You raise a brow, hoping to hide your initial shock.

"Because the weather's nice," he shrugs, "And Annabeth said she found a waterfall somewhere off on the other side of the mountain and I've been meaning to check it out for a while-"

"No," you interrupt, shaking your head, "I meant why me."

Mischive sparks in his eyes, reminiscent of your earlier years at Camp Half-Blood, before you were claimed. Back in the short time when the two of you would wander away from the group, charting your own course, or setting up silly pranks for Mr. D. A particular memory resurfaces—your favourite prank involving filling bottles of wine replaced with soy sauce, left for the camp director to discover.

"For old time's sake." He says.

You're still apprehensive, "The last time we went hiking together, Chiron shunned us to the get-along-cabin."

It was three years ago, and you don't remember it as clearly as you hoped, but you can still recall teasing, poking each other with sticks, swearing and the nasty names, and racing to see who would find the young camper you lost first after spending ten minutes fighting over it.

Fortunately, you did find Apollo's young daughter, but not before rumours of a missing camper reached Chiron's ears. He had assigned you two cleaning jobs at the same time you were compelled to stay at the small cabin in the middle of the forest till you weren't neck and neck with each other.

"And that wasn't the best week of your life?"

You can't help but roll your eyes. "When are we leaving?"

Soon enough, you're busy smearing another layer of sunscreen on Grover's nose when Percy appears at your side.

Two groups of kids under thirteen had made it halfway up the trail, the sun lazy and warm, the way it could only be on a late morning hike. The kids are still quiet with sleep, trailing happily behind each other, trading secrets and sips of water with their assigned hike buddies.

It was nice. And a part of you was happy you've agreed to tag along. The smell of fresh pine needles, like forest floor and mountain air, makes you smile.

"Are you and Luke fighting?" Percy asks, twigs and leaves already poking out of his curls.

You finish patting Grover's forehead as you turn to the other boy with a soft frown, pulling out the small sticks. But the two kids stare up at you expectantly, as if waiting for some sort of answer.

"I don’t know if you've noticed, Percy, but Luke and I fight all the time."

Grover rolls his eyes as he falls back into step beside you, the three of you continuing up the path a little behind the rest of the group. But Percy tugs at your arm, clearly not finished with the conversation, nor satisfied with your answer.

"But that's the point," he says, and you huff as you pull him out of the way of a fallen branch, his attention focused too much on you to notice it in his way. "You haven’t been mean to each other all morning."

"Or called each other names," Grover pointed out from the other side of you.

"You call each other names all the time."

Annabeth Chase appears beside Percy, tucking her hat into her pocket as she sets you with a knowing look. Percy grins at the girl's arrival, cheeks pink as their shoulders brush together on the narrow path.

“So what?” you mutter.

You glance up ahead, over the crowd of children’s heads to see Luke bickering with the smaller kids, a boy from Dionysus' cabin poking him in the back with a long stick as he trudges behind them. You have to bite back a smile, but only because you had offered to lead with the younger kids, because you know they like you more than they like him, but Luke, stubbornly, refused your offer. He's an idiot.

"We're adults, we can call each other names."

Percy scoffs loudly, and all three kids stare at you, less than impressed.

“Have you and Luke ever kissed?” Grover suddenly asks, letting the words burst out from his chest like he knew he shouldn’t have asked.

You trip over a branch, the same fallen sticks that scattered the trail that you’d pulled Percy away from. You turn to look at the boy so fast that your neck protests, your eyes wide.

"Because Luke looks at you like he wants to kiss you all the time."

"Of course they've kissed," Annabeth grumbles. "Don't act all shocked," she tells you, "I watched you guys last night."

"Ew," Percy makes a face.

Annabeth wacks the back of his head, and while Percy winces, she continues, "Not like that. I noticed neither of you were at dinner. So, I went to check on you. I found them sparring."

"In the rain?" Grover's eyes widen.

"Stop stalking people, Annie," You warn, but there's no bite to your words.

"I'm being observant," she declares.

"It's definitely stalking..." Percy mutters, kicking a small rock down the trail.

She decides to ignore his remark this time and looks up at you. "I always thought it was ridiculous whatever you and Luke had against each other. I hoped you'd do something about it before you both imploded because you're too horny to come to terms with normal emotions."

Your jaw drops, a small noise of indignity and humiliation comes from you, and Grover looks mortified. Percy lets out a loud, obnoxious laugh, nearly doubling over as if Annabeth has said the funniest thing he's ever heard.

There's a faint smile on her lips when Percy puts his hand on her shoulder as his laughter dies to quiet, amused snickers. It eggs Annabeth to keep going, "I'm sure your kiss was romantic. Glad it took you guys a week of almost killing each other to realize you actually have feelings for one another."

You feel it again, that itch and wildfire that spreads in your stomach whenever Luke gets too close or says something that irks you. You find yourself fumbling with your words; no comment about how wrong she was, or how disgusted you were, or a snarky, awfully rude remark as a way to deflect. No, your voice starts to betray you. You only hope your father can't see you now as you grow flustered (this is something you will never admit).

"We never kissed."

Annabeth hums, raising one brow as she nods. She pulls her hat back out again, unfolding it as Percy drops his hand from her shoulder. When she looks at you, she has a similar smug look on her face, akin to the one that adorned Luke's face earlier that morning during breakfast.

"You know, Luke said the same thing when I asked him. But he never denied he doesn't like you, and neither did you."

With that, Annabeth puts on her hat and disappears.

You watch branches move and footprints left behind on the dirt in her wake, and you hate that Percy and Grover are smiling at each other as she leaves. They share knowing looks, speaking in a silent language only they understand and it puts you on edge.

Suddenly, you have to remind yourself that the kids are twelve. They have no idea what they're talking about.

Thankfully, Grover and Percy never bring it up again. It's as if they've forgotten about it after spotting a pegasus within the trees. Percy instantly named it Bob, and when Grover disagreed, he named it Peter.

"Seriously?"

Percy shrugs, "Spider-Man's cool."

When the group arrives, you still can't get Annabeth's words out of your head. It makes you uneasy, and you don't feel like yourself as you watch the kids gasp and gape at the sight of the hidden waterfall tucked away behind so many trees and bushes you would have thought it was sacred to Gaia. The waterfall appears to be any other cascade in a forest, but the fact that it is concealed under the Mist that protects the camp makes it so alluring.

It was peaceful but not quiet with the roar of water, droplets pattering against the rock at the bottom of the falls. All nature and life near the waterfall seemed to grow in size, and more birds called and sang—more snakes that twisted around the branches of the tall trees and frogs that softly croaked as they soaked under the cool water.

The afternoon sun sparkles over the water and the small frothy cascade of a plunge pool. Everyone starts to scatter, Demeter's children running off to climb trees, Artemis' kids rushing to chase after the few lizards and bugs tucked under wet leaves; they all find a place to be, one they all know they will thrive most in.

"Annabeth sold this place short. It's way better than she described it."

When Luke appears at your side, a conscious effort keeps you from growing stiff. There's an obvious warmth flowing from him, a subtle tug inviting you to come near him. But you resist, steadfast in denying yourself that proximity.

"Yeah. It's nice." You say, aiming to keep it short.

"Just nice? Is that all you've got?"

You shrug, crossing your arms around yourself. "It's okay." But the truth is, it's more than that. It's beautiful. Words fall short of capturing the essence of the waterfall before you, the mist delicately kissing your skin or the laughter of the kids transforming the wildfire in your chest into a warm and comforting glow.

Luke's brows furrow, tilting his head at you. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

You're not. It has been hours since you've fought, yet you can't get it out of your head. Shit, you can barely go on with the day without someone reminding you of it; Clarisse, Annabeth and even your mind wanders back to it, how he's been so persistent in making sure you'll be able to wield a sword, a silent promise.

In all honesty, since you've started, you could barely recognize yourself, and you knew it had the potential to be disastrous, but you weren’t sure you disliked the feeling. It was just new (it really isn't) and foreign (you've known, you've just refused to accept it), and you felt like you had to go to it rather than run away from it.

When Luke utters your name, the resonance carries an unfamiliar softness and tenderness, diverging from any way you've previously heard him speak it. The rhythm prompts you to turn your head to look at him.

The sun, in its glorious descent, casts a warm glow across the water, creating a tapestry that highlights the tan of his skin earned through long days under its unforgiving rays. His hair, in a charming disarray, falls across his forehead, and within the depths of his dark eyes, a fondness surfaces.

"Something's bothering you," he observes.

It's a statement that goes beyond mere recognition; it's an acknowledgment of his innate understanding of you. His ability to see you. He wants you to know he can see right through you. That's his glory.

“And how would you know that?”

"Maybe because I spend every waking moment of the last, what, four years, in your close proximity." As for emphasis, he moved closer to you, as close as he was the other night but without the blades of swords between you.

You'd usually have countered, perhaps by tripping him or tugging on his ear to coax him to step back. But this time, you don't. You can't bring yourself to. You find yourself strangely incapacitated, torn between the impulse to push him away and the undeniable desire to punch him again.

"And don't forget that week in the cabin. Best week of our lives, right?"

It takes him some time to react, "Sorry did you just make a joke?"

“No. I’m always serious,” you don't concede, but you did suppress a smile. You turn the rest of your body, finally fully facing him. "Listen, Luke..."

He goes to say something at the same time, but he closes his mouth and looks at you. His eyes are wary of you. It was like he was expecting you to pull a knife out of thin air and attack him.

"LUKE!"

Percy Jackson's voice echoes, a thunderous announcement as he cups his hands around his mouth, sending a mighty shout from the waterfall's peak. Your eyes widen at Percy's reckless display, a mix of respect and wonder washing over you. The boy, sitting on the treacherous ledge, dares you to wonder how he managed to get up there. But knowing him, Percy Jackson finding a way to reach to the top of the waterfall makes perfect sense.

"LUUUKE! LOOK AT ME! GROVER!"

His voice carries a blend of disbelief and excitement as if Percy himself doesn't believe he's climbed to the top while he waves his arms. Luke steps away from you, moving closer to the cascading water out of concern. The other kids begin to gather, their curiosity piqued by Percy's boisterous display. Grover walks up to you, tugging at your shirt to bring you to the edge of the natural pool.

When Annabeth suddenly appears at Luke's side, you can hear him asking why Percy was up there.

"Well, he said he could flip off the waterfall. I told him he didn't have the guts. So, here we are."

"Reminds me of someone." Luke smirks, eyeing from where he stands, Grover grinning between you both.

Percy lets out a loud battle cry from the top of the waterfall, smacking his fists against his chest. A responsible head of cabin would have told him to get down, or else he would be shoving pegasus shit for the rest of the week. But Annabeth is the one who drove Percy to the top of the waterfall, and whenever you and Luke were together, everything else was a second thought.

The kids collectively ignite, encouraging Percy with animated cheers, urging him to jump. Stepping back from the edge, he bursts into a sprint, the excitement evident as he hurtles off the rocks. Percy's arms flap for a heartbeat before effortlessly accomplishing two flips, resulting in a thunderous splash as he plunges into the brilliant blue waters.

A symphony of cheers erupts, the youngest kids bouncing in excitement as Percy emerges from the water, shaking his head to rid his curls of excess water, a gleeful grin stretched across his face. His eyes meet Annabeth's first, and his wild grin widens as she nods in approval, her own smile radiating with bright satisfaction.

Grover is the next one to jump in, tucking his legs to his chest before gracefully splashing into the water beside his best friend. The infectious spirit of adventure spreads like wildfire, and soon, a cascade of laughter and giggles fills the air as all the kids join in, frolicking in the embrace of the water.

At that moment, you feel an unexpected force crashing into your side. It startles you, and you instinctively shove the prying hands away. It's only upon a closer look that you realize it's Luke. He's looking at you with raised brows in a way to taunt you.

You aren't arguing, not quite, not yet. But the buzz in the air still feels fun.

His expression suddenly turns playful. Without warning, he seizes your arm, yanking you closer. Luke grins, that wide, bright kinda smile that shows off the dimples you almost forget he has. He looks boyish like this, pretty in a way that's soft and full of sun. Maybe it's because he is looking at you without the lines between his brows, the downturn of his lips, a cold glare in his eyes.

The toes of his shoes teasingly brush against yours, prompting your chin to tilt up defiantly as you lock eyes with him. You can smell the forest on him, campfire smoke and pine, leftover rain and something minty. He looks too happy, excited even.

You narrow your eyes at him, gaze lingering on the bruise you left on his cheek. "You're wrong, you know."

Luke tilts his head, intrigued, "About what?"

"What you said earlier. About being even."

"Oh?"

You hum, a subtle melody lingering in the air, your hands resting gently on Luke's arms. His attention is diverted as he holds his breath, waiting for what you'd say next as he stares at the softness of your skin in the sun and the beads on your camp necklace.

In the midst of this, a wide grin flashes across your face, a mischievous spark in your eyes. A sudden, forceful shove against Luke's chest disrupts the moment. Caught off guard, he stumbles backward, tripping over his feet and thrusts into an unexpected fall.

He hits the water with a splash, and to the rowdy sound of whoops and cheers, a wolf whistle from Percy when Luke emerges, top soaked and clinging to the ridges and dips of his muscles, tangled at his waist.

He sputters as he stares back up at you in shock, treading the water around him. "Seriously?"

You're fucking joyous, wrapped up in the way everyone is laughing, and you don't break eye contact with the boy as you bend at the waist and hold your hand out for him.

"I'm sorry," you manage to utter amid giddy giggles. It's a peculiar sensation—this feeling of not quite being yourself. For goodness' sake, you're giggling! It's as if you've been gently enveloped by something sweet and affectionate, a touch so tender that it feels as if Aphrodite herself has graced you with a kiss on the cheek.

But really, it was Luke. He takes your hand and tugs hard, pulling you straight into the water with him. You hit the water on the side and swam back to the surface with a gasp.

He stares at you with a devious grin, daring you to do something about it. You push your hair out of your face and lung at him.

You have to admit, sparing in water isn't something you have ever done, and the attempts to avoid any of the kids are getting to you. You are better at hand-to-hand, but now Luke has the absolute advantage. His longer limbs allow him to move better and to pull himself up on rocky ground when you try to push him down.

He places you in a headlock and presses your back into his chest. You quit struggling at that point, knowing it was over for you. But he doesn't let go, and you don't move when he slightly loosens his hold.

You spot Annabeth's gaze from the other side of the pool. She sits by the waterfall with Percy and Grover, adorning a knowing look as she raises her brows at you again.

Both of you are panting from the effort, his chest heaves against your back, a synchronous beat. The water adds a chilly bite to your and Luke's skin, but his breath is warm on the crook of your neck. Usually, you would have tapped out, or more commonly flipped him over. Yet, you find yourself in a trance, and you don't understand why you can't move away.

Why can't you move away?

"Gotcha."

The faint chuckle in his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

His breath stills on your neck, and you gulp. You clear your throat, and he drops his arm but doesn't step away, letting it hover around your waist. You laugh, and it sounds nervous, a soft noise of embarrassment, like a girl with a crush.

You don't know how to feel about it when you turn to face him, chests almost touching from the proximity, and so do your noses. You can feel your heart beating so loud in your ribcage that you think he can hear it too.

You can feel the sting of the cut on your arm, and it pushes you to ask, "Why'd you agree to teach me how to use a sword? Was it pity?"

It takes him time to answer, his hand brushes against your hips underwater, but he doesn't move it, and neither do you. The droplets of water on his skin sparkle under the sunlight. "No," He finally says after a moment. "Not pity."

"Why, then?" You ask, not looking away. "Wanted a good reason to beat me up without getting in trouble?"

He laughs a genuine burst of amusement from his lips that doesn't sound sarcastic for once. It's a great contrast to how he laughed the night before under the rain, where it was taunting and he was in his element, the thrill of a sword in his hands crushing his veins. Glory.

"Yeah, that's it."

You can't hide the smile growing on your face. "I knew it."

You float around each other in a few beats of silence, the chatter of children in their own worlds buzzing away. His hand caresses your shoulder like a feather, and you lean into his touch. It is familiar and comforting, and it makes you realize that you might have needed it more than you ever thought you would.

"No, uh," Luke shakes his head, and you find it endearing. He looks a little pink around the cheeks, his smile nothing short of scandalous. "I actually wanted to spend time with you. Fighting's just a bonus."

His admittion makes your mouth fall open. His teasing words are no longer a taunt, and the conversation is no longer an argument. Luke Castellan looks at you with the same fire he always had though, a challenge in his eyes that you desperately want to rise to.

"You like fighting with me?"

He smirks. "Best part of my day, honestly."

"Don't lie."

"I'm not."

"What's next?" You tease, "Pulling my hair at recess?"

"Would that do it for you?"

"No," you whisper because you don't think your voice should be any louder when he's so close. "This works just fine."

His lips are lightly touching yours, hovering as a ghost of a desired kiss. You hold your breath and close your eyes.

Ever so slowly, he tips your chin up and leans in to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. His free hand circles your waist and brings you flush against him as you curl your fingers into the front of his shirt, pulling him even closer to you. Luke gladly presses up against you, his fingers trailing from your chin and moving to curl into your hair, easily deepening the kiss.

Despite the prickling of your scars and the shallow cut in your forearm, you let yourself to the electric tingle of the kiss, the way it steals your breath and fills your chest with a million exploding fireworks.

You allow yourself a selfish moment to indulge in the way you can feel his heart pounding against your chest, the barely-there press of his thigh between your legs, the scrape of his bandages beneath your fingers.

You're both crossing the unspoken line, his breath warm against your flushed skin. What happened to your pride? Your glory?

He pulls back, meeting your eyes again and gently combing your hair back. There's a sick smile plastered on your face, and you watch his lips turn up, dimples creasing his cheeks. You have a swell in your chest, and it makes you acknowledge that even if you never beat him with a sword, that satisfaction would never come close to this.

A chorus of "eww's" comes from the kids, only the twins from Aphoridite's cabin are kind enough to coo and "aw". And you have to take a moment to catch your breath, fingers slipping from his shirt when he drops his arms.

Luke lets himself fall back, the water lapping at his shoulders, and he grins at you, the soles of his feet brushing up against your thighs, just for a second. He clears his throat and lets his hot gaze linger on you for just a moment too long before he turns to splash water at anyone close enough.

"Mind your business, you little Krakens!"

You believe you've stumbled upon something greater than glory, a thought that's never once crossed your mind before Luke Castellan emerges as the sun illuminating your darkest nights. It's a poetic dance, a celestial symphony where every note he strikes resonates with the promise of warmth and brightness.

His laughter becomes the melody that accompanies your every step, and the moments shared feel like constellations etched against the canvas of time. Luke, the sun in your dark nights, bathes you in the comforting glow of his presence.

