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(they all say that) it gets better | luke castellan

bleedin' me dry for context (this is that reader's origin story!!)

summary: a look into your unclaimed year.

a/n: does it still count as fluff if you already know it doesn’t end well? idk but i’m having fun writing for this pair so it’s okay. i hope you guys are enjoying reading them!! this ended up becoming a hell of a lot longer than i thought it would be but these kind of one shots are my faves to write lol

title from teenage dream by olivia rodrigo bc apparently guts teenage angst works very well for a demigod who feels like they're worthless and unwanted for a good period of time!! shoutout to the gods

wc: 11.4k JESUS

warning(s): fem!child of demeter reader. typical anger at the gods, but luke is actually pretty sweet! crazy. mostly hurt/comfort, reader is going through it at the beginning (mentions of injuries and almost dying), honestly she's going through it the whole time but luke is very nice to her lol. barely proofread bc proofing 34 pages is a nightmare !!

It was your first day as a demigod and you were already off to a bad start.

You didn’t remember much, obviously. There was a lot of stumbling, barely held up by your satyr as you crossed the border, and then full on collapsing. Somehow you managed to stay conscious all the way to the infirmary, enough to hear shocked murmurs from the people-like blobs around you and terrified, whispered affirmations from your satyr as he ran along with whoever was carrying you.

You didn’t remember much. But you do remember thinking what a shameful existence it would be to die at fourteen.

And now you were sitting in an uncomfortable cot, staring at the wall and counting divots. The first half of your visit was only there in flashes as you drifted in and out of consciousness, but now, unfortunately, you were fully awake. You belatedly wondered how many other kids began their camp life with a stay at the infirmary.

The thought was dashed from your head as you jolted and cried out in sudden pain, and you shot daggers with your glare at the boy next to you.

“Sorry.” The boy fixing you up was about your age, and he almost seemed to glow from within. “You dislocated your shoulder—I was popping it back into place.”

“You could have warned me,” you seethed.

“I did,” he said, and when he placed his hands on your shoulder they actually did glow. “You just weren’t listening.”

“...Sorry,” you said after a moment. “I’m having a rough day.”

He shook his head with a slight smile. “It’s expected.”

“It’ll be okay,” your satyr said, and some of the tension left your shoulders as you looked over at Tate. He’d been by your side for the past two weeks of disasters, and you’d saved each other’s lives more times than you could count. You were just thankful he didn’t have to watch you die. “Jace is one of camp’s best healers. You’re in good hands.”

You nodded, not wanting to cause any more problems, so you bit your lip and bit your tongue and let him heal the rest of your injuries in silence. He was done soon enough, and you could feel both their eyes on you as you rifled through your backpack. Thankfully, Tate brought it in as you were dying. Your own blood stained the nylon.

“How do you feel?” Tate asked anxiously.

“Better,” you said, tearing your eyes away from it as you continued making sure all your belongings were still there. “A lot better. Not like there’s much competition.”

Tate chuckled, and Jace picked up a small bag from the bedside table and handed it to you—it looked like there were little pieces of fudge inside. “Here.”

“What’s this?” you asked as you took it.

“Ambrosia,” he said. “Wait a few hours before you have a piece, and only have a little if you feel a lot of pain. I already gave you nectar while you were out, and the last thing we need is you burning up.”

You looked at Tate with raised eyebrows and he smiled a bit. “Ambrosia and nectar are the food of the gods. It heals demigods in small portions, but take too much and you’ll get a fever. Worst case scenario, you’ll literally burn up from the inside.”

“Oh,” you said, and you stuffed the bag into your pack before zipping it up. “I’ll… I’ll wait.”

“Probably a good idea,” Jace said, and he looked over at your satyr as he stood up. “I’ve gotta get back to my sword-fighting lessons. Can you give her a tour?”

He shook his head. “I have to debrief with Chiron and Mr. D. There were some… rough things on the road.” Tate looked at you. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes— are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“It’s fine,” you said with a smile. “Do your thing. I’ll look around some, then we’ll find each other later.”

Tate nodded thankfully and went through an open door opposite your bed, and Jace gave you a tight smile as he started to put away all the medical supplies he used on you. You sighed, slung your bag over your shoulder, and walked out.

You shut the door behind you and blinked rapidly as you tried to adjust to the sunlight. Then, you heard someone sigh.

“Thank the gods you’re okay.”

You turned to see a boy standing up from the wall. Dark curls hung just above his eyes, a contrast to his tanned skin, slightly red from exertion. He was wearing the same bright orange shirt that your healer was—Camp Halfblood, it said in curved text. He was far too pretty for his own good.

“I’m the one who carried you in,” he said, and you realized you were frowning. “Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh,” you said. “That’s… that’s nice of you.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve gotten someone new,” he said. “Even longer since they’ve had such a dramatic entrance.”

You shrugged. You didn’t exactly know what to say to this boy. “Sorry.”

He paused for a moment, and then he nodded. “Not one for conversation. That’s fine.”

“I did almost just die,” you said wryly. “I’m fresh out of icebreakers at the moment.”

“Maybe I can help with that.” He held out his hand. “Luke Castellan. Head Counselor of the Hermes cabin, and apparent rescuer of damsels.”

You huffed a laugh as you stared at him. “I’m a damsel?”

“I’d say you were in as much distress as someone could be back there,” he said with a shrug. “I practically saved your life. I think that deserves a handshake.”

The slightest bit of tension dissolved from your shoulders and you shook his hand. His smile grew.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, dropping his hand. “You were pretty rough when I found you.”

“Better,” you said, though you grimaced a bit as you tested your shoulder, and you decided to switch your pack to your other side. “Whoever that guy in the infirmary is, he’s good.”

Luke nodded. “Son of Apollo—they’ve got healing abilities. Very useful when we’re all constantly getting injured.”

Your brows knit together. “So it really is all real.”

“You were nearly dead on our doorstep, and from those claw marks I’m guessing it wasn’t just a bad fall.” Luke offered a wry smile. “I’m sure you’ve known it’s all real for a while.”

“Of course,” you said. “It’s just weird to really know that it’s all real. To see all of you, really. Just knowing I’m not alone.”

He nodded. “That’s the best thing about it, knowing you’re not alone.” He looked around at your surroundings—various campers chatting as they walked with each other (some glancing at you as they went by), distant shouts and cheers, and a perfectly blue sky matching the perfectly blue house you just left.

“I’d say the worst thing about it is feeling like I still have no idea what’s going on,” you said. “Unless the gods exist just to be deadbeats. That’d be disappointing.”

Luke actually laughed at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and you found yourself smiling a bit. “I can tell we’re gonna get along.”

Your own smile returned—it was like his joy was infectious. “You think so?”

“I know so,” he nodded. “Just… try not to throw the gods’ names around like that. They don’t like to be talked about unless they’re being revered.”

You huffed. “Sounds like an interesting place.”

“Camp Halfblood,” he provided, and he gestured around you with his hand. “Keeping young heroes safe for over three millennia.”

“What,” you said wryly, “are you their PR guy?”

Luke laughed and shook his head. “It’s something Chiron likes to say.”

“You’re the second person to mention Chiron,” you said. “Who exactly is he?”

“You haven’t gotten a tour yet?”

You gave him a look. “Come on. You carried me in. You think I could have gotten a tour between then and now?”

“Fair,” he admitted, and he tilted his head. “I can give you one, if you’re so inclined.”

“I said I would wait for Tate,” you said. “He’s my satyr— I figure I owe it to him.”

“C’mon,” Luke said. “He’s meeting Chiron and Mr. D—that’ll take long enough on its own, and if we don’t get out of here soon enough, you’re gonna get dragged into a whole other conversation with them. At least this way, you can get a little bit of downtime before all the lore of this place is dropped on you.”

You bit your lip, and then you sighed and nodded. “Fine. But it can’t take too long.”

Luke smiled and held up three fingers. “Halfblood’s honor.”

You didn’t know where to start.

There were far more people than you expected, not nearly enough beds for all of them, and half were talking and a quarter were fighting and the others were just completely unfazed. All you could do when you walked in was stare.

“You get used to it,” Luke said, glancing over at you. “Everyone’s nice, I promise—just keep a hand on your pockets.”

You frowned. “Why?”

He gave you a crooked smile. “Hermes is the god of thieves. We learn by experience in this cabin.”

Your hands instinctively reached back to the pockets of your jeans, despite the fact that you hardly had anything to your name. “Why do they put the new, naive kids in here again?”

“God of travellers, too—all are welcome.” Luke saw your hand shoot to your pocket and laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone mess with you too much—for now, at least.”

“Oh, good,” you said lightly. “The hazing doesn’t start until later.”

Luke smiled as he continued to guide you through the cabin, nodding to and greeting campers with equal parts names and handshakes as he walked past them. You got just as many stares as Luke did hellos, and your skin crawled at the attention.

“Why are they all looking at me?” you whispered to him.

“Like I said, you’re the first new camper in a while.” Luke glanced at you. “News spreads fast, especially in this wreck of a place.”

“It’s not that bad,” you said , but your grip tightened on your backpack strap. “Just very busy.”

“That’s what happens when they shove everyone in here,” Luke said. “All are welcome means all are welcome—Hermes kids, unclaimed kids, and kids of minor gods.”

You frowned. “Minor gods don’t have cabins?”

“This place is as much for us as it is in honor of the gods,” he said. “Twelve cabins for twelve Olympians. They don’t see it as a problem, therefore we can’t see it as a problem.”

You decided to bite your tongue, but you couldn’t hide your sigh. “I guess I’m gonna be here for the time being.”

He looked you up and down, and all you could think was that you must look like an absolute disaster. “I’m guessing you fall into the unclaimed.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, a sad attempt at a smile. “Yeah, but I just got here—I bet my mom doesn’t even know it yet. Gods are busy.”

“They’re also omniscient,” Luke said wryly. “I’m sure she could have claimed you the second you crossed the border. Your parent could’ve given you a little divine intervention and kept you from nearly dying on the hill.”

“Well, I’m here for now,” you said with a bit too much force, and your nails dug into your palms. “So do you mind showing me around?”

Luke stared at you for a moment before he smiled. “‘Course not. I can also give you a quick tour of camp too, if you haven’t already gotten one.”

You shook your head. “Only the infirmary.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” he said, “you heal up well.”

“I don’t think that’s a credit to me,” you said. “I think it’s whatever magical drink that healer gave me while he was trying to bring me back. Tasted like pecan pie.”

“Nectar,” he said as he started walking, and you followed behind him. “Drink of the gods that heals demigods in small portions. It tastes like your favorite food—same as ambrosia.” He stopped in an empty corner and looked at you. “You like pecans?”

You shrugged, suddenly self conscious. “My dad makes it the best.”

“I hope you’ll be able to get the real thing soon,” he said, and then he gestured with a flourish at the same empty corner. “Welcome to your new home.”

You stared at him. “This is the floor.”

“We’re a little overbooked,” Luke said sheepishly. “If it makes you feel better, we’ve got sleeping bags. And this is a top tier corner. Quieter than the others.”

“…Great,” you said. “I feel very welcome.”

“I’m sorry.” To his credit, he sounded like he meant it. “Bunch of unclaimed kids, couple kids of minor gods, couple Hermes kids—it all kinda adds up to a mess.”

“...It’ll be better than camping,” you said, though mostly to yourself as you took your bag off your shoulder and let it thud to the ground.

“Hey,” Luke said, and his voice was softer, “it’ll be okay. With any luck, your parent’ll notice you now that you’re at camp, and you’ll be claimed before you know it.”

“I hope so,” you murmured.

“Luke, who’s the new girl?”

A boy with curls just as good as Luke’s walked up and clapped him on the back, smiling at you in a way that instantly set you at ease. He also wore the orange camp shirt, with long tan sleeves below that he’d pushed up to his forearms. He had kind eyes.

Luke said your name, his own smirk on his lips as he looked back at you. “You’ve probably heard about her dramatic entrance by now, but she’s the newest resident of the Hermes cabin.”

“Unclaimed or your sibling?” he asked.

“...Unclaimed,” you said yourself. You hadn’t even been here for more than two hours and it already felt like your own brand of shame.

He repeated your name with a nod and held out his hand. “I’m Chris,” he said. “Fellow unclaimed kid.”

A little bit less of a scarlet letter, at least. You swallowed your budding insecurity and shook his hand. “Sounds like a shitty club to be in.”

He snorted. “You’re telling me.”

“How— how long has it been?” you asked hesitantly, almost afraid to know the answer.

His lips pressed into a tight smile. “Couple years.”

“Gods,” you murmured. You didn’t know if you’d be able to wait that long. It had been hard enough already growing up without one—if your mother was just out of reach after all this time, you would surely lose your mind.

“Don’t worry,” Chris said, his expression softening a bit. “It won’t take that long for you. I can tell.”

“That’s what Luke said,” you responded wryly. “Do I give off a vibe that says ‘I’m unwanted, but not for too long’?”

Luke laughed and shook his head. “I promise, it’s all gonna be okay. I’ve been the counselor here for a couple months—kids get claimed all the time. I bet you’re next on the list.”

“Maybe,” you said. You didn’t believe it as much as they did—if they did at all.

You heard the door open and your head automatically turned to the noise, and you felt the heat rush to your cheeks in embarrassment as Tate came through, slightly out of breath. You stared at Luke—he said thirty minutes at least. He just shrugged.

“I figured you would be here,” Tate said, his chest rising and falling just so as he walked—trotted?—inside. “You didn’t exactly wait.”

You opened your mouth to speak up, but Luke beat you, already putting on a charming smile. “Sorry. We got to talking, and then I offered to show her around the Hermes cabin. Just so she could put her things down, y’know.”

“‘Course,” Tate nodded. “That— that was probably a good idea. Would have been bad if you got lost or something.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, and you went to pick your bag up. “Luke said you would be talking for a lot longer— I was going to come back after I was done with this.”

Tate shook his head. That nervous energy from the worst parts of the road was back, and you wondered how badly the talk with Chiron and Mr. D went. “No, it was a good idea. Better than you getting lost around camp or caught up with some troublemakers. Thanks, Luke.”

“‘Course,” he said.

“Not sure she’s in much better hands with Luke,” Chris said wryly. “He’s head troublemaker in the cabin of troublemakers.”

Luke just chuckled and shook his head. “It’s her first day. I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

You were only able to glance at Luke for a moment before your attention was drawn back to Tate as he gestured outside with his head. “Chiron’s waiting outside. He wants to talk to you some before the tour.”

And now you had to deal with it too. “...Great,” you said. You set your bag back on the ground, in your newly coveted corner.

“It’ll be fine,” Tate promised. “You already went through Hades to get here— he’s not gonna pile on you more. That’s why Mr. D is back at the Big House.”

This time, you did look at Luke. Thankfully, he understood.

“Dionysus,” he explained. “He’s our camp director.”

You blinked. “The god?”

“Yep,” he nodded. “Punishment from Zeus. Not the worst gig, but he’s… interesting.”

“Great,” you repeated, because you didn’t feel like processing that at the moment, and you looked back at Tate. “You’ll be with me, right?”

He nodded. “Not for the talk, but for the tour.”

You let out a loose breath, because it was going to be fine. He was just the authority figure of the one safe place in the world for you, and you were just an annoying kid that had no idea what the hell was going on.

“Great,” you said for the third time. You looked back at Luke. “I’ll see you around?”

He smiled and bowed his head. “Definitely. You do kinda live here indefinitely now.”

You nodded, more relieved than you wanted to show, and you started following Tate out.

You heard Chris mutter something to Luke, and you turned your head in time to see Luke jab him in the side. His head perked up when you laughed, and his whole expression changed as his smile returned and he did a little wave.

You couldn’t help but smile back as you did the same, and you left the cabin with a little pep in your step.

—

“You promise you’ll be safe.”

“Yes, Tate,” you said with a slight laugh. “The worst is already over—you got me here, and we’re both alive. I’m gonna be fine.”

“I know,” he said, and he managed his own smile. “I’m just worried about you. You don’t spend two weeks on the road fighting for your life with someone and not get a little attached.”

“You’ll be back here, right?” you asked. “I know your whole thing as a Protector, but you’ve gotta drop the demigods off too, right?”

“Of course I’ll be back,” he promised. “It… just might be a while. You’re the third demigod I’ve gotten to camp safely, now—Chiron’s trusting me with a bigger mission. It might be a couple months, but I’ll be back.”

“And you’re telling me to be safe,” you said wryly.

“I’ve been doing this for a while,” he said. “You just got here.”

“I know,” you said, and you pulled him into a hug. “Just don’t get killed out there.”

Tate laughed and patted you on the back before he pulled away. “So long as you don’t killed out here.”

“Thanks for everything,” you said with a nod.

“Thank you,” he said, and he gestured at the pavilion with his head. “Now get over there and make some friends. I’ll see you around.”

You hugged him one last time before you reluctantly went off, and you looked back to wave him goodbye before you really started on your way.

Your head still spun with all the information Chiron and Tate had imparted on you—so much about Greek mythology (and how it was all real), ADHD and dyslexia (and how they weren’t just there to make your life harder), your godly parent (who would hopefully claim you within the month) and so much more that you knew you would forget in an hour or two.

And Chiron’s talk. God, it felt more like you were in the principal’s office than anything, even though he was nothing but kind. You couldn’t help but be overwhelmed from it all, and though the talk was probably meant to stave some of that anxiety off, it really didn’t.

But you’d always felt out of place all your life. And now you were finally where you were meant to belong—that had to count for something.

Tate had dropped you off at the pavilion—nearly dying had taken a lot out of you, and it just happened to be lunch—and just as you neared the tables and realized you had no idea where to sit, your eyes were drawn to a boy raising his hand and calling your name.

You looked over and saw that it was Luke, the counselor from earlier, and you couldn’t help but smile. True to his word.

You weaved your way through various campers and around tables full of kids to finally stop next to Luke’s table—Chris, the guy from earlier, sat across from him, and they both smiled at you.

“How’d the tour go?” he asked.

“Fine,” you said with a nod. “A little overwhelming, but better than I thought.” You pulled at your new camp shirt, the fabric noticeably brighter than a majority of those around you. “I match now, at least.”

“Orange suits you,” Luke remarked, and he patted the open spot next to him. “Sit down—stay for a while.”

You chuckled as you sat down. You still felt out of place, but at least they weren’t going to hang you out to dry. “Bright orange seems like an odd choice when we’re trying to stay hidden.”

“Probably so Chiron doesn’t lose us,” he joked. “This place is huge, and there’s a lot of us. When the newest camper gets turned around in the woods during capture the flag and nearly dies to a monster, it’s easier to find them.”

You frowned, and you must’ve not been very good at hiding your panic because Chris shook his head.

“Luke, you’re scaring her. She’s already been through enough.”

“Don’t worry,” Luke said, patting you on the shoulder. “Just a little halfblood humor. You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” you said wryly. “It feels like I nearly died four hours ago and now I have no idea who anyone is or what to do.”

“Not true,” Chris spoke up, and he smiled. “You know us.”

“I’ll look out for you,” Luke promised. “And pretty soon, you’re gonna be good enough to look out for me.”

You let out a long lasting sigh. “God, I hope so.”

—

“You’re not holding it right.”

You adjusted your hold on the hilt, resisting the urge to wipe away the bead of sweat dripping down your forehead and the even stronger urge to hit him.

“You’re still not holding it right.”

Your teeth grinded together as you turned to look at Luke. “Are you gonna actually help me, or just stand there judgmentally?”

“I dunno,” he said. “The weather’s pretty good over here.”

You groaned and moved your non-dominant hand closer to the pommel, shifting your other down as well. “Is this worthy of your approval, Your Majesty?”

Luke chuckled as he walked over to you, and you could feel the calluses on his hands as he adjusted your form with slight touches to your arms. “It is acceptable, my lady, but your posture is not.”

“I don’t know how so many people at this camp like you,” you grumbled. “This is awful, and so are you.”

He smiled. “You’ve been here for two weeks. Give yourself some grace.”

“I’ve spent one of those trying and failing at the most basic basics of sword-fighting,” you said. “I spent the past hour losing to an Ares kid who I’m pretty sure actually wanted to kill me.” You looked over at Luke. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Trial by fire,” he supplied. “You’re still alive, so obviously you’re doing something right.”

“Yeah, probably because you’re here,” you said. “You can’t just kill someone when their counselor’s standing right next to them. It’s bad publicity.”

Luke huffed a laugh and shook his head as he crossed his arms. “Stop talking down on yourself. You managed to make it here with a couple monster attacks on the way—what’d you use then?”

“I started off with a screwdriver I stole from the garage before Tate and I left,” you said. “And then I stole a hunting knife from some outdoor store. Not exactly top-tier.”

“Lotta stealing,” Luke chuckled. “Maybe you are a Hermes kid.”

“They nearly caught me,” you said. “Definitely not.”

“Regardless of thievery, you still survived,” he continued. “You’re not a bonafide swordsman, that’s fine. But you’re resourceful, creative—scrappy in a fight is just what we need sometimes.”

“Great,” you mumbled. “I’m ‘scrappy’.”

“It’s a compliment,” he promised. “If we were all sword-fighters, we wouldn’t get far. Someone like you is gonna do us a lot of good.”

“If I don’t die before I even get out to the battlefield.” You knocked the helmet off of one of the straw dummies with your sword and sighed as it clattered to the ground. “This is the only enemy I stand a chance against.”

“You’re thinking too much about it all,” Luke said. “You’re literally wired for battle—didn’t you feel it during your fights on the way to camp?”

You shrugged. You guess you did—you remember not even taking the time to analyze the situation, just knowing your lives were in danger and finally feeling the ever-present jitters in your bones settle for the first time.

“It was rough,” you finally said. “But… it did feel like I knew what I was doing. Like my body understood it all even when my mind was still a couple steps behind.”

“And that was without training, and with,” Luke huffed an incredulous laugh, “a screwdriver. Just imagine what you’ll be able to do with actual Celestial bronze and actual training.”

“…I think I remember why people like you,” you said reluctantly. “And why I liked you.”

Luke grinned as he stood up. “That’s the spirit.” He picked up the fallen helmet and placed it back on the dummy, then looked at you. “I think I’ve put you through enough suffering. Let’s get lunch.”

“So a compliment was all it took for me to get out of this?” you asked in exasperation, gesturing with your sword as you worked to undo the ties on your armor with your other hand.

“Exactly,” he mused, and he took the sword from you to store it away. “I don’t get nearly enough compliments these days, y’know. Sometimes you end up taking that out on campers that don’t know how to swordfight.”

“Luke Castellan,” you grumbled as you finally got your breastplate off, “you are a piece of work.”

He winked. “Thank you.”

—

You didn’t think you were built for this life.

It was the only thought running through your head as you sat at a crowded Hermes table, absentmindedly picking at fruit with your fork as you stared off into the distance.

You’d been at Camp Halfblood for a month now, but it had already felt like a lifetime.

You’d managed to make a few friends—a Demeter girl who grew you a bouquet of your favorite flowers as a consolation prize for fighting dirty during training; an Athena boy who told you whatever interesting fact popped into his head first every time you ran into each other; the Hebe girl who had the misfortune to have the corner opposite you in the Hermes cabin and showed you skincare tips once in a while.

Throw in a smattering of Hermes and unclaimed kids and a counselor that seemed determined to make you smile, and you weren’t as lonely as you thought you’d be.

You were learning how to fight in your own way. Luke was right—you weren’t a swordsman, but you were damn good up close and personal. He’d taken you to the camp armory, you found a Celestial bronze dagger that spoke to you, and from then on you’d actually been doing well in training.

Your corner of the Hermes cabin didn’t feel as sad anymore, either. Luke took you to the camp store for retail therapy after you nearly burned your jeans off on the climbing wall, so now you had an AC/DC poster (courtesy of the little money you had) and an I ❤️ NY keychain to attach to your backpack (courtesy of Luke’s idle hands).

You were starting to come into your own, sure. You were doing better in training and making friends in the cabin you were stuck in and starting to get used to burning part of every meal, but the most glaring issue of all still hadn’t been resolved.

You still hadn’t been claimed.

And maybe it shouldn’t have been such an issue for you, but how could you not feel shitty? How could you see all the different tables and all the different kids talking and smiling and joking with each other that had parents who cared enough to at least claim them, and not feel unworthy?

Because you did. You felt unworthy, and it didn’t matter how many times you took your sparring partner down or bested the climbing wall or actually hit the bullseye at archery practice—your mother didn’t think you were good enough, so neither did you.

“How’re you doin’, Berkeley?”

You frowned. You didn’t have to look up to know it was Luke as he sat down next to you. “What?”

“Did you not hear me?” he asked, but you were already shaking your head.

“Berkeley,” you repeated, finally glancing at him. “That’s not my name.”

Luke shrugged. “I dunno what to tell you. You’re unclaimed. UC. University of California—first one I think of for you is Berkeley.”

You were staring now. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’ve got tons of UCs. I’ve gotta keep track of them all somehow,” Luke said, and he pointed at campers both at your table and walking around as he talked. “That’s LA, Irvine, Davis—the others aren’t here, but you get the gist.” He looked back at you. “Been savin’ Berkeley for someone special.”

“Oh gods,” you said, horrified. “I’ve got to get claimed.”

One of the girls at the table—Irvine?—rolled her eyes as she stood up and flicked Luke on the head. “Be nice,” she said before walking away. All he did was smile.

“Maybe give it to someone else,” you said. “I don’t feel special.”

Luke’s brows creased. “If you don’t like it—”

“It’s fine,” you said. “The name doesn’t bother me. The reason I have it does.”

His eyes softened as he said your actual name. “It’s only been a month. You’ve still got plenty of time.”

You looked across at the Hebe girl you’d become friends with—Marisol, if you remembered right—and hoped that your eyes didn’t show the desperation you felt. “How long did it take for you?”

She offered a sympathetic smile. “Six months. But it probably won’t be that long for you.”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” you mumbled. But it had been a month, and you hadn’t gotten a single sign.

“Because it’s true,” Luke urged. “Whoever your mom is will notice you—you’ve been killing it lately.”

“Really,” you said flatly, “I’ve been killing it.”

“Yes,” he said. “You don’t know it because you’ve only got your own experience—you went from nearly dead on our doorstep to taking down most of your opponents.”

“In training,” you said.

“That still counts!” Luke exclaimed. “Y’know, you’re holding yourself back. You’re incredible, but you’re the only one that seems to not notice it.”

“And my—”

“Do not say your mom,” he said, pointing a finger at you. “We’re not talking about the gods right now, we’re talking about you. And you, Bee, are killing it.”

That gave you pause. “Bee?”

“I’m trying to get you back up and you focus on the nickname?” Luke asked wryly.

“Just explain it,” you said.

“Bee shortened from Berkeley,” he said. “Not fully unclaimed, but still something special.”

God, you hated him. You’d been feeling shitty for a majority of your month here, but he always managed to make you smile.

“Sure,” you said.

“And a little annoying,” he added, earning himself a jab in the side as he laughed, “with a bit of a sting.”

“Aren’t you just so clever?” you mused, though you couldn’t help your smile widening.

“It’s in my genes,” he said proudly.

For the rest of a less than exciting lunch, Luke kept you occupied. Whether it was stories of his life before camp, or the couple of months that earned him counselor before you got here, or getting the other campers at the Hermes table to talk about themselves, he made sure you didn’t get a chance to spiral.

By the end, your face hurt from smiling

As you finished cleaning up, Marisol turned to you. “Me and a couple other girls were gonna go play volleyball—do you wanna come with us?”

“Yeah,” you said, and your smile grew. “Yeah, I’d love to. Thanks.”

“‘Course!” she exclaimed, and she linked arms with you. “I’d be a fool not to get you on my team after you took down Liam yesterday.”

She continued to talk as she pulled you along, and you looked back at Luke. He chuckled and gave you a thumbs up. “Go get ‘em, Bee!”

You gave him one back, and as you turned back to Marisol, you found that you couldn’t stop smiling.

—

It was two in the morning and you couldn’t stop crying.

You finally had a mattress against your back, and however stiff it was, it was better than the floor. A decent amount of kids got claimed over the past month, and half the cabin left after the summer was over, so you finally had the privilege of a bunk—thankfully, Marisol did too, and she was below you.

At least, until the summer-only campers that all the Hermes kids liked more than you returned. Then it was back to the floor.

Unless you got claimed before then. But that was less likely than being able to muster some good will from your cabin mates.

Because it was embarrassing, truly. You’d been at camp for four months now, and you hadn’t even gotten a single goddamn peep from whoever your mother might be. You just woke up every day on the floor, moseyed about a camp that still didn’t feel like home, burned offerings to a god that didn't want you, and went back to sleep on the floor.

And now you were crying in a bed that was barely even yours and it was two in the morning and you were wondering if it would have just been better for you to die on the road to camp the first time, because at least then your mother might have actually paid attention to you.

“Hey.”

And now you were really wishing you’d died because you’d woken someone up and they’re just gonna hate you more—

“Are you okay?”

You finally turned your head from where it had been buried in a pillow, a laissez-faire attempt to suffocate yourself or maybe just muffle the noise, and you saw Luke Castellan. Counselor of a cabin of thieves, vagabonds, and rejects, and maybe the only person that you didn’t want to see you like this. All that good will, the unearned faith you’d accumulated—this was the easiest way to lose it. His eyebrows were creased, and his whisper held what sounded like concern, but he was required to be concerned.

You nodded, still not moving, still not speaking. Tears rolled down your cheeks and stained the bed sheet.

“You’re gonna have to be a little more believable than that, Bee,” Luke murmured.

“No, I don’t,” you whispered back.

You got the tiniest huff of a laugh out of him, and he gestured towards the closed door with his head. “Wanna take a second?”

“It’s past curfew,” you mumbled.

“And you’re miserable,” Luke said. “You can’t feel any worse getting eaten by harpies than you do now.”

Still, you stared at him.

“It’ll be okay,” he promised. “Right outside the cabin. Harpies won’t even know.”

You rubbed a hand across your face, coming away wet with tears, and you realized that he wasn’t just going to leave you like this. So you got up as quietly as you could, careful not to disturb your bunkmates, and followed Luke. He pushed the door open and shut so quietly you wondered how many times he’s snuck out.

The cold air was sobering, and you wiped away more tears before wrapping your arms around yourself. Camp Half-Blood was always supposed to have perfect weather, but you guess not even they were immune to November nights.

“So,” Luke started, and in your peripherals you could see him leaning against the side of the cabin. You could feel his gaze on you, and you just stared off into the distance.

“So,” you repeated.

“You wanna tell me why you’re crying in the middle of the night?” he asked.

“Not really,” you said, because it felt ridiculous that a boy your age was acting like he’s ten years your elder.

Luke chuckled and tipped his head. “Fair. You want to say anything at all?”

“I’m sorry for waking you up.”

He shook his head. “I was already up. I’m a light sleeper.”

“Seems rough in a cabin like this,” you said.

“I’ve gotten used to it,” he said. “Did you have a nightmare?”

You frowned, because now it really felt like he was babying you. Luke must have caught on, because he laughed a bit and shook his head.

“Demigods have… extremely vivid dreams,” he said. “Typically horrific nightmares. Sometimes prophetic.”

Your frown deepened. “That’s awful.”

Luke shrugged. “It’s just the way it is. The gods can’t interfere in mortal affairs, so I guess it’s their way of letting us know what’s wrong.”

You shook your head with a sigh. “No nightmares, thankfully. Just… feeling overwhelmed.”

“About what?” he asked. “I told you you’ve been doing great.”

“It doesn’t matter how many times you say it,” you said wryly. “It doesn’t mean I believe it.”

“There’s no reason you shouldn’t,” he asserted.

You huffed a laugh. “It’s been four months, Luke. Four months since I got here after nearly dying in five different states, and I don’t even know who’s responsible for it.”

“Ah,” Luke said. “The unclaimed thing.”

“Yeah,” you said wryly. “I guess you could call it that.”

“Sorry,” he said, and he shook his head. “It’s a bigger deal than that, I know.”

“Maybe it isn’t,” you said. “There’s at least six other kids in there dealing with the same thing as I am, and none of them are waking up their counselor in the middle of the night with their tears.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Luke said with surprising conviction. “Like your feelings aren’t valid. Because they are.”

You crossed your arms. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“They are,” he insisted. “A— and you’re not bothering me. We’re friends, and we help each other. I care about you, y’know.”

“I never said I was bothering you,” you said wryly.

“You thought it,” Luke said. “I know you did.”

“...Maybe.” You sighed and shook your head as you looked out at the stars. They really were beautiful here. “I just can’t help but be bitter about all this, and I feel so shitty about it.”

“Would it make you feel better to know you’re not the only one that thinks that?” he asked.

“A little, yeah.” You glanced at him. “No one else seems too bothered that their parents are never around.”

“Most of them have accepted that it’s just the way it is,” he said. “Doesn’t mean you have to.”

“Have you?”

Luke sighed after a moment of reluctance. “I… I have a complicated relationship with my dad because he was around. It was almost… worse to know him, and then to have him leave.”

“It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,” you quoted.

“I don’t know about that,” Luke murmured. “But it certainly helps to talk about it.”

You glanced over to see him gazing off into the distance, a look in his eye that you couldn’t quite place. This was the most he’d ever talked about his past to you, you realized—and it still wasn’t much.

“When were you claimed?” you asked after a moment of contemplation.

Luke shrugged. “I never really had to be. Hermes stayed with my mom for a year after I was born, and she told me who he was when I was a little older. I’ve known basically my whole life—he had no reason not to claim me as soon as I got to camp.”

“So you’re saying my dad could be keeping secrets from me too,” you said.

“He might not know,” Luke said. “A lot of times, they don’t talk about it. Sometimes, we don’t find out until a monster’s trying to kill us on a field trip.”

You huffed. “What a great existence we’ve been blessed with.”

Luke smiled, though it was tighter than usual. He let out a deep breath, then fully turned to you.

“Do you have your dagger with you?”

You frowned. “It’s under my pillow. Why?”

“Under your—” Luke stared for a moment before he laughed and shook his head. “A little paranoid?”

You shrugged. “You said it yourself. You’re a cabin of thieves.”

“True,” he admitted. “How’d you like to get some of this emotion out?”

“We’re sneaking out even more?”

“It’ll be fine,” Luke promised.

“You always say that,” you said. “Eventually, it’s not gonna be true.”

He laughed and gestured at the door. “Get your dagger. We’re gonna make this a very bad night for some mannequins.”

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”

You huffed as you ripped your dagger out of the dummy, a few strands of straw coming out of the new hole you’d torn in its forehead, and wiped the sweat off your forehead. “Are you kidding? This was a great idea.”

“Not this part,” he said. “The ‘being alone with you during a rage’ part.”

“I’m not in a rage,” you muttered as you slashed at the breastplate, “I’m blowing off steam.”

Luke hummed. “And you thought you weren’t a good fighter.”

You stabbed at the armor again then rammed your fist into its head, and you took a step back as the mannequin thudded to the ground. “I guess I just need to think about my mom before I go into battle.”

“Y’know, Bee,” Luke said, “you scare me sometimes.”

You shook your head, wiping your blade on your night shirt to get any debris off as you turned around. “You’re really gonna stick with that?”

“I told you I’d stop if you didn’t like it.”

“It’s not that. I just…” You sighed and shook your head again. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does.” Luke crossed his arms. “Everything you have to say matters.”

“Not if I say it doesn’t,” you countered, and you looked at him. “Who do you think it could be?”

“Your parent?” he asked. You nodded.

“Definitely not Apollo,” Luke said. “You’re way too dreary to be a kid of the god of the sun.”

“Gee,” you said dryly, “thanks.”

Luke shrugged. “You asked.”

“Well— who else?” You picked the dummy back up and dusted the armor off. “Athena, maybe? I’m smart.”

“Not smart enough to not be out past curfew with me,” he said.

“You suggested this,” you scoffed. “And I definitely needed it. If we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

“And why do you think that would work?” he asked, amused.

“You’re the camp’s golden boy,” you said. “I doubt you’d get in much trouble.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, nodding. “Or you just think I’m good enough to talk my way out of it.”

You tilted your head. “That too.”

“I never thought Ares before,” Luke chuckled, “but after all this, I think you might have it in you.”

“God, I hope not. Priya hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Luke said. “She just tried to kill you that one time.”

“And that other time during capture the flag,” you said. “She’s out for blood, Luke.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “She always is. She’s probably already moved onto her next victim.”

“I hope so.”

“Maybe Aphrodite?” he suggested. “You’re awfully pretty.”

You rolled your eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” Luke corrected.

You huffed a laugh but couldn’t help the slightest smile as you shook your head. “It’s not Tyche, at least. I have the worst luck.”

“Maybe you’re a Big Three kid,” he said. “How do you feel about the sky?”

“I like it,” you said.

“The ocean?”

“Not so much.”

“And the darkness?”

You huffed a dry laugh. “I’m not a Big Three kid, Luke. Even I know that.”

“No, you don’t,” he said. “You can never know for sure until you’re claimed.”

“If I was, I would be the biggest disappointment,” you said, looking at your reflection in your dagger. “Breaking their pact for a kid that can barely fight.”

“Why do you always do that?”

Luke’s voice had lost the joking edge from before, and when you glanced over at him, he was frowning.

“Do what?”

“You always put yourself down,” he said. “You don’t even give yourself a chance to believe that you’ll be great, or that you’ll succeed—you’re just a coward, or a failure, or worthless at the first bump in the road.”

“Luke—”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I need you to understand that you are so, so much more than whatever that shitty voice in your head says.”

You went silent. Any words you could have even said stuck in your throat.

“This is not an easy life,” Luke asserted. “We’re thrown into an ocean before we know how to swim, and we have to find the shore all on our own or die trying. We—” he laughed, but there was no heart in it— “we’ve got our parents above us that could guide us, could save us, but most of the time they refuse to even acknowledge us. And we’ve got every single goddamn obstacle in the way trying to kill us.”

He inclined his head towards you. “But in spite of all that, you’re alive. You’re still here. You’re pushing through everything in your path, and you are still fucking here. Do you get that?”

“…I’m still here,” you repeated, and your hands clenched into fists. It had never felt more right to have your dagger in your hand.

Luke nodded resolutely. “And you’ve got a couple lifeboats to help along the way.”

“You mean it?” Your voice came out softer than you thought, in stark contrast to the stiffness of your bones, but you felt like a kid all over again.

“With all my heart,” he promised. “For as long as you’re here, I’ll be here.”

Your throat tightened, and the telltale beginnings of tears pricked behind your eyes. This time, when you spoke, your voice was little more than a whisper. “Thank you.”

“Always,” he said. “And I mean that.”

You nodded, maybe a few too many times, and cleared your throat as you looked back at your dagger. “It’s late. We should get back before we actually get in trouble.”

Luke nodded too, and he helped you move the dummy back into place. You hated how your heart jumped into your throat when your hands brushed for the barest moment, but thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice.

“Thank you for this.” You played with your hands as Luke finished putting everything else away—extra insurance to make sure no one knew you were here—and only managed to make eye contact just as he looked at you. “It… it really helped.” More than he knew, you were sure.

Luke smiled, and he offered you his arm. “Always.”

You took it, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. “Just… don’t tell anyone about the crying.”

He chuckled as you started walking together. “After the way you’ve been handling that dagger? I’d be a fool.“

“Luke,” you groaned, “this is awful.”

“You were the one who said you wanted to spend time with me,” he said, giving you a crooked smile. “Spending time with me after the worst cabin inspection ever means cleaning the place head to toe for our next one.”

“Is skipping dinner really worth it though?” you asked as you scooped up a pile of dirty clothes and tossed it into the basket between you two.

“It’s the only time this place is completely empty,” he said. “I told you I could handle it alone—you’re the one that insisted on helping.”

“Maybe I do want to be a Big Three kid,” you grumbled. “At least I’d only be cleaning up my own mess.”

“You’d also have the wrath of the gods and every monster in the world to deal with,” he said.

You shook your head. “A small price to pay for a clean cabin.”

“And then you wouldn’t get to see me when you wake up every day,” he mused. “A much bigger price to pay.”

You huffed as you dropped to your knees, reaching under a bed to grab a stray camp tee. “Keep talking, pretty boy. It won’t clean the floors.”

Luke grinned. “You think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’ve got the messiest cabin in the world,” you said. “We’ve gotten the lowest rating every day for the past two weeks. I’ve been here for seven months now, and I don’t think we’ve ever gotten a full five.”

“Which is why you’re helping me!” he said. “Because you’re as sick of scrubbing the pegasi stables as I am.”

“You’re the counselor here!” you exclaimed. “You’ve gotta whip your siblings into shape.”

Luke gestured at you. “You’re basically my co-counselor. It’s just as much your responsibility.”

“And just what makes you think that?” you marveled.

“You’re the person in the cabin I like the most,” he said, “and we spend a lot of time together. That’s enough to make you my partner.”

“My stuff is always clean,” you said. “It’s you and the rest of the Hermes kids that’ve gotten us stuck in the stables and the kitchens every afternoon. Not me.”

You started remaking the unmade bed—would it kill any of the Hermes kids to make theirs right after they got up?—and shook your head. “It’s just not fair. Aphrodite’s cabin is basically Barbie’s Dreamhouse, and Demeter kids can grow plants to make it all pretty. We’ve just got a cabin of slobs.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, but when you glanced at him, you saw he was smiling. “It’ll all be fine.”

“You always say that.” You got the fitted sheet into all the corners then looked at him full-on. “Even when it’s not about something as stupid as laundry. How do you know?”

Luke shrugged as he nudged a ladder to a top bunk back into place. “I don’t. I just hope for the best.”

“How do you do that?” you asked. “How does anyone here do that? I feel like I’m the most pessimistic person here.”

“Every single one of us is an anomaly,” Luke said. “Freaks of nature. By all accounts of logic, we shouldn’t exist. But we do. All of mythology does. And when we have to literally fight for our lives for every single day, it doesn’t do much good to sweat the small stuff.”

“All I do is sweat the small stuff,” you grumbled, and you stretched your back out before you continued. “D’you think they’ll get annoyed that we just pooled all their laundry together again?”

“Nah,” Luke said. “If they didn’t want to have to pick all their stuff out after we so graciously do the laundry for them, they would keep their things clean in the first place.”

You chuckled and shook your head as you finished laying out the sorry excuse for a comforter—it would end up on the floor five seconds into the night, but Sisyphus and the boulder and all that—and sat down on the fruits of your labor. “I think this mess is the one thing I won’t miss when I get claimed.”