But there is an inescapable inevitability that shadows his light—a matter of time until the searing flames envelop you. A war catches on, and in its path, Luke Castellan sets ablaze everything his touch graces. He becomes the harbinger of impending reckoning, and you will be forced to pick up a sword once again.

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agirlsguidetolove · 4 months

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Hi ! So I just loved your Luke castellan’s stories and I was wondering if you could write a story with him starting to date a child of Athena (the reader) but she wants to keep their relationship secret because she’s afraid Annabeth would get mad at her for « stealing » her hero away. Reader and Luke get caught by Annabeth whose reaction is « Finally » as she’s seen the two of them pinning on each other for years. It would be great if it was fluffy.

Sorry for the long request and thank you for your work ! It’s amazing !

hi baby, thanks so much for requesting! this was really fun to write :) hope you like it <3

Finally

pairing : luke castellan x child of athena!reader summary : two times your relationship with luke is almost revealed and the one time when it is word count : 2.6k warnings : none

"W-wait, no, Luke, we can't." Luke froze immediately, his eyes searching yours for the reasoning behind your words. You licked your lips and leaned your head back against the wood of the cabin he had pressed you up against, letting out a small sigh. His hands were on your waist, your skin was fire underneath. You could feel his warm breath against your lips. Your hands were on his shoulders, your fingers fiddling with the string around his neck. You two had never been so close before in a context which was not sparring. And he'd been about to finally kiss you but you'd stopped him.

"I- it's just with Annabeth, y'know? I don't want her to feel like I'm stealing her away from you or anything." You worried your bottom lip, looking up at him sheepishly. His brows raised in comprehension and he nodded slowly, thumbs rubbing slow circles into your sides. "Yeah, I get it. I understand why you feel that way, but also, what I feel for you is very different than what I feel for Annabeth. I think that would be clear to pretty much anyone, love. And she's smart, she'll understand, don't you think?"

You kept quiet, still nibbling on your bottom lip, your eyes trained to the colourful beads around his throat. "Baby, if you bite your lip one more time, I'm going to do it for you," Luke warned in a low voice. You looked up at him as he pulled your bottom lip out from between your teeth with his thumb. He kept his finger there for a moment before pulling it away. Yeah, this isn't going to work for me, you thought. You couldn't imagine yourself not kissing him. Not when you'd been like this, not after the years of tension and wondering and worrying which had led up to this moment.

"How 'bout we just keep it secret?" you suggested, hands trailing down his front before stopping at his waist. You lightly fisted the material of his T-shirt, using it to slowly pull him closer. "What, us?" he whispered huskily. "Yeah." "You know what?" he chuckled, "I'll take it."

He wasted no time in capturing your lips with his, pushing himself flush against you. You let out a breath as you kissed him, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him impossibly closer.

"God, I've been wanting to do that for ages," he groaned against your lips. Your hand tangled itself in his hair as you tilted your head to the side. "Shut up and kiss me, Castellan."

And so you kept your relationship hidden from everyone. No one could know. You both knew Annabeth well, her being your actual half-sister and like Luke's little sister, so you knew that if anyone got the gist of what was happening between the two of you, she'd know. She would find a way to know. She always did.

So you were careful. You knew how much your half-sister admired and respected Luke the last thing you wanted was to take that away from her. She'd been through a lot, more than she should have ever gone through, and you knew having Luke as an older-brother-figure was very important and healthy for her.

At first, you allowed yourselves nothing more than knowing glances across crowds or rooms. Lovesick smiles and faint blushes. Maybe a hand brushing against another when you crossed each other. Sometimes, Luke's hand on high up on your thigh underneath the table. But despite this caution you both took very seriously, you had almost gotten caught a few times.

The first time had been entirely Luke's fault. You'd been teaching a new camper, Nate, how to use a spear. You were just as good at Clarisse, if not better, at wielding the weapon, it being your mother's go-to choice. The sun was getting low and painting everything gold, showing just how much time you two had been training for.

"Yeah, that's good. Do it again." You instructed as you walked around Nate in a circle. He was repeating the stabbing and slashing movement, though he seemed a bit distracted as he kept looking past you. You turned around to see Luke leaning against a pillar a few meters away, eyeing you. Your stomach flipped and you beamed, sending a warm wave his way. He returned the smile and the wave.

You turned back to your student, leaning against your spear. You suddenly felt eager to call the training session to an end. "Nate, I think we've done enough for today, yeah? We can continue tomorrow afternoon." "Whatever you say, doll."

Luke watched from his spot as Nate helped you undo your breastplate, his brows raising. Oh. He observed closely when the boy pressed a hand to the small of your back to direct you out of the training ring, lowering his head closer to yours to hear what you were saying. The child of Hermes was positively fuming by the time you both reached him.

You sped up the pace to give him a quick hug of greeting. "Hi, Luke!" you greeted cheerily, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Hey, baby," he spoke into your hair as he returned the embrace tightly. He kept you under his arm even after you pulled away. If you noticed his unusual behaviour, you didn't mention it. "Hey, man." Nate greeted with a grin, his eyes trained on you. Luke set his jaw. "Hey," he spoke icily. You frowned, Luke was never this cold with anyone. You sent him a confused look but he just kept staring at Nate. A short moment of awkward silence passed before Nate inhaled sharply. "Well, I'll be off, then. Y/N, I'll see you at dinner?" he asked, looking expectantly at you. Luke answered before you could. "Probably not, man." "Oh... uh, okay. See you both 'round, then." Nate nodded towards the both of you before walking off, head bowed and hands buried deep inside his pockets.

You pulled away from Luke, looking up into his face with furrowed brows. "What was that?" you asked, your head tilted to the side. "What was what?" Luke shrugged innocently. "That!" You pointed at Nate's retreating form, scoffing. "You're never so blatantly cold! Not to mention rude!" Luke raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "I don't like his vibe." "You-" you let out a disbelieving laugh. "You don't like his vibe? C'mon Luke-" "I didn't like the way he was with you."

"What do you mean? He was-" You were interrupted by Luke. He folded his arms over his chest. "Touching you, unnecessarily. The hand to your back. And he undid your breastplate, Y/N." "So? You do that too... oh." You shut your mouth as you came to the realisation that maybe, just maybe, Nate had been hinting at something other than friendship with you. "Yeah. Oh." Luke scoffed icily. You frowned and touched his arm. "Luke, baby, there's nothing to be upset about. We're just friends." "Yeah, but does he know that? I'm not worried about you, love."

You nodded and passed your arm through his. You started walking back to where you would have dinner. "Look, forget about him, alright? Let's go to dinner, 'm starving." "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry for acting-" "Jealous?" you interrupted with a small laugh. Luke stopped in his tracks, a dramatic hand splayed over his heart. "Me? Jealous?" he gasped, shock written all over his features. He thought for a second and then shrugged. "Maybe a bit, yeah."

The second time you'd almost gotten caught had been pretty much your fault. Luke had been wounded in capture the flag. It had been nothing too serious, merely a superficial wound, but he'd still been brought into the infirmary. You, having been on the opposite team and at the other end of the forest, were part of the last campers informed.

You'd heard the first three words : "Luke was hurt..." before you'd totally lost it. Cursing loudly, you immediately bolted in the infirmary's direction. You had never run as fast in your life as you did that day. Mere seconds went by before you skidded to a halt right outside the infirmary, where three quarters of the camp was hanging around. You cursed Luke's popularity and the campers' curiosity as you pushed your way through the crowd.

"Excuse me... sorry, sorry... could you move please?" Your patience was wearing very thin by the time you got to the door separating Luke and the rest of the world. Your hand was on the handle, hear hammering inside your eardrums when you were stopped. "He's not taking any visitors at the moment." You recognised the daughter of Apollo but couldn't be bothered for pleasantries. "He'll take me," you replied strongly, twisting the door handle. The girl let out a small huff and placed a hand on your shoulder, keeping you in place. You felt your blood starting to boil. "Look, he just got stabbed, give him a bit of space to breathe, okay?" You harshly pulled her hand off your shoulder and ignored her indignant look. "Honey, I'm going in and you're not going to stop me." You raised yourself to your full height and glowered down at her. It was times like these when you were grateful for your godly parent's mightiness and for your own reputation. She swallowed before shaking her head. "Hey, don't make me call-" "HE'S MY-" you lowered your voice, which had gotten surprisingly loud, and cleared your throat. You felt heat rise to your cheeks. You had almost blown your cover. You recovered. "Step aside," you sneered, "now."

The girl finally seemed to get the message and stepped to the side, lips curled in a grimace. You ignored her and darted inside the room. You saw Luke and gasped, slapping a hand over your mouth. His waist was wrapped in bandages and he looked awfully pale. "Oh my gods, Luke," you cried, feeling your legs get weak at the sight. "It looks worse than it is, I promise, love," he assured. You sat down on the side of his bed, looking him over, subconsciously checking for any more injuries. When you found none, you took his hand in yours and intertwined your fingers.

"Did they take care of it correctly?" "Yes, baby." "They gave you stitches?" "Yeah, four." "And they wrapped it tight enough?" "Yes, baby." "And-" "Baby, look at me." Luke's warm palm pressed against your cheek, guiding your face to look at him. "I'm fine. I'm okay. It was an accident. I'll be okay. It's just another scar."

You inhaled deeply, nodding slowly. You quickly wiped your eyes. You'd been so scared, you had immediately imagined the worst. But he was okay, he was here, with you, alive and well. "I almost hit the girl outside, she didn't want to let me in," you chuckled wetly. Luke cooed and wiped a stray tear away with his thumb. "Baby, don't cry. I'm okay, I promise." He sat up with a wince and pressed a short kiss to your lips. "And I forbid you to get into fights over me." You chuckled dryly. He had no idea. You'd get into fights with literal gods over him without a second thought. "Now," you ran your thumb over his knuckles, "tell me who did this to you."

The third time you almost got caught, well, you actually did get caught. And this time, though Luke would argue the contrary, it was totally, entirely and unarguably his fault. Really.

"Hey." A smile made its way onto your face at the sound of that voice you knew so well. You and some other campers were sitting around a fire, chatting and laughing. You turned around to see Luke and immediately opened your arms to hug him. He chuckled and bent down to hug you. He brushed his lips against your neck as he did so and you shivered. He sat down next to you, your thighs pressing against each other.

"Haven't seen you all day, love." He spoke quietly as he looked down into your eyes. You huffed and ran a heavy hand over your face. Luke tilted his head to the side. "I know," you groaned, "Mr. D has me doing all these stupid chores because I said something about Coke being a poor dietary choice or something. And apparently he took that personally." Luke couldn't help letting a chuckle slip. You gasped.

"Are you laughing at my demise, Castellan?" you asked, feigning an indignant look. He laughed, pressing a hand against your knee. "You have to admit, it's kinda funny." "Me shovelling pegasus poop because I said that edulcorants and aspartame are not good for your health is not funny!" He snorted a cute laugh and you had trouble keeping a straight face. You lightly hit his chest. "Screw you, Castellan."

His hand came up to keep yours pressed against his chest. You could feel his heart beating rapidly. "Yes, please." Your eyes snapped up to his and heat rushed to your cheeks. You rolled your eyes, shoving him back. "Shut up."

A few moments later, Luke and you had bid the other campers good night and started heading for the cabins. It was dark, so you and Luke allowed yourselves to hold hands. "I miss you, y'know," Luke spoke softly. "What d'you mean? You see me every day." You cocked your head to the side, looking up at his moonlit face, his scar being made more apparent by the white light. You thought he looked beautiful. "Yeah, but we don't get many moments to ourselves these days, there's always other people around and... I dunno, I guess I'm kinda tired of the whole 'keeping this a secret thing'..."

"Luke, baby, y'know I would love to not keep it a secret, but-" "Yeah, I know, baby, I'm just being fussy, I'm sorry." He stopped in front of the Athena cabin, turning to stand in front of you. "No, don't apologise, because I'm the one who-" You were interrupted by his lips on yours. Warm, soft and your favourite taste. The rest of the words died on your tongue as you wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes.

Luke pulled you closer by the hips, one of his hands resting on the skin of your waist underneath your shirt. You shivered happily and pressed yourself flush against him. Goosebumps erected everywhere he touched you and when he pulled away to kiss your jaw, your eyes fluttered closed at the pleasure of feeling his lips on your skin. You tangled your hands in his hair, twisting and lightly pulling at the soft strands. You pulled him back up to your lips, desperately wanting to kiss him again. He happily obliged and lightly bit your bottom lip. You couldn't help but let out a moan at the feeling. You felt Luke's grip on you tighten at the sound.

"What the-"

Luke and you froze on the spot at the sound of a voice you both knew too well. Slowly untangling yourselves from one another, you tried to fix your appearance before facing Annabeth with a nervous smile. "We can explain-" "Don't." She stopped you with a raised hand. "I'm just glad y'all finally got it outta your systems before I dropped dead from the mutual desperate pining. Good night."

You let out a small, breathless laugh as she disappeared inside the cabin. Luke ran a hand thought his hair, letting out a slow breath before cupping your cheek and stepping closer to you.

"So, now that that's cleared, where were we?"

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agirlsguidetolove · 4 months

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☆ CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT

“i want to wear his initial on a chain 'round my neck, not because he owns me, but because he really knows me” - taylor swift (1.6k)

contains: luke castellan x daughter of ares! reader. secret relationship: the three times u guys were almost caught and the one time u were. pre-tlt.

kashaf’s note: working on requests as well so dw!! again. i just like this 1 lyric from this song </3

MORNINGS AT CAMP half-blood were both weird and normal — at a summer camp for kids with godlike abilities, you’d think that maybe they’d be cut some slack from all the monsters they’ve had to evade and maybe be allowed to sleep in some days, but no, life at camp half-blood was a regular survival of the fittest regime.

or: eat, or be eaten, as you liked to remind your cabin.

maybe that was why you were notorious among ares cabin, but to the rest of camp half-blood you simply embodied an other-worldly discipline, more of a tactician than anything, when compared to the rest of your half-siblings.

“hey,” clarisse says in an undertone, nudging you as you take your designated seat beside her, “where were you last night?”

your hand stilled as you picked up your goblet, shrugging your shoulders as the once-boisterous table came to a stand-still, eager to discover their shrewd head counselor’s indiscretions, hoping for something to loosen your high esteem for them: everyone remembered the time the entire cabin was put on cleaning detail for an entire month to repent for the mistakes of one.

your penchant for collective punishment wasn’t at all well-received among your half-siblings, but well, no one had really challenged you on your position yet, so.

“in bed,” you said, slowly, taking a sip, “why?”

clarisse shrugged, spearing a carrot from your plate, masking her annoyance with you — out of all of your half-siblings, camp half-blood, even, no one could boast of a relationship as close as yours and clarisse’s, yet no one could be more opposite. clarisse was chaotic, you were contained; clarisse was ruthless, you were just.

“i dunno, i just saw two people on the roof of hermes cabin.”

“and?” you drawled, ignoring the blood rushing in your ears, as the rest of your cabin looked on gleefully.

“one of them was castellan,” clarisse paused, searching your face for a reaction — you were grateful for all the nights spent in hermes cabin, because if not for the stolls persuading you to play poker with them almost every time, your expression would’ve never survived under clarisse’s scrutiny.

“the other one,” clarisse pauses as if thoughtful for once, then pointedly stares, pointing her fork at you, “looked like you.”

the other cabins are also looking in your direction as the dining pavilion is so quiet that you can hear a pin drop, before the table finally registers clarisse’s words, resulting in so much whooping and jeering, you’d think ares cabin won the lottery.

you snag a bite of clarisse’s pancakes, each word punctuated by a bite, “what would i be doing with castellan?” you pause, feeling the table pause with you. wrinkling your nose, you continued, “i swear, next you’re gonna say you saw us making out during capture the flag.”

you grinned as the table erupted into laughter once more, this time by your design. while everyone else went back to their original conversations, you’re summoning the memories of last night.

how luke had wrapped his arm around your shoulders and attempted to woo you with myths about the stars, how you had laughed and called him corny. how the moonlight had illuminated his face in the moment, when he laughed back, drawing you in closer, with his usual snarky response of, “you love it though.”

clarisse snapped her fingers in front of your face, bringing you out of your reverie. she frowned, whispering, “you’d tell me though, if that was you, right?”

“yeah,” you nodded, trying not to feel guilty about lying — clarisse deserved the truth. but it went against your agreement with luke. you tried not to think about how you’re essentially picking a boy over your sister.

like all things camp half-blood, if not careful, could result in death — like capture the flag, but did that stop you, or anyone else for that matter, in taking it upon yourself to make winning a matter of life or death.

this week, you orchestrated an alliance with hermes cabin, because of their numbers and ability to launch unforeseen tactics, and hephaestus cabin, for their resourcefulness. it also didn’t hurt that the head counselors were your boyfriend and his friend, respectively.

you’re standing by zeus’ fist, discussing strategy with luke and charlie, while your respective cabins go off doing whatever it is to prepare, when luke’s sloppily-tied breastplate catches your attention.

before you’re fully aware of what you’re doing, you’ve already reached forward to grab it, while charlie stares at you like you’ve been cursed by athena and turned into medusa.

“so,” charlie says, slowly, “anything you guys wanna tell me?”

luke is silent, watching you work, while you’re too busy focused on fixing the breastplate to notice the knowing expression on charlie’s face, one you would’ve been irritated by if you had.

“nothing,” you say, nonchalantly, whirling back around to face charlie when you’re finished, while luke gets swarmed by the stolls, “these things just bother me.”

“in general, or luke specifically?” charlie grins, that annoying, all-knowing look is back, and although reluctantly, you can see what it is about him that has silena beauregard so hung over.

“in general,” you say as if it were obvious, as if you’re trying to convince a child that storks are the ones to deliver babies, and no, you’re not lying, (both statements hold the same level of ridiculousness), “it’s the adhd — makes it distracting.”

“uh huh,” he says skeptically, “i’ll take your word for it.”

you resist the urge to shake him and question him more, but before you can toughen up and just ask, “what do you mean?” he’s already turned away, and capture the flag is about to begin.

“what’s that?” annabeth points at the tiny “L” on your necklace as it swings to and fro, finally set loose from the captivity of your neon orange camp half-blood tee, hidden under your armor.

“what?” you glance down, dropping the sword in your hand to hastily tuck it away, all the while cursing both yourself and luke for being stupidly sentimental. (it was his idea after all, though, you’re not sure how or where he got the necklace from, but you didn’t really care if it was stolen — you wouldn’t put it past him, especially since he was a son of hermes.)

“was that for luke? are you dating him?” annabeth persists, eyes widening with question after question — nothing can satiate the curiosity of athena kids, especially not annabeth, not when luke castellan, her brother, is in the equation.