“You’re not as down about that as you used to be,” Luke noted.

“You know how they say a watched pot never boils?”

He actually laughed at that as he leaned against a bed post. “If you don’t care, you’ll get claimed faster?”

You shrugged. “Nothing else has worked. And like you said—don’t sweat the small stuff, right?”

“Like you said— all you do is sweat the small stuff.”

“Maybe I’m gonna try and turn over a new leaf,” you mused.

“I think that would be good for you,” he said. “You’ve been happier lately. It’s good to see you happy.”

“You’ve been watching?” you asked wryly.

Luke smiled. “You know I always am.”

You ignored the warmth stirring in your chest as you shrugged. “I’ve spent way too much time this year being sad over things I can’t control. Might as well start focusing on the things I can.”

“And to think,” he mused, “this is the same girl that wanted nothing to do with me when we first talked.”

“Oh, please,” you said dryly, “I’ve always wanted something to do with you.”

“And you still understand that flattery gets you everywhere,” Luke said with a grin. He pushed himself up and held out his hand. “C’mon—this place is clean enough. I think if we run, we can still make dinner.”

“Think we’ll get in trouble for partially skipping?” you asked as you stood up and took his hand, swinging your intertwined hands a bit as you walked together.

Luke chuckled as he pushed the door open and you walked out. “After the work we did here? We should be hailed as saints.”

“Luke,” you whispered.

His eyes shot wide open as he jolted up, and you had to stifle your laugh at his bewildered expression before he realized it was you.

He said your name groggily, rubbing his eyes as he kept himself propped up with his other arm. “What d’you need?”

“The stars,” you said. “They’re beautiful tonight.”

“So are you,” he mumbled. “You don’t see me waking you up in the middle of the night to tell you that.”

“Luke,” you said, but you couldn’t help your smile. “On topic.”

“The stars,” he said, barely nodding in his addled state. “Good for them. I’m going back to sleep now.”

“No, Luke—” you laughed softly and took his hand. “Come stargazing with me.”

He closed his eyes, but he didn’t take his hand away. “You’re insane.”

“Please,” you said. “I could never see the stars at home, not like this. They’re brighter than I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s so late,” he complained. “Can we do it in the morning?”

“Do you know what stargazing is?” you asked, amused.

“Hey, lovebirds.” The annoyed, tired voice of a camper rang out as they hit the wall. “Take it outside so we can sleep.”

Again, you had to bite back a laugh. Luke looked like he was holding back a groan, but he got up anyway, rubbing the grogginess out of his eyes. You moved to the door as quietly as possible, and you waited until he joined you on the small porch.

“Thank you,” you said, hearing the door close, “and sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Luke covered up his yawn as he held a jacket out for you. “Put this on. I’m not gonna be responsible for you getting a cold because you want to stargaze in February.”

Your eyebrows rose as you took it. “Is this yours?”

“Don’t think too much into it,” he said, but he had the slightest smile on his lips. “You wanna see the stars, right? Let’s see ‘em.”

“Not here,” you said, shaking your head as you zipped up the maroon hoodie. You held out your hand once you finished. “Do you trust me?”

“Oh, gods,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “We’re doing a trust exercise too?”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you remarked. You took his hand and started dragging him along, a clear spot in mind.

“You’re kidding me,” he said in exasperation. “I thought we were just gonna look at the sky for a couple minutes— you’re taking me to a second destination?”

“Hey,” you said, “don’t sweat the small stuff.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to use that on the harpies when they catch us and eat us,” Luke said offhandedly. “‘I’m sorry, ma’am—we’re really trying not to sweat the small stuff.’”

You laughed as you continued on your way, and out of the corner of your eye you could see Luke smiling too, despite himself. Suddenly, though, his grip tightened on your hand and he pulled you behind one of the thicker columns of the pavilion.

“Wh—”

He shook his head then gestured with it to the other side of the pavilion. One of the harpies—Aello, if you remembered correctly from Chris’s rant the past week about cleaning dishes—was walking past, muttering things to herself.

“Speak of the devil,” you marveled. You definitely weren’t a child of Tyche.

Luke gave you a look that quite clearly said be quiet, and for some reason that only made you want to laugh more. He must have seen that glint in your eye that he’d grown used to, because he placed his hand over your mouth right before the dam was about to burst.

You squeezed his hand tight as you tried to keep yourself from blowing your cover while Luke occupied himself with actually watching to make sure your path would clear. You were pressed right up against each other, and even through the jacket, even in the cold, you could feel his body warmth. He did say he ran hot.

Eventually, Luke let out a labored sigh and let his hand drop, and you wheezed, nearly doubling over.

“There is something wrong with you,” he said. He was barely able to hold back his own amusement.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, “that was awful.”

“That was your fault!” he exclaimed.

“How was it my fault?” you argued. “You’re the counselor here—you’re meant to be the responsible one!”

“I was being responsible!” Luke laughed again as he ran his hand through his hair then used it to gesture at you. “You were the one that nearly got us caught—you were the one who wanted to be out here in the first place!”

“Right,” you said, pointing your finger, “we gotta get to the beach.”

“Stargazing on the beach,” Luke marveled. “Definitely worth nearly getting eaten.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said as you continued to pull him along. “You could’ve said no.”

He squeezed your hand for a moment. “We both know I can never say no to you.”

Once you got to the beach you let go of his hand and laid down, taking care not to get sand in your sneakers. Luke sat down next to you but stayed up, watching the tide go in and out.

At night, without a hundred campers running around making all the noise they can, you actually felt like you could breathe.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” It almost felt wrong to break the sacred silence, to insert yourself in the ambiance of nature working together in all its glory.

“Yeah.” Luke’s voice was softer than usual, that rough edge you’d grown used to absent in the face of calmer seas. “Yeah. It’s…”

“Serene,” you suggested.

“Beautiful,” he said. When you glanced at him, he was already looking at you.

“Very smooth,” you said wryly. “Now stop flirting and look at the stars.”

Luke chuckled lightly as he let himself fall back. His hand bumped yours as he adjusted his position, and your breath caught in your throat for the barest moment. You moved it away.

The two of you laid there together in silence gazing at the stars for what felt like forever. The gentle waves coming to shore then leaving, the scattering of sand from quiet winds, and not a single angry car horn or police siren.

You missed home, the city. You were headstrong in your belief that Detroit was better than New York. But gods—sometimes, you just couldn’t beat camp.

You didn’t know what possessed you to break the silence. But something had been tugging at you since the moment you laid down on the beach, and so you did.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Luke didn’t miss a beat. “Always.”

“I…” you trailed off for a moment, but you bolstered yourself. “I’m scared of what comes next.”

You heard Luke shift in the sand and felt his eyes on you. “What do you mean?”

“After this,” you said. “The honeymoon phase of being a demigod.”

He huffed a laugh. “I wouldn’t say we have a honeymoon phase.”

“You know what I mean.” A shiver went down your spine and you put your arms on your chest. Like a coffin. “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“I think you need to stop getting up in the middle of the night,” he said. “It seems you have all your existential crises then.”

You exhaled out your nose, a sorry excuse for a laugh. “I’ve heard about quests—how they can happen for no reason except a god’s will, to— to prove that you’re worthy. And all I can think about is that my mother will never claim me until I prove I’m worthy or die trying.”

Luke was silent. You could feel your throat closing up, the threatened onslaught of tears. You blinked them back.

“All my life, I have never felt seen,” you murmured. “And I’m terrified that the only way I will be seen is when I die.”

“Look at me.”

You turned your head—Luke’s eyes were piercing in the moonlight.

“I don’t care what anyone says, especially that voice in your head—you’re worth everything and more,” he said. “And you are worth so much more than becoming a martyr for a god’s approval.”

“I wish you could tell my mom that,” you mumbled.

“I would march right up to Olympus and say it to her face,” he said. “And if it bothers her that much, she can smite me right now.”

That got a breathy laugh out of you from the pure absurdity. Luke’s eyes flicked to the sky as he waited, and when he didn’t instantly die a horrific death, his gaze went back to you.

“I see you,” Luke promised, his voice low. “And I’ll make everyone see you the way I do. I swear it.”

You were starstruck. You couldn’t look away from him, from the determination etched into each detail of his face, the softness in his eyes directed wholly at you—the fact that he was here at all in the first place at an unholy hour just because you asked.

Oh gods. You were in trouble.

“It’s late.” You finally managed to break the spell that held you under. “We should go.”

“Yeah.” Luke made no motion to move, still focused wholly on you.

“Luke,” you whispered.

You could have sworn his eyes moved down to your lips, but he was sitting up so quickly that you knew you must have imagined it. You cleared your throat as you followed suit, brushing the sand off your—his— jacket.

“This was nice,” he said after a moment. “...Thanks for waking me up.”

“Of course,” you said. “There’s… there’s no one else I would’ve wanted to share it with.”

Luke smiled, and you didn’t think he’d ever looked more beautiful than he did now, awash in the silver moonlight. If you were braver, you would have taken his hand again. You would’ve done what the voice in your head desperately wanted to do—had wanted to do for the past two months.

But you didn’t.

“I guess it was worth nearly getting eaten, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, and he shrugged. “But most things are worth it when it comes to you.”

You nearly melted right there, and it was a credit to your strength that you didn’t say anything horrifically stupid. Instead, you put on a smile, hoped he couldn’t see how much he was killing you, and started back up on the path.

“C’mon,” you said. “Before we end up having to clean the entire camp for breaking curfew.”

“Whatever you say,” he mused.

You groaned as you slumped into your usual spot at the Hermes table. You heard Luke laugh, and you felt his eyes on you as you put your head in your arms.

“What’s got you so down?”

“I’ve been fifteen for three days and I already feel like an old woman,” you said. “Everything still hurts.”

“Capture the flag was meant to be a birthday gift,” Luke said wryly. “And we did win.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you grumbled. “I swear, some people went after me on purpose just because it was my birthday. I’ve got bruises all over.”

“You know, we have an infirmary for a reason.”

“They’re battle wounds,” you said. You picked up your head just to take your goblet. “Lemonade. Actually, pink lemonade.” You took a sip, but even that didn’t make you feel better. You buried your head back in your arms with a rough sigh. “Signs of our victory.”

Luke huffed a laugh. “Sometimes I really don’t…”

He trailed off suddenly, and you heard a collective gasp go up at the table.

“What?” you asked halfheartedly.

“You— you’re—”

You didn’t know why he couldn’t finish his sentence. You picked your head up to see Luke’s face awash in golden light, his eyes wide. Everyone else at the Hermes cabin was just as awestruck, and Marisol fumbled around in her purse until she pulled out her compact. She opened her foundation, the mirror pointing at you, and you realized why.

A glowing, golden, translucent sickle with a few sheaths of wheat floated above your head. You frowned.

Before you had the chance to say anything, Luke was yelling your name and tackling you in a hug. You let out a grunt of surprise as you barely managed to brace yourself, and when he pulled away he was smiling wider than you’d ever seen.

“You’re claimed!” he exclaimed, his hands gripping your shoulders. “You— you’re finally claimed!”

“Demeter,” you said, almost absentmindedly. It still hadn’t quite hit you.

“Demeter,” he repeated, nodding rapidly, that gigantic smile seeming like a permanent feature at this point. “I told you everyone would see you— I told you we would make them see you the way I do!”

The rest of the table was chattering away, and you could feel Chris patting you on the back and saying words that went in one ear and out the other. The rest of the pavilion was starting to catch word, and you could see a couple kids from a table on the opposite end standing up and craning to see. Maybe your new siblings.

(You should be happy.)

Your new siblings.

…Your new cabin.

You could still barely think, like there was static in your brain. Luke’s hands on your shoulders were the only thing grounding you.

(You should be ecstatic.)

A year of tears, silent prayers, and apathetic resolution had finally come to a close, just days after your fifteenth.

(Why are you not smiling?)

You’d been claimed. But you didn’t think you’d ever felt more lost.

#why do you keep doing this?????#YOU JUST LOVE HURTING ME DON'T YOU #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst

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itevilhag · 2 months

Text

geyser

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: percy learns about the first girl luke castellan ever loved.

a/n: this is a lil sad. sorry about that. but i really like it and it came out of nowhere in like 2 days so i hope you enjoy despite the sadness. title from the mitski song

wc: 6.5k

warning(s): major character death; not shown but hangs over the whole fic. angst made angstier by fluffy flashbacks. mostly told through percy’s pov but includes luke, annabeth, and reader povs

also if you saw this before on another account DONT WORRY... that account was also me. im just doing some stuff behind the scenes right now as i figure stuff out lol i promise no plagiarism is going on

Percy thought that his head might explode.

He didn’t know how he was still walking, honestly. His mom died, he killed a— no, the— Minotaur, all the Greek myths were real and his dad was one of them, and now he had to deal with that freak accident with Clarisse and the toilets.

At least he would be ready next time she tried to beat him up. Percy had been the new kid enough to know there would be a next time.

All he could do was stare at the Minotaur horn in his hands, the only sign that what happened outside the border was real. The horn in his hands and the hole in his heart.

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d been thrown into the deep end, and the only thing on his mind was when he would start to drown.

“Hey.” Percy looked up to see the counselor he’d met earlier with Annabeth—Luke. He tossed a ziploc bag at him and he caught it, taking a moment to look at what was in it.

“I stole you some toiletries from the camp store,” he explained. “Thought it might make you feel more at home.”

“…Thanks.” He didn’t know if Luke was joking, but the damage had already been done. And it was the nicest thing someone had done for him so far. He set it down next to his Minotaur shoebox. “Is this the best that it gets?”

Luke’s lips quirked up in a slight smile. “For now. We’re a little crowded, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Just a little bit.” Percy stood up from his sleeping bag and worked out the knot in his shoulder. “Where’s your bed? Assuming you have one.”

“I couldn’t wrangle all these cats without some back support,” he said, and he pointed to a bed in the corner. It was the only one on its own without a bunk, and he had a fair amount of decorations. Counselor privileges, he figured. Percy walked over, Luke trailing behind him.

“Nice place,” he said. Percy picked up the Yankee’s cap on his bedside table and nodded as he looked back at him. “Nice taste.”

“It’s for Annabeth,” Luke said. “She wanted us to match.”

Percy nodded again in approval. “Good taste for both of you.”

Luke had various other things around — an alarm clock knocked over next to the baseball cap, a huskie sticker on the wall half-scraped off, a poster for an album he didn’t recognize.

But the thing that caught his eye was a polaroid hanging on the wall, surrounded by a smattering of others varying in size.

The first one had to be an old picture—Luke didn’t have his scar, and the biggest smile stretched across his face. He had a girl close with an arm slung around her waist, and she might’ve been smiling even more than Luke. A bright energy emanated around her, something that must have transferred through the picture, because Percy found himself feeling a little better just looking at her. He wondered if she was a camper.

His eyes flicked to the next picture, which was another one of Luke and that girl. They were both laughing as she tried to put a blue hat on Luke’s head, and he protested with a hand on her wrist. They were in the forefront of a baseball game, Percy noticed.

There were other pictures, too—Luke, a girl dressed all punk, and what looked like a young version of Annabeth, most notably—but a majority of them were either Luke and that girl, or the girl all on her own. In every single one, she beamed brighter than the sun.

Percy pointed at the picture of Luke and the girl at the baseball game, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Who’s that?”

That seemed to catch Luke off-guard, his lips parting for a moment as if he wanted to say something. It barely took him any time to get back on track, but Percy found himself frowning.

“That’s…” Luke cleared his throat, wet his lips, shook his head. “A friend. A very good friend.”

“Does she go here?” Percy asked.

“She did.”

He frowned. “Where is she, then?”

“Percy—” Luke’s voice was strained, but he didn’t really notice as he went on.

“I didn’t see her around,” he continued, “and you look pretty close.”

Luke blinked a couple times, and Percy swore he could see the telltale glimmer of tears starting in his eyes. A muscle worked in his jaw, and suddenly Percy was worried that he’d said something horribly wrong. He had a talent for that, it seemed.

Fortunately, he was saved by the bell—conch shell?—and something like relief flooded through Luke’s expression. Tension still coiled in his body.

“Come on,” he said, that camp counselor smile coming back as he put his hand on Percy’s shoulder and guided him away from the enclave. “That means dinner’s about to start.”

Percy’s frown deepened as curiosity won out again. “Was she your—”

“You don’t wanna be late,” Luke continued, ignoring his attempt. “I assume you’re pretty hungry after two days spent out?”

Well, that only made him want to push harder. But Percy figured he wouldn’t get anything out of him—especially not now.

“…Yeah,” Percy said. “Starving.”

An odd look flickered across his face, but again, it only lasted for a second before he was back to normal. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Eleven! Fall in!”

Percy was at the back of the line by virtue of him being the new kid, and he found himself looking back at that picture of Luke and the girl. He didn’t know why, but something drew him to her. Before Percy could think about it more, the line was moving and his growling stomach drew his attention away.

He would have plenty of time to ask Luke about it later.

Or rather, ask him and piss off the only person who’d tried to be his friend so far.

…Gods.

Maybe he was going to drown sooner than he thought.

“Luke—”

“No!”

“Luke, please!”

“Annabeth will kill me if she knows—”

“She won’t know!”

“Alright, alright— stay still, you two!”

Your mother laughed from behind the camera as you and Luke fought with each other, you trying your damnedest to get your Red Sox cap on his head as he tried his damnedest to stop you. The frantic laughter on both sides made it a little difficult for either of you to succeed in your quest, but eventually, you got the rock up the hill and the hat on his head.

“Take the picture, Mom!” you exclaimed, pulling Luke even closer by his arms so he couldn’t get it off. “I need the proof!”

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Luke groaned, staring at the camera as you wrapped your arm around his side and leaned into him. He could already imagine your victorious smile, brighter than the sun beating down on them in the stadium, and just the thought of it made one of his own flit across his lips.

“Oh, shut up, Castellan,” you said. “You chose to come to this game. Everyone’s gonna know you’re a Red Sox fan now.”

“You said you wouldn’t tell her!” Luke defended, wrenching his arms free of your control to take the hat off his head. “I don’t even care about baseball!”

“You care so much about it,” you said cloyingly, “and you’re ride or die for the Boston Red Sox.”

“If you say a single word—”

“Okay, kids!” Your mother pointed at the seats next to her. “The game’s about to start—you can keep arguing, but only if you sit down so I can see.”

“Sorry, Mom.” You grinned at her as you pulled Luke over to your seats—they were a step up from nosebleeds, but they were the ones closest to the balcony so you could at least peer over the railing down to the diamond.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” She glanced at Luke with a smile, and he could really see where you got it from. “We’ve gotta make him a fan somehow.”

“I guess I can live with the brand.” Luke set the cap back on your head once you were seated, purposefully pulling the brim a little over your eyes, and he smiled at you. “Even though it looks better on you, anyways.”

“You just don’t have what it takes to be a Red Sox fan in the heart of Yank territory,” you mused, pushing the hat back up so you could see. “It’s fine.”

Luke rolled his eyes, but he could hardly bite back his smile.

“I am glad you came, though,” you said, glancing back at him. “I’m glad you came with me in the first place. This is gonna be the best semester.”

“Thanks for having me,” Luke said. “It’s… it’s been a while since I’ve left camp.”

“Fingers crossed for no monster attacks, eh?” You held up your hand. “At least, not during the game. I could live with it happening any other time.”

“Don’t speak it into existence,” your mom said. “We’re going to have a monster-free school year.”

To humor her, you made a claw over your heart and pushed out. She hummed in satisfaction, and you looked over at Luke. “It’s gonna be fine.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Because two kids like us aren’t gonna draw any attention.”

“Oh, I know we will,” you said. “But I know it’ll be fine.”

Luke frowned. “How can you be so sure?”

You shrugged with a smile. “I’ve got you.”

And in that moment, he was thankful for the freakish heat that honestly made no sense in the spring—at least it covered up any sign of what your words did to him.

Luke thought you were joking when you asked him if he wanted to come back home with you for the school year. He didn’t know why you wanted to go back in the first place, being a Big Three kid that apparently had a death wish, but the thought of him leaving camp was almost inconceivable.

Even after you assured him you weren’t joking, he still wasn’t sure. He was on the run with you for three years, then…

Well, he couldn’t think about it for too long. But Luke had been on the outskirts of regular society for so long, doing nothing but fighting for his life, that he didn’t know if he could actually function at a normal school.

But it felt right for you two to get some normal time together after you were separated for so long. It took him a semester to decide, but one day during your usual Iris message conversations, he told you he’d love to spend the rest of the year in Boston with you. Luke still remembered the grin you wore, your disbelieving but victorious cheers, the apology you yelled back at your mother for your noise.

Luke watched you as you talked with your mom, discussing Boston’s chances and player statistics and baseball jargon he didn’t think he’d ever understand, and he knew he would sit through a thousand Red Sox games if it meant he would get to keep seeing your smile.

You must have felt his eyes on you, because you glanced over at him. “Are you okay?”

Luke smiled. Gods, he was so glad you were here.

“Never better.”

“That one nearly got me,” Luke said.

Percy huffed as he picked up his sword from the ground—he was pretty sure he would officially lose his mind if Luke disarmed him with that stupid move one more time. One benefit to the Hermes cabin being too scared to associate with him after getting claimed was that he wasn’t making a fool out of himself in front of other people.

“Maybe I can only beat you when I pour water on myself,” he said.