“no,” you say, trying to catch your breath from the sword technique you had just shown her, and the gaggle of younger campers who have now caught on, looking at you eagerly.

“no to what? no to the initial on your necklace being for luke, or no to you dating him?” another camper chimes in with a bright grin, probably a child of apollo, and you’re so close to shooting yourself on the spot.

“no to all of the above,” you grit out, really regretting being nice for one of the few times in your life, because no one had asked you, in particular, to demonstrate sword-fighting to these kids, luke could’ve done it, but where your boyfriend was concerned, you were too.

“then, how come you have an “L” necklace?” annabeth asks again.

“it’s my mom’s,” you lie, “i’m a year-rounder, so it reminds me of her — before all this,” you waved in the general direction of camp half-blood.

the campers ohh’ed in unison, but you knew annabeth wasn’t convinced.

you sighed, it could’ve been worse.

+4.

you’re not sure when or where the whispers that your boyfriend had returned originated, but after what seemed like eons of not seeing him, you couldn’t find it in yourself to verify the rumors before dropping your sword in the middle of training and sprinting toward half-blood hill to see him for yourself.

you ignore the calls of your name from your half-siblings, as you were kind of in the middle of demonstrating a technique, instead choosing to focus on more important things, like if your boyfriend was even alive.

when you finally do make it to half-blood hill, and catch sight of your boyfriend, with chris and charlie in tow, you don’t stop sprinting, uncaring for all of the whispers from the other campers as they look on.

when you finally do come in contact with luke, you nearly tackle him into the ground, as he drops his backpack behind the two of you, arms coming to wrap around you to secure you, as you mumbled, “i missed you, asshole,” into the crook of his neck.

luke laughed, the sound reverberating against your skin, and you get off him, taking a step back. he starts to say something, “i —” but is cut off by you grabbing his wrist, and tugging him over your shoulder, his back slamming into the dirt ground. distantly, you can hear the rest of campers gasp, before buzzing with excitement. ignoring them all, you put your knee on his chest, bringing your forearm under his neck.

“i swear to everyone, if you disappear like that again—” you begin, as luke cuts you off.

“i won’t,” he promises, grinning as you pull him up. luke slings an arm around your shoulder, and you finally notice the jagged scar running down his cheek.

he catches your gaze and stares at the ground instead, avoiding you.

“you look kinda hot now with the scar,” you settle for, you know you’ll get the chance to properly speak about it later, but for now, this’ll have to do.

a light pink dusts his cheeks, and luke, looking up at the campers gathered behind chiron, then glances back at you, smirking, “looks like you gave them quite a show.”

you glared at him, shoving him, “i’m going to kill you.”

luke shrugged, wrapping the arm around you tighter, “the damage’s done, now i’ll finally be able to hang out with my girl in peace.”

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agirlsguidetolove · 4 months

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dacryphilia ; fem!reader ; implied manipulation ; implied coercion ; MDNI

luke made you cry. something he’d said was a little too harsh, and he knew it as soon as it left his mouth. he felt bad, really he did, but then your eyes started to well up and then fat tears started to slide down your cheeks and another distinct feeling came to the forefront.

you tried to hold it off, turning away from luke, wiping at your face as you told him “you didn’t really mean it”. he might not be able to see you anymore, but he can still hear your sniffles, light and pretty and enticing.

he’s quick to wrap his arms around your shoulders, debating if he really meant it. he thinks that he did, especially since his words got the effect he desired. seeing you cry always got adrenaline pumping through his blood. there was nothing like it. he adored having the upper hand over you. he lived for being able to control your emotions with meticulously crafted words. but if he told you all of this, if he told the truth, then you would leave him. so he kisses your cheeks and rubs your shoulders and tells you that he didn’t mean one word of it.

he knows exactly how to sweet talk you in order to get you under him, your legs wrapped around his waist and your hands digging into the sheets beside you and the toned muscle of his shoulder.

“i’m sorry, pretty girl,” he tells you between thrusts, burying his head between your tits where he presses a small kiss. he over exaggerates, uttering words that are so sugar coated that they make him sick. but they satisfy you, they brew fresh tears to your big, docile eyes until you’re crying again.

“you really hurt me, luke,” you confess through sniffles, your back arching as his fingers find your clit.

“i know, i know, sweet girl,” he tells you as he leads you to a climax, repeating the sentiment like a mantra until your breathing evens out and your tears start to dry and there’s cum buried in your cunt, unfortunately confined in the barrier of a condom.

but luke’s sure that one day, you’ll let him cum inside. he’ll make it happen.

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agirlsguidetolove · 4 months

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rotten to the touch; luke castellan

wc: 3.2k

pairing: pre-tlt luke castellan x f! reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But everyone loves Luke Castellan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off, you idiot,” you snarl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But when you play, you play to win.

“You don’t know that,” he dares.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One of?” You challenge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck him. Seriously. You might have to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You roll your eyes, “Oh, you ass.”

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

“Thanks, dipshit.”

“Thank you for proving my point, heathen.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

And damn it, you really do believe him.

3K notes · View notes

agirlsguidetolove · 4 months

Text

daylight

part two - series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of ares reader

word count: 4.6k

summary: the max/luke fight exclusive. and the first time you went more than a day without talking to luke.

warnings: max says very mean things about reader (hes not a nice guy), fight descriptions, wound descriptions, near death experience, severe reader injury

“Violet told me it looked like you were going to cry, Luke.”

“She did not,” he says through a laugh. He drops a handful of strawberries into the bucket by his feet, pushing his hair out of his face.

The June sun isn’t too flaming hot yet, but it’s warm enough where an hour of strawberry picking has the both of you sweaty and tired.

“Tyler said it was more like you were about to keel over and die,” you tease. “I can’t believe that me ignoring you for less than twelve hours moved you to tears.”

He rolls his eyes as he tosses a strawberry at your head. “I wasn’t moved to tears,” he insists. You nod like you believe him. “Anyway, I thought you were into that thing.”

You shift your nearly full bucket of strawberries over, sighing with the exertion. “Into what thing?”

“Y’know. The whole defending your honor thing.”

Your laugh is so loud it attracts the attention of the satyr playing his reed pipes a couple feet away. Luke’s chest does something weird at the sound.

“You’re funny.”

“I’m being serious!” He laughs too, to try and loosen that weird feeling in his ribcage.

“So what?” You’re grinning as you take a few slow steps in his direction. “You wanted me to fawn over you?”

His back goes stick straight when you grip one of his biceps dramatically, feigning weak legs. You throw the back of your hand against your forehead, swooning against his chest. “You wanted me to faint and say, Luke, oh Luke! You’re my hero!”

He pinches that part under your ribs that he knows is ticklish and watches as you dissolve into laughter, stepping away from him. The loss of touch makes his chest feel empty.

Did he want that from you? He would be lying if he said no. And as he watches you laugh as you gather your hair away from your face, he decides to say, “Maybe I did.”

Your bright laugh tapers into a small smile, and Luke wishes he could read your mind. “Alright, hero. But how ‘heroic’ was the punch if you and Max were just having a dick measuring contest?”

Luke blinks hard. You’re kidding, right? Max’s snarky comments about him added fuel to the fire, sure, but that was not why he punched him. “What do you mean?”

“You know. That thing he said about you while we were leaving. The reason why you jumped at him?”

He uses a hand to block out the sun from his eyes so he can see your face better. You’re being dead serious.

“Killer,” he starts slowly. “That wasn’t why I punched him.”

—

Luke had called your name, his voice pitching up nervously at the end.

You had turned to face him from the top of the hill, your eyes softening. Luke could cry at how relieved he was that you and Max weren’t holding hands.

“Luke,” you said, taking a few steps closer to him. At the sight of his nervous fidgeting, you frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Do you have a second?” he’d asked. He shot a side glance to Max. Obvious code for without the loser standing next to you. “I have to talk to you.”

Sharp eyes darted down to where the hem of his shirt was wrinkled from his fidgeting hands, and you nodded without hesitation. “Of course.”

You turned back to Max, an apology in your eyes. His mouth was parted in what was probably surprise. “I’ll only be a second, I’m sorry.”

Luke extended his hand to help you down the sharp incline of the hill, and your fingers slotted with his like they always did.

A better person wouldn’t turn back to smile at Max.

But Luke wasn’t a better person.

He smirked at him, unashamed, and the slight upturn of his lips must’ve been Max’s tipping point, because then, he was opening his mouth to speak.

“No surprise,” Max had mumbled.

The anger laced with his words made you cock your head around. “What’d you say?”

Max raised his shoulders in an offhand shrug, but his eyes were narrowed in irritation. “Nothin’.”

“C’mon, dude,” Luke said, his smile curling into something meaner. He wanted you to see exactly how much of a coward this guy was. Maybe then you’d be mean enough to turn him down next time. “Say it again.”

His eyes narrowed directly at Luke. “I said there’s no surprise.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” you’d asked, and even though your expression was calm, the way your voice lowered implied you were feeling anything but casual about it. You knew Max wasn’t being snarky to you, but you had gone toe to toe with someone for Luke before, and were willing to do it again.

Sometimes, Luke forgot you were a child of Ares. You loved a good fight, but didn’t go around blatantly starting arguments like some of the other demigods from your cabin. But as he watched your head tilt, he remembered just how much he loved you like this — willing to snap someone in half. The unmistakable fire in your eyes and the way your entire presence seemed to grow in size seemed surprising to Max, and his eyes widened a fraction.

Luke stepped closer to him until they were a few feet away from each other. “Just answer the question.”

His mask of indifference was beginning to fall. Max’s face reddened as he grew even more annoyed at the challenge. “There’s no surprise because you’re always like this, Castellan. You don’t let anyone speak to her for a second before you lose your fucking mind.”

You had scoffed from behind him. “That’s it? That’s your problem?” Luke could picture the face you were making at Max right now. Your eyes were probably rolled as you stuck your tongue into your cheek the way you did when you were really annoyed. “Let’s go, Luke. What a waste of time.”

You turned to walk down the hill without him, ready to get as far away from Max as possible. Luke smiled at him as he backed away. “Lady’s orders.”

“Taking commands like a dog,” Max spat, but Luke didn’t care. His smile was growing in smug satisfaction at the knowledge that you would never give Max the time of day again.

The delight on his face must’ve been making Max desperate, because he shot out a few other quips at Luke, fighting miserably to land a jab that would sting. But it wasn’t working. Luke didn’t care about Max or what he thought of him.

But as Max’s eyes slid over to you, he knew exactly what to say.

“Y’know, if you’re gonna react like this whenever another guy looks in her direction, keep your bitch on a tighter leash, Castellan.”

It was no surprise to either of them when Luke’s fist met the side of his face.

Max was down for the count. He staggered back, landing on his ass in the dirt. Luke moved to grab the front of his shirt collar, yanking him forward with his fist.

“Apologize,” Luke snapped, his voice taking on a dangerous tone. He wasn’t even sure if all five of Max’s senses were working after that hit, but he didn’t care. “Fucking apologize, now.”

At his lack of response, Luke shook the boy again. His head lolled, dazed.

“Gods, Luke,” you had said, appearing at his side. You pushed at his shoulder in warning. “You proved your point. He’s a jealous asshole, let’s just go.”

“Are you kidding? Did you hear what he said?” he had asked, giving you a look in disbelief. “He doesn’t get to say shit like that and get away with it, he—”

Luke was cut off by Max’s shot to the side of his face.

Of course, his jaw stung. But there was no dizziness like when someone managed to get in a good hit on him during sparring, so Luke was able to catch his barings almost immediately. Max staggered back, clutching his throbbing hand in his other.

Luke decided the Hephaestus kids must’ve locked the boy up at the forges and fed him scraps, because it was clear he had never punched someone in the face before.

“Tighter leash,” Max still had the gall to repeat. His mouth was splitting into a grin Luke could not wait to knock off his face.

And so he did.

He shoved Max to the ground, getting one good strike in before you and someone else were pulling him off of him. The crowd that had apparently formed to watch the argument was thinning out, letting Chiron drag them in for what was likely an hour long talking to.

When it was all over, and the two of them are dismissed to their cabins, Luke made sure to shoulder check Max, just for good measure.

—

You gape up at him.

“Max really said that?”

He nods, his throat dry. He hadn’t wanted to repeat the words, but you had begged and pleaded in that way that had Luke folding like a lawn chair.

“Woah.” Your voice is quiet as you hold out your hand. Luke reaches for yours like a trained dog.

(Max had certainly been right about one thing.)

You had sat down on the grass sometime during the story, keeping the two of you away from the sun in the shade of a tall strawberry bush. Luke worried that you weren’t comfortable against the rough material of his cargo pants, but you looked content to lay your head in his lap and listen.

The other campers around you say their hellos as they step around you, thankfully not saying a word about your slacking off. One of the Aphrodite girls teasingly wiggles her eyebrows at Luke while you aren’t looking, and he flips her off behind your back.

He expects you to lace your fingers together like always, but finds himself staring as you hold his hand in both of yours. You inspect the wrapping around his knuckles before leaning down to kiss his skin through the white fabric. “Guess it really was a heroic punch.”

His heart is stuttering in his chest, but he wills the burning away. “Guess so.”

You sit upright, nearly knocking your faces together. But you tug him closer again after he dodges the collision, your hands going around his middle as you press your face into his collarbone in a way that has his breathing unsteady. He brushes a kiss onto your hairline.

Happy to be held, you sigh out, “Thanks, my hero.”

The two of you aren’t hugging completely — it’s way too hot out for that — and Luke has to fight against every part of his brain to keep it that way. The addition of that one single word is doing something to his head.

My hero.

Yours.

You call him a hero every single day — it’s your nickname for him, for crying out loud — but you’ve never called him yours before.

He’s not just anyone’s hero, he’s yours.

You pull away from his chest with a smile, but his hands around your waist don't let you get too far. “That night was probably the longest we’ve gone without speaking. Sorry it was kinda for no reason.”

He doesn’t outright say it, but you know you’re forgiven. If there was a world where Luke could stay mad at you, it wasn’t this one.

Luke turns your words over in his head, buying time for himself with the way he’s rubbing circles into your side. He already knows you’re wrong about that, and he’s going to correct you, but he feels content with having you so close. You lean back against him, the both of you uncaring of how warm it already is outside.

“One time, we didn’t talk for almost two days.”

You pull back again to frown at him. “No way. If we were ever not speaking for that long, I’d remember.”

“Oh, yeah?”

You hum, confident in your answer. “One of us would’ve gone insane if that had happened. We wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

Luke doesn’t stop to think about the truth to that statement. He shifts forward a little, leaning in closer just to watch the face you make. “How much do you wanna bet?”

You’re a little flushed, and you give him a wobbly smile like you know what he’s doing by sitting so close. After a second, you say, “Loser has to bring both our strawberries to the truck later.”

He flicks your forehead, leaning back onto his palms in the grass. “Typical.”

You were always looking for a way out of carrying the strawberries down to where the camp loaded them up for shipping.

“Have fun with both of our crates, then,” he teases. “‘Cause we both know you didn’t get those scars on your back from a cat.”

—

You were both around twelve, and the two of you had come a long way from Connecticut.

Luke tried not thinking of his mother and Westport much, determined to look forward and not back. Leaving was what was best for him. But from time to time, you’d bring up home, and he’d get a pit in his chest whenever you did.

He missed his mother. He hated feeling so alone.

You were his best friend, and though you soothed the ache in his heart, no friend could replace the comfort a mother was supposed to bring. He grieved the perfect life he never got to live. The pain would flare up once in a while, and he would be quiet and inconsolable.

You understood, because you always did, and always were extra nice during these times.

Your latest adventure had taken you two all the way down to Hershey, Pennsylvania. Neither of you had money to do much, but you had weighed your choices and spent the few bucks you two could spare on chocolate at Hershey Park.

It was stupid, sure, but he saw your smile when you split the bar with him, and he knew he’d sacrifice another hundred dollars just to share another chocolate bar with you.

It reminded him of home, in a good way. But everything just hung heavy over his head, and Luke was still down for the rest of the night.

“Don’t worry about coming with me. I’ll get the wood tonight,” you offered. “Can you get the fire started?”

He was unresponsive, staring away at the sunset in the distance. But you didn’t get angry or annoyed. You just squeezed his shoulder as you went deeper into the woods for good fire sticks.

Wait for me. Don’t go too far, he would’ve said on a normal night. But his words were getting jumbled up with the thoughts of his mother that plagued him, and he was quiet.

When Luke thought about you again, the fire had been burning for a few minutes, and his hands were beyond warm from it.

He turned in the direction you had left in. He called your name once, his voice hoarse from his bout of silence.

“Hey, you get enough wood yet?” He tossed the last bit of kindling into the fire, brushing off his hands. The turkey sandwich you were about to share was warming up next to the flames. Both of you knew that no warmth could make the bread taste like something other than cardboard, but you insisted on it anyway.

The dense foliage of the trees blocked out the last bits of light from the setting sun, so he knew you wouldn’t have gone far. He picked up his own sword as he headed away from the fire, squinting in the dark for you. He called for you again.

The empty trees echoed Luke’s voice back to him.

“The turkey’s going to get cold,” he had warned, moving in the direction he’d thought you’d gone in. This was stupid. You shouldn’t have split up when it was so dark out.

Luke strained his eyes to find a blob, or a shape, or anything that remotely resembled you. But it was like you were gone, without a trace.

That sick feeling was beginning to stir in his stomach. He called your name again, louder and more frantic. Luke knew without a shadow of a doubt that you hadn’t left him on purpose. Something bad had to have happened.

You were hurt. Or something took you. Or you were lost. Or maybe all three. The idea of you alone out here had him calling out for you louder. Whatever light the sun might’ve given was gone now, and Luke was relying on his sense of sound just as much as his vision. Staring ten feet ahead was like staring into a dark abyss.

It had been fifteen minutes of this with no response. Before he could get too nauseous, Luke did the one thing he thought might work.

He closed his eyes, dropped to the ground, and begged.

“Dad.”

He swallowed around the weight in his throat.

“I know we don’t talk. And I don’t know if we ever will. But she’s my best friend. Please keep her safe, because I…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I can’t do it without her.”

There was no glowing figure that appeared before him to hand him his friend back. He tried again.

“Aphrodite,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. How desperate was he? “Please bring her back. Please. And I’ll never ask for anything ever again—”

His heart jumped into his throat. Tension was gripping onto every part of him. Luke hoped that he had heard something different. But then it cut through the silence of the night again.

A scream of terror.

Luke shot to his feet, his sneakers skidding against the leaves covering the forest floor. He stumbled like a baby deer as he sprinted into your direction, his shoulder catching prickly branches while he tried not to stumble over jagged rocks.