Luke chuckled as he took a bottle from the cooler on the side and held it up. “Wanna try?”

He shook his head. “I think my arms will fall off if I keep going with you.”

He tipped his shoulder. “Fair.”

Percy stared at the ground as Luke gathered himself, trying to put the free range thoughts roaming around his head in order. It didn’t help that he’d gained a million questions after Poseidon claimed him, and it didn’t help that there’s been a newest addition to his dream last night.

He still felt strange asking Luke about it, but he had to know more about her. Percy didn’t know why it felt like his mission to find out who this mysterious girl was, or why he felt that strange connection to her. Maybe it was the way Luke acted whenever he brought her up, maybe it was that she’d popped up in his dream next to him at the very end, maybe it was just plain old curiosity.

“I’m not supposed to be alive,” Percy said, breaking the silence. “I could die at any time in a bunch of different horrible ways. So will you tell me more about that girl on your wall?”

Again, Luke seemed to be caught off guard by it. Percy heard the crunch of plastic as his hand clenched ever so slightly around the bottle, and he tried to cover it up with an arched eyebrow. “Why do you want to know so badly?”

He shrugged. What was he supposed to say?

“I’m curious,” he decided.

Luke huffed a dry laugh before he took a sip of water, and he stared off into the distance for a while. He did a lot of staring whenever this girl was brought up. They looked like they were best friends in those pictures, but maybe whatever they had ended badly. And if she was a demigod too…

Well, it would make sense why he didn’t want to talk about her.

“You know that phrase about curiosity?” Luke asked.

“And how it killed the cat?”

He nodded, drinking some more. “It goes double for demigods.”

“Everything else wants to kill me,” Percy said. “So curiosity’s gonna have to get in line.”

Luke’s laugh was a little more genuine this time, and he shook his head. “I guess I can tell you a little about her. You actually probably have a right to know.”

“Is she a half-blood?” Percy asked immediately.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Who’s her parent?”

Luke capped his water bottle and looked at Percy for a good, long moment. His face glowed in the warm afternoon sun, his scar cast in a softer light than usual. The scar used to unnerve him, but he’d gotten used to it after weeks staring at it during sword fighting.

“She was a child of Poseidon, Percy,” he said. “Just like you.”

Percy felt short of breath, like Luke had just knocked his sword out of his hand and shoved him to the ground. But he stood on his own two legs that somehow still worked, and Luke hadn’t moved.

He had a sister?

“I have a sister?”

“…Had,” Luke corrected. “She… she died a few years back.”

A vice latched onto Percy’s heart. He was still having a hard time breathing. No wonder Luke always used past tense when he was talking about her.

He had a sister, he wasn’t alone, but he was because she was dead. And if Luke was one of her friends, that meant she died young.

Gods.

“What about their oath?” Percy asked, trying to ignore the aching in his chest. “I’m already on thin ice for my whole existing thing. How did Poseidon get away with two kids so close to each other?”

Luke shrugged. “I’ve never known why gods do things. Her mother was a great woman, though—I could see what drew Poseidon to her against the oath.”

One half of Percy wanted to ask every question that kept popping into his head. The other side of him wanted to break down and cry.

“How did you meet her?”

“We ran into each other when we were both young,” he said. “Both child runaways, both demigods, both New Englanders—we decided to rough it out on the road together. Couldn’t be any worse than doing it on our own.”

Percy tried to imagine it. A young Luke and a younger version of that girl—maybe Percy’s age—living together in the wilderness and fighting monsters. Surviving off of nothing but their wit and skill, facing death each day before they’d even reached middle school.

“It… it didn’t happen then, did it?” he asked hesitantly.

Luke shook his head. “Couple years later. All we did was watch each other’s backs out there.”

Percy couldn’t help himself. “What happened to her?”

“The same thing that happens to everyone,” Luke said flatly. “There’s a reason I’m the oldest one here.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Percy insisted. “It— it makes it worse, Luke. You see that, right?”

Luke stared at his empty water bottle then tossed it back into the cooler. When his gaze met Percy’s, he was shocked by how… tired he looked. Beyond exhausted—bone-weary. Percy wanted to say more, but he didn’t get the chance.

“This isn’t good conversation,” Luke said, “and it’s getting late. You should hit the showers before dinner.”

The sun still beat down on them, bright and angry in the sky, but Percy provided no argument. He had a lot to think about.

Before they went their separate ways, Percy stopped and looked back at him. “I’m sorry she’s gone, Luke.”

Luke’s gaze went unfocused for a moment, his eyes growing glossy. “So am I.”

Percy sat on the floor of the Hermes cabin in the corner that used to be his, staring at his meager belongings. He had to decide what to take on his quest, which was made easier by the fact that he hardly had anything to his name. Things could always be worse, though. At least he would have a change of clothes.

He should’ve been doing this in his own cabin, but it felt too empty, too suffocating in its silence. Eleven was still more familiar. He heard the door open and saw Luke walk in, and his eyes lit up when he saw Percy.

“Hey,” he said. “I wanted to see you before you left. How’re you feeling pre-quest?”

“Like the world’s about to end,” he said.

Luke’s lips twitched into a smile as he sat on the bed across from Percy. “Understandable. It kinda is.”

“It’s just overwhelming.” Percy shoved the unfolded clothes into his backpack. “I have to clear mine and my dad’s names and get Zeus’s bolt back, or else war will start. No pressure at all.”

“You were chosen for a reason,” Luke said. “You may not see it, Percy, but you’ve improved a lot since you got here. If anyone can do this, I think it’s you.”

Percy looked up at him, and he was reminded of the way their last conversation went. He was asking before he could really stop himself.

“I could die on this quest and never see you again,” Percy said. “So could you tell me more about my sister before I go?”

Luke smiled wistfully and sighed. “You really won’t let this go, will you?”

“It’s not really something you just let go,” he said. “Besides, I… I saw her in my dream last night.”

Luke’s smile faded. “You did?”

Percy nodded. “For a split second, but I know it was her. I felt the same way I did whenever I looked at her pictures. And… it’s the second time she’s shown up.”

He let out a long sigh and shook his head, his gaze trailing off to the wall. He always looked so much older when he talked about this girl, like he was a war veteran reminiscing on his lost love. And from what he’d gathered, it might not have been too far off.

“I told you we ran together when we were young,” he said, and Percy nodded. “We were both nine, and it should’ve been terrible, but she had a way of making everything better. Always found the bright side of things, was always able to make me laugh.”

“She was from Massachusetts—right in the middle of Boston.” Luke chuckled as he looked at Percy. “Huge Red Sox fan.”

Percy grimaced. “We all make mistakes.”

Luke smiled, though it faded a bit. “We got separated for a while, but we found each other again when I got to camp. Things were more peaceful than they are now, so she’d been claimed at camp pretty quickly. I figure Poseidon wanted her to have the protection of him openly standing behind her after what happened.”

He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘what happened’?”

Luke shook his head. “That would be an awful story to send you off on.”

Percy wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Luke was probably right—Percy didn’t want to make him relive it and then have to go on a death quest right after.

“A happier part, then,” he suggested.

“She ran away from home as a kid to protect her mom, but now that she had an idea of what she was doing, she started going back to school. She invited me to stay with her during the school year one year, and I accepted. That—” Luke’s throat bobbed, and the other hand clenched into a fist— “that was when she died.”

In his stunned silence, Luke got up and went over to his alcove. He pulled the drawer open on his bedside table and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. It must’ve been folded and crumpled a million other times in messier ways by all the creases he could see, but when Luke opened it, he could see handwriting all over the front.

A letter.

“We Iris messaged each other constantly while she was at school,” he said, “and we wrote back and forth when we couldn’t. This was the last letter she sent me.”

Percy’s first instinct was to say he wouldn’t be able to read it, but he realized that he didn’t really care. These were words that his sister wrote—he would sit here the rest of the day forcing sentences to make sense if that was what it took.

So he took the letter when Luke offered it.

To the one and only Luke Castellan,

My mom said yes! After a very long interrogation (she now knows basically everything about you) and a million promises that you would be as careful as possible and that you were good enough at sword fighting to take down anything that could come after us, she said you can spend the year here. We spent a couple hours every day making my mom’s study into a guest room, so you have a place to stay.

I’m an idiot that didn’t bring enough drachmas so that’s why I have to send this letter—hopefully it gets to you soon enough, because we’re gonna come get you a week before my winter break is over. Mom is letting me drive down because she says I have to get my permit soon. It makes sense that my first big test is getting to you. If we don’t make it, it’s because we died in a fiery crash.

Just kidding. I’m a great driver. But tell me some of your favorite songs when you reply and I’ll burn a CD for the ride—I figured out how to use LimeWire. Oh, and throw in a couple drachmas with the envelope so I can Iris message you next time. I miss your face and your voice, and my hand is cramping up writing all of this.

But this is so exciting! I can’t wait to introduce you to all my friends at school, and show you my favorite places in the city, and make you into a Red Sox fan. And you can come to my soccer games— I’m the greatest forward there is.

Jokes aside, I’m going to make sure you have the best time. We’ll spend every second together, Luke. We’re gonna make up for the time we lost.

I can’t wait to see you again.

Your hurricane.

It took Percy a long time to get through it with the words swimming all over, and it didn’t help that his vision had grown blurry.

Tears, he realized as he blinked, and he did it again to make sure they wouldn’t fall. He couldn’t cry in front of Luke, not over a girl he didn’t even know—even if she was his sister. But maybe he was grieving that—the fact that he would never get to know her.

“God, man. I— I’m sorry.” Percy couldn’t think of anything else to say. “She sounds like she was great.”

Luke couldn’t even manage a smile this time as he stared at the wall. Percy was surprised he could even talk to him about it.

“She was,” he murmured. “You would’ve liked her. And gods,” this time, a bit of a smile broke through despite it all, “she would have loved a little brother.”

“I’m gonna make her proud on this quest,” Percy vowed. “I’m gonna clear our dad’s name for her.”

Something in Luke’s gaze had changed—sadness, almost regret. “You’re a good kid, Percy. I hope your quest doesn’t change that.”

I hope I come back alive, he wanted to say. But given the topic matter, he didn’t. Percy carefully folded the letter back up and handed it to Luke.

“Thank you for telling me about her, man,” Percy said. “I… I know it can’t be easy.”

Luke let out a shuddering breath as he stared at the closed letter—Percy wondered how many times he must have sat in this same position, reading her words. “No better way to honor her memory than helping her brother.” He glanced at Percy. “I see a lot of her in you.”

He’d been wondering if he had anything in common with her. Percy felt a sudden flare of anger shoot through him—it wasn’t fair that she was dead. Poseidon was a god, and she was a teenager. He should have saved her.

Percy’s mouth was drier than a desert. A part of him wanted to curl up in a ball and sob over the sister he never got the chance to know, but the other part of him knew—from what little Luke had told him about her—that she wouldn’t want him to.

“I should get going,” Percy said, standing up from the floor. “We have to leave for the quest soon, and Annabeth and Grover are probably wondering where I am, and…”

Percy trailed off, and Luke nodded in understanding. He turned around and took one of the photos off the wall—one of you alone in the middle of a park, wearing a bucket hat and absolutely beaming.

“You deserve to have a part of her with you,” he said. “For good luck.”

He felt himself choking up, and he pushed it down as he accepted the photo. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.”

“Good luck, Percy,” Luke said. “You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you.”

Percy found himself studying the picture of you once he made it outside, trying to memorize your face. With your wide, infectious smile that emanated pure sunlight, he could have mistaken you for an Apollo kid. But when he looked at you, he got that same warmth that he felt every time he imagined his father.

“I won’t let you down,” he murmured. “I promise.”

After sleeping in his train seat for half the day, Percy vowed to never complain about his bed in Cabin Three again. He was gonna be going down to the Underworld with permanent cricks in his neck.

Grover was still sound asleep—Percy envied him for how easily it came to him in the worst conditions—but thankfully, Annabeth wasn’t. Her gaze was focused on the view as their train chugged along.

Percy cleared his throat in a flawless attempt at getting her attention, and it worked.

“You’re awake,” she said.

“Unfortunately.” Percy sighed. “How much longer do you think it’ll be?”

“Another day, at least,” she said. “And we’ve got a layover in St. Louis.”

“St. Louis,” he hummed. “Nice.”

They sat in silence for a while—there wasn’t much to talk about when they were coming off of two— or was it three, now?—near-death experiences. But eventually, Annabeth cleared her throat, taking a page from his book, and it worked again.

“There— there’s probably something you should know,” Annabeth said, and that worked even better than clearing her throat. “You’re not the only Big Three kid to come through Camp Half-blood lately.”

“I know,” he said. “Grover and Luke explained it.”

Her eyes widened slightly and she leaned forward in her seat. “Luke did?”

“…Yeah. You all already told me about Thalia.” Percy glanced away, suddenly feeling a chill in the train car. “Luke told me about my sister.”

Annabeth went silent.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I kind of annoyed Luke until he told me. Doesn’t really seem like a subject people at camp like to talk about.”

“I’m just surprised he did,” she murmured. “They were… they were close, Percy. Her death destroyed him—Thalia and your sister. All of it’s complicated.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I got some of that.”

“I only knew her for a year at camp, but everyone loved her,” she said. “She was nice. Popular. Always helped when she could, always had the biggest, most infectious smile on her face.” Annabeth looked down at her hands. “She didn’t deserve the fate she got.”

Percy didn’t think he’d ever grieved so much for someone he never knew. “But her and Luke—were they…?”

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, “they were a thing, later on.”

That seemed to be all she wanted to say on the matter. Percy decided not to push.

“How did you meet her?” he asked.

Annabeth’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I met her on the day I thought I would die.”

For the first time in her life, Annabeth Chase couldn’t think.

It had all happened so fast. One second she was running with Luke and Thalia and Grover, praying to her mother and any other gods that would listen to make the horde of monsters let up even a centimeter.

The next, she’d collapsed on the ground, never so grateful to have grass and dirt and dust in her face. But she could hear Luke yelling, barely able to make it out in her delirious state—she didn’t know when she’d last had a sip of water, and they’d been running for at least three miles—but he sounded hysterical.

She remembered her last clear thought: they weren’t going to make it.

But they had. They had, so why was Luke losing his mind?

Annabeth pulled herself up from the ground—how long had she been bleeding out of those slashes on her arm?—and looked for the rest of her friends. Luke wasn’t yelling anymore, instead arguing with someone she didn’t recognize in a bright orange shirt. Grover’s furry legs trembled as he stared down the hill they’d just gotten up, completely silent, and Thalia—

Where was Thalia?

Annabeth tried to get up but her legs gave out almost immediately, and steady arms caught her before she could fall to the ground again. Kind eyes served to ease some of her panic—she was older than Annabeth, maybe around Luke or Thalia’s age.

Thalia—

“Hey, you’re okay,” the voice said, and Annabeth’s attention was drawn back to you. “I’ve got you.”

“Where’s Thalia?” she blurted out, because now she couldn’t think of anything else.

Your brows creased and you glanced back down the hill—Annabeth did too, and she saw Grover and Luke arguing with each other. Or rather, Luke was yelling at him as Grover anxiously hooked his hands through his hair.

“I don’t know,” you said, “but right now, I need to make sure you’re okay. Are you hurt?”

Annabeth absentmindedly held up her arm, but she was only focused on her friends. Why wasn’t Thalia with them? Why was Luke so upset?

You cursed under your breath in Ancient Greek as you cradled her arm, and you looked back down the hill. Annabeth could see at least half a dozen other kids.

“We’ve got two half-bloods and a satyr, one injured!” you yelled back. “Get Molly and Brayden!”

“Three,” Annabeth found herself saying. “There’s three half-bloods—”

“Annabeth!”

Her head shot up at the sound of Luke calling her name as he bounded over, and her eyes widened at the blood steadily spidering across the fabric of his shirt.

“Luke, you’re hurt—”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “It’s fine.”

“We have Apollo kids coming,” you said, looking up at him, still cradling Annabeth’s arm. “We’ll get y—”

Your sentence stuck in your throat, and Annabeth could see tears welling in your eyes as your brows furrowed. She thought Luke’s eyes might burst out of his skull as he stared at you, his lips parted but nothing coming out. Neither of you were able to form words.

When he finally did get something out, it was a single name. One Annabeth knew by heart, one that he’d mourned for years.

“Luke?” you whispered.

Before he had the chance to do anything, two teenagers got over the hill and called out your name, the same one Luke used. He always said you were dead, but you clearly weren’t dead, because you were here and you had her arm in your grasp and while your hands were cold, they weren’t cold enough to be dead—

“Molly’s gonna take care of you,” you said, looking back at Annabeth and cutting off her inner dialogue. “She’ll get you to the infirmary and heal you up, okay?”

“My friends—”

“They’re gonna be okay too,” you said. “I promise.”

Annabeth looked up at Luke, and he nodded. “We’ll be with you soon, Annabeth. We— we have to talk about some things.”

So she went with Molly down the hill, and Annabeth put pressure on her bleeding wound when she told her to—it had started to sting like hell now that her adrenaline was fading.

She looked back just in time to see you and Luke share the tightest hug ever.

The hug of two people who realized they weren’t seeing ghosts, Annabeth thought.

You bolted up in bed, eyes wide and your chest heaving as you rapidly sucked in air. Your fingers found purchase in your bedsheets, desperate for something familiar—it took a second for you to recognize your surroundings, that you weren’t in an endless void, but your childhood bedroom offered little comfort.

You ran a hand over your forehead, damp with sweat, as you tried to calm down. Your breathing slowed, but you couldn’t shake that awful feeling that hung over you in your sleep.

Your nightmares were getting worse, you knew that much. That raspy, demented voice used to be a rarity, and now it appeared every night. You could usually deal with your nightmares, but the sense of absolute dread that voice and the pit fostered in you was too much. You hadn’t managed to sleep through the night once since you came home for the school year.

You could deal with the monsters—to you, this was the worst part of your godly blood.

A knock rattled on the door out of nowhere, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The only thing that calmed you down was the thought that monsters didn’t knock.

“Come in,” you croaked, your throat drier than a desert.

Thankfully, a monster hadn’t come to make your night even more miserable. Luke stood in the doorway, his eyebrows creased in concern, messy curls hanging just above his eyes. He wore the Red Sox t-shirt you’d bought for him at the game you dragged him to, and in your addled state, you didn’t even think to tease him about it.

“Are you okay?” He should’ve been as disoriented as you, but his alerted eyes told a different story.

You could only think of one thing. “How did you know?”

Luke’s lips parted for a moment, as if he hadn’t even considered it. “I could just feel it.”

You managed a smile despite every atom in your body screaming at you. “I think that means you can come in.”

He closed the door behind him, and you shifted over in your bed to make room for him. There wasn’t much in a twin, but you made it work. Luke’s weight pressed into the mattress, making you adjust your position, and it was more comforting than any amount of blankets.

“You’re so cold,” he murmured, laying the back of his hand against your arm. “How do you live like that?”

“Blame my dad,” you said. “I’ve got water in my blood.”

“I think that’s probably a bad thing,” Luke said, and you knocked your shoulder into his with a huff.

“You know what I mean.”

Luke let his hand fall back in his lap, and as you brought your knees up to your chest, you pulled the covers with them.

“So,” Luke said, glancing at you, “what’s got you awake at the witching hour?”

“The usual,” you mumbled.

“Nightmares that might be prophetic?” he asked.

You made a lazy gesture with your hand. “Bingo.”

“The worst sense of dread imaginable?”

“Bullseye.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

You shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t deal with.”

“You don’t always have to put on a front, y’know,” Luke said. You felt his eyes on you. “You don’t always have to be strong.”

“I’m naturally strong,” you said with mock austerity. “Comes with the god for a dad.”

Luke chuckled and shook his head. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” you murmured.

You leaned into his side, fitting your head into the crook of his neck. Luke wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, and you let out a contented sigh.

That voice in your nightmares seemed so small when you had Luke.

“Can you stay?” you asked softly.

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

“Just like old times,” you whispered.

“Just like old times,” he agreed.

Luke ran hot, and you’d never been more thankful for it as you fully settled into his side. Icy blood ran through your veins, and you let out a shaky sigh. You could hear his steady breathing, feel his heartbeat through his chest, and the anxiety from earlier began to steadily fade. You never felt safer than when you were with Luke.

There was something between you—you weren’t that stupid—but you hadn’t talked about it. With you and Luke, it was just… you and Luke. You didn’t have to put a label to it.

How could you put a label to your relationship, when you’d spent your first few years together fighting for each day, and then the next few thinking the other was dead?

Maybe someday, you would talk about it. But for now, this was more than enough.

“Don’t worry,” Luke murmured in your ear as your eyes began to droop. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

And by the gods, you believed him.

#HOW IS THIS “A LITTLE SAD”????????#THIS IS NOT LITTLE #THIS PUNCHED A HOLE THROUGH ME #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader

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itevilhag · 2 months

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i'm kind of insane so thematically if luke is not at camp in my trouble!verse fics i dont want him wearing the camp shirt in the header... but ive told yall abt how charlie makes me laugh when he poses for photos bc its not as natural

do you know how much of a psycho i felt like while screenshotting dior's tiktok frame by frame to get him looking natural for something yall prob wont even look at 😭😭

anyways here's evidence of my hard work im so normal about this he has a nice smile when hes not thinking too hard about it

enjoy the photos charlie nation im gonna go be embarassed for the rest of the day

edit: if you're reading this walker and charlie are now the same height i fear they have to film s2 now or mr evil man is gonna be wearing platforms in their scenes together

#IM GONNA BE THE BIGGEST FCKNG LIAR IF I SAY THAT HE'S NOT ATTRACTIVE #CUZ HE IS #CHARLIE BUSHNELL IS A VERY PRETTY GUY #THERE I SAID IT #BUT SRSLY MANS NEED TO CHILL WHEN IT COMES TO POSING #SIR THE JAW IS THROWING ME OFF #HE'S REALLY CUTE THO HEHE #charlie bushnell #luke castellan x reader #UNRELATED I KNOW SORRYYYYY

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itevilhag · 2 months

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And with the sun gone, it’s shadow would forever search for it’s source of light, destined to never find what it so desperately craved.

THIS ACTUALLY FUCKED ME UP🙃😭

the sun & it’s shadow

pairing: percy jackson x fem!nike!reader (platonic)

genre: fluff, angsty, & violence

word count: literally no clue. started to write it on here & was on a role & never transferred it to goggle docs

warning(s): NOT PROOF READ! (i will do it once i have time), mention of reader death (so sorry), timeskippy (first part takes place in the pjo show season 1 & the second takes place during the 5th book), mentions of sun!reader & shadow!percy, mentions of blood + traitor siblings + murder

note: i tried to make this poetic but very much failed at it so enjoy my attempt :) <3

The sun is many things. In realistic terms, it’s a glowing ball of gas in the middle of our solar system. In metaphorical terms, it is something that gives life and provides warmth for those on Earth. It’s a vital source of life that humans cannot live without. And for Percy Jackson, (Y/N) (L/N) was the sun.

She was one of the first people he met at Camp Half-Blood.

(Y/N) had been on her way to sit with her half-siblings when she noticed a petit blond boy sitting by himself during dinner. He had been left abandoned by the Hermes cabin as they did their nightly offerings to their godly parent. Occasionally, he’d stab his fork into whatever was on his plate and push it around, clearly disinterested in what was in front of him. (Y/N) quickly changed course and decided that she was going to sit with the lonely boy instead. Her siblings would see her later in the night anyway.

Percy felt her before he saw her, blue eyes darting up from the mashed and jumbled food in front of him to the figure approaching. The light hair on his eyebrow bone furrowed together in confusion at the sight. But before he could express his confusion, the girl opened her mouth and began to speak.

“Hi, I’m (Y/N). You must be Percy, right? I’d say it’s a pleasure to welcome you to Camp Half-Blood, but it never really is. Especially on your first day”.

The young boy let out a small snort at her saying, a small, but genuine, smile painting his lips.

“Nice to meet you, (Y/N)”.

During the entirety of their conversation, Percy swore he could see literal light shine from the body of the daughter of Nike. Maybe even a little more whenever she smiled. She produced such a warm and comforting aura that Percy found himself seeking solace in her presence nearly every day. She was a comfort that was not being provided anywhere else at Camp Half-Blood. He truly believed that she was a literal interpretation of the sun, even from the first moment he saw her.

He often bugged Luke about her. Requesting that she be the one to show him around and show him how to properly fight. Albeit Luke being basically the best option of being Percy’s mentor, the boy only wanted the sun. He used the excuse of her being the literal daughter of Nike, Goddess of Victory. She surely had to have better, if not as good, swordskills as Luke. The elder son of Hermes eventually gave in, only for a week though, then it was back to business.

“Your elbows too low. It needs to be level with the hilt of the sword,” she’d speak to him in such a gentle voice that his mind often wondered to his Mother and her tenderness. “Your grip needs to be loosened. It’s too tight”.

The more she spoke, the more Percy found himself soaking in her advice and actually listening to her. She made it easy to listen. Her voice was as soft as honey and as sweet as his blue gummy candy. She never raised her voice nor scolded him when he got something wrong. Her touch was so soft that Percy barely felt her fingertips brush the point of his elbow as she corrected his stance as needed. He flourished under her watch and it was noticeable.

“Your skills are improving,” Luke heaved, picking back up his sword as the young son of Poseidon managed to disarm him within minutes of them dueling. “Your lessons with (Y/N) are really paying off huh?”.

Pride swelled within Percy’s chest at Luke’s comment, a smile spreading across his lips. He was proud of the improvement he has made in such little time and the only person he could think to thank is you.

“If I’d know any better, I’d say she’s a better mentor than me,” the son of Hermes grinned, slight disgust and jealousy tugged at his stomach. He felt Percy slipping through his hands and he needed to act quick before he lost the demigod for good.

“Perhaps,” Percy smirked, happy with the result.

When it was time for his first quest, the young twelve-year-old found himself at the Nike cabin, asking for you when one of your siblings answered the door instead.

“What’s up, kelp boy?” (Y/N) croaked out, voice still laced with sleep. She rubbed her eyes as she leaned against the door frame of her Mothers cabin.

“Sorry to wake you,” Percy spoke, teeth tearing at the dried skin on his lower lip. “I just – I just wanted to ask you something”.

“Shoot,” she replied.

“Have you ever been on a quest?”.

“A handful, I’d say. Why? Are you nervous for yours?”.

The tone of which she spoke was so sweet and soft, Percy found himself already at ease, shouldering relaxing from their prior tense state.

“I won’t tell you not to be because that’s not very helpful. But I will tell you to be careful. Don’t get too over in your head or you and the others won’t end up back home. Just because you’re the son of Poseidon and got your first ever quest at the ripe age of twelve doesn’t mean you’re immune to what’s out there. Remember what you’ve learned throughout your stay here and hold steadfast, Jackson. You’ll be just fine”.

And he was. He was fine, at least for some parts of his quest. Percy often found himself thinking back on your words spoken that night. How you unknowingly repeated the same phrase his Mother told him before being taken by the minotaur. How you had unwavering faith in him and his, limited, abilities as a new and fresh demigod. The blond often found himself thinking about what you’d do in this kind of situation. Of how’d you approach the entire situation. Of how’d you hold your sword in your hands. Of what you’d say in the times he’d need it most. He found himself shaping and molding hisself to what you’d do. A perfect making of a protégé.

When he arrived back at camp, you were the first to pull him into your arms, nearly squeezing all the air out of his lungs as you did so.

“Welcome back, kelp boy,” you’d whisper, teary eyed and thankful to the Gods that twelve-year-old Percy Jackson was brought back safe and sound.

And he never left your side much after that.

He’d go wherever you’d go. He was your shadow and you were his sun.

And it stayed like that for years, even throughout all the losses and defeats and Luke and his growing Titan army. But, it came to a final halt during the Great War.

(Y/N) had been too busy aiding the wounded and fighting for her life to notice the glittering sword blade of her traitor half-sibling. It being too late as the weapon sunk it’s entirety into the back of Nike’s daughter.

A gasp had been the only thing to alert Percy and the others of her demise, the sound of ripping flesh and gushing blood being the next.

Poseidon’s son let out an angered scream, rushing towards the person he looked up to the most. He gathered her into his arms as she practically went limp in his hold, his pale hands coated in her blood as he tried to stop the seemingly never ending flow.

Percy’s cried pleas where the only thing that echoed throughout the now quiet night. He begged her not to go and that she was going to be okay because she had to. She had to or he didn’t know who else was going to make sure he remembered to eat breakfast or make sure his swordskills were always refined and perfect.

The horrible realization that she had been gone the minute her body hit the hard concrete had settled into Percy Jackson’s bones as he let out an anguished roar, holding the body of his sun close to his chest as his salty tears made streaks down her dirt covered face and droplet marks in her battered orange Camp Half-Blood shirt.

At the end of the war, Percy had made his way back to the body of someone he considered a familial figure. The sight of her Mother gently stroking the cheek of her slumped over body brought fresh tears to his eyes. He wasn’t able to bring himself to carry her body back to camp. He left it to the children of Apollo, making sure they treated it with the upmost care.

The days following her passing, Percy found himself in the Nike cabin most nights, sleeping on the floor next to (Y/N)‘s bed, for he was too afraid that the smell of you would disappear too quickly due to his presence on the sheets. He found himself finding you in a multitude of things and it always shattered his heart into pieces once more. Everything served as a reminder of you, even the actual sun, for he missed the warmth and comfort you brought wherever you went.

And with the sun gone, it’s shadow would forever search for it’s source of light, destined to never find what it so desperately craved.

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itevilhag · 3 months

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“𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝒹𝒶𝒹”

summary: Apollo’s child is upset at him for ending a beautiful relationship.

pairing: percy jackson x child of apollo!reader

word count: 481

A/N: reader isn’t dyslexic, or they read the song of achilles in greek. you can choose

“I hate my dad.”

Percy turns to face the entrance to his cabin. There you stand, your arms crossed.

He gulps. The whole Luke Castellan deal.. he seriously hopes you’re joking. It’s been almost a year since the Battle of Manhattan. His life had changed afterwards, going missing and everything. He had missed out on months of your relationship after Hera put him to sleep. The moment he returned to Camp Half-Blood and saw you, it was like the world was finally rewarding him for all he’s done for it.

He really hoped you didn’t want to repeat Luke’s idea.

“Why?”

You huff, walking into Cabin 3, sitting onto his bed. You poke at his group of sea creature stuffed animals.

“Have you read Song of Achilles?”

Percy sits beside you. He recounts you talking about a book you’ve been reading. Too bad Percy isn’t a reader. He’s dyslexic anyways.

“Nope.”

“Well, you know the end of Achilles’ life story?”

“His heel was struck by an arrow?”

You shake your head. He tilts his head, curious.

“His lover Patroclus died while wearing Achilles’ armor and trying to get the army into Troy’s walls. Achilles, fueled by rage, defeated a god to reach the man who killed Patroclus. Achilles ended up dying because he wanted to make the whole world pay for killing Patroclus.”

Percy nods.

“What does this have to do with your dad?”

You frown deeply. His hand automatically wraps around yours in response, giving a gentle squeeze. He hates seeing you upset.

“My dad pushed Patroclus off the wall of Troy. The second time, he loosened the straps of his armor and people realized he wasn’t Achilles. Hector then killed Patroclus.”

Percy pieced the information together. He leaned his head on top of yours.

“You’re upset at your dad because he killed two people you’ve never met?”

“They were in love, babe!”

“Right.”

You pull away and narrow your eyes at him. He gives you a playful smile, pulling you to his side and kissing the top of your head.

“I’m sure your dad learned his lesson. I don’t think he’ll do it again.”

“He better not. I won’t be on speaking terms with him, then.”

Percy laughs lightly. The Apollo children were kind of spoiled; their father visits them in dreams and answers prayers often. They have relationships other demigods dream of. Even Percy gets a little jealous sometimes, when his dad doesn’t answer him about something.

“You’ll have to tell me what he says when you confront him about it.”

“Oh, I will.”

You then pull away so that you can sit on his bed properly. You cross your legs and face him. He copies you, and you take hold of his hands.

“Now that I’ve finished the book, though, can I tell you about my favorite parts?”

His face breaks into a large smile.

“Of course.”

#this is so cute i might die🥹#percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #gn reader

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itevilhag · 3 months

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i think she'd jump him like "I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU, I LOVED YOU, HOW DARE YOU" but then backs out when she has the sword on his neck, cuz she loves him too much to kill him.

I feel like killers more badass yhan baby!Percy tho so Luke would betray him and shed be like either be like "🙂🙂🙂 HAHA!!!! SO FUNNY!!!!!! OK jokes iver." What. Ur joking... ur absolutely joking. After all we've been through 😭😭😨?"

Or she'd be like "👹👹👹😡😡😡💥 FUCK YOU CASTELLAN I HATE U DUMBASS BITCH" and cry herself to sleep after

this is so funny i had to ask the audience

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itevilhag · 3 months

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Endure and Survive

Chapter Five of " A Sinner's Redemption"

Previous | Next

SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST

Word Count: 14.4k

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Infected, descriptions of gore and violence, death, character deaths, suicide and mentions of suicidal ideation, the pieces finally click, LOTS of angst and little comfort, guns and other weapons (let me know if I mentioned anything)

Author's Note: I hope everyone had a pleasant holiday season! I was planning on this chapter to be around 10k but it ended up being 14k (I got a little carried away hehe) Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading it! Feel free to leave comments and reblog! I love hearing your thoughts. Thanks for your support!!

Sleep had come easy to Piper. It was a foreign feeling as peace swept over her mind and body. And for the first time since she was twelve, Piper dreamed. The dream wasn’t unique; She sat on a porch watching the sun go down, taking a rainbow of colors with it. Hues of pink and orange flooded her view, and for once in her life, she felt alive. Of course, it wouldn’t be a dream if she was alone, so sitting next to her was Ellie. Her younger sister was bright, and her skin glowed under the departing sun. It was her and Ellie. Ellie and Piper.

Piper leaned into her sister’s shoulder, and a smile formed on Ellie’s face. She was reading her joke book. Ellie always had it with her. Piper peered at the pages and snickered when she found a horrible joke. Then, another figure sat down next to her. Piper was puzzled as she turned to her right. Joel. It was Joel. Joel was in her dream. Whatever confusion Piper felt washed away at the sight of him. She felt oddly at home. Dazed, she looked at Joel, Ellie, and the sunset. It felt unnatural not to have adrenaline pumping through her veins or her mind and heart running a million miles per second. She wasn’t on guard. She wasn’t FEDRA’s child soldier. She was just Piper, and next to her was just Joel and Ellie. They were happy, but what disturbed Piper the most wasn’t that she was delighted; she felt like she had found a home. This was her dream. Joel, Ellie, and her are safe, happy, and together at home.

But dreams do not last forever; before she knew it, the steel walls around her mind built up again. Her thoughts turned back to themes of violence and survival. She woke up and joined the war once more.

“Piper,” Ellie whispered when she saw her sister wake up. If it hadn’t been for Ellie’s hands holding Piper’s shoulders, the young teen would have collided with her sister.

“Ellie? What’s…” Piper followed Ellie’s worried gaze to a man standing behind her.

Forcing Ellie’s hands off her, Piper sat up and faced the man. He raised his gun and warned her not to make any sudden movements, or he’d shoot. Piper’s eyes grew cold as her instincts kicked in. The man, whoever he was, was nervous. His hands shook as he directed the gun at Piper. In any other scenario, she’d attack him then and there. However, there was another in the room. A kid, whom Piper thought to be about six or seven years old, held a gun at Joel.

“Els, wake up, Joel,” Piper calmly said as her eyes never left the gun before her. Her chin slowly jutted up as a sign of her cautiousness.

“Joel, wake up,” Ellie said. He lay sleeping. “Joel.” No response. “Joel!” Ellie yelled and grabbed onto the man’s jacket, shaking him awake. It was then Joel finally began to stir.

“Joel,” Ellie’s lips parted in relief as she saw the old man rise. Joel blinked his eyes slowly, with the fog of sleep still on his mind. Once his dark orbs landed on the silver metallic shine of a gun, his muscles tensed.

“Eyes on me,” the man said to Joel. “Eyes on me. You don't have to worry about what to say. We don't wanna hurt you. We wanna help you.”

Joel raised a brow at the man, and Piper held back a scoff. He wet his lips as he awaited the young man’s following words.

“Okay. Okay, um… I don't know what the next step is with something like this, but if I lower my gun… we didn't hurt you… so you don't hurt us… right?” The man’s gun lowered slightly.

“That's right,” Joel said. The words left his mouth too soon to convey genuity.

“That's a weird fսck¡n' tone, man,” the man with the gun said. His hands began to clam up, and his knuckles turned three shades lighter. If they gripped the pistol even tighter, Ellie was sure that lights where the man’s knuckles were would illuminate the room.

A gasp left Ellie’s mouth when the gun inched closer to Piper’s temple. Her sister, however, didn’t flinch. “That's just the way he sounds. He has an asshоlе voice. Joel, tell him he's okay,” Ellie begged.

Joel glanced at Piper and Ellie and then back at the man. “Everything is great.”

“Dude,” Ellie hissed with desperation.

The man’s movements were becoming more frantic, and Piper knew they’d probably all be dead if she didn't pounce. “Fսck! Okay… listen… I'm gonna trust you,” the gun lowered to his side, and Piper’s shoulders relaxed. ”Yes. But if either of you guys try anything…” he raised the gun again, alerting Piper. “Yeah? Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ellie nodded.

Briefly, Piper peered over at Joel. Her eyes communicated her distrust in the situation; however, Joel’s warm eyes gave her a sense of ease. They would see where this went, and if things went wrong, they’d fight.

“Can I sit up?” Joel asked. His eyes darted between the older guy and the kid.

“Yeah. Slow. Get up slow,” the man instructed Joel before looking at the kid beside him.

“Who are you?” was the next question Joel asked.

“My name's Henry,” he introduced before pointing to the younger kid beside him. “That's my brother, Sam. I'm the most wanted man in Kansas City. Although right now…” Henry’s eyes scanned the three of them. “My guess is you're running a close second.”

Joel’s brow tensed. It was a subtle change that only Piper and Ellie picked up on. To Henry and Sam, he was still the man glaring at them.

“So…” Henry muttered, “truce?” Henry held out his hand as if Joel was going to shake it. Joel did no such thing. Instead, Joel’s posture tensed as Henry’s dark hand waved in front of Joel. Henry’s lips drew into a tight line before directing his hand at Piper. He got no response from her. However, Ellie stood up and grabbed Henry’s hand, agreeing on a truce for her two stubborn guardians.

“Truce,” Ellie mumbled before plopping back down and reaching into her bag to cover up the shaking in her knees. In the next moment, her hands were full of food. She tossed some to Henry and Sam.

“Where'd you get these?” Henry asked. His mouth began to water at the sight of the stale sandwich.

“From Bill,” Ellie replied, digging into her sandwich. “He's dead.” Feeling Piper's irked stare, Ellie rolled her eyes as she shoved a sandwich into Piper’s hand. The older teen’s stomach rumbled, betraying her cold stature. Reluctantly, Piper began to eat, slowly cueing Joel to partake in the meal.

Once they were all eating, Sam turned to his brother. His little hands twirled and waved, fingers bending and straightening to create symbols. Henry’s eyes followed his brother’s movements as everyone’s confusion grew.

“He says thank you,” Henry translated. He nodded as he gazed down at the food. “I'm guessing you don't have much, so… this means a lot,” he smiled.

Ellie grew curious, looking at the younger boy. His hand movements only intrigued her. It appeared to be a secret language. Her mind began to whirl with thoughts on creating her secret language with Piper and how cool it would be to torment Joel. “How old is he?” Ellie asked.

Henry placed down his sandwich and created some hand movements to communicate with Sam. The young boy nodded and replied. “He's eight,” Henry noted.

“Cool,” Ellie beamed as her eyes squinted, trying to interpret the language. “I'm Ellie!” She watched as Henry relayed the information back to Sam, trying to copy the signs subtly. Still, they were over before she could move her fingers in the correct position. Sighing in defeat, Ellie peered over at her sister.

The muscles in Piper’s jaw clenched so tight that Ellie thought she could throw a piece of coal between her teeth and find a diamond in five minutes. Quickly nudging her sister, Ellie saw Piper’s jaw unclench as her older sister flashed her a look of annoyance.

“You gonna introduce yourself?” Ellie asked, placing all her body weight on Piper’s side, nearly knocking the teen over.

Piper’s arm ached from the sudden force, and it took everything in her not to wince at the recent pain from the bullet’s trace on her arm. Quickly, Piper angled her shoulder to shove Ellie's offer before sending her another look that said she wasn’t planning on saying anything soon. Ellie huffed, the sound mixing a laugh and a sigh of disappointment.

“That’s Piper. My sister,” Ellie said, pointing to Piper. Piper whipped her head to Ellie. The tension in her jaw returned, and her eyes burned with the offense of being betrayed by her sister. Her internal vow of silence broke.

“Ellie!” Piper hissed.

“What? That’s your name unless you want to go by Annie Reaction,” Ellie replied.

“Fucking hell,” Piper cursed. “Of course you–”

“Jesus, you two stop it,” Joel grumbled. The girls grew silent. Meanwhile, Henry felt a wave of awkwardness grow between the group. Being a witness to the scolding of others was always strange, and he was unsure if he should disappear or contribute to the conversation.

“I'm Joel.” Joel scrunched up the wrapper holding his food and shoved it back into his backpack. He linked his fingers together and placed his gaze on Henry and Sam. “Look, you ate, we didn't kill each other; let's call this a win-win and move on.”

Henry’s face paled. Piper wanted to scoff at the young man. He had no clue how to deal with situations like this. “Well, I'm betting…,” Henry said, gathering his thoughts. “…That y'all came up here to get a view of the city and plan a way out. And when the sun's up, I'll show you one.”

Joel leaned back. His dark eyes scanned Henry’s for any sense of a lie. He found none in the young man’s honest demeanor. He glanced over to Piper, who had come to the same conclusion. Henry was right. They needed to escape the death trap of a city, and he just offered them their salvation.

꧁_____꧂

“Welcome to Killa City,” Henry announced as his arms parted to the panoramic view of the city that the building provided.

The view was not much compared to the sights Piper had already seen. It was a city. Buildings were crumbling and rotting underneath the strain of time and neglect. Dust was everywhere, placing the city in a tinted haze. As the young teen’s eyes scanned the view, she saw what had drawn Joel’s attention: the center of black in the middle of the city. The center was even worse if the rest of Kansas City had seemed barren. It was torched, leaving everything a charcoal-like color—a midnight graveyard. The sight made Piper shudder.