He decided that when he found you — because he would, he had to — he was going to kill you for this.

Luke prayed for a clear pathway back to you and begged his legs to move faster. He followed the sound all the way into a clearing.

You were leaning against a rock when he found you, your stare a mile long. It seemed like it stretched past the trees in front of you and even through the acres of farmland past that.

“I stabbed it.” There was no tone to the way you spoke. Just syllables spat out by a machine. “It’s dead.”

Your dagger was a few feet away, the blade splotched with red. The blood was smeared on the palms of your hands, too. He couldn’t tell if it was yours or not.

He swiped a hand through your hair, checking for bleeding there. Finding nothing, his hands went to the sides of your face, trying to match your gaze.

“Where’d it get you?” he asked desperately. “You gotta tell me.”

You shook your head, your hands twitching at your sides.

“Luke.” Your voice broke as you pulled his hands from your face. Your hands were tight around his wrist. “Please hold me.”

“You have to tell me where it got you, first. Please, please tell me.”

One of your hands dragged his arm around your waist, the way you usually did when you wanted a hug. Luke shook his head.

He said your name firmly. “I’m not messing around. You could die if you don’t—”

His hands were shaking so bad, he almost didn’t notice when they had brushed up against something wet and thick and coating the small of your back. But when he was so accustomed to every small difference in the way you acted, or the way you held yourself, or the way you felt under his hands, the foreign patch of wetness had him stopping in his tracks.

He let you lean forward onto his front as he braced himself for the sight of your back. You were eerily silent as he did so, your arms resting over his shoulders in an unreciprocated hug.

If it was bad enough, you were going to die here. And Luke was going to have to hold you and watch.

Your cheap t-shirt was shredded to strips of fabric, offering him a sickeningly clear view of the wound underneath. Whatever monster did this to you was big. Three jagged lines marred the expanse of your lower back, the gashes angry and red and inflamed. From them gushed red hot blood. The claws that had left their mark had torn at the tissue—

(Luke fights back a gag thinking about it now.

Of course, time had run its course, blurring his memories. But the sight of this wound has been one of the only things that’s stayed, even years later, when the two of you are miles away from that forest in Pennsylvania.)

He fought down bile as you tightened your arms around his neck. “Please, Luke, please.”

In what you thought were going to be your last moments, you wanted nothing more than to be held. And as he felt your tears stain his shoulder, he knew that he wasn’t going to let it end like this.

“Save your energy,” he said firmly, fumbling to find a steady grip on the bottoms of your thighs. “We’re going to the hospital.”

On any other day, you would’ve protested the way he was supporting all of your body weight, letting you slump forward. But you were quiet now, and Luke found his legs carrying him out to the street even faster.

A trucker found the two of you collapsed in the road on the outskirts of the forest.

“A bear,” Luke thinks he had said, but he can’t recall anything after your injury with any accuracy. He was watching as blood poured from your wounds one second and was scrubbing that same blood away in the hospital bathroom the next.

While you were whisked off by the doctors, Luke sat in the waiting room next to a cop and what was probably a social services worker. They tried asking him questions about his parents, your parents, what you two were doing out in the woods.

He answered the same thing everytime, and made up a bullshit excuse when he couldn’t. I don’t know. I don’t know. I found her out there.

For a few hours, the hospital was working to keep you alive, and for even more hours after that, they worked to keep it that way. The cop at his side changed after a while, but Luke sat in that chair the entire time. And he stayed there for an entire night waiting to hear about you.

“Just let him in,” a nurse said in hushed tones to another. She was pretty and had kind eyes that looked sad when she snuck glances at him. “He’s been here for seven hours.”

Had it really only been seven hours? Luke already felt ten years older.

After lots of back and forth twenty feet away, your nurse approached him. He thought she kind of looked like you, but looking back, Luke thinks he was just missing your face.

The nurse had told him you would wake up on your own time, that you were hurt pretty badly and your body needed time to get better. Then she handed him some crackers and let him step into your room.

You were hooked up to a bunch of wires and bags and machines that made you look small. Your hand was cold when he slipped his into yours, with none of the usual warmth you offered.

He had done this to you, Luke realized in horror.

He had been so torn up about his mom, he let you go off on your own, and didn’t even realize it. If he had gone with you, this never would’ve happened. The two of you would’ve eaten your gross turkey sandwich and taken turns keeping watch while the other slept.

Luke never told you, but he had done lots of thinking at your bedside. Mostly, he thought about leaving.

He was perfectly capable of disappearing and never being found again. And after enough time, the cops would identify you. They’d call your mom, who would drop everything to come and get you. You could go back to the safety of your home, live a comfortable life, and not have to go to bed hungry everyday.

Luke was being selfish by bringing you with him all of those years ago. And as he decided against leaving, he realized he was being selfish by making the decision to stay with you, too. He needed you. You were all he had left.

Twelve year old Luke Castellan ended up going forty hours without hearing your voice. Forty hours of silence with nothing but the beeping of the machine hooked up to your heart.

He could only breathe easy again when you were strong enough to run a hand through his hair. You were warm again.

The two of you had fled from the hospital a few days after. The two unaccompanied children from that Pennsylvanian hospital had disappeared before they could even put out a Code Amber.

—

Luke decides to keep most of these details to himself, omitting most of it for his peace of mind.

“The longest we went without speaking was that time you got mauled by a monster out in the woods,” he reminds. You already know the story, anyway. “You were asleep in the hospital for a day or two, I’m not sure.”

He is sure — you were asleep for thirty six hours and didn’t speak for another four.

You make a face, completely unaware of the unwanted memories this conversation has dredged up. “That doesn’t count, Luke. I was dying!”

He knows. His nightmares about that night haunt him just as much as the nightmares he started getting after his quest.

“Never said we were only counting times we didn’t talk by choice,” he says, stacking your strawberry crate onto his. He had won your little bet, but he was planning on carrying yours no matter what.

You smile, interlocking your arms. He’s grateful for the touch. Both of you have come a long way from those woods in Hershey. You’re alive and safe, with no memories from that night but the scars on your back that Luke will stare at sometimes. You lean against him as you walk down the hill, the summer sun disappearing behind a cloud.

“I’ll never understand how we did all that when we were kids,” you say, your voice quieter now. “We were so little. We should’ve been doing math homework, or something. Not fighting for our lives all by ourselves.”

Luke nearly freezes, but your connected arms force him to keep walking. “The gods don’t exactly like being nice to their kids.”

Your father left you to die. It was Luke that dragged your half conscious body to safety. He was the one who held your hand in the hospital when you cried from the pain and begged for someone to take it all away.

And the both of you were twelve.

Why should the gods get away with that?

But you knock your head against his shoulder with something shining in your eyes, and his thoughts disappear from his head.

“They did one nice thing, though,” you say offhandedly as he passes the crates off to another camper.

With his hands free, he pulls you into a side hug. One of his warm hands slips under the back of your shirt, sliding to the small of your back. His fingertips run over the scars that have been healed for almost seven years.

You’re alive. You survived. That’s all he could ever ask for.

“One nice thing. Like what?”

You have a sly grin on your face, and Luke knows you’re proud of what you’re going to say next.

“They brought me you.”

my thoughts on aphrodite/the nurse

notes: wipes away tear. hes my best friend… as always lmk if u enjoyed!! i do plan on writing more luke hes so fun

luke tags: @randomgurl2326 @repostingmyfavs @cedricsleftelbow

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agirlsguidetolove · 4 months

Text

daylight

part one - series masterlist

luke castellan x daughter of ares reader

3.8k you and luke castellan via percy jackson

tags. the tangledinlove special (jealousy trope, best friends in love, denial of feelings etc.) and title from the tswift song

a/n. i havent written in sooo long please don’t make fun… also i kiss canon and characterization goodbye because i have not read the books since i was 7 years old

i. back and forth from new york (sneaking in your bed)

Percy Jackson has become a light sleeper.

He didn’t think it was even possible to be yanked from sleep so harshly, but finds himself jolting awake whenever the kid nexts to him so much as turns over in his sleep.

He chalks the nerves up to his new… situation. If finding out your father is Poseidon and watching your mother turn into dust Avengers: Infinity War style could be called that.

This is also the first time he’s slept around so many people, so he thinks he’s just on edge. It’s not like he was ever close enough with anyone to warrant a sleepover before.

He shuts his eyes, willing himself to go back to sleep.

Until he can’t.

There’s tossing and turning from across the room, and then a muffled noise.

Someone’s sleep talking.

Percy groans in frustration before realizing he’s being too loud. Thankfully, the kid next to him seems to be desensitized to random nighttime grumblings. Which is understandable, seeing as there’s an entire classroom of other children around them.

Percy takes his pillow that’s barely thicker than his forearm and clamps it firmly over his ears. He counts sheep. He imagines them jumping over fences when that doesn’t work. And then he imagines them as Chiron when that doesn’t work either.

The grumbling doesn’t stop. But as Percy peels the pillow from his ears, he realizes that the measly fabric was able to muffle something.

The crying.

Percy squints across the room, his eyes well adjusted to the darkness by now. He can see the Thrasher now, tossing in their sheets as quiet sobs leave their mouth.

Heard what happened to you on the hill. And I just…

He can make out a dark mop of hair.

Wanted to say I’m really sorry.

Tall limbs and a red cotton shirt.

I know what you’re going through, believe me. I’m—

Luke.

That’s Luke’s bed, Percy realizes. The heroic and brave and wise boy who introduced him to camp is crying thirty feet away from him, and he has no idea what to do.

A twig snaps from outside, and Percy jolts upright. Ah, of course, how could he have forgotten about the second reason he’s feeling so twitchy? Apparently all of those mythological monsters he’d learned about are real, too. Because someone out there is plotting against him.

The memory of rain soaked clothes and the feeling of a sharp horn under his hands has Percy fumbling for his pocket, sweaty fingers closing around Riptide.

Should he wake Luke? Surely he would know what to do. But the idea sounded ridiculous. The camp was safe, it had to be. Grover had said it himself. It wasn’t possible for anything to get past that old tree on the hill.

But rational thinking was beginning to look less rational since he was alone with whatever creature was outside. Something was definitely on the other side of the wooden walls, and it was just Percy and his stupid pen against whatever monster is making its way nearer.

Whatever it is is nearly silent, making its way around with soft footfalls and quiet steps. But the wood of the patio outside creaks under their weight, and Percy thumbs the cap of his pen nervously.

The doorknob twitches, and a cold chill goes down Percy’s spine when he realizes that the door isn’t locked. The door creaks open without protest.

It’s a person.

Much less scary than previously anticipated, but a potential threat nonetheless. Percy watches in awe as the hooded figure carefully steps over the floorboard that he nearly tripped over about thirty times already, dodging limbs hanging out of beds and sleeping bags. A perfectly trained ninja in the night.

Percy pushes himself up using a forearm, concealing Riptide in his sleeve.

“Who are you?” he croaks, voice choppy from disuse. “I have a weapon, so don’t try anything.”

He winces at the way it's much less intimidating than he hoped.

The figure whips around, their hood slipping down to reveal their features. Moonlight streaming in through a window illuminates your face.

Oh. It’s you.

Luke had introduced you to him earlier in the day, and he can’t remember much about you. But he remembers the easy way Luke had been around you, a closeness that Percy hadn’t seen before.

—

You were lingering around the forge, and had gotten a front row seat to Percy nearly setting someone on fire.

“Luke, why are you giving hot tools to twelve year olds?” you’d asked as Percy shed his goggles and gloves frustratedly.

The two boys turned around to find you standing right behind them.

Percy flinched away, and Luke laughed at the face he was making. “Percy, this is—”

“Luke’s best friend,” you had proclaimed, slotting yourself against his side. Percy was on the fence with what he thought about Ares kids, but the difference between you and Clarisse could not be more clear. You were all smiles as you reached down to ruffle Percy’s hair. “Don’t tell Chris, or he’ll get a little angry.”

“Sure, killer,” Luke had said, a smile lighting up his face. He turned away from Percy to face you completely, both of his hands coming to rest on your sides. “I’ll see you at lunch?”

You saluted him seriously, but the way your other hand curled around his arm was awfully casual. “Absolutely, sir.”

He squeezed you once, sending you leaning away from his grasp. Percy felt like he was intruding on something as he watched the two of you playfully fight in front of him.

With a pointed look, Percy’d said, “Uhh. Alright. Nice to meet you?”

You at least had the shame to look a little embarrassed as you released Luke from the headlock you’d put him in. “It was nice to meet you too, Percy.” You took extra care to whack the back of Luke’s head as you left. “I’ll leave you to it!”

Luke watched you leave, a fond smile on his face as he tried to straighten out his hair. “Sorry, where were we?”

—

“What are you doing up?” you ask from across the room, keeping your voice as quiet as possible. Red Converse hit the floor softly as you make yourself comfortable in a cabin that’s definitely not yours. “It’s late. Go to sleep.”

“I thought curfew was strictly enforced here.”

“It is,” you yank your tattered hoodie over your head, dropping it onto the foot of Luke’s bed. “So keep it down before you wake up Katie. She’s snitched on me twice already.”

Percy huffs. “I’m not even—”

“S-Sorry.”

You and Percy go silent.

“It won’t… I won’t—”

“Luke,” Percy thinks he hears you say. You crouch at his side, sweeping his hair away from his face. Without even a grimace, or a sign of disgust, you wipe what must be his sweat off on your flannel pajama pants. Your voice is softened with affection. “It’s just a nightmare.”

“I won’t fail again,” he hiccups instead.

Your shoulders sag. With practiced hands, you shift the boy over and settle onto the empty part of the mattress with him.

Percy knows he’s being nosy, but curiosity keeps his eyes glued to your movements. You seem to know exactly what to do, digging through a bag at your feet and pulling out a cool water bottle. Your hands go to Luke’s shoulders as you gently coax him upwards, placing the water in his grip.

Luke’s eyes are still shut when he says, “Hey, killer.”

“Hi, hero.”

“What’re you doin’ here?”

When you don’t answer, Luke tips his head back to drink before tossing the bottle somewhere on the floor. He shifts over, giving you more room to lay down. Percy freezes when you meet his gaze head on through the darkness.

“Go to sleep,” you whisper, and Percy knows you’re not just talking to Luke.

You disappear into the mattress as Luke pulls you into a hug. Percy hears quiet rumbling as you whisper something to him, and he can’t tell which one of you pulls his head into the crook of your neck.

Luke sleeps silently for the rest of the night.

ii. now that i thought of you (things will never be the same)

Capture the Flag scares Percy to no end.

A chill goes down his spine as the other team lets out their battle cries, and he begins to doubt what Chiron said about no maiming being allowed. Some of those kids look like they’re out for blood.

The nerves only get worse as Annabeth drags him off to someplace in the woods and promptly leaves him to his own devices. No plan, no help, no sense of direction. He’s honestly expecting a bear to come out of the woods and maul him half to death, but after what feels like an hour of silence, he lounges back on a bit of rocks and watches the clouds.

“Hey, Goldilocks.”

Fear launches Percy to his feet as he takes in his surroundings. Riptide slips out of his hands and clatters onto his shield, spinning around the curved piece of metal like a Beyblade.

It’s you. Again.

“Relax,” you say quickly, raising your hands to show him you mean no harm. Your sword is tucked away and you have a slight smile on your face. “I was just going to ask you what you’re doing all alone out here. Our flag’s in the other direction, if you didn’t know.”

“I know,” Percy huffs, picking up his own weapon. He rights his armor as he looks at you suspiciously. “This girl Annabeth dragged me out here.”

“Annabeth,” you say amusedly. You glance around the two of you like she’s going to jump out of a bush.

“She’s long gone. She dragged me out here just to ditch me,” he says bitterly. “You know her?”

You have a weird smile on your face. “She’s like my little sister.”

Luke had said the same thing to him, out by the archery fields yesterday. “So you and Luke, you’re like, siblings too, then?”

“Gods, no!” you protest, your face scrunching together in disgust. “He’s just… He’s like…”

Percy watches you fumble for your words, his brow raised. You seemed pretty disgusted at his suggestion.

“He’s just Luke,” you decide on, and Percy nods, even though he doesn’t really understand. For a brief second, you look horrified again. “Did he… Say that we’re like siblings?”

“No,” he says, and watches as you smile slowly, satisfied.

Ohh, Percy wants to say. It’s like that. But he knows that you could probably tear his head off if you wanted to, so he bites his tongue.

“How long have you guys known each other?” he asks instead.

Your smile grows fond as you think about him. “Our entire lives. We were friends before either of us even knew about all of this.” You gesture to the two of you and then to the woods around you.

“That’s a long time.”

“Yeah. I couldn’t imagine this place without him,” you say thoughtfully, your gaze growing far away. “Hermes is lucky to have a son like him. He’s great.”

You talk about him so kindly. For a second, he can see his Mom in your eyes, and the adoring way she would speak about his dad on the rare occasions she would bring him up. And Percy knows it’s not nice to assume, but… He’s assuming.

Percy doesn’t phrase it like a question when he says, “You like Luke.”

A twig snaps somewhere nearby.

You’re silent for a second. “I — What do you mean?”

Percy doubles down. “You have a crush on him.”

“Alright, Goldilocks,” you say, amused. “I don’t like Luke.”

“Sure.”

“I don’t!” you insist, looking awfully embarrassed for someone who ‘definitely doesn’t like Luke.’ “And even if I did, he would never like me back, so…”

You turn to face the woods, and Percy has no doubt that your face is on fire.

“I thought you guys liked each other.”

“Percy, stop talking.”

“Like when you snuck into the cabin, I thought—”

“Percy,” you snap, your voice low.

“—you were dating. Like Jim and Pam. Or like Rory and Dean.”

You whirl back around, curious. “You’ve seen Gilmore Girls?”

He realizes what he said too late. “My mom made me watch it.”

Your smile disappears under your helmet as you slip it back on. “Good for her. And I’m sorry to leave you here, but I have to go.”

He frowns. “What? Why?” Percy almost doesn’t want you to leave. You’re the first person he’s seen in an hour, and your company isn’t that bad.

“My sister is about fifty feet away, and I’m supposed to be defending my flag that’s halfway across the woods.”

Percy perks up at this. “Annabeth’s back?”

Finally. He isn’t sure what she’d wanted him to do, because he definitely hasn’t done it.

You shove his shield into his hands as you brush past him. “No. Clarisse is.”

The words take a second to register, but once they do, Percy whips around in your direction. He finds nothing but the rustle of the leaves as you make your quick exit.

“Percy Jackson!” a voice booms from the direction of the woods.

He’s screwed.

iii. i once believed love would be (burnin’ red)

Their team won Capture the Flag.