Joel was grateful he didn’t have to crane his neck to look outside the window. His back, neck, and other muscles were stiff and sore. They refused to move properly. It was another sign Joel was getting old. He let Piper fall asleep on his shoulder as they were sitting guard, and now his body was paying the consequences. Not that Joel minded providing a stable shoulder for the young teen to rest her head on, even if she was adamant about staying awake with him. The thought of Piper’s stubbornness almost made Joel chuckle if it weren’t for the scorched center of the city.

“No FEDRA,” Joel muttered. The view of the city did little to ease the knot of nerves growing in the pit of his stomach. These were the people they were hiding from, who set the Kansas City QZ ablaze. Who knows what else these bastards did and are capable of?

Henry nodded as he spotted what Joel was eyeing. It was the old QZ, burned to the ground. “Not as of ten days ago, no,” Henry confirmed.

There was a shuffling behind the two men as Piper leaned back onto the table in what was supposed to be a conference room. “We always heard KC FEDRA was…,” Piper began. Her voice was soft and almost indecipherable from the noises caused by Ellie and Sam.

“Monsters? Savages?” Henry finished. His wide eyes glanced back at Piper as he answered her. His dark pools reflected the horror and fires that set ablaze ten days ago, and she forced herself to look away. “Yeah, you heard right. Raped and tortured and murdered people for 20 years. And you know what happens when you do that to people? The moment they get a chance, they do it right back to you.”

“But you're not FEDRA,” Joel noted as he looked Henry up and down. Joel knew what FEDRA looked like, and Henry, well, he was in no way the FEDRA image.

Henry’s eyes glanced down, and his shoulders slightly caved in as if making himself physically smaller would help lessen the blow of his following words. “No…,” Henry shook his head, “worse. I'm a collaborator.”

Piper and Joel’s eyes widened at Henry’s confession.

“I don't work with rats,” Joel spat. His brows were furrowed, and eyes narrowed in on Henry.

Upon hearing Joel’s words, Piper felt her stomach churn. Her feet stepped back from the conversation as her arms defensively crossed over her torso. Joel didn’t know she was one of them, that she was FEDRA and had been for years. Suppose he was this pissed off at Henry working with them; who knows what he would do to her. She gulped, and her eyes blinked rapidly as she turned away from Joel, an action that did not go unnoticed by the man.

“Yeah, you fսck¡ng do. Today you do… 'cause I live here and you don't,” Henry hissed. “That's how I followed you here. I know this city, and that's how I'm gonna help you get out.”

A vein bulged in the middle of Joel’s forehead, deepening his wrinkles. “Why help us?” Joel asked.

“I saw what you did… the way you killed those men,” Henry mumbled. His voice was quiet as if he didn’t want the kids to overhear him. “Now, I know where to go, but I don't know how to make it through alive, not if it's just me and Sam.” Henry glanced behind to look at his brother, who was smiling as Ellie scribbled on his scratch pad.

“You seem capable enough,” Joel noted. “You're armed.”

Henry’s body shook in disagreement. “You're wrong and wrong. Never killed anyone. And pointing an unloaded gun at you was the closest I've ever come to being violent.” He let out a nervous chuckle at his admission. “So that's the deal. I show the way… you clear the way.”

Suddenly, a burst of light laughter filled the arm, drawing the attention of Joel, Henry, and Piper. It was Ellie and Sam. They were in a fit of giggles at something one of them had said. Henry’s anxious expression gave way to a soft smile. The creases on Joel’s face relaxed, and Piper’s arms unfolded themselves, resting at her sides.

“Haven't heard that in a long time,” Henry muttered. Piper nodded. It had been a while since Ellie had laughed like that. How long had it been since she laughed like that? Yeah, she played along with Ellie’s antics, resulting in a giggle here or there, but it was a real laugh where her chest tightened because she could no longer breathe. A real laugh where her eyes watered, and the sound no longer became aesthetically pleasing to the ear. If it was a laugh like that, then Piper hadn’t laughed in a long time. She thought back to last night. Joel had almost made her laugh like that. Piper’s chest clammed up on her heart and lungs, making it hard to breathe. She was getting weak. She was letting Joel in.

“So how are we gettin' out?” Joel questioned, his reluctance destroyed by the children’s laughter.

Knocking on the table, Henry got Sam’s attention, and with a few signs, a paper and crayon were placed in front of the three of them. “Highways…,” Henry took the crayon and began to sketch on the paper. “Downtown. Us. This whole area belongs to Kathleen.” He pointed out each area.

“She's in charge?” Joel asked.

Henry nodded. There was a fear in his eyes when he mentioned Kathleen. “Leader of the resistance. You can see the way highways bound us. They got people posted all around the inside perimeter. If we get close, we get caught. No question. So how do we get across?”

As Henry explained, Joel glanced over to Piper. She was oddly quiet. Yes, Ellie was the more vocal and talkative of them, but even so, Piper would chime in and comment here or there. Now, it appeared as if Piper wasn’t even breathing.

Again, Henry pounded on the table. The vibrations reached Sam. Some more signs were exchanged, and then Sam began to write. Joel tilted his head like a dog trying to understand the English language. The scribbling stopped, and Sam held up his pad. “Tunnels,” it wrote. Ellie peered over Sam’s shoulder to look at the answer.

“Boom.” Henry made an explosion with his hands to emphasize his point.

Joel’s confusion only grew. “Kansas City has a subway?”

“No,” Henry elaborated, “but they have maintenance tunnels. There's a bunch of buildings all put up by the same developers. And they share these tunnels, including… a bank building here.” His finger pointed to a square on his drawing, representing a nearby building. “So we enter the tunnels here… travel underground, and pop up here. Westside North. Residential. There's an embankment on the other side of the houses. We head down, a pedestrian bridge over the river… free as a bird.” He smiled and peered up at Joel and Piper.

“You're right. It's a great plan,” Joel agreed, and Henry’s smile grew. “So, what do you need me for?” The smile was gone.

Sighing, Henry began to tap the tabletop with his fingers. “You noticed anything strange about this city? I mean, other than the strange sh¡t you've already seen?”

Piper broke her silence. “No Infected.”

“Oh, there's Infected,” Henry explained. Joel and Piper realized that they didn’t like where this answer was going. “Just not on the surface. FEDRA drove them underground 15 years ago and never let them come back up. It's the only good thing those fascist mοthеrfսckеrs ever did.”

“So you want us going into a tunnel full of Infected?” Piper was already shaking her head at the idea.

“Everyone thinks it's full of Infected, including Kathleen,” Henry said. “Which means that we're not going to be running into any of her people. But you see, what I know is… it's empty.”

“You've been down there?” Joel interrogated. He was with Piper on this. They’d have better chances of taking the alive humans than a horde of Infected underground.

“…No,” Henry hesitantly said, “but the FEDRA guy I worked with told me that it's clean, completely clean. They cleared it out. All of it.”

“When?” Piper asked.

“Like… three years ago,” Henry replied.

Piper scoffed, and Joel began to step away from Henry. “Three years ago is a long time,” Joel noted.

“Okay, maybe,” Henry yelped, reaching out to the two of them to hold their attention. “There's one or two, but you handle it.”

“What if there's more?” Joel asked.

“Or one of those blind ones that sees like a bat?” Ellie interjected from the other end of the room where she and Sam sat.

Henry’s eyes widened with shock. “Wait, you… you ran into a Clicker?”

“Two of 'em,” Piper muttered. The mention of the clickers made the bite mark on her arm burn. She raised a hand to soothe the phantom pain.

Henry’s shoulders rolled back. “And you're still alive. You see? You're the right people. If it gets bad down there, we turn around and run back out the same way we came.”

“Oh, that's your great plan?” Joel sarcastically said.

“No,” Henry spat. “That's my dicey-as-fuck plan. But as far as I can tell… it's our only shot.”

A dull thud came from the table. Sam had his fist on the wood, waiting for their attention. He waved his hands around as Henry’s eyes carefully observed. “They're saying they're going to help us escape,” Henry said as he signed back to Sam. Ellie smiled at Henry’s words and playfully nudged Sam’s shoulder, asking him to continue their conversation via the scratchboard.

“You’re gonna help us, right?” Henry said, lowering his hands and praying that his words reached Joel.

“Joel?” Piper whispered, waiting for his answer. She knew Henry was all they had right now, and she couldn’t say no. Not when Ellie had a friend. Not when Ellie was smiling and laughing like she did before Riley died, before all this shit that has happened to them. This was how Ellie was supposed to be, not that Piper had her Ellie back; she was determined to keep it that way. Joel’s brown eyes looked down at Piper. Her eyes glowed with an eagerness that tugged at Joel’s heart. He knew he couldn’t say no, just like he couldn’t brush Piper off his shoulder the night before. As Joel agreed to the dicey-as-fuck plan, he couldn’t help but feel like a tiny sliver of the man he was before the Outbreak returned.

꧁_____꧂

They were running again. With the addition of two bodies, the group darted between garbage containers and squeezed between alleys, ducking low whenever necessary. The old bank building wasn’t far from where they had sought shelter before, but not far; it still seemed like a lifetime away as Kathleen’s men scoured the street, hunting them down.

It had felt like years had passed by the time they all had reached the bank. The interior of the building did little to conceal the five fugitives. Windows that were untainted by the dust allowed crystal clear visibility both ways, boxed in on the ground floor. Piper’s stomach hurled at the thought of being vulnerable from all sides. Her eyes twirled around frantically, looking for some possible escape for cover. Ellie clenched her hands, burying her nails into her palms. Piper’s worried expression only added to her own. Ellie trusted Piper’s gut instincts more than anything in the world, and if Piper was on guard, then something was not right.

“We need to get outta sight,” Joel harshly muttered to Henry. He sensed the girl’s unease. It was a mutual feeling.

“Uh… I,” Henry turned around, scanning the open floor. “I-I think it's this way.” His long legs quickly led the others to a set of stairs. Once the windows were exchanged for solid concrete walls, Piper felt slightly more at ease.

They descended the stairs. Their hurried footsteps clambered over each other, creating a loud noise. A large steel door with “Exit” written on it appeared. Henry was the one who pushed the door open, revealing a parking garage. A cool air hit the group, sending shivers down their bodies from the temperature change.

“Jesus, it’s cold,” Ellie shivered.

Piper glanced towards her sister before quickly shrugging off her jacket and handing it to Ellie. “Take it,” Piper insisted, and Ellie did. Piper wasn’t cold. She couldn’t be when her heart was running a million miles, pumping adrenaline into her veins.

“This should be it,” Henry announced as they approached another steel door. The labeling on this door was too faded to read. “You ready?” Henry asked Joel.

Joel’s unwavering eyes scanned the door in front of them. “Girl’s,” this caught Piper and Ellie’s attention. “Get your guns out,” Joel instructed them.

They didn’t need to be told twice to retrieve the weapons and flashlights. Henry eyed the guns but decided not to give them a second glance as he reached for the door handle and swung it open. Joel entered first. His flashlight and gun were in hand as he scanned the area. Next were Piper and Ellie with their respective guns and lights. There was nothing except water dripping as the droplets echoed throughout the tunnel.

“You see? It's empty! The plan is good,” Henry cheered.

Ellie, Piper, and Joel all winced at Henry’s volume. “Shh,” they all hissed at Henry, and his face faltered.

"The plan is good? We've been down here two seconds. We don't know anything,” Joel spat.

Henry bit the inside of his cheek. The tunnels were clear; anyone could see that. “Your dad's a pessimist,” he whispered to Piper and Ellie.

“He's not my dad,” they instantly replied.

“I'm not their dad,” Joel said simultaneously. They all glared at Henry for even suggesting such a thing. Henry’s eyes widened as he raised his hands, suggesting his regret in implying anything. “Just point your lights forward… and be ready to run,” he told the group.

Slowly, Joel turned around to face the long tunnel ahead of them. He waited for a few more moments. His mind was ready for sudden movements and the sounds of screeches and clicks. Nothing came, so he took a step forward and then another. The rest of the group followed behind him.

When Henry mentioned tunnels, Ellie thought there would be many twists, turns, and dead ends, like the mazes and labyrinths she had read about in some of her comics. However, these tunnels were straight and covered with many different pipes. “Tunnels” wasn’t even the right word; he should have said tunnel because there had only been one so far. There were no turns, dead ends, or monsters in the middle of the maze. Ellie was glad about the no monsters part. She could live without seeing another infected for the rest of her life. The no turns or dead ends were a buzzkill. Only so long could one walk straight before they started to think they were crazy. Luckily, she wasn’t the only one who thought so. Sam had been writing to her. They conversed via the scratchboard and imagined what it would be like if the tunnels were like those in the comics. The two talked about the rats that occasionally scurry between their feet or the few turns the tunnel now had. Ellie noted how much broader the tunnel was getting. The ceilings grew up a few feet, and she was sure they all could walk side by side with how far apart the walls were.

Soon, Joel’s pace began to slow, bringing the pace of everyone else behind him to a halt. There was another turn in the tunnel. This time, it led to a tiny hallway that, if Ellie reached out her arms, she could be touching both sides. It was darker than the rest of the tunnel and made her and Sam forget about the latest topic of debate on the scratchboard. The tunnel continued like before, but the claustrophobic enclosure gave way to a vast opening. The group stilled and stared. Something had caught their attention.

“Whoa,” Ellie gasped as she flashed her light around to look at the walls. They were covered in drawings of rainbows, flowers, children playing, and there was even a castle. The colors illuminated underneath the flashlights’ glow.

“Does anyone else think this is fucking creepy?” Piper whispered to the group. Something about the vibrant colors and the plastered smiling faces drawn onto the wall by children unnerved her. She grimaced as goosebumps formed on her arms, and she now regretted giving Ellie her jacket.

Sam was amazed at the bright colors and art. It reminded him of the pictures he made with Henry on the walls of their confined make-shift home a few days ago. In front of Sam was the door to the castle. He smiled and reached out a hand to open it.

“No,” Joel quietly said as he shook his head and pulled Sam away before taking his place and opening the door. Together, they all winced as a bright light blinded their view. There was light in this underground bunker.

One by one, the group scattered about the room. The walls had the same sort of drawings present in the tunnel before. Buckets of toys and books were lined up against the walls. On the far end of the room was a large drawing of a goal with the word “GOAL” written in all caps. On the other end was a kitchen filled with pots and pans.

“I heard about places like this,” Joel commented. “People went underground after Outbreak Day. Built settlements.”

Piper’s eyes caught sight of a giant whiteboard on one of the walls. Pieces of paper with children's drawings were taped alongside the “house rules.” Her dark eyes read down the list, her mood souring. It felt like she was invading a grave and was not welcome.

“What happened to them?” Ellie asked.

Piper peered closer at one of the pictures on the whiteboard labeled “our protectors.”

“Maybe they didn't follow the rules, and they all got infected,” Joel replied.

“Mm,” Ellie hummed before dropping her sack on the ground and picking up a toy car. She whirled it around the air and then dropped it on the table before Sam. They shared a mutual smile.

Suddenly, Sam reached the ground and picked up a worn copy of a comic. He began to flip through the pictures before Ellie burst with excitement.

“No way! I love these,” she exclaimed. Sam just nodded his head and smiled. Realizing her mistake, Ellie shook her hands in the air as if she was writing on paper. Sam understood and handed her his scratchboard. “I have issues… four, five, six, 11,” she wrote.

Sam replied with the issues he had.

“Ah. So cool,” Ellie replied. Leaning close to Sam, she slowly said, "To the edge of the universe…and back. Endure and survive." It was the signature catchphrase from the comics. Sam’s brow furrowed as he tried to read the young girl's lips. Gradually he started to sign along, understanding what she was trying to say.

“Endure,” Ellie muttered as she copied Sam’s sign for the word. “Survive. Endure. Survive.” Ellie was now doing the signs as Sam had taught her. “fսck yeah, man!” She raised her hand to give Sam a high-five. Once their hands collided, they giggled.

“Hey, keep it down. We're not out yet,” Joel reprimanded the young teen.

Ellie rolled her head back in disappointment. “Ah, c'mon. Can we just rest here for a while? There's, like, actually sh¡t to do here.”

“Wouldn't be so bad to wait the light out a bit,” Henry commented. Safer in shadows when we pop back out on the other side.”

Ellie’s eager eyes glanced over to Joel, who bit his lip. He looked over to Piper, who couldn’t care less if they stayed a while, before shrugging his shoulders and finding a comfortable place to sit down.

“Yes!” Ellie cheered before dragging Sam along to the painted soccer goal to play some ball. The two passed the ball between each other as a warm-up until they were ready to start playing. Ellie began to shoot into the goal. With one swift kick, the ball went into the goal.

“Let’s go! Come on! Yeah!” Ellie raised her hands triumphantly in the air. “Come on. Pass it back,” she motioned to Sam.

A few feet away sat Joel and Henry. They were situated around what Joel thought to be the meal table. He watched as Ellie and Sam passed the ball back and forth. It reminded him of…No, he wouldn’t let himself remember. Instead, he turned his sights toward Piper. It took him a moment to find her, but she was in one of the far corners of the room. Her back leaned against the wall as her eyes followed the ball as it was passed back and forth. Joel saw Piper grow smaller at the sounds of her sister’s laughter. Her lips drew into a tight line. She looked confused and uncomfortable as her eyes withdrew from Ellie and Sam. Piper looked at the shelves filled with books; her brows furrowed as her eyes glanced over the titles and authors of each book. Joel couldn’t help but think that Piper should be playing with Ellie and Sam. Yes, she was older than them, but Piper was still a kid. Kids loved to have fun, and soccer was fun. Especially the way Ellie and Sam seemed to be playing it. Yet Piper sat with her legs drawn into her chest, trying to, well, Joel wasn’t quite sure what she was trying to do. All he knew was that she wanted no part in the play.

A soft chuckle came from beside Joel. It was Henry. From the corner of his eye, he saw Henry smiling as his brother played.

“If you were collaboratin' to take care of him, I… I shouldn't have said what I said. I don't know your situation. And I'm not sayin' they should let it go, but…,'' Joel began his attempt at apologizing.

“Ah, that was awesome!” Ellie beamed as Sam made his own goal on the post.

Joel’s eye flitted back to Henry. “all things considered, seems kinda cruel…To send a whole army after you for that.”

“You know, I wasn't, uh… exactly telling you the truth before…,” Henry confessed, causing Joel to raise his brow. “About me not killing someone. There was a man, a great man. You know, he was never afraid… never selfish… and he was always forgiving. Have you ever met someone like that? Kinda man you'd follow anywhere. I mean, I wanted to. Well… I would've. Yeah, but, uh, Sam, he, uh… he got sick. Leukemia.”

Joel’s eyes glanced towards the ground as he felt his heart hurt.

“Yeah, anyway, um… there was one drսg that worked, and, whoa… big shock… there wasn't much left of it, and it belonged to FEDRA. And if I wanted some… it was gonna take something big. So I gave them something big. That one great man. The leader of the resistance movement in Kansas City. And Kathleen's brother,” Henry said. He cautiously looked over to Joel. “Yeah, so, you still think they should take it easy on me? Or am I the bad guy?” Joel shrugged as he thought of an answer. “I don't know what you're waitin' on, man. The answer's easy. I am the bad guy because I did a bad guy thing. But you get it, though. You might not be their father… but you were someone's.” Joel’s jaw clenched at Henry’s words. “See, I could tell,” Henry muttered.

A loud, playful roar erupted from Ellie’s mouth as she chased Sam around the room. The game of soccer was forgotten. The two of them darted past Joel and Henry, and as the wind from the children’s speed blew past them, Joel’s reflective daze was broken.

“We've waited long enough,” Joel muttered, snatching his flashlight and gun as he stood up.

꧁_____꧂

Ellie was trying her darndest not to laugh, but with how Piper’s sleeping face twitched as she dragged the felt tip marker across it, Ellie couldn’t help but giggle. Come on, it was peak comedy for the eight-year-old. Her masterpiece was almost done. All she needed to do was draw on the final touches. Then Piper’s nose scrunched. Her head jostled, ruining Ellie’s perfect line as Piper’s movement dragged the marker across her face. Ellie quickly pulled the marker back from Piper’s face as her sister raised a hand to wipe away the midday nap from her face.

“Els?” Piper groaned as she arose from her slumber.

Quickly stuffing the marker in her pocket, Ellie smiled innocently at her sister. “Good afternoon, shithead.”

Piper rolled her eyes. “Ellie, what did I say about swear words…”

“Only use them when necessary,” she sighed.

“Good.” Piper sat up and glanced back at Ellie. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Piper asked quizzically.

Ellie’s face faltered as she tried to cover up her smug smile. “Looking at you like what?”

“Like…like you’ve–what did you do?” Piper’s brow raised, and her eyes grew serious.

A red tint appeared on Ellie’s face as she scooted back and began to reach for the bunk bed railing to help her stand up. “Nothing. I swear on my fucking life.”

“Ellie,” Piper said, disappointed.

“What, you not believing me is a good reason to swear,” Ellie noted.

Piper rolled her eyes. “Sure,” she smiled.

“See, I told you that–”

“Ah ha!” Piper exclaimed as she snatched the marker hidden in Ellie’s pocket.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Ellie cried out as she tried to grab her marker from her sister’s hands.