Percy hadn’t done much, other than get claimed by Poseidon and be used as Clarisse bait. Nonetheless, he was enjoying the celebration feast.

Everyone was in high spirits — especially Chris, who had helped lead the team to victory while Percy was being pummeled by three angry Ares kids.

(Yeah, he was trying to not be too bitter about that.)

A group of campers were cheering on Annabeth for her plan that lead them to the big win. (Definitely not still bitter.) The comradery amongst their team was high, and even those that lost didn’t seem too angry about it.

Except for Clarisse and her cronies, of course. They were sitting in a corner, sending him furious looks every once in a while.

Percy made a mental note to ask someone about putting a deadbolt on his cabin door.

The other Ares kids didn’t seem to mind though, wearing any new battle wounds with pride. Percy could see you across the dining pavilion, talking with one of the boys from another cabin.

Luke did not look too happy about that.

Percy had thought he would be soaking up every glorious moment of the dinner, as he was the one who secured the flag for their team. But he had done nothing much other than sulk and push his food around with his fork.

“Who’s that?” Percy asks, once he notices where his angry glare is directed.

Luke is distracted when he responds. “Oh, uh.” He rubs the back of his neck. “That’s Max. Cabin 9. Hephaestus kid.”

Chris laughs as he takes his seat next to Luke, finally hungry after all of his celebrating. “He’s been trying to ask her out for a while now.”

“And he needs to take a hint.” Luke scoffs. “She clearly doesn’t like him.”

The two of you are sharing an orange. Max breaks off pieces for you to have, and Percy watches as you laugh at something he says, covering your smile with the palm of your hand.

The three of them are silent.

Percy’s head tilts. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Luke says, his tone steely. “She’s my… She’s my best friend. If she liked Max, she would’ve told me.”

The three of them watch as the boy stands up and you follow suit. Max tosses the rest of the orange into the fire as an offering, and the two of you head away from the celebration.

Percy gives Luke a side glance. If he had eaten anything, it probably would’ve been emptied up onto the table right now.

Luke shakes the table with the force he uses to stand up. “I’ll be back.”

His plate is left abandoned, and Chris snorts at his speedy departure. Luke’s practically jogging across the pavilion to reach you before you get too far. That old goofy cartoon running sound effect plays in Percy’s head as he does.

The boy closes the distance in record timing, stopping you and Max before you can make your way up a small hill just outside of the pavilion.

Luke must be a great liar, or just really convincing, because after a few words from him and an extended hand, you’re back at his side. You say a few parting words to Max before the two of you turn your backs on him and head back in the direction of the feast.

Unfortunately, it seems like Max is significantly unhappy with that.

He looks a little more than angry when he says something that has you and Luke whipping your heads around.

Whatever he said must not have been nice, because the next second, Luke is advancing in his direction, and the other boy is meeting him in the middle.

The small argument is beginning to attract the attention of the campers on the outskirts of the feast, with a few mixed reactions. Some look like they’re ready to jump into a brawl if need be, and others watch the argument play out, unashamed.

Percy grimaces. “Are they… okay?”

Chris gets up wordlessly to head in the direction of his friend, and Percy trails after him with not much else to do. Other campers join them, forming a bit of a crowd around the three of you.

Your voice sounds biting as you say something to the both of them, and while it seems like Max isn’t angry at you, it looks like he still spits out a snarky comment directed at Luke, if the smirk on his face says anything.

And that’s all it takes. Luke rears his arm back and strikes Max right across the face.

Something that sounds like a mix between a gasp and an “Ooh!” ripples through the crowd as he stumbles back.

That’s gotta sting, Percy thinks as Max steadies himself on shaky legs. The boy looks completely dazed from the single blow. If that’s what Luke can do with a single punch… Percy hopes he never gets on his bad side.

You shove Luke’s shoulder and say something to him, starting another disagreement between the two of you. But now steady on his feet, Max seemingly takes advantage of him being distracted and takes his own shot at Luke’s face. Percy sucks in air through his teeth as he rubs his jaw.

Luke’s on him in a second, wrestling him to the ground as he moves to probably hit him again. But you and one of the older campers rush forward to drag him off of Max just as Chiron’s booming voice sounds from the other end of the clearing.

The crowd scatters like a flock of birds. Chris drags Percy by the back of his shirt collar away from the scene, leaving you, Luke, and Max alone.

Everyone disperses back to their cabins, whispering about the events all the way up until the lights go out.

Alone in the Poseidon cabin, Percy doesn’t see the way Luke enters his own a few hours later, his knuckles sore but his heart aching.

iv. but its golden

You don’t look in Luke’s direction during Percy’s selection ceremony.

Once he’s selected Annabeth and Grover, you give him a genuine smile and squeeze his shoulder before walking away as fast as you can.

Luke calls after you, but you ignore him. The other twenty demigods at the ceremony look away in what’s probably second hand embarrassment.

Percy doesn’t see you again until much later. After knocking on his cabin door, you put a wad of cash into his hands.

“What’s this for?”

“Emergency cash,” you explain as he rifles through it. The stack is heavy. “I know Chiron gave you two hundred, but you never know. Use it only for emergencies, alright?”

“This is nearly two hundred dollars,” Percy says, shocked. “Where’d you get this from?”

“Summer job.”

“I can’t—”

“Annabeth already refused to take it from me,” you protest. “I thought you were my best bet.”

“This is a lot of money.” Percy doesn’t think he’s even held this much cash before.

“I know,” you say, before closing his fist around the money again. “But I know I could’ve really used this money on my first quest. So I’m giving it to you for yours.”

Percy was getting the impression that you weren’t going to leave his cabin with this money in your hand.

“Thanks,” he acquiesces with a smile. “Only for emergencies.”

“Only for emergencies,” you confirm, squeezing his shoulder.

“Were you nervous for your first quest?” he asks, tucking the cash into the inner pocket of his jacket.

You shake your head without an ounce of hesitation. “No. But it’s normal to be nervous, if you are.”

Percy thinks about his Mom, all alone in the Underworld. He was doing all of this for her. He was a little more than nervous.

“How were you not worried? Like at all?”

You shrug, picking at a loose thread on your hoodie. “I was with Luke. I didn’t really have anything to be worried about.”

Percy thinks about Annabeth and Grover. Could he rely on them? The Oracle’s words weigh heavy on his shoulders. Percy wished that he had someone he could count on like the way you relied on Luke.

“Are you mad at him?”

“Who said I’m mad at Luke?” You tilt your head in question.

“You ignored him in front of everyone earlier. It was kinda hard to watch.”

You look away, smiling. “Well, he was kind of being stupid last night. I’m not mad, I just needed to cool down.”

There’s shuffling in the doorway, and you don’t have to turn around to know who it is.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” you mumble under your breath. Luke’s holding an old box in his hands, staring straight at the back of your head.

You give Percy one last reassuring smile. “Good luck, Percy. And I know you and Annabeth aren’t all that close, but she’s a good kid. You can count on her.”

“She’s a good kid.” Luke repeats from behind you.

You turn to face him, your gaze assessing, and Luke’s eyes widen in what Percy thinks is slight fear. But it’s like his entire body relaxes when you move forward to flick his shoulder.

“Thank you for your great input, Luke Castellan,” you tease, leaving a quick kiss on the bruise on his lower jaw.

His eyes blow wide with surprise. “Yeah,” he stammers. “Yeah.”

“See you later, hero.”

The door swings shut behind you.

Luke stares blankly for a good ten seconds before Percy speaks.

“So…” he starts. “What’s in the box?”

“Yeah, uh,” Luke repeats, dazed. “It’s a, uh. A gift.”

Percy presses his lips together, slightly miffed.

It’s obvious to him how the two of you feel about each other. He just wonders if either of you will ever figure that out yourselves.

part two

a/n. evil boys i love u. if i ever write more luke fic itll be through one of their povs so their interactions are less restrained!! lmk if u enjoyed theyre my sillies

5K notes · View notes

agirlsguidetolove · 4 months

Text

a place with you; luke castellan

wc: 2.8k (got a little carried away whoops)

pairing: luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: luke is used to people coming in and out of hermes’ cabin without a second thought. so when you’re having a hard time adjusting to camp life, he doesn’t expect you to stick by his side, even after you’re claimed.

warnings/notes: shy reader going through a tough time, hurt/comfort, pining, kisses, fluff, potential ooc luke i don’t know what i’m doing, most of this is prob inaccurate lol, i got wayyy too attatched to this i am sorry, title inspired by dragon eyes by adrianne lenker

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s used to delivering, passing things along, letting them enter his life and leave him. Sometimes it makes him angry. At his father, at the world, at himself.

So when you passed through the Hermes cabin for the inevitable few weeks before getting claimed by your Godly parent, the last thing Luke expected was for you to stay.

When you first got to camp you were terrified. Luke remembers that much. He can still picture you in Chiron’s towering shadow as he led you up to Hermes cabin. He gave you the usual spiel about the cabin, the land of the unclaimed, but it clearly hadn’t quelled your nerves. You were wringing your fingers together when Luke first spotted you, your eyes blown wide in what he knew as shock and a sort of . . . grief. For a life you’d left for what Luke knows as a life you’d never really have. He’d seen it in so many campers before you. He’d see it many times after.

“This is Luke, Hermes’ head counsellor and one of Camp Half-Blood’s finest,” Chiron pointed him out to you at the entrance. After Chiron introduced you, Luke held your name in his memory. Not because there was anything particularly intriguing about you at first, to be honest, because he’d seen a lot of people like you that needed help settling in (although maybe not many his age). It was harder for some people to adjust than most. He knew that better than anyone.

“Nice to meet you,” he stuck out his hand for you to shake after Chiron left. “I’m Luke.”

You sniffed, shaking it without looking at him. You were so, so embarrassed. This whole time you’d been too stupidly overwhelmed to process anything. Why was this so hard for you? Was it this hard for everyone? “Hi,” you managed, and that was it.

Now, weeks after your first meeting, you’ve concluded that it was not, in fact, this hard for everyone. The camp is crowded but full of life. You’ve never seen more happy kids in your life. There’s a sense of community on the wind.

So why can’t you feel it? Why is it so hard to connect with people? To participate in the fun? Everywhere you look there’s people but it’s all just so . . . lonely. You don’t fit. You’re lost.

Luke wakes up at night when the cabin door creaks open. He’s already tossing, so it’s no surprise he catches it. Unfortunately, he’s supposed to be a good counsellor—sneaking out at night is against the rules, and you’ve gotta reign the strays back in before they cause a ruckus. Sure, Luke’s not exactly a stickler for the law, but the least he owes is to make sure everyone’s safe.

Groaning, he draws himself out of the comfort of his bunk but doesn’t get far when he spots a familiar silhouette slipping out the door. He knows it’s you. He’s been hearing crying at night, and this is confirming his suspicions. It makes him ache in a million different places. Every time he thought about approaching you he shut himself down almost instantly, because who the hell wants some random guy coming up to them in the middle of the night and drawing attention?

This time, though, he’s a little worried.

It’s chilly tonight but not too bad, especially when you’re huddled up in a ball on a hill in front of the lake, grass tickling your ankles. Your tears keep you warm.

It’s a sorrow that feels bottomless. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You don’t know why everything’s so hard.

There’s a scuffling of shoes, and your name is carried to you on the heels of a breeze. Oh God. There’s someone else here.

You sniff and smear your tears on the palms of your hands the best you can but a little part of you only wants to cry more now that you’re all anxious, and you only have a few seconds to collect yourself before you turn around and see Luke, your cabin leader, with furrowed brows. “Oh, h-hi, Luke.” It’s hard to ignore the splinter in your voice. You curse yourself a thousand times.

“Hey,” he says hesitantly, eyeing you in a way that makes you feel entirely exposed. “You, uh, you know you’re not technically supposed to be out here, right?”

You start to scramble to your feet with an apology on your tongue but surprisingly he laughs, a gentle sound, and beckons you to sit back down. “No, no, I’m not gonna get you in trouble or anything, just . . . letting you know.”

It’s uncertain if you should keep sitting, but you decide to because well, you’re already down here, and things can’t go lower than this. Luke comes to sit next to you and you stare out into the sea like your life depends on it. “Wanna talk about why you’re out here?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Luke sighs, scooting a little closer to you. “Most people don’t up and leave in the middle of the night because they’re having a great time.”

The answer is too hard to say so you don’t reply.

Again, Luke sighs, and you try not to look at the shadow the moon casts on his admittedly handsome face. “It’s hard settling in, I know. It happens to a lot of people. I’ve . . . I’ve seen a lot of them, and it doesn’t get any easier.”

“Well it sure seems easier,” you snap, and your self-control flies away before you can stop it. “I have no idea why I can’t just suck it up and fit in here. Everyone seems so happy and it’s driving me nuts because I’m just so confused on why I can’t—why I can’t—process any of it.” Tears burn your eyes. “I’m just miserable. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

In the corner of your view, Luke’s face falls. “I’m your guide, you know that, right? I can help you.”

You sniff, embarrassingly pathetic. “I know.”

He comes even closer. “So why didn’t you ask?”

“Because I—I don’t know, you’re busy all the time with all the people in there, so I’m sure your job’s already stressful as is, so—”

“My job is to help you,” he says, a hand on your shoulder. “That’s what I signed up for. If you need something, I’m the one to ask.”

“I’m not sure you signed up for me crying like a baby,” you swallow, the ripples of the lake blurring together. “I mean, I’m like, older than half the kids here, and they’re all so much better than me. I’m not good at a—anything, and I’ve tried it all, and nobody’s claimed me yet, and I feel so weird and old and alone and . . .” It’s too much to think about so you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, hoping the sting wards off the thoughts. “What if I’m nothing? Why am I here?”

You’re crying again, hiccuping into your hands. Shame sears into you. Luke’s arm curls around your shoulders and you realize how cold you are when he’s warm, so warm, and you want to cry even harder. You don’t even know him, but it’s the most tenderness you’ve received in what feels like years. “Hey, deep breaths,” he murmurs, rubbing your arm with his other hand. “It’s okay. Look at me.”

It takes a ridiculous amount of strength to heed him. His hand catches your cheek and you can’t bear to pull away. Something strange rustles in your stomach.

Luke’s taught instinct when faced with situations like these is to reassure that the Gods always have a plan. But he doesn’t feel like much of a liar tonight. Both his hands steady your face towards his, your skin damp and cold beneath his thumb. “It's not your fault. It always takes a little bit of time for people to get claimed, it’s never . . . well, you can never tell.”

“What if I don’t get claimed?” You say it so quiet you can pretend it was imaginary.

His eyes crinkle at the sides when he says, “Well, Hermes’ll always have a place for you.”

I’ll, Luke wants to say, I’ll. His father is not responsible for his cabin’s kindness.

“No one really prepares you for how overwhelming this is,” he continues, thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek. Your vision is clearer now, and Gods, he is handsome, isn’t he? Even when his eyes are forlorn. “It’s harder in a way when you’re older. More to leave behind. Less to look forward to. It’s easier when you have a friend. Or a great cabin head.” He tilts his head with a faint smile, “Lucky for you, I’m both.”

It almost makes you laugh, and that’s enough. “It’ll get easier,” he promises softly. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Your cheeks burn. It’s hard to keep his gaze, so you blot at your eyes with your hands as Luke gently slides his off your face. “Thank you. Sorry for, um, all that. And the crying.”

He chuckles, “Don’t even worry about it.” You watch him rise in the throes of starlight. He offers you a hand. “Aren’t you cold?” He asks after pulling you up, and you sheepishly nod your head. He tosses you a sweater he’s been wearing, and it smells like firewood. Nostalgic, in a way. “I’m gonna poke around for some tea. Wait for me back at the cabin.”

Before he leaves, he squeezes your arm and that thing happens again in your stomach. “No need to be embarrassed, by the way. You can come to me anytime. I’m probably less busy than I look.” As he walked away, he added, “And don’t worry about the crying. You’re pretty either way.”

Either way. The tea doesn’t seem important anymore because your face is on fire.

Time reveals that Luke is right. He is a great cabin leader and a friend, and it’s hard to tell which he’s better at. You fall in with him right away. Soon enough, you’re drawn into your new life, so slowly you barely realize it’s happening. The days get shorter and you start wishing they were longer. The nights get easier. And when they’re not, Luke tucks you into his bunk and folds you in his arms until you drift off. You pick up a bow. A sword. Luke tells you to straighten your shoulders with a hand on the small of your back, and you swear it always lingers. You braid garlands of carnations for your cabin mates and they wear them with pride. It’s warm, your cheeks hurt from smiling, and things start to feel like home.

Until you’re claimed.

Now you’re a ghost in Hermes cabin, another empty bunk to be filled, and Luke stares at it until he can remember every last detail of what it looked like when it was yours. A beautiful, gentle daughter of Demeter, no longer in arms’ reach. He should’ve seen it coming.

He sees you with your siblings all the time. You’re so happy and he envies it. You belong there, he knows that, the way your face lights up at the dinner table and how you giggle when your half-sister presents you a flower. But sometimes your eyes wander, and something inside them dulls, until you look at him, too.

Luke’s place at camp is to be nothing but a funnel for lost campers to find their home. He’s a temporary stop in everybody’s journey. He’d made peace with it a long time ago. But here you are, messing it all up, because you still don’t leave him.

You beg him to give you another sword-fighting lesson. You sit next to him at bonfires. You pick him for partner camp activities. It doesn’t matter how many younger boys want to latch onto him for guidance—he sees you heading towards him, and he can’t imagine choosing anyone else.

But you’re always whisked away by your siblings, separated at meals and in sleep and in activities so it’s never, ever enough. Why did he delude himself into thinking you’d stay forever?

After weeks of distance from you, he’s elated when you have even a fraction of a conversation. “Hey, Luke!” You call out to him, and he finds you instantly. You’ve broken away from your siblings to get to him.

“Hey,” he smiles, and hopes he doesn’t look too pleased.

You lean a little towards his ear, and you smell like every wonderful thing in the world. “Can we hang out tonight? On the hill?” You’re a little bashful when you say it and it’s entirely endearing. Even now, you’re still so unsure. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he says almost instantly, and it makes you look less nervous. “Yes. Absolutely. But don’t get caught breaking curfew now, you hooligan.”

Someone calls your name and you give a curt, playful nod. “Yes sir, camp counsellor sir!” He carries your laugh close to his heart until night falls.

You’re already there when he arrives, a vision in the moonlight before he even sees your face. “Hey, angel.”

When you turn around you look flustered. He won’t pretend like it doesn’t flatter him. “H—hi, uh, hello.”

There’s a moment where the world is still. The two of you, alone, for the first time in ages.

He sits down next to you, and it’s like the first time all over again. You get to talking, about your days, your anecdotes, your cabins. The strangeness of it all. “It’s so weird waking up in the morning and not having you yapping in my ear,” you remark, and he teasingly pushes your shoulder.