Waving the marker in the air, Piper smirked. “What exactly were you doing with this marker?”

“Uh…drawing. Duh,” Ellie said. It wasn’t a lie so that Piper would believe her. Ellie hated how Piper could always tell when she was lying. She was trying to get better at it. Riley was even helping her here and there, giving her pointers. Which all worked on the FEDRA teachers, but still, not one had worked on Piper. She was just too good. Ellie couldn’t believe it. Piper was eleven and reading her like she was a book. It wasn’t fair.

“…Okay,” Piper sighed. “I believe you.”

Ellie smiled. Half-truths may be the way to go with Piper.

“What were you drawing?” Piper asked.

Ellie’s face fell. She was screwed. “Um…something. It’s a surprise.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What?! I’m serious. I’ve been working really hard on it,” Ellie whined. She had been. Piper had been asleep for about an hour, giving Ellie ample time to plan her artistic masterpiece. About twenty minutes of the hour were dedicated to putting her idea to work. Twenty minutes was a long time. It was far more time than she had ever put into a work of art.

Piper raised her brow, and her eyes were full of skepticism. “You serious?” Ellie frantically nodded, and Piper sighed. “Alright, but you’ve got to show it to me when you’re done. ‘Kay?”

“Totally,” Ellie snickered.

There was something in the way Ellie stood in front of her with her hands fiddling with her shirt that tipped Piper the wrong way, but she chose to believe Ellie, giving her the benefit of the doubt. “Well, we’ve got to get to the dining hall,” Piper said, shrugging the sleep off and pulling on her shoes. They were worn to the sole, and the heel would have fallen off by now if it weren’t for the duct tape holding it together. She’d have to get new shoes soon. Maybe Levi would have some for her, Piper thought.

Feeling tiny static hairs at the back of her neck, Piper headed for the mirror to fix her bedhead. Ellie saw her sister’s trajectory and darted to the door of their room. It flung open with not much force, and Ellie entered the hallway. “Race you there, Pipes!”

Piper chuckled at Ellie’s antics. It only fired her will to beat Ellie to the dining hall. Hurriedly, she glanced in the mirror. She froze. Her hair was fine. It was hardly amiss. That was not what was wrong. Looking in the mirror, Piper saw Ellie’s masterpiece. All over her face were little squiggles and drawings. Some were hearts and stars, and even a mustache tinted bright pink. The cherry on top was the crooked lettering that spelled “Dummy.”

By the time the two girls showed up in the dining hall, they both were adorning the loving title of “dummy” on their foreheads.

꧁_____꧂

A chilly night air blew over the group as they emerged from the tunnels. Henry was right, there were no infected. Joel eyed the young man as he smugly led the group through the neighborhood.

“Do you know where we are?” Joel questioned. He eyed the abandoned homes. Their windows held the ghosts of a time before the outbreak. They stared as he walked along the once clean paved streets and litter-free sidewalks. His spine pricked as the eyes of the past washed over him.

“Yep. The other side.” Henry looked back at Joel and slightly snorted. “No. No one is here. No one's gonna be here because…,” Henry turned humbly and triumphantly shrugged his shoulders. “My plan worked.”

“So much goddamn talkin',” Joel groaned.

“I'm just saying I delivered. Make this right, go down the street, embankment behind the last house, and we're out,” Henry said.

They were almost out. Ellie softly smiled and peered to her side where Sam strolled. They were almost out, and she’d have to say goodbye to her new friend. Biting her lip, she thought of an idea; maybe she didn’t have to say goodbye. “So we cross the river, and then what? Where ya gonna go?” Ellie asked.

“Don't know yet,” Henry replied.

“Well, we're goin' to Wyoming.” Joel glared at her. Piper just sighed and rubbed her arm. The pain had returned, and she worried it was infected.

“What?” She defended, “It's a huge state. It can fit two more people.”

“Yeah,” Henry solemnly nodded. He glanced at Joel in understanding. He didn’t want a few extra people, and Henry wouldn’t force the older man. He didn’t think he’d get far since their deal was just getting out of the city. “Maybe we just call this a success and say our fond farewells.”

Ellie frowned. “No, he'll change his mind. Trust me. This is how it goes.” She cleared her throat and patted her chest with a fist, preparing her vocal cords to speak lower, and in a deep voice, she said, “He's like, "No, Ellie. Never, ever, ever happening. And then I'm like, "I'm gonna ask you a million more times." And he's like–

A shot fires near them. A dust kicked up, and the group ducked down low. Piper gasped, grabbing the roots of her hair.

“Move, move! Go!” Joel ordered as more shots were fired. Quickly, the group huddled behind a rusted car.

“The fսck is that comin' from?” Henry hissed.

“Shut up,” Joel spat as he peeked over the car's hood. His eyes narrowed. The dark wasn’t making it easier to see where the shots fired. A spot of bright light flashed from the upper window of a home. A bullet shattered a window in the car.

“fսck. Let's move. Let's go,” Henry whispered before he grabbed Sam’s hand and began to run the way they had come.

“What are you doin'?!” Joel yelled.

“Gettin' the fսck outta here!” Henry replied. A shot fired in front of them. “Oh sh¡t, oh sh¡t!” Darting back to the safety of the car, Henry turned to Joel. “What do we do?”

Piper nodded her head, wanting to hear what the plan was. Her gun felt heavy in her hand. She could do that. She could find the guy and shoot him. She could hunt him down. She never missed.

“All right,” Joel breathed. He shuffled around and solved his pistol into its holder on his side. “Stay here.” He crouched down low and shifted his weight forward.

“What?” Piper and Ellie blurted.

“If you don't move, he's not gonna hit you,” Joel explained. The girls were shaking their heads. “I'm gonna go around, try to get in the house through the back, and then I'll take him out.”

“But if you go out there, he's gonna kill you,” Ellie pleaded.

“Joel, I can do it. I’m smaller and–”

“No. I’m going.” He saw the fear in the girl’s eyes. Piper’s dark eyes concealed it better, but Joel knew. “Look, it's dark, and he has sh¡t aim. Nobody's gonna kill me.” He tried his best to reassure them.

“Then he's gonna kill us,” Ellie whispered.

Joel’s chest tightened. “Do you trust me?”

The girls shared a nervous glance. Ellie reluctantly nodded. Piper bit her lip and scowled. Her nose and eyebrows scrunched together as if it pained her to say yes, but she did. In her softest voice, she said yes.

꧁_____꧂

Joel was breathing hard as the shot kept on coming. Each wisp of air as the bullets hailed down only made his heart beat faster. It was his luck that the street was littered with cars, each big enough to cover his body. However, if luck had been on Joel’s side, then someone wouldn’t have shot at them in the first place. He knew no infection in the tunnels was too good to be true. Something had to go wrong eventually, and it just happened to be right before they reached freedom from this hell hole of a city.

It was like a dance how Joel maneuvered between the cars and the occasional mailbox along the side of the street. Each time he ducked, he was one step closer to the house, to the window where the culprit was shooting from. It was the last house on the cul de sac, standing tall and brown in the dark of the night. At least, Joel was pretty sure that the house was a shade of brown, but he could be wrong. He was convinced that this whole neighborhood must have been something to see in the days before the outbreak, but now it was a war zone. Now, someone was using the home to shoot at him and the girls.

At a certain point, the shooter had stopped. Joel wasn’t sure why, but they had. Joel hoped that it was because of a lack of bullets, but his fears came true when he heard the gasps of the girls, Sam and Henry. The shooter was targeting them. He had to hurry. As he darted between the bushes and trees on the lawn of the brown house, he caught sight of the bridge. Water rushed underneath it, echoing a calming symphony of nature. They had to cross the bridge, and then they’d be free. Joel could get to Wyoming; the girls could go with the fireflies. Everything would be alright. Except now that Joel thought of it, his stomach churned.

He broke into the back of the house and climbed the stairs. Joel’s gun was raised close to his torso as he checked his corners before proceeding. He had to get this right. He had to save them, to protect them. Another shot was fired, and Joel’s heart lurched out from his throat. Joel held his breath while creeping towards the room at the end of the hall. Brushing the door to the side, he aimed his gun at the man sitting in the chair by the window.

“Put the gun down, slide it over to me, and then stay up here for another hour,” Joel calmly said; however, nothing about him was calm. “That's all you have to do.” The man turned around and peered up at Joel. His shaking old hands changed grip on the gun as he turned around to look at the intruder. “Please don't do it. Please,” Joel begged. But the man did not listen. Another shot rang out in the air. Joel’s hand ached as he lowered the gun from the slumped-over body.

Suddenly, a static noise pierced Joel’s ears. “Anthony? Anthony? Anthony, hold them where they are. We're almost there.”

Joel’s eyes widened. “Fսck.” He clambered to the window and stuck his head out, and with a guttural desperate cry, he yelled to the girls. “RUN!”

꧁_____꧂

Ellie’s fingers fiddled with Pipers. Her smaller digits weaved around her older sisters. Each movement brought a sense of control to the young girls. They didn’t dare think about the silence after that last shot. They didn’t dare get their hopes up.

Piper’s ears twitched as she peeked out from behind the car. Joel was in the window where the shooter once was. She couldn’t help but beam at the sight, but soon her smile faltered. His arms were waving frantically at them, and he was shouting something.

“What’s he saying?” Ellie wondered as she stood next to Piper. Henry and Sam soon stood up as well. Each of them was confused at the sight until the final piece of the puzzle was placed: the sound of the revving of cars. They froze as Joel’s words now clicked.

“RUN!” He screamed.

Panic coursed through their bodies as they stood there, the ground now rumbling and the horrific roaring sound pounding in their ears. Then they ran.

“Go! Go, go, go, go!” Henry shouted as the group darted from behind the car and towards the house, towards Joel. Soon, their shadows stood tall in front of them. The light behind them grew brighter. Ellie cried out in fear as she turned around with her gun in hand to shoot. She hadn’t expected the car to be so close. She couldn’t see anything, yet her legs kept running. She raised her gun and shot. It missed. She fired the weapon until it was empty. The car was closer. She was going to get run over. Another shot rang out, and the car swerved off the road into one of the wooden houses on the side. Whipping her head around, she saw Joel in the window with a rifle. He had made that shot. He had protected them.

“Ellie!” Piper gasped as she ran back for her sister in the chaos of the crash. Ellie hadn’t even realized her legs had given out. “You okay?”

Ellie’s head nodded in a jagged motion before her lungs could produce enough air for a singular word. “Yeah.” With confirmation, Piper dragged Ellie over to where Henry and Sam hid. The four of them ducked down behind a nearby car as the street was illuminated from headlights.

“He's up there,” A voice said. “Fսck.” The voice was close. Too close for Piper’s comfort. She clenched her eyes shut and squeezed her gun. Her hands were shaking. “Two and two! Around the back, take him out!” The voice instructed. Her eyes shot open as she glanced at the house to Joel. The marching footsteps of the people faded as they approached the house at the end of the street. Piper bit her tongue until she tasted blood. Joel could handle himself. He had to.

“Dead end, Henry. Gonna step on out? Save us some time?” It was a female voice. Ellie hated to admit it almost sounded comforting, like a mother. “No? That's all right. Doesn't matter.”

Henry glanced at Sam, Ellie, and Piper. He could do it. He had to save his brother and the others. Henry’s eyes met Pipers. She shook her head at him, and he only smiled.

“I'll come out! Just let the kids go!” Henry yelled from behind the car.

“No. Sorry,” Henry’s face paled. “The girls are with the man who killed Bryan. And Sam… Well, Sam's with you.”

Henry shook his head. “You don't understand, Kathleen!”

“But I do,” the woman named Kathleen smiled. Piper could hear the chilling grin in the woman’s voice. “I know why you did what you did. But did you ever stop to think that maybe he was supposed to die?”

“He's just a fսck¡ng kid!” Henry pleaded.

“Well, kids die, Henry. They die all the time,” Kathleen said. “You think the whole world revolves around him? That he's worth… everything?” Piper looked over at Ellie. “Well, this is what happens when you fսck with fate.”

“Get ready to take him and run,” Henry whispered to Ellie and Piper. Ellie shook her head. “Yes. Do it.” His eyes turned to Piper. She couldn’t bear to look at him. They were the same. They’d do anything for their little siblings, so Piper agreed. She grabbed Ellie’s hand and then Sam’s, who looked confused as his brother stood up and out of the cover of the car.

“It's time, Henry,” Kathleen said.

“Enough! Okay.” Henry had stepped out and raised his hands. With teary eyes, he looked up at Kathleen. The burning home behind her framed her as she raised her gun at Henry.

“It ends the way it ends,” She whispered. Her finger cocked back and then hovered over the trigger.

There was a crash, and dust fell over the mass. The burning house collapsed, and the ground had caved in. Wood, tires, and the car had fallen in with as the fire crackled around. A colossal explosion fired up into the air, and all fell silent. Everyone froze as a deep rumbling came from the earth below them. Piper thought it was an earthquake for a moment, but the noise told her better. It was growling. An unearthly snarl escaped the pits of the ground. After all, it’s where they were buried—the infected.

All at once, wave after wave, they climbed out of the hole. The monsters screeched as they ran to the nearest human. They were fueled by a desire to kill and to spread. A rainstorm of bullets fired as fear overcame Kathleen’s men. All thoughts of killing a group of five were forgotten. The only drive was to survive.

Screams of “No!” fell from people’s mouths as Infected leaped upon them, tearing out their throats and opening their jaws to feast on their flesh.

“Run 'em down! Run 'em down!” A voice commanded, and cars began to drive down the street, taking out groups of infected.

꧁_____꧂

From the safety of the brown home, Joel watched as hell came thundering down on the street below him. The fires spread from home to home, painting the scene as a sight from hell itself as people were carved open by the hands and teeth of the Infected. Raising the gun, he peered into the scope. His eyes moved around until he had found them. Henry had run back to the cover of the car, grabbing Sam’s hand tightly. Next to them were his girls, Piper and Ellie. He would keep them safe. They would get back to him. They would cross that bridge. Cocking the gun, he fired. The bullet lodged into the head of an Infected, who jumped on top of the car, reaching for the group.

Henry and Sam ran away from the vehicle. Piper and Ellie ran the other way. Joel followed his girl’s movements and took out each predator. No matter how they grabbed, leaped, and screeched, he would never let them touch the girls. The first few shots had startled the girls, but with a quick, grateful glance up at him, they knew who their protector was. His gun followed the girls as they ducked behind cars and raced away from the bloodied mouths of the infected. His gun kept firing, taking out the monsters, until one shot was met with silence. The barrel was empty.

Joel’s shaking hands dug around for another cartridge, for more bullets. His eyes tore away from the window to re-arm the gun. When he looked back, Piper had shoved Ellie towards a van as an Infected pounced on the girl. It knocked her to the ground and growled. Its head whipped around to the younger and prepared to jump when its body fell limp. Joel held his breath, and it only returned when Piper shoved the monstrous body off of her. She was alive. The girls exchanged some words before Piper pushed Ellie into the van. The younger girl makes it in. Joel kept firing, giving Piper more time to seek shelter when she stopped. There was a roar that shook the whole street. A towering blob of infected snarled as it stomped towards the van, towards Ellie and Piper. Joel fired at the thing, and the infected howled each time the bullets hit.

Suddenly, Piper was gone. Joel scoured the crowd to find her. The light of the fire blinded him. Muffled shots were fired, and he whirled around to find it. Piper was luring the thing away from Ellie. He watched as she opened her mouth to scream at it before shooting it once more. Its pace picked up as it charged. Joel cocked the gun once more, but it was empty. He cried out as he watched Piper scurry away. Her body was hidden from view behind two cars. It was too late. The infected raised its arms up high and roared as they came down. ꧁_____꧂

“Hurry and get in!” Piper hissed.

Ellie whined. As if she didn’t already know what was awaiting them outside the van.

“I’m trying!”

“Ellie!” Piper glanced behind herself and froze. “Ellie,” Her tone hardened.

“I’m in! Piper, come on, let’s go–”

“I can’t.”

Ellie’s brows pinched together. “What do you mean?” There it was, that sickening roar. It made Ellie shiver. As she peered through the muddied glass of the van, she gasped, although the sound was more like a scream.

“Piper!”

Her older sister glanced back at her. Piper’s dark brown eyes were glossed over as she flashed a shaking smile. “Ellie,” Piper whispered. “I need you to–”

“No!”

“Ellie! I need you to hide. Stay low and quiet. Joel will–”

“Fuck Joel,” Ellie hissed. “You’re my sister. Remember? Me and you till the end.”

Piper bit her lip and cast her eyes downward. Her hand was still holding Ellie’s, although at this point, it was more like Ellie clung to her sister.

“Yea, me and you. So you’ve gotta keep goin’. I’ll live on with you. Just get out of here.”

Ellie was crying now. “No, Piper, no!” But it was no use. Piper had yanked her hand away from Ellie. Her sister’s screams challenged the Infected as her shots drew it away. Away from Ellie. “PIPER!!” Ellie cried as her eyes trailed her sister’s movements.

Piper’s sights were on the monster. The firelight illuminated the tears on her dirtied face like stars in the night sky. Ellie banged at the van window, slowly moving her body to keep her sights on Piper. The monster roared at Piper, and Ellie shrieked as Piper’s back hit two cars. The trucks caged Piper in, leaving her no room for escape as the Infected hunted her.

The Infected was mere feet from Piper. She had nowhere to run. Ellie wailed and screamed as she banged against the van. Piper’s name kept falling from her bloodied lips. As the monster raised its arms, Ellie watched Piper turn her head to the side. Their eyes met in a weak attempt to say goodbye. After that, Ellie could only hear the never-ending screams and sobs that were squeezed out of her lungs.

It was these cries for her dead sister that drew in a hunter. The tiny Infected clicked and screeched as its ears attuned for fear were lured in. Ellie gasped as the monster’s body twisted like a spider. The van rattled with the newest edition. That little huff of air sealed her fate, and the Infected lunged. Ellie cried out in terror as the infected struggled to climb over the mountain of seats to reach her. In the front of the car, Ellie used her legs to kick open the passenger side door of the van. With one powerful kick, the door swung open. Ellie fell out of the van and slammed the door behind her. The Infected shrieked, and its claw-like nails scratched at the window.

From behind her, a familiar voice yelped. “Get it off!” Henry yelled as his legs frantically kicked a snarling Infected away. Sam was beside whimpering as a second Infected was reaching for him. Ellie wiped away her tears and scrambled over to the monsters. Her pocket knife was in her hand as she stabbed the infected, grabbing Henry. A shot rang out as Joel took care of the one attacking Sam. Her hands reached out to take hold of Sam’s and Henry’s before pulling them up when all she wanted to do was crumble to the ground and cry.

“Thanks,” Henry said. “Hey, where’s Piper–”

“Gone,” Ellie said. Henry’s eyes filled with pity, but Ellie didn’t want his pity. An Infected screamed and jumped towards them before Joel shot it down. “Come on, come on!” Ellie waved her hands for Henry and Sam to follow. “Go, go!” She yelled as they made their way to the house at the end of the street.

Joe stood outside on the lawn. His gun was aimed to shoot any approaching Infected. Upon seeing Joel, Ellie let go of Henry and Sam’s hand and ran to him. His somber eyes only made her cry as she clung to his coat. Henry and Sam stilled at the sight. Joel lowered his gun and patted Ellie’s head. His words wouldn’t do anything for her. He knew that. His eyes met Henry and Sam, who shared the same solemn look.

“Stop!” A sheer voice cried out. The group whirled around and found Kathleen. Her gun was raised and aimed towards Henry. Joel’s grip on Ellie tightened. Kathleen chuckled. “You think you’ll get awa–”

Blood spattered on their faces as a bullet lodged in Kathleen’s head. The woman’s body fell limp, collapsing to the ground in a pile of sprinkling blood. Behind the deceased stood a trembling figure. Blood, ash, and dirt covered their body from head to toe, almost making them unrecognizable. Their dark eyes glistened as the weapon lowered to their side.

“Pipes?” Ellie whispered.

꧁_____꧂

It was black. Piper’s mind was constantly replaying her last few moments. Her desperate goodbye to Ellie as she ran away, shooting at the monster. Each shot hit. She’d never miss, not when it counted. She only wished Ellie could get away, that Joel would protect her.

Piper was expecting death to hurt a lot more. She had seen how the monster after her had torn off a man’s head before doing the same to the rest of his body, but nothing came.

The terrors that were occurring on the street still reached her ears. The pleading screams of men and women as they were scratched open, the infected’s hand burrowing into them. Gunshots firing in a feeble attempt to save oneself. But what she heard the most was heavy breathing. It was her own. She was still breathing.

Unclenching her body, she opened her eyes. She covered her mouth to stifle the gasp that tried to flee. The infected stood before her. The two cars trapping her were demolished by the brutal force of the Infected. It stood before her; its fleshy chest heaved as it looked down. Piper was scrunched into a tight ball as she stared at the monster before her. It was watching her–the mushrooms, where eyes should be, followed her movement. She gulped. It stood still, waiting for something. A shaking breath left her lungs, and the Infected leaned down low. The potent smell of death and decay flew into Piper’s face as it snarled. She pushed herself as far as she could into the bent-up cars behind her. Her eyes widened to the size of boulders as it opened its mouth. Its teeth were rotten and covered in blood, and its throat opened up enough for her to see the tiny spiral of fungus climb out of its mouth. The thing was reaching for her. She cried out and crawled out from under the Infected. It made no motion to stop her.