“Well, one of us has to be the talker, and it’s clearly not you,” he retorts.

You fiddle with blades of grass between your fingertips, weaving them together. “I’ll have you know I had a cabin-wide conversation about Capture The Flag yesterday, and I contributed greatly.”

“Oh, really?” He grins, knocking your elbow to steal your attention. “Look at you, coming out of your shell. I’m so proud.”

It’s hard to hold his gaze for more than a second. You’re afraid you’ll do something stupid if he keeps looking at you like that, but you almost want to. “Oh, shut up.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder. “No, I’m serious. I’m proud.” His eyes rake over your face. “You’re flourishing. You found your place.”

You can’t stop yourself from saying, “I kind of miss my old one.”

There’s a way he studies your expression that makes you feel utterly helpless. You wish you could dish it back to him, but you know you just look awestruck whenever you stare at him for so long. He’s quieter when he replies, “I miss it, too. A lot. Sometimes, I—” His face scrunches up like he just tasted something sour. “Nevermind.”

Frowning, you prod, “What? What is it?”

He sighs and turns to the horizon. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him struggle. “Sometimes, I wish you hadn’t been claimed. Sorry, that’s . . . that’s awful, I know.”

His surprise is evident when you say, “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t either.”

He turns back to you. “Really?”

“Really,” you nod, staring at the beads on his necklace. “You’re the only reason I’ve adjusted here at all.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

“It’s true. And I miss you.” A few months ago you would’ve kicked yourself for saying this. But Luke has a way of inspiring confidence in people.

“I miss you, too. So much.” He gently prys the grass you’ve been weaving out of your hands, now a small necklace. “But look at how talented you are. I’ll tell you, I’m lucky you’re still sticking around. For most people, Hermes is touch-and-go.”

Luke leans forward to tie the garland around your neck, and your pulse picks up. “This isn’t about Hermes, Luke,” you try to be firm but it comes out soft. “It’s about you.”

His hands stop fiddling and rest on your neck. When he speaks, you can feel his breath on you. And you have no idea that he’s been waiting to hear that his whole life. “What’s about me?”

It’s not fair, your inability to string sentences together only worsens right when a beautiful boy is this close to you. “Hermes isn’t—it’s not special because of your father, it’s special because of you.”

There is nothing else you can possibly think of saying with the way his fingers trace up your neck and hold your jaw. “Yeah, well,” he murmurs, “The only reason anything in my life is special is because of you.”

You don’t know if it’s a lie or not; you don’t care. His nose nudges yours. There’s a moment where you wonder if this is as close to Elysium you’ll ever get. Then he slips a hand to the back of your neck and pulls you to his mouth.

He kisses you in a near fury, then when he knows you’re not going anywhere, it’s the gentlest thing you know. It’s hard to believe this is even happening. Your hands weave through his curls but he holds you steady, and thank the Gods for that because you’re pretty sure you’re melting. You kiss again, and again, and again, until you genuinely think you’re going to pass out and you have to pull away.

“Aw, look at you,” he murmurs when you can’t meet his eyes, a playful lilt in his voice. “Still so nervous.”

“Would you shut up?” You press your face into the crook of his neck with a huge smile.

He kisses the top of your head. “Love to, angel.”

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s supposed to believe he’s bringing the best of humanity to the Gods and glory above.

But screw the Gods. He’s keeping this one for himself.

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agirlsguidetolove · 4 months

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Idk if this is anything but Luke x unclaimed reader... you're in the same cabin and there's a small chance that you could have the same godly parent (you don't but no one knows that for sure) so it has the potential to be so wrong, but how can it be when he's making you feel so good??? It feels stepcest adjacent

MDNI 18+ ; DARK CONTENT (they are not related but r doesn't know for sure)

It's quiet in the Hermes cabin. Luke tells you it's a rare sight, being the only two people in the cabin, and from your experience in the last couple of weeks, you know he's telling the truth.

Sometimes, it was so loud you couldn't hear yourself think. But your attempt at thinking would always go to a certain camp counselor with kind dark eyes and curly hair who happened to be a few beds beside you, so maybe it was best you couldn't hear yourself think.

But now, with no one else occupying the four walls other than yourself and Luke, all you can hear is your thoughts. Loud and all encompassing desires to get Luke closer to you than he should be, his hands on your body and his lips pressing into your skin.

That and the slick sounds of you and Luke's lips sliding together. The heavy breaths taking up the in between moments.

The sheer hunger of it all.

His large hands grip your shirt. Your hands tangle in his dark hair as if you're trying to pull it directly out of his scalp. You're not using your full strength, though, something you recently had to consider with your new discovery.

You have the urge to give Luke your all. Tug at his hair and his clothes until he's bare beneath you, push and pull him in malleable ways that you know he can take. Because he's like you.

He’s a demigod, just like you. Yet he’s been claimed. He knows who his father is, while you’re left in the dark.

The reminder pulls you away from Luke’s lips. He’s quick to accept the change, busying himself with kissing your neck, his large hands pressing in the center of your back to keep you against him.

Suddenly, everything is too warm. It’s too much yet not enough. You want to get away from Luke and also meld your bodies into one so that you can never separate.

“Luke, wait.”

He stops. His head lifts so his dark eyes can look at you. There’s a crease in between his eyebrows. He’s worried about you, it’s a look you know all too well.

“What is it? What’s wrong? Am I going too fast?”

Your head shakes. Your teeth connect with the plush of your bottom lip.

Luke sighs. You can tell he instantly knows what wrong with you. “Don’t worry about it.” He brushes his thumb along the corner of your mouth just before he brushes a kiss into the same spot.

“We’re not related.”

“But how can you be sure?”

He can’t. You know it.

Luke isn’t one to lie. Not to you. So he shrugs.

“I can’t.”

You step away from him but his hand wraps around your wrist. “But I know.” His eyes flick between yours, back and forth and back and forth, before they find your lips again.

He leans in tentatively this time, like he’s unsure if you’re going to pull away or not. You don’t. Instead, you stay completely still, only reciprocating in the softest purse of your lips against his. Sensing how uneasy you still are, he attempts to reassure you once more.

“I know in my heart that we aren’t related. Okay? Does that make you feel any better.” He's trying to be patient, you can tell, but his words are slightly too snappy. A little aggressive.

His attempts at reassurance barely calm your worries, but the thud between your thighs is becoming more prominent by the moment and you need some form of satisfaction.

“Okay,” you whisper against Luke lips before you let him take all of you once more.

He leads you back to your bed, settling himself above you where he slots a leg between your thighs. Your shirt is lifted over your head and thrown to the side, your bra straps are pulled down to give Luke more skin to work with, he starts to undo the button of your pants and at this point you’re not worried about any parental connection.

Unfortunately, Lukes words bring you back. They make you feel dirtier.

“Besides, even if we were, this is too good to stop. Isn’t it?”

Because it is.

The pleasure Luke brings you is one you fear you’ll never get from anyone else, human or demigod. Maybe it’s because he knows you so well, both of you being the offspring of Gods. Or maybe it’s because he is you. Maybe your genetic makeup is so similar that he can't help but know your body as if it is his.

The thoughts are too much for your brain to handle right now and instead of focusing on them any longer, you focus on the feeling of Luke introducing one of his lithe digits into your walls.

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agirlsguidetolove · 4 months

Text

There's glitter on the floor after the party - S.H

Steve Harrington x female!reader

A new years eve party forces Steve to admit how he really feels

A/n: friends to lovers, pinning

Warnings: kissing, strong language

Word count: 4.8k

New years eve, 1987

It was crowded and somehow still too hot even with the snow refusing to stop falling outside the Wheelers living room. There were empty, lip gloss stained glasses and open bottles everywhere, the tv was too loud to go up against everyone's conversions. Steve had chosen one spot on the sofa and he had stayed there since he had arrived, his eyes glued to her.

Not the girl beside him who was bored of him the second he had picked her up, maybe even tired of him when he first asked her out but without new years plans, so she had to say yes. Whatever it was, Steve clearly wasn’t good enough for her. He couldn’t blame her because instead of watching his date he was staring at the girl across the room.

She was laughing with Nancy about something, a sparkling, fizzing drink in her hand and gold glitter dusting her shoulders, in some pretty little new years dress that was making his head hurt and the pulse in his hands almost too painful to ignore.

This girl was his friend. She was someone he called after his bad dates, because he needed to be reminded that he was good enough for someone, he needed to know that he was a good person, that it didn’t matter that he wasn’t king Steve anymore.

She was the person he drove around town with long past midnight when there was nothing else to do, whether they just listened to his car radio or talked about the futures they had planned out in their heads.

The one who visited him during his long shifts at family video just to make the time go faster, in turn making him spend hours in the local florists, leaning against the counter and trying to make her shifts go faster.

There was something about the holidays,about all their friends coming home and not having changed one bit, everyone's lives intertwining again made Steve sentimental in ways he hadn’t thought possible. It had him thinking about high school and that very important last year, when his it boy title had started to wear off and he had found his person in her.

New years eve had him dreaming about all the years that had passed that he could have kissed her, that he should have kissed her. All the moments gone just because he was too afraid to tell her how he really felt.

This time of year felt like torn stitches when you were in love and too scared to do anything about it. The season of comfort and joy only left him feeling more lovesick than his worst nightmares. If a repetitive dream about kissing and holding the purest girl alive could be called a nightmare.

Steve glanced away for one moment, only to check the time, and when he looked back she was stepping through the sliding glass door, leaving the party to go out into the garden. He knew she was coming back simply because he knew her coat was still hanging up in the hall, he had seen it when he first got there. She must’ve just wanted a moment away.

Outside, the Wheeler’s back garden was covered in a thick layer of snow, they still had their Christmas lights up and it glowed onto the sparkling white frost and made everything look warmer, even if it was freezing cold.

The snow was still falling as she took heel-covered steps further away from the house, the noise of her friends all talking over each other got softer and the smell of cigarettes and some kind of expensive red wine faded away.

She tilted her head back, it was dark enough out tonight that she could watch the snow falling. She could feel every tiny snowflake that kissed her face, and as they melted into her skin they cooled her down just a little.

It was becoming too hot inside, the fire was blazing and the heating was turned all the way up, which she guessed she understood with what wintry weather they were having but with all her friends inside, all those people, she just needed a break. A small moment to enjoy the snow and to feel the chill on her cheeks.

She heard the glass door open and then shut again behind her, when she looked back at the house, she found Steve. He had been surrounded by people when she arrived so she hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to him yet, and when she had looked over at him, he was with a girl anyway.

But now it was just her and Steve. Steve in a nice green sweater and just as nice new white shoes, he didn’t look overly festive but he still looked like he belonged inside celebrating with everyone else. Spending the last night surrounded by his friends, drinking and laughing, a pretty girl right by his side.

She should’ve expected him to bring someone, and in a way she had. He hadn’t said anything about it, hadn’t told anyone of any clear plans but yet she had this feeling that he wouldn’t come alone. That he would be sitting with a girl when she got there, offering her a halfhearted wave but not saying hello. She should’ve known.

And she shouldn’t have minded, she told herself she didn’t mind. That it had no effect on her whatsoever, only that it made her heart ache in that stupid way it did this time of year to see him with someone else. She prayed she wasn’t in the same room as him when midnight struck, she couldn’t take seeing him kiss someone who wasn’t her.

She doubted Steve would even think about kissing her. They weren’t seventeen anymore, they couldn’t just kiss and blame it on foolishness, even mistletoe kisses where on the cheek, long hugs after being apart were even quicker brushes against her skin than that.

Even if she ever asked, letting herself be more vulnerable then she ever thought possible, risking losing her dearest friend, and she would lose him because Steve would never kiss her.

With a tilt of his head, resembling only the sweetest of dogs, he said, “It’s freezing out here.” He shivered, hands tucked into his pockets, a cold blush biting at his nose. If he was cold, why had he come outside?

Her hands touched the frost as she sat up on the stone wall, it would’ve been easy to slip but Steve was there so she wasn’t too worried. “It’s nice.” He crunched up his nose, clearly disagreeing with her, but still sitting next to her on the frozen wall.

They could still see inside the party, right through the glass door and straight into the living room. Their friends looked flushed and a little tipsy, but they looked happy in that warm and cosy way. Like the scene at the end of the movie when the credits start rolling.

“It's cold.” He leaned in, lowing his voice just a little, like the weather would hear him and worsen if he complained too loudly. Whatever reason he got closer didn’t matter, not when she could count the freckles on his neck, except the ones that disappeared under the collar of his sweater.

It was rare that Steve felt the cold so it must’ve truly been but she didn’t mind, not when she had felt so flustered inside. The chill on the back of her neck was quite welcomed and the hardened snow on the underside of her thighs didn’t bother her one bit.

“You okay?” His voice was too soft, too comforting. She thanked God he had never raised his voice at her, never taken a tone with her because she was sure it would’ve broken her heart.

The problem was she almost hated how he talked to her now. How it made her feel so much and how it had blindly made her fall head over heel for him in the first place. It would’ve been so much more effortless to keep as a friend instead of him becoming a longlasting crush if he just didn’t sound like that, or more simply, if he didn’t care like that.

“It was just getting a bit too much.” Steve knew her better than anybody ever had or had ever tried to, he knew that things could get a bit too much for her sometimes. And there wasn’t one second that he wished he could make it easier for her, but he learnt to just be there, that was what mattered.

He wanted to put his arm around her, to take her hand, to fix the glitter that had fallen onto her cheek. One brush of his thumb and it would be gone. But he knew it was better that he didn’t, so he shifted away, not far but further then before.

Steve just knew that he was only going to make the night harder if he kept close to her, if he kept smelling her soft perfume mixed with champagne and god forbid if he had accidentally brushed her thigh with his hand, he wouldn’t have made it to morning without driving himself insane. He just shouldn’t have followed her in the first place.

“Maybe we could hide out here all night.” He laughed her off, but he would have stayed outside with her if that's what she wanted, it might’ve, no, it would’ve killed him but he would have ignored his racing mind and stinging hands and he would’ve done it.

“Steve.” It didn’t sound right anymore when someone else, someone who wasn’t the girl beside him, said his name. His date was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed because he already knew she was annoyed at him, he wasn’t king Steve anymore, so he was always a bit of a let down but he was also too busy paying attention to someone else to really care.

For a second, she he looked at the girl he really cared for, she almost looked hurt, the kind of hurt Steve had felt when he thought about her dating other guys. Those thoughts always came out late at night, or when the poor girl was just sitting there, smiling at a waiter, doing nothing wrong and yet he got jealous just imagining her with someone else.

She never dated anyone so it made it easier to keep those thoughts pushed back in his mind but that was the look. The mixture of sadness and wanting, the painful hint of jealousy and not understanding why not them and not me?

He squeezed her arm, just once. “Come grab me if it gets too much again.”

She quickly nodded, she didn’t think her heart would allow herself to speak, it had the most control in her body after all, so she let him go. She watched him walk back inside, his hand pressed to her back as he ushered her in.

She started to feel the cold with Steve gone. So not long after she forced herself to go back inside, her fingers crossed behind her back as she hoped and wished on any star that was out tonight that she wouldn’t have to watch him be all over her.

It wasn’t Steve’s fault that he loved so deeply, that he showed his feelings honestly and without fear, that he never hid his affections. He always just asked out girls like it was nothing, like he had always just known how to talk to them, how to make them want him. And when he took them out he always held the door, he rushed to open it before they could, he brought them flowers and called them when he said he would, he was a gentleman.

While it was something she loved about him, something she adored and found heartbreakingly sweet, it didn’t mean that she wanted to be witness to it. She didn’t want to see it, to see him be so romantic with every girl in town but her.

But just an hour later he was alone. She had spent every conversion trying not to think about his hand on her arm and failing herself in every way possible, she even caught herself tracing where he had touched her more times then she could care to admit. And now here he was.

Part of her hoped he would leave, but that would also mean he would be leaving with someone else and the whole debate she was having in her mind was giving her a headache. However, he was still very much here.

She felt the stinging pain in her lungs disappear because she didn’t have to see him with a pretty girl draped over his lap, something she had been fearing all night, but guilt took over her thoughts the second she saw the look on his face.

He was sitting on the last few steps of the staircase, his lips in a pout with his eyes as puppy-like as they would ever get and no one was paying any notice to him at all. Right now he looked more like a kicked dog then an actual dog would.

She hesitated whether to leave him alone or not, he could’ve just wanted one moment alone and she didn’t want to ruin that for him. She looked around for the girl he had brought with him but she was missing and her coat was no longer hanging up by the door. Oh.

She couldn’t understand how anyone could leave Steve, how someone could just not get along with him, not instantly adore him. She could remember how everyone looked at him before she knew him, before she really knew him, everyone adored him back then, but she guessed that had faded with time.

She knew she would never understand why that girl left, or why he went on so many dates but never had a girlfriend. She would never know why people sometimes whispered about him when he was right in front of them, she just knew she didn’t like any of it.

She couldn’t imagine not wanting Steve Harrington to call you his, the thought alone sent the blood rushing to her head and suddenly the room felt hotter than before. She wanted to blame it on how overcrowded it was, sometimes she herself even forgot how many people in town all knew each other and how awful it was to be stuck in a room with most of them. But that wasn’t the problem, the problem was her vivid imagination hearing Steve say you’re mine over and over.

Her coat was in her hands, she was having a sudden need for some fresh air to clear her mind, but then she heard Steve’s voice asking, “Are you leaving?”

She hadn't even seen him follow her out to the hall, she thought he would stay on the stairs all night, pining for his date and looking heartachingly pretty, even when he was sad. Him standing there like that was not helping with the sudden heat that was burning her face, if anything he was making it worse.

Steve didn’t even hear her soft little, “Oh-”. The start of whatever she was saying slipped right past him the second he saw her coat in her hands. Her deep red coat that felt soft and warm and smelled like cherry sweets there were stuffed in the pocket, which there usually were.

He selfishly didn’t want her to leave, he didn’t want to spend the rest of the night without her, he didn’t want to laugh and joke with his friends if he couldn’t look over and have an entire

silent conversation with her.

Steve loved his friends but he couldn’t talk to them with one look. He couldn’t make them glance at the floor as they tried to hide their smiles like she always did.

His date didn’t matter, it never did, he was just waiting for the days she brought someone else. Waiting for her to walk through the door, his girl, at someone else’s side, hands interlocked, and Steve’s jealousy higher than ever. He just always thought ahead but the girl he had brought was gone and the one he wanted was about to go too.

“It’s not midnight yet, you can't- at least let me walk you home or drive you it’s too dark and you-”

She softly laughed and that broke him out of whatever anxiousness that was making him trip over his words like a fool. She had that I know you look on her face, that soul shattering I knew you would say that look. It was nothing much to read into, but to him it meant something more than a simple prediction of his words.

Because she did know him, better than anyone and he just always seemed to forget how well. It slipped his mind from time to time that there was one person that saw right through him and still stayed. He should’ve poured water over her and frozen her to Mrs Wheeler's carpet.

“Steve, I was just going to go out for a minute to feel the cold, to get some fresh air. I wasn’t leaving, I haven't even said goodbye.” He nodded at her words, eyes following her lips as she spoke, making sure he really listened even though it was hard. Though he couldn’t help smiling, she was too sweet to him even when he said the wrong thing, she was too damn sweet to him no matter how stupid he was being.

He went outside with her, after listening to him ramble the least he could do was make sure she was alright. He only realised that he had forgotten his own coat the second he shut the door behind him, but he didn’t mind enough to go back inside.

Steve’s car was now coated in a soft white layer of sparkling snow, he could still see the dark red just under the frost but he was going to have to clean his windows off before he drove home that night, he just crossed it fingers that didn’t freeze over his windshield.

He was going to make some comment about how she had been right about the snowing through till new years. He hadn’t believed her at Christmas when she said she just felt like it wouldn’t be stopping because all the weather channels had said otherwise but of course she was right.

Steve should’ve known better because whenever she had a feeling about snow she was rarely wrong, when it came to anything concerning the leaves falling off the trees in the fall and the frost covered road, he should’ve never doubted her. She had a feeling about him after all, so he couldn’t have been such a lost cause just like the endless snow hadn’t been.

But before he could go on and on about how right she was and how wrong he had been, (she was the only one he would ever admit to being wrong around), she was brushing off the snow from the hood of his car and then she jumped up on it.

He felt eighteen again. Seeing her like that, her ankles crossed, legs just swinging above the ground, instead of old sneakers she was wearing these dainty gold heels that looked breakable.

She was just sitting on his car and it made him feel that feeling that everyone lost when they reached their twenties. That striking innocence that could make you believe that everything would work out.

Apart from how much more angelic she had gotten as she became an adult, something he hadn;t even thought possible, everything was the same. It gave him the same feeling, she gave him the same feeling and suddenly everything was sentimental again. A word he hadn’t stopped repeating since the start of December.

Steve followed her lead, dusting the snow off the hood of his car and sitting right beside her just like they used to. Unlike hers, his shoes touched the snowy ground, he was a little bit taller then her. Another thing that hadn’t seemed to change with time.

His hands felt frozen and he regretted not going back for his coat more than he had before he had touched all the snow, his gloves were in his left pocket, back inside the house. He wouldn’t leave now though, not even if his hands turned blue.

He looked over at her, however she was too caught up in looking through the fogged up windows into the party still going on inside to pay him any mind. She looked ice shatteringly kissable tonight, there was simply something in the air.

Maybe it was whatever shade of lipgloss she was wearing, or was it just champagne soaked lipstick, maybe it was all the mistletoe hung in every doorway, maybe it was the dress, her necklace hanging where it did but whatever it was he just couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her.

In the past he could always force himself to focus on something, anything, else. To wait until he wasn’t with her to let his mind wander, to run to his bedroom and hit himself in the face with his pillow until his head hurt too much to think. He had done that so many times that it didn’t even feel embarrassing anymore.

But tonight was an accumulation of one too many new year's and Christmas’ gone, nights where she wasn’t date, where she wasn’t the one he picked up with flowers and opened the car door for, nights where he had to watch her from across the room, knowing he wasn’t hers and she wasn’t his.

“Are you going to kiss someone at midnight?” He didn’t know where the question had come from, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted her to answer honestly, the truth from her lips might’ve killed him right there and then but it was too late. He had already asked it of her.

“No.” She didn’t even look at him, she didn’t even think, she just knew she wouldn’t. There was no one else she would ever want to kiss besides the boy next to her.

She thought about it more, letting the silence of the falling snow give her some time to think over his words. Steve had never asked her about kissing, about anything like that so it wasn;t something she ever expected him to want to know. She had always thought it was just something he didn’t place with her, that her lack of romantic moments outside of the books she read and the films she watched was enough for her to never cross her mind in that way.

“Not even me?”

She felt the winter chill catch right at the back of her throat, it stung like she had cut herself on something, the mixture of cold air in her lungs and the warmth spreading over her skin felt overwhelming. He must’ve known she would have kissed him in a second, he can’t have overseen her teenage crush, he had to have known, she knew everyone else did.

The look on his face told her he wasn’t kidding around, she knew when Steve was pushing things and making light but this look wasn’t that. His eyes were too warm, too soft and too easy to fall into. There was no smirk or grin playing on his lips, no raised brows or even just a slight tilt to his head. He was asking, not even me?

What did that even mean? His words alone made him sound like a last resort, like an unwanted choice that someone might just give into for the sake of it but Steve wasn’t that. He was the one you picked, the first choice, it wasn’t not even him, it was always him.

She would’ve hated him for talking about himself like this. But hate was not an emotion she could feel towards him, no matter how hard she tried. No matter how many people said he was undeserving of second chances, that he was cruel and just some jerk. His reputation would never change her mind about him.

“Don’t say things like that Stevie.” She held her arms around herself, it felt safer this way. To feel her own hands holding her, protecting her from the cold and the conversation they were having. Maybe she should’ve left, like he had thought she was going to.

“No I wasn’t-” He stopped talking, not from lack of trying but from pure shock.

She didn’t believe that he would want to kiss her, she didn’t get that he would’ve sat out here all night just to kiss her cheek or her hand, anything. She always saw Steve but right now she wasn’t seeing herself. And with that, she had missed how completely in love with her he was.

Her arms weren’t just wrapped around herself because she was co;d, he knew it wasn’t just because of that because he knew her. Because her coat was draped over her shoulders and she had said it was too hot inside anyway so she couldn’t have felt the cold that badly. It was because of him, because he had brought up something that they were both too afraid to talk about.

There wasn’t long left until midnight struck, his glance at the watch on his wrist and the fireworks already going off down the street proved that. Last year they had gone to the Byers and had fireworks in the back garden and Steve had stood the whole time with his hands over her ears, she didn’t like them and he was the only one who remembered that.

He was watching her, all because he knew if he looked at her long rough she would be forced to look at him instead of the very pretty snow covered ground. He heard her soft sigh and it strangely settled his racing heart.

“What?” She sounded like her tongue was coated in fairy dust, light and golden, to everyone, it was just a what, nothing more but Steve heard it as a hymn or something akin to that.

The sound of counting made her flinch. The excitement building up inside brought her out of whatever moment she and Steve were caught up in. Why now? Why torture her with questions of kisses now? Why not just let her go on like she had been? Couldn’t he let her go into the next year not completely in love with him.

“Just let me kiss you.” His hand was cold against her face, his fingers hooking under her jaw like they were meant to be there all along. He was keeping her in place, holding her still for just one second.

She felt tiny sparks against every inch of skin he touched. His thumb was brushed against the height of her cheek and somehow that felt more inanimate then any kind of touch she could daydream about.

He seemed frozen in waiting, his eyes willing her to just let him steal one kiss. He was waiting for her, he had been waiting for her, but time wasn’t and in a sudden rush of blood accompanied by the sound of fireworks, she kissed him first.

It took less then a second for Steve to kiss her back with everything he had, to take control and let their very first kiss be his for the taking. Seconds for him to be ruined for anyone else, to sink into the kiss and tell his mind off over and over for not considering just how fucking soft her lips would be on his.

Steve pulled back, reluctantly letting her go, knowing that he was never going to wait that long to kiss her ever again but still scared he was going to lose her just because he stopped kissing her. Then again she had kissed him first.

She could still feel the mark of his lips on hers and she couldn’t dream that the feeling would ever fade away. He kept his hand on her face, not ready to completely let her go and tilted his head back just a little, to watch the snow falling in the small distance between the two of them.

“You kissed me.” He smiled and it made her heart thump, repeatedly in a pattern of her favourite song and entirely too fast. Because Steve Harrington had just kissed her back, and now he was watching the snow with puppy dog eyes and the softest of smiles on his lips.

“You kissed me. You kissed me. You kissed me.” He spoke these words over and over, sometimes in a whisper, sometimes on something close to a shout. It was like he wasn’t sure if he had imagined it and he was convincing himself that it was real.

She had to kiss him again just to shut him up and just to convince herself that it was in fact happening to them, finally.

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agirlsguidetolove · 4 months

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earth 42 miles reaction to reader hanging up the phone on his face mid argument?

— facetime

pairing: e-42!miles (aged up) x fem!reader

contains: arguing, minimal cursing, slightly toxic behavior lol

summary: you love miles, but his overbearing nature is beginning to irritate you. the two of you get into an argument over it on facetime, and you snap at him and hang up the phone. wc: 1,537

a/n: ik the pic might not make sense regarding who hung up on who, but i like it so we finna pretend it does lol. miles/reader are only aged up for plot

“look mami, you not hearin’ me. i’m not tryna control you, i’m just saying maybe it would be best if-“

“that is literally you trying to control me.”

you cut miles off from another one of his mini tangents as you stared at him through the facetime call on your screen, so far beyond the point of caring to hear the same thing he’d told you a million times.

you loved your boyfriend with everything in you. honestly, you did. but in the last few months he’d grown to be so much more controlling than he was in the beginning, a result of his ridiculous need to protect you and it’s got your head spinning on your shoulders. you couldn’t do anything without him looming over you, and you’re fed up. it was suffocating, and you needed him to know that you could handle yourself.

you heard his voice come in again from your phone’s speakers.

“aight fine, if that’s what you wanna think, then that’s cool. but i don’t want you going out that late, chiquita, simple. ain’t no discussion.”

“alright, bro.” you sighed, and he tutted at you.

“i’m not your ‘bro’. don’t do that.”

while you knew your boyfriend only wanted the best for you, you didn’t really understand the extent to all these rules he’d given you. like no going to the corner store at night, having to keep your location on at all times, or having to send a picture of yourself when you’d gotten back into the house— so he could really make sure it was actually you texting him from your phone.

since then, you’d deemed it safe to assume that he most likely had immense trust issues, and that was why he acted so strangely, because any other reason for this kind of behavior seemed ludicrous to you.

miles had yet to tell you he was the prowler, that certain people had bounties on his head, which included anyone who may be involved with him, anyone he holds close to him. he saw everything that went on in this city— when night had fallen and the streets became far too dangerous of a place for a defenseless girl like you to be out in them. you had no idea the kind of people he dealt with, the things he’d seen, the things he had to do. he just didn’t want you to get hurt, but he wasn’t the best at expressing the sincerity of his words, and they often came out too rough, too harsh. it was the best he could do, he was trying to communicate effectively, he really was. but time and time again you’d failed to try and understand his pleas past the words spoken to you; to actually listen to them, and comprehend them, and not just listen to respond.

so, being you, you retorted like the stubborn girl you always were. the stubborn girl he’d fallen so helplessly in love with and was only trying to protect with his entire being.

you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him in disbelief. “look, you can’t tell me what to do, miles. i can do what i want.”

he didn’t hear anything that came from your mouth, because the expression on your face had completely distracted him from the conversation at hand.

“hol’ on, did you just roll your eyes at me?” his brow raised, daring you to answer that question with anything but a ‘no’.

what you responded with wasn’t necessarily a ‘yes’ per sé, but it definitely wasn’t any better.

“oh, so you wanna control my face now, too? dictating what i do with my life or the shit i say isn’t enough for you?” you challenged.

his head dipped back as he laughed, a deep, provoked laugh— though the both of you knew nothing was funny, and that this was always how he reacted before he actually got angry. laughing it off was a means for him to screw his head back on right, as if a warning to you to not push him too far, because anybody who spoke to him with this kind of gall just had to be joking.

he exhaled heavily, a hand scrubbing down his face.

“can’t lie, you talkin’ mad crazy right now, ma. i think you need to cool it with that.” he warned, corners of his lips turned into a forewarning leer. “ima let that lil’ shit you just said slide, cause i love you, and ion wanna hurt your feelings, but we done talking about this.” he decided, leaning forward to prop his phone back up on his desk before scooping his playstation controller back up into his hands.

“and watch your mouth.”

chin retreating towards your chest, you were taken aback at how quickly he decided for the both of you that the conversation was over, as if you had to agree with him, as if things were decided simply because he’d said so. and somehow, you found it in all your unbridled nerve to make things worse.

“yeah, you’re right. we are.”

thumb pressing to the red X, you hung up the phone, leaving miles to gape at the black of his screen with shock etched into his features. he waited for you to call back and tell him it was an accident, and sat there for a minute, leg bouncing to maintain what little patience he’d managed to cling onto during this entire ordeal. he swallowed his pride and called you back, only for the screen to read ‘facetime unavailable’ after just two rings. you declined it. squaring his jaw, he calmly nodded to himself, phone snatched up, jacket thrown on and controller tossed onto his bed— game forgotten about.

“bet.”

____

you were fuming after you’d hung up the phone, steam probably would’ve been puffing from your ears if something like that were possible outside of the cartoons. there was a tiny part—no, a huge part of you that knew you shouldn’t have hung up on him like that; that regretted it. a part that knew miles’ was genuinely trying his best to speak to you calmly in the way he’d learned how, specifically for you, when calm was something he rarely ever felt. but you couldn’t help your anger either, and figured a break from the conversation, and a shower to calm you down would do the both of you some good.

you sauntered out your bathroom after about twenty minutes, a towel tightly wrapped round your damp torso and a heavy, depleted exhale departing from your lungs.

you felt relaxed. the heat of the water had washed away most, if not all of your anger towards the situation and you sighed to yourself, ready to come back to the discussion with a level head, and to apologize to your boyfriend for snapping at him and ending the call so abruptly. it was rude of you, and honestly you hadn’t thought it through until you had already—

“you know, ion usually fuck with cats like that, cause y’all kinda freak me out. but you cool.”

the inner dialogue of your thoughts were cut off by a familiar voice, muffled through the shut door of your bedroom.

“what the fuck—“ you hurriedly started towards the door, hand barely remaining on the doorknob for a second as you flung it open, to see none other than your boyfriend, miles, sat in your desk chair with your cat, bella, in his lap.

he was leaned back, his large green puffer jacket still on, legs spread in his grey sweats. he looked very comfortable for someone who had just broken into a home.

“how the hell did you get into my house, miles?”

you stared at him unbelievingly, quickly shutting the door behind you. he was in no rush to lift his head to address you directly as he scratched the underside of bella’s chin with his pointer finger.

“window. you should really lock that.”

“even if i had, you would’ve picked it.” you argued.

“true.”

his eyes eventually met yours, and they gave you a drawn out once over, gaze following the drops of water that rolled down your skin. there was a hint of a smirk on his lips, and he almost forgot what he came here for. almost.

you felt your face heat up, grip tightening over your bath towel as you shifted on your feet, suddenly feeling flustered from the boldness of his gaze. so he looked away.

“let’s hope that shower gave your mama some of her sense back, huh?” he dipped his head down to address your cat in a sweet voice, before gently lifting her off his lap and placing her back onto the floor, only for her to drag her head and body along his calf with a purr. traitor.

he leaned back once more, hands patiently clasped between his open legs and head cocked to the side, twin braids swishing behind him when he did so.

“so wassup? you wanna try that conversation again?” with a brow raised he studied your features, as if he were silently challenging you to talk that same shit you did over the phone to his face.

“do you know what boundaries are?”

“nah, not really.” he admitted.

you swallowed, gesturing towards the open room for a reason you didn’t know why.

“can i at least get dressed first?” you cringed at how your voice sounded when you spoke, but the way he was looking at you had your mind reeling and you could only focus on one thing at a time— the argument long forgotten. to be honest, you don’t even recall what you had a problem with.

he shrugged. “sure, if that’s what you’d like.” arms crossing over his chest he spun around in your swivel chair, now facing the same window he’d come in through. “lemme know when i can turn around.”

you sighed.

this boy was going to be the death of you.

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms!

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated 💗

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agirlsguidetolove · 4 months

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"you don't have to perform around me" sweetheart i have to perform in front of myself

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agirlsguidetolove · 4 months

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Teenage Dirtbag VI (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

“I… I don’t know, Sarah,” you sighed, gaze resting on your wall as you held your phone up to your ear.

“What is there to think about? Rafe and my dad left this morning and won’t be back until tomorrow night…”

“I know.”

“Okay, so what’s the problem?” you heard her huff over the phone. “Rafe won’t know. You’ll be back in your house and waiting for him like the perfect girlfriend before he even has time to pull into the driveway.”

She said it so sweetly that you almost laughed, but all you could do was worry. Ward and Rafe needed to go to Charleston—they’d be staying the night—and for the first time in a while, you’d be without Rafe for at least a day. When he told you, all you’d been able to focus on was 24 hours without having to walk on egg shells or having to overthink every word. It hadn’t even crossed your mind that this was an opportunity for…more.

Rafe had been extra irritable as of late so doing anything that could bring on his wrath was so far from your mind…but then Sarah called you the moment they left…and all of a sudden the idea of going to The Cut of all places was being presented to you. You sat up, sliding your legs underneath you as you wracked your brain. You cursed Sarah in this moment.

…because you did kind of want to go.

When it came to Outer Banks, the farthest you’d ever gone outside of Figure 8 was the beach which technically didn’t count. It was a middle ground of sorts. No man’s land, and because your parents hardly discussed what went on on the other side of the island, you’d never had much desire or curiosity about it. Things were different, now, though.

…and it wasn’t just because of Sarah.

Blue eyes came to mind…and they didn’t belong to Rafe. If someone had told you months ago that your thoughts would be consumed by one JJ Maybank and the effect he was starting to have on you, you’d suggest they needed to be in a padded room. A year ago, you could barely recall his name. Months ago, he was that guy from The Cut that your boyfriend hated with a passion. Now…

Now, he was the guy who sometimes sought you out for painkillers after his dad put his hands on him. He was the guy who liked to tease you and tell you how much of an asshole your boyfriend was. He was the guy who wasn’t afraid of Rafe…and he was the only one outside of your family that had access to your parents’ pool house.

So far you didn’t think you’d seen him using it, and you supposed he didn’t have to take you up on the offer, but you did feel better knowing he had access to a place where he could safely sleep for a few days if need be. As much trouble as it could possibly bring, you definitely didn’t regret what you did. JJ was in trouble, and while he was in trouble like you were in trouble, it wasn’t exactly the same.

He didn’t have security and resources like you did. You’d never seen his house, but the way Sarah talked, you felt it safe to assume that he didn’t have a cozy space where he could just lock himself away to safely hide in. You both were in pretty crappy situations, but you felt you had a lot more to be grateful for than him, and the more you thought about it, the more you wanted to see him just to make sure he was okay.

So, your next words didn’t surprise you.

“I can’t take my car,” you told Sarah, thinking about the AirTag.

You heard Sarah’s hitch of breath, and you knew that she was both surprised and excited by your response.

“You’ve seen John B.’s van. He could fit like ten people in there if he really wanted to,” she laughed. “I’ll ride my bike to your house and then he’ll pick us both up from there.”

You were a little in disbelief that you agreed to this, and you were still in disbelief ten minutes later as you looked in the mirror adjusting your skirt. You felt overdressed, but the most casual thing you owned was an oversized t-shirt that actually belonged to Rafe, and you didn’t feel comfortable walking out of the house in that. You’d changed three times in the span of seven minutes, and you would wonder why you felt so flustered and nervous if you didn’t already know deep down.

When your mother let Sarah into the house, standing in front of the mirror was exactly where the blonde found you once you gave her the okay to come into your room.

“It’s really not that big of a deal. They’re my friends, not Congress,” she said to you as she sat on your bed.

“…but what if they don’t like me?”

Sarah playfully rolled her eyes before standing. You watched her walk around your room, taking in the odd detail here and there.

“They’ll like you just fine. They’re not nearly as judgmental as the usual crowd you hang out with,” she murmured, pointedly eyeing a picture of Rafe on your nightstand. “Kie and JJ are really the only ones you need to worry about. Kie just has a natural distrust of anyone who hangs around Rafe and Topper and Kelce, to be honest.”

You pressed your lips together, unable to find it in yourself to blame her for that.

“…and JJ just has a natural distrust of Kooks, period, but…” she looked at you. “Considering you apologized to him for what Rade did, I’m pretty sure he won’t be nearly as hard on you. Plus, you gave him drugs. I’m willing to bet he probably even kind of loves you, now.”

She laughed to herself, and you had to remind yourself that she didn’t know about all of the little run-ins you and JJ had since then. You decided to trust her advice, fingering your skirt just as she looked at her phone. You’d only just been able to relax when she told you John B. was outside, and telling yourself that you were really going through with this, you followed her downstairs.

You gave your mom a kiss on the cheek on the way out, only telling her you’d be with Sarah for a few hours. While your parents were a far cry from Rose or Topper’s parents, you didn’t know how she’d feel about you going to hang out on the other side of the island, and you felt like it was the worst time to find out. When you made it outside, your heart had only just settled some…and then the door to the van opened.

…and your heart dropped.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing JJ along for the ride.”

“He wanted to see where Y/N lived,” the brunette shrugged.

You barely paid attention to Sarah and John B.’s small back and forth, still thrown by the sight of the blond. You thought you would’ve had more time to prepare yourself to be in close proximity with him for hours on end. You weren’t ready for it to start so soon, and you swallowed as Sarah climbed into the passenger seat, signaling that you were the last one holding everyone up.

While Sarah and her boyfriend discussed something or another, JJ held his hand out to you.

Your lips parted at the sight, and your heart skipped a beat in your chest…but not because of JJ. He was certainly staring at you with that intensity you weren’t used to from anyone but Rafe, but unfortunately…it was Rafe that you were thinking about. Your boyfriend wasn’t even on the island, and all you could think about was what would happen if he saw you take JJ’s hand, right now. It had you frowning and then frowning some more when you thought about what he would do if he found out you went to The Cut.

For a moment, you wondered what the hell you were thinking, and you had a feeling that it was written all over your face too. You were suddenly paralyzed by fear and doubt, and you opened your mouth, a thousand apologies on your mind for wasting their time. It was just on the tip of your tongue, and you were even about to take a step back…when JJ’s hand circled around your wrist.

Your wide eyes met his, and with a subtle shake of his head, he halfway leaned out of the van to take your other hand too. In a daze, you allowed him to pull you inside, carefully stepping up when he told you to watch your feet. His hand was still on yours when he closed the door, and you sat beside him just as John B. pulled out of the driveway.

You couldn’t tell if that had all happened so fast or if Sarah and John B. were just that caught up in their conversation.

You blinked, looking around the inside of the van and taking in every sticker and imperfection and every homemade effort to make the van comfortable. You looked at each of your sides with a frown, and you heard JJ snort from beside you. When you looked up, you weren’t surprised to find his gaze resting on you.

“There aren’t any seatbelts…so if things get rough, I guess you’ll just have to hold onto me,” he told you with a small grin.

Sarah heard that.

“Don’t be disgusting, JJ. She’s dating Rafe, and you know he’d run you down in a heartbeat for talking to her like that,” she threw over her shoulder.

“It’s fine, Sarah. I know he’s just joking,” you nervously chuckled, hating the mention of Rafe.

“Yeah, Sarah, it’s fine,” JJ seconded, and you chose not to focus on how he didn’t confirm that he was joking.

You gave him a look when he shot you another grin, and you tried not to focus on how awkward you felt. You couldn’t quite place how you felt about JJ, and that’s what made this whole thing even more nerve-wracking. Sarah’s friends were Sarah’s friends…but JJ didn’t exactly easily fit into that simple categorization anymore. He wasn’t your friend…he couldn’t be your friend…and yet weirdly enough, he kind of felt like it.

“So, Rafe won’t be back until tomorrow night, huh.”

You glanced at him, and accepting that you simply couldn’t ignore him like you usually liked to do, you sighed. You were in his best friend’s van on the way to his side of the island. Avoiding conversation with him under these circumstances would really make you seem like another stuck up Kook…and you liked to think that you weren’t.

“Yeah,” you told him. “He and Ward are in Charleston, and it just makes sense to stay the night.”

JJ seemed to be thinking that over, a slight frown on his face.

“So…what…? You were just going to wait around at home until he gets back?”

You didn’t like JJ’s tone, and you rolled your eyes.

“I do have a life, you know.”

JJ fixed you with a look as if urging you to go on.

“I have…online classes and things to do around the house…”

You trailed off when JJ snorted, and it didn’t sound humorous.

“Jesus,” he breathed. “What’s the point in going through the fuss of dating when you’re already his perfect little housewife?”

You felt yourself bristle at the blonde’s words, and by the slow smirk on his lips, you knew that he could tell how they affected you.

“I’m just saying. The way you act with him, you’d think that you’d have a ring on your finger and a baby on the way.”

You bit your tongue at that, unsure of how to even respond because he wasn’t completely wrong. All this talk about Rafe only made that uneasiness return, and you swallowed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” you murmured.

You felt JJ’s eyes on you as your gaze found your lap. Sarah and John B. were still talking up front, and after some time, you heard JJ sigh. When he touched your hand, you reluctantly looked at him, and he at least had the sense to look apologetic.

“Hey,” he quietly said, voice lowered and gentle. “I’m just teasing.”

You tilted your head at him, privy to just what he thought of Rafe, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Mostly,” he slowly said. “I do think Rafe’s a controlling asshole, but…it’s not my place.”

He held your gaze, and you eventually nodded at him, letting him know you appreciated the unspoken apology. You turned to stare ahead, trying to ignore JJ’s close proximity and the way it made you all too aware of every feeling in your body.

You were reluctant to take a drink, knowing exactly how Sarah would react, and she didn’t disappoint.

“That’s…disgusting,” she spat, looking like she was moments away from being sick.

“Well, what am I supposed to do Sarah? Lie?”

The rest of her friends found the situation funny while the blonde was far from amused. A game of Never Have I Ever turned from something lighthearted and silly to something a little more…personal. With a few drinks already in you, it hadn’t occurred to you to just lie when Cleo said the words ‘never have I ever done anal’. Now, Sarah was looking at you like you’d just told her Ward liked to be handcuffed to the bed and slapped.

“I feel like that really shouldn’t surprise you, Sarah,” Kie commented.

“No, it doesn’t surprise me, I guess, but it’s not something I enjoy having confirmed,” she sighed. “Okay, considering Y/N is literally dating my brother, how about we forbid any more sex related topics.”

She was only met with more chuckles.

“I’m serious. For my sanity…”

“How about game over? I feel like going for a swim, anyway.”

JJ’s voice and tone startled you, and you only realized why when you looked at him. His expression was unreadable, but it was only then did you remember that when your gaze passed over him a moment ago, like Sarah, he too hadn’t been laughing. In fact, he’d been pretty quiet, and the sudden reminder of his presence caught you off guard.

“Yeah, I do want another beer,” John B. agreed, pushing himself to his feet.

Sarah and Kie followed him while Pope moved closer to Cleo, the dark-skinned boy saying something to her that made her snort.

“You know I have to ask, right?” he suddenly said to you, and you laughed to yourself, having a feeling where this was going. “What do you possibly see in Rafe?”

You could tell that Pope wasn’t trying to be an ass about it or nosy—he was merely genuinely curious. And thrown. Cleo shook her head at her boyfriend, bumping his shoulder with hers.

“The heart wants what it wants…”

Your attention was pulled away from them by the sight of JJ hurriedly getting to his feet. You eyed him, still thrown by his change in attitude, but you forced yourself to look away when he reached behind his head to pull his shirt off. You reluctantly gave Pope your focus again when he spoke.

“I mean, everybody knows that you and Rafe are together. You guys are probably going to get married, and sure it’s one thing to hear about Rafe’s girlfriend and see her in passing, but now I actually have you before me and I can ask you for myself… What do you see in that guy?”

Cleo laughed, and you forced yourself to join her. You shook your head, knowing that you could never tell Pope the truth in a million years.

“Cleo’s right,” you relented with a shrug. “The heart wants what it wants.”

Your answer was followed by a splash, and you glanced over, noting that you couldn’t really make out JJ in the dark. Pope’s soft noise of disapproval reached your ears, and you felt your face fall a little as you stared out into the water. Glancing at the couple before you—and seeing that they were wrapped up in a conversation—you stood and slowly made your way to where JJ was.

On the dock, you could make him out much better, and you eyed him as he slowly waded through the water.

“Isn’t it a little cool to be in the water?” you wondered after a few moments of neither of you saying a thing.

JJ chuckled, and in the dark, his teeth looked predatory.

“Only one way to find out for yourself.”

“Ha ha.”

He moved closer, and you watched him place his hands on the wood of the dock…just in front of your feet.

“Do I seem like I’m joking?” he wondered.

You rolled your eyes.

“For one thing, it’s a little too cold for me,” you told him. “…and also I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“Like a bra and underwear are really that different,” he commented.

“They are to me,” you argued.

The blond didn’t reply right away, and eventually a humorless chuckle reached your ears.

“I bet they are,” he dryly said. “Let me guess… One, Rafe wouldn’t mind you wearing out in public and the other he’d literally lose his shit over.”

You pressed your lips together.

“Am I right?” he wondered, reaching over to touch your leg.

You jumped at the cold wet feel, and JJ laughed to himself.

“It’s too cold for you to be in there. You should get out,” you advised.

“You sound worried…”

You were, and you pressed your lips together, wondering why that seemed so crazy to him.

“Besides, I don’t exactly enjoy hearing about your sex life with Rafe Cameron,” JJ drawled. “So, if that’s what I have to look forward to if I get out…I’m good.”

You blinked at that, and something in his tone told you he wasn’t opposed to it for the same reasons Sarah was.

“It was just a game, JJ…and he’s my boyfriend,” you whispered.

It was then that the blond finally decided to listen to you, pulling himself up onto the dock. His hair was weighed down with water, droplets dripping over his face and body as his gaze met yours. You didn’t understand how he wasn’t shaking—you’d long regretted putting on a skirt—and you straightened once it registered how close he was.

It took a lot of effort to keep your eyes on his face, and his own gaze briefly lowered when you crossed your arms over your chest. You could briefly hear his friends talking around what sounded like a small fire, now, but your attention was solely on JJ. His eyes flitted over your face, and you hated the way they lingered on your lips—mostly how it made you feel.

“Yeah, and we both know how I feel about that little fact.”

His words were quiet, just loud enough for you to hear, and you shuddered when his arm grazed yours as he brushed by you. You blinked a few times, forcing yourself to take a deep breath before turning and reluctantly following him. As you rejoined the others, you couldn’t stop glancing at JJ as he made his way inside, and knowing that you had no real reason to, you had a pressing desire to join him instead.

“I called you last night.”

You blinked, staring out into the yard at Sarah and her friends.

“I know. That’s why I called you back. I knocked out pretty early yesterday,” you told Rafe.

It was a lie.

John B. didn’t bring you and Sarah back to Figure 8 until after midnight. You’d made the decision to leave your phone at home. The only other option was to simply stop sharing your location with your boyfriend, and if you did that…he’d know something was up. It was better for him to think you were at home and just away from your phone in some way.

It was risky…so risky…but it was the most fun you’d had in almost two years.

Sarah’s friends were nice—mostly. Kiara was really the only one who hadn’t warmed up to you much, and considering Sarah’s explanation for why that may be, you didn’t fault her for it. She had every right to be wary of you, and truthfully, in her shoes, you might’ve done the same. Aside from that, you felt welcome…included…and most of all like your own person.

It felt good to be around people where you didn’t have to tip toe around anyone and be overly cautious of what you said or did. For the first time in so long, you could just be, and the thought had you blinking back tears. You didn’t know when you’d get to feel that again, and the train of thought almost had you missing Rafe’s response.

“You get too wrapped up in homework. Always falling asleep on your computer,” he chuckled, and you forced one in response. “I see you’re at my house.”

You pulled your eyes away from the window…only to be startled by the sight of JJ leaning against the wall.

“Yeah,” you told him after gathering your thoughts. “You know I just relax better in your bed, sometimes.”

Rafe hummed, and you eyed JJ again, frowning at the blond. He didn’t react, merely raking his eyes over you.

“We’re going to be leaving in a few hours. Is that where you’ll be waiting for me when I get back?” his tone of voice wasn’t subtle, and you felt your face fall. “I missed you last night.”

You took a deep breath.

“Of course,” you evenly told him. “I missed you too.”

Your phone call with Rafe only lasted a few more minutes, and when you finally hung up, JJ was still hanging around.

“You’re a lot quieter than you look, you know that?”

You moved past him, making your way towards the back door. You didn’t exactly expect JJ to follow you—fully expecting him to go out the front and rejoin his friends—but for some reason you weren’t all that surprised by it either.

“Why are you with him?”

That was the question that met your ears the moment you stepped outside. Scrunching your nose, you turned to face JJ, giving him a questioning look.

“Haven’t we been down this road before?”

“Yeah, but that was before…”

There was nothing humorous about JJ’s tone, and your own smile fell once you took in the evenness of his expression. There was a slight frown between his brows as he stared at you, and you felt a frown of your own taking over as confusion filled you. JJ was entirely serious—a first—as he gazed at you, and something on your chest sank.

“I don’t…”

“That was before when I thought…” he trailed off, throwing his arms up. “When I thought you were just another spoiled Kook princess.”

You briefly glanced away, shifting on your feet.

“I mean, sure. You come from a nice family, and you’re polite, but you’re dating Rafe, so I thought…how nice can she really be?”

You didn’t know how to feel about that, and JJ kept going before you had time to linger on it.

“You see those girls who’s dating some asshole that doesn’t deserve her, and sure, he doesn’t, but then you realize they’re more alike than you thought, and she actually isn’t too much better than him, and you know what, maybe they’re more suited than you assumed,” he scoffed. “Maybe her willingness to overlook what he’s like isn’t because she wants to see the good in him but because she can actually relate in some ways.”

Your face hadn’t evened out once since he started talking, and you eyed JJ when he stepped closer. There was a look in his blue gaze that you couldn’t place, and when he studied your face, you felt very…exposed.

“That was when I thought you were that girl…”

You swallowed.

“…but you’re nice,” JJ whispered, and for some reason, you really hated the way he was looking at you. “Actually nice.”

Your lips parted, and you fought to find something to say.

“Sarah’s always said it, you know, but…”

JJ’s words died in the air as he glanced away, and you watched his face harden, jaw ticking as he seemed to be deep in thought.

“All I could think last night was…” his eyes met yours again. “Why is a girl like that with Rafe Cameron?”

You took a deep breath, it was shaky, and you reached up to rub your forehead.

“JJ-.”

“What do you see in him?” he wondered, closer now. “Why are you with him?”

You shook your head, fighting to come up with the words.

“You…you don’t know him like I do,” was your response.

It wasn’t a lie.

“I don’t know him like you do?” JJ incredulously wondered, his face so close to yours. “My face and his fist are actually best friends, if you didn’t know.”

“I love him.”

You stared into JJ’s eyes as you said this, and the longer he stared into yours, the deeper his frown became. JJ blinked at you, once then twice, and you watched him rear back slightly. A few blond strands hung into his face as he eyed you…from head to toe and back, and he scoffed.

“You’re lying,” he whispered.

He continued just as you opened your mouth.

“You’re a good liar,” he said, just…watching you. “…but you’re not the best. You’re lying.”

Wanting this conversation to end, you looked away.

“Believe what you want, but why I’m with Rafe doesn’t concern you. It’s literally not your business.”

When you tried to go back inside, JJ blocked your path, and you looked at him like he’d lost his mind. It didn’t have the desired effect though, JJ staring you down with one raised eyebrow.

“Maybe I want to make it my business,” he bit out.

“Why? Because I was kind to you? Because I offered you a place-?”

“…because your boyfriend’s a dick.”

You stumbled back when he moved closer, the blond invading your personal space.

“…and I don’t think you want to be with him,” he murmured.

JJ’s boldness threw you off, and you frantically blinked, shaking your head at him.

“You don’t know what I want,” you whispered.

You only just realized how close JJ was, his nose brushing yours when he only leaned in a tad more. The realization had your breath hitching, and as JJ’s chest grazed yours, you felt like there was a roaring sound in your ears. For a moment, you forgot all about Rafe—your boyfriend—and all you could focus on was the relaxing scent of JJ and his nose touching yours and his chest being so close to yours.

Your heart was going crazy in your chest, and it took you too long to realize that you were…anxious…and yearning…for a kiss you thought was about to happen. That was because you wanted the kiss to happen, and that realization had you taking a step back, eyes wide and disbelieving. Your fingers were shaking as you stared at JJ, but the blond didn’t look nearly as distressed as you felt. In fact, there was a glint in his eye that was so familiar to you.

The problem, however, was that it was only familiar with Rafe.

…but JJ was not Rafe.

…and while the look was the same, the way you were feeling was not.

In a panic, you rushed by JJ, determined to go back inside and far away from him. However, your hand was on the door when JJ spoke again, his words making your hair stand on end.

“I think I can guess…”

You felt your stomach turn, and swallowing down food that threatened to come up, you hurried inside, slamming the door behind you.

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