Swiftly, Piper rolled underneath one of the cars and watched the Infected roar again before its thundering feet chased a new victim. As quickly as she sought shelter under the car, she rolled out. Pushing herself off the ground, she observed the horrors before her. Infected screeched and preyed after the people. Fires raged on, burning the neighborhood to the ground.

A burning sweat made Piper’s tangled hair stick to her neck and head. Her shirt was torn and bloody, and her knuckles, elbows, and knees were bloodied and tainted with bits of gravel. Choking on her breath, her feet began to move. Piper’s eyes scanned the terrors for any sight of Ellie, Joel, Henry, or Sam. An ear-splitting screech impaled her ears; Piper jumped back to find an Infected. It stared at her before turning the other way. More monster screams, and rasps were cut short as the Infected fled from the stumbling girl. She watched as these things parted the seas of torching fire, death, and rot.

She watched as hell fell down on the people who were bent on killing them. The Infected ripping them apart. She passed by men who cried out for her to save them as the monsters feasted on them. Their skin squelched as decaying teeth bit down. In her daze, Piper’s feet knocked away a pistol. The handle and barrel were drenched in blood and chunks of human flesh. Reaching down, she picked it up and wiped away the gore. The reddish handle glowed in the firelight as she caught a look at her tainted reflection in the handle. Blood trickled down her nose and mouth. Her skin was scraped, bleeding, and covered in dirt. Her eyes were cold and lifeless as her freckles disappeared under the dark of the night. Looking in the handle, she couldn’t figure out what she saw, but it wasn’t her–it wasn’t Piper.

“Go, go!” Ellie screamed. Piper’s eyes whipped around, searching for her sister. Ellie was alive. Ellie. Piper found them at the house. Henry, Sam, Joel, and Ellie. They were all there. They were safe. The weakness in her legs vanished as she ran. The sight of them was all she needed to keep going. Her family. Joel and Ellie. Her home.

꧁_____꧂

The adrenaline depleted from Joel’s system as he leaned back on the wall of the motel room. It was the least smelly of the ones on the first floor, and the carpet wasn’t as moldy as the others. The room would do for the night.

From the side room, Ellie's voice was heard as she read the comic book to Sam. "Pew. Pew. As the Raven 01 approaches the red planet.” Ellie’s finger traced the words, letting Sam know where she was. Their eyes scanned the pages of the comic book, inhaling the magical world within its pages.

Henry glanced down at his food and decided he should save the rest for later. Wrapping it up, he sighed. “You think they'll be okay?”

Joel’s ears perked up. “Yeah, I think…,” his eyes trailed off to peer into the room. “…it's easier when you're a kid anyway. You don't have anybody else relying on you. That's the hard part,” Joel said.

His words conjured up thoughts of Piper. She had it hard. She was still a kid and had to go through everything with Ellie clinging to her hand. The teen in question had been silent the entire journey to the motel, and before anyone could ask the burning question of her survival, she excused herself to go find some mattresses for them to sleep on. She mumbled something about not wanting to sleep on the sketchy green carpet.

“Well,” Henry chimed in, “I guess we're doing a good job then. Piper too.” Joel nodded. “What's that comic book say?”

"Endure and survive,” Joel repeated from memory.

"Endure and survive?” Henry cocked his brow. “That sh¡t's redundant,” he laughed.

“Yeah, it's-it's not great,” Joel agreed, and for a brief moment, a faint smile appeared on his face.

“No, it’s not, “ Henry said.

As an uncertain silence fell between the two men, Joel observed Sam and Ellie. They looked content. Two kids doing what kids do best. His heart swelled at the sight. This is how it should be, thought Joel. His dark eyes lit up with an idea. “Look, I don't know exactly how I'm gettin' to Wyoming. I'm probably walkin'. But… you know,” Joel muttered. “If you want to.”

Henry bit his lip to stop the smile from spreading. “Yeah. Yeah. Um… Yeah, I think it'd be nice for Sam to have a friend.” He nodded his head in a feverish manner to hide his excitement. “I'll tell him in the morning. New day, new start.”

Joel nodded along. It was a good idea that would be the best for the girls.

Standing up from his seat on a wooden chair that was much too stiff for his liking, Henry pointed to the room. “I’m gonna go check on them.”

“Hm?” Joel’s eyes followed Henry’s direction. “Yeah, I should–I should check on Piper. See where she’s at on the mattress situation.” Grunting, Joel pushed himself off the floor and left the room in search of Piper. Meanwhile, Henry turned back to his brother and Ellie.

"Bingo! Should we knock?” Ellie read before turning to the next page of the comic book.

“Hey,” he muttered as he knocked on the door. Ellie tapped Sam’s shoulder to let him know his brother was there. “You need sleep,” he said and signed at the same time.

Sam sighed before rolling over on the bed and tucking his legs in tight. The pink plaid blanket did little to ease the discomfort from the decades-old mattress. It smelt of things that Sam had never smelt before, but he knew he didn’t want to smell them again.

Seeing Sam tucked in for bed, Henry turned to Ellie. “You should–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ellie said. “I’m going.” She closed the comic book and placed it on the side table. Then, lying down on the bed, Ellie settled in for bed. Satisfied with the situation, Henry softly closed the door and left Ellie and Sam to sleep.

꧁_____꧂

The night air had gotten chillier the moment Joel had stepped outside. He wished he brought his jacket, but checking on Piper was a greater need. A slight tremor spread from his fingertips to the rest of his body, and his heart felt like it was being squeezed. Everything hurt, and Joel had to raise a hand to the wall to stop himself from crashing into it. Oxygen seemed to flee his lungs all because of her. Piper. The girl he thought died. He had seen it. She had been cornered with nowhere to run. The bloater was after her, and it was out for blood. He saw the cars crumple up as if they were soda cans under the force of the creature’s arms. Wincing as his breath came back to him, he heard a shuffling in a nearby room.

The room was only two rooms over from where they were, but it was still too far for Joel’s comfort. Stepping forward, his hand pushed the door open with a creak. Immediately, his eyes caught sight of the dim light of a flashlight.

“Kid?” Joel called out. He entered the room and glanced around. It was like the room they were staying in, except the ceiling had more water damage and mold. “Kid?” He repeated after hearing no response.

“ Room 4 has two mattresses in decent condition,” Piper muttered. Joel turned to find her unpacking her bag and laying out her sleeping bag. “You could drag ‘em over.”

Joel felt that same tense feeling enter his body from before as he saw her settle her things. “Kid.”

Fluffing up one of the pillows on the bed, Piper ignored Joel. Her face was still like that of a statue. Her eyes were cold and hard. Joel was sure if he reached out his hands to freeze.

“Kid, what are you doing?” Joel asked.

Piper scoffed. “What does it look like I’m doing? And I’m not a kid.” She still hadn’t looked at him.

His arm reached out, and his hand felt like it burned as he latched onto her shoulder, pulling her away to face him. “Look, I know what happened must have been–”

“Terrifying? Yeah, you could say that.” Piper bit the inside of her cheek. Her dark eyes still refused to look at Joel.

Joel held his tongue. He wasn’t sure what to say as his eyes took in Piper’s disheveled state. She looked awful, and it hurt him more than he’d like to say. “Hey, I’m trying here,” finally, she peered up at him. Her eyes glossed over. “Just…how did you–I saw that bloater–,” Joel whispered for fear she’d blow away if he spoke any louder.

“So that’s what they’re called.”

“I thought you died, kid,” Joel confessed. His eyes watered over, and his grip on her shoulder tightened.

Piper’s eyes briefly widened before she turned away, brushing Joel’s hand off her. “Wish I did,” she muttered.

“No,” Joel shook his head. “don’t say that. You don’t get to say that.”

Piper’s face tensed, and every line became visible. Her eyebrows clenched together so that they became one as the pain in her broken soul was revealed. “Then what do I get to say, Joel?! That I’m a monster! That the Infected treated me like their own! That they didn’t touch me! That they can’t! It’s because I’m like them. I’m a monster. I’m infected–”

Joel’s brows raised in confusion. “No, you’re immune. Just like Ellie.”

“No, you’re wrong,” Piper spat. “I’m nothing like Ellie. The infected still go after her. They will always go after her, trying to rip her apart, but me…? They just walk by as if I don’t exist. I’m one of them, Joel. It all makes sense. They were all after Ellie.” She tucked her arms close to her torso as she stepped away from Joel, putting too much distance between them.

“You got bit in the museum. You–”

“It was trying to bite Ellie, and my arm got in the way. Not that it mattered,” Piper explained. “I’m a monster.” Her eyes glanced down at the scarred bite mark from that day.

“No,” Joel said. He reached out to her. “You’re Piper.”

“And Piper’s a monster!” Piper sobbed. Her whole body shook as shaky breaths entered her lungs, fueling her pain.

“Kid, let's get back to the group. Ellie’s–” Joel tried to reason.

“No!” She yelled. “I’m not going anywhere near them, Joel! What if I….” Her voice grew soft and vulnerable. “What if I kill them? You said it yourself. I could still turn. Doesn’t matter if it’s days, months, or years. I could– I could go after Ellie. I could.”

Joel took a step closer to her, and Piper took one more back. Determined to keep distance. “You’re immune, kid. You’re immune, and even if you turned, you’d never hurt Ellie. I know it.”

“Bullshit,” Piper cursed as her back hit the wall of the room. Her knees crumbled underneath her, and her legs smashed against the floor.

“It’s not,” Joel comforted. “Come, kid. Let’s go.”

“I’m staying here,” Piper hissed.

“It’s not safe,” Joel pleaded.

“I’m not safe. I don’t feel safe in this skin.” She began to pick and pull at her skin. The wounds from earlier opened up, and fresh blood began to taint her skin once more. “I don’t feel safe around you or Ellie,” She choked on her sobs. “I–I should’ve died. I was supposed to die. I–”

Joel leaped forward and encased Piper in his arms. She tried to fight him. Her body twitched under his hold before the attempt to free herself stilled. “Shhh, I’ve got you,” he whispered into her hair.

Slowly, her trembling hands wrapped around his arm. “I’m so tired,” she breathed.

“Sleep,” Joel said as he lifted Piper off the floor. “I’ll watch over you and make sure nothing happens.” With an arm under her legs and another supporting her back, Joel carried her out of the room.

“If something does happen?” Piper whispered. “Will you shoot me?” Joel’s throat constricted. “Joel?”

Examining the girl in his arms, Joel’s eyes held a mix of fear and sadness. He’s been here before. His memory proved to be too powerful. Pulling Piper closer, Joel sighed, “Just go to sleep, kid.”

Piper was too tired to push the subject further. It would be something unspoken between the two. Joel prayed it would stay that way, for he knew his answer. If she had asked him that question in Boston, he’d have no issue with her request. But they weren’t Boston anymore. Joel wasn’t who he was in that city. He was someone else, someone familiar. It was as if he had discovered a pair of clothes from his past and decided to give them a try once more just to see if they fit. As he held the teen in his arms, it was no surprise that it did. Those clothes would always fit so long as Joel was willing to wear them. As for Piper’s request, he could never. He would never.

꧁_____꧂

Ellie couldn’t help but smile as Henry closed the door. He let them keep the light on. Everyone knows you’ve got to turn the light out when you leave a room where kids are supposed to be sleeping. Snatching the comic book from off the table, Ellie tapped Sam on the leg. He whirled around, eyes wide, until he saw her waving the book at him. He smiled and sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed to see better. Ellie cracked open the comic book and held the pages open so that Sam could see. Her thin finger traced the word bubbles as she softly read them. Her face was animated as if she was a part of the story herself.

"I don't see any weird movements. "Stiff? Negative. Damage here in Sector 153. Stella, can you hear me? I read you. Okay, from here…” Ellie read.

Raising his pointer finger up, Ellie paused and placed the comic book down. Sam reached to his side and pulled out the scratchboard. His small hand took the pencil and began to write.

“Are you ever scared?” he asked.

Ellie read his message and grabbed the board to write her reply. “Do I not look scared?”

Sam shook his head. "Never."

Ellie’s eyes fell, and she picked up the scratchboard. “I'm scared all the time…,” she wrote.

Sam scoffed. Ellie softly smirked and continued to write.

“… of scorpions!” She flashed the scratchboard, and Sam and Sam raised a brow, unamused.

She erased her message before writing her truest fear. “I’m scared of ending up alone,” she wrote. Her eyes began to water as she thought of today’s events. Sniffling, she wiped away a tear. She’d almost lost Piper, and she’d already lost so many others: Her mother, Riley, and Tess. Who else was going to be added to that list? Maybe Sam? Joel? Henry? Piper? “What about you?” Ellie wrote.

Sam took the board in his hands and slowly wrote his response. “If you turn into a monster, is it still you inside?” He asked.

Ellie’s brows furrowed in confusion, but her confusion faded as Sam raised the hem of his pant leg. The light highlighted the bloody bite wound. Tiny veins reached out from the injury, but Ellie knew better. Those weren’t veins. It was the fungus. She saw Sam’s expression falter, and without thinking, she pulled back her sleeve. She stuck her arm up to the light, and Sam gasped. She had a mark just like him.

“My blood… is medicine,” Ellie wrote on the board before showing it to Sam. He tilted his head. Quickly, Ellie fetched her knife out from her bag and cut her hand open. Sam raised his hands up in protest, but Ellie ignored them. Carefully placing her bleeding hand on his wound, she mixed her blood with his. Sam winced as her finger dug into the bite. But as quickly as it happened, it was over. Sam’s pants returned to cover his wound as Ellie bandaged her hand up.

“Stay awake with me,” Sam wrote.

“I promise,” Ellie replied.

Raising up his hands, Sam signed the word “Promise.”

Ellie followed suit. Her fingers mirrored Sam’s as she said, “Promise.”

With the promise to each other, Sam and Ellie hugged. Their bodies rocked back and forth to bring a sense of comfort. Ellie held onto Sam tightly. She wouldn’t lose him. Her blood was the cure. It had saved Piper after she got bit, so it had to work on Sam. It had to.

It wasn’t long before the light of day broke through the window of the motel room. Ellie jolted awake as the sun’s beams fell on her face. She groaned and rubbed the sleep from her eye. Looking on the bed next to hers, she found Sam. He was sitting up, looking out the window. The morning sun had painted a picturesque scene outside. The sky was a grayish blue, and the grass was a deep green. Ellie was glad to see green again instead of steel-gray buildings and dust.

“Hey,” she called out to Sam. Once the words left her mouth, she smiled, realizing her mistake. Shuffling, she got out of the bed and walked towards the young boy. He was humming a song she hadn’t heard before. She wondered how he even knew what he was humming but figured she could just ask him. Reaching out her hand, she tapped on his shoulder.

Sam whipped around. His eyes were dead as they scanned Ellie. Immediately, he raised a hand to scratch her. His mouth opened and snarled. Ellie screamed as he pounced on her and knocked her to the ground. The force broke down the door, landing them in the other room.

Ellie struggled to keep her hands up to keep Sam’s gnashing teeth away from her. Her whimpers and cries reached the ears of Joel, Henry, and Piper as they were shaken awake. Immediately, Joel and Henry reached for the gun lying between them. It was closer to Joel, but Henry was faster. Jumping to his feet, Henry aimed the gun at Joel and then at Piper as they tried to approach Ellie and Sam.

“Nope, nope, nope,” Henry discouraged.

“Joel! Piper! Joel!” Ellie pleaded. Sam’s deadly eyes bore into hers. Her friend was gone. She had failed him.

There was a deafening bang, and Sam dropped to the floor. A pool of blood spilled from the young boy’s head, turning the sickly green carpet a scarlet red. Henry gasped, and Ellie screamed. Piper’s body could no longer hold her up, and she fell to the floor. A permanent expression of shock was carved onto her face. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t–

“Ellie,” Joel whispered. “Are you okay?” He held his hands by his head as Henry’s gun trailed his motions.

Ellie peeled her gaze away from Sam’s dead body to look at Joel and Piper. Silent sobs fell from her lips as a flood of raging tears trickled down her cheeks.

Henry stepped back, pulling Joel’s attention. The young man’s body was eerily calm as his eyes conjured up a storm. The seas of Henry’s dark eyes crashed and shook.

“Easy, easy, easy,” Joel muttered. He took a step towards Henry, who had brought the gun to him. “Henry, gimme the gun.”

“What did I do?” Henry sobbed.

“Shh,” Joel soothed.

“What did I do? What-what-what did I do?” He looked back at his younger brother. Where there was once a bright smile now sat a gaping hole where the bullet had entered. Sam was dead, and Henry had pulled the trigger. “Sam?”

“Henry, gimme the gun. Gimme the gun. Gimme the gun, Henry.” Joel was begging now. “Gimme the gun.”

Henry did no such thing. Slowly, his steady hand brought the cool metal of the gun’s barrel to his head. His desperate eyes met Piper’s. It was only a brief glance, but it was enough for Piper to understand. In the storm of Henry’s eyes, Piper saw the girl in the abandoned mall. She saw the young girl tear into her own flesh, begging the dead monster to have bitten her instead. She saw the gun that had a bullet promised for her brain if Ellie was taken by the fungus. She looked at Henry and understood. Closing her eyes, she knew. Moments later, she felt the warm droplets of blood on her face and the bang of a gun. Her arm was burning now. The very arm where her teeth had dug into her flesh months before. It was scalding as Henry’s body fell to the floor. The very floor where his brother met his demise seconds before.

“Oh God,” Joel gasped. A prayer or a cry of shock, none of them knew.

A few hours. That’s all it took to dig the graves of Henry and Sam. They laid to rest in fields behind the motel. Piper had found some sticks to make gravestones with. Sticking them on the ground, she silently turned back to the motel to retrieve her things. She had said her goodbye, so there was no use sticking around, no need for tears, and no need for mourning. Ellie had followed suit, grabbing her and Joel’s things. The girls returned to find Joel patting down the soil. Heaven forbid if any animals got into the grave and made a dinner of the bodies of the people they could have called friends.

Dropping Joel’s jacket and bag at his side, Ellie placed down her bag. In her hand, she held Sam’s scratchboard. She crouched down at his grave and picked up the pencil, writing one last message before placing it down. Picking up her backpack, she threw it over her shoulder and turned to Joel.

“Which way's west?” Ellie asked Joel. The wind had started to pick up, and the pleasant weather from before had started to turn sour. It was going to rain soon.

Joel’s eyes squinted, and he looked around before nodding in the direction. His lungs were still trying to recover after digging the graves.

After getting her answer, Ellie started to walk, leaving Sam and Henry behind. Piper followed. The girls walked side by side, together but feeling forever alone. Joel wasn’t following them.

“Let's go,” Ellie hollered back to Joel. He removed his gaze from Sam’s grave to look up at the girls. They stood waiting for him to move on. They didn’t have time to waste. After all, a storm was coming.

Joel shrugged on his jacket and backpack before taking one last glance at the graves. The message Ellie had written would forever be burned into his brain.

“I’m sorry.” ꧁______꧂

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#😭😭😭😭😭#tlou show #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #ellie and piper are sister's forever

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itevilhag · 3 months

Text

“It’s like I’m Frankenstein,” you continue after wincing. “And you’re my evil creation.”

LOVIEEEEEEE, IS THIS FORESHADOWING?????

one year with luke castellan

↳ june 14 with percy jackson

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of apollo!reader

word count: 2.9k

summary: luke uses percy’s struggle to find what he’s good at as an excuse to go see you

content: set 5 months after the first part, the obligatory sparring scene

notes: i know the request meant “fight” as bicker but i weighed my choices and thought itd be funnier to watch them square up

Percy watches as Luke gives an amused look back at the archery fields behind them.

Certainly left a lasting impression on the Apollo kids, Percy notes grimly.

As they all recuperate from their near death experience at his hands, one of them gets into proper position with their bow. They take aim once, twice, three times. Each shot is so accurate the last two arrows pierce the first down the middle.

He swallows. “That’s gotta be fake, right?”

Luke laughs when he realizes what he’s talking about. “The precision is genetic. I’ve seen one of them shoot a fly out of the sky once.”

Percy whistles. “You got a bunch of Katniss Everdeens out here.”

Luke gives him a firm pat on the back, but Percy isn’t too sure he understands what he’s talking about. “Sure.”

The two of them soldier on. He swats at a mosquito trying to land on him, trying to ignore how itchy his ankles are from the tall grass. It’s so muggy and warm out, and Luke’s been dragging him around all afternoon, just to find disappointment at every turn. Percy’s beginning to wonder if he’s even a real demigod, or just a normal kid they accidentally brought in here.

“If you’re not great at long distance fighting, we could always try close contact,” Luke says encouragingly, but his words do nothing but inspire dread in his chest.

“I’m not so sure that's such a great idea.”

A crowd of campers rush past the two of them, hollering and cheering about whatever accomplishment he’s sure they’ve achieved. Percy could not feel more out of place.

“C’mon, you never know,” Luke insists. “My aim’s pretty terrible too, but I’m pretty unbeatable with a sword.”

Percy tries not to scowl. Luke Castellan being terrible at something wasn’t even something that seemed possible.

“You think you’re terrible because you can’t land a bullseye every time? I almost just skewered a bunch of archery professionals!”

Luke at least has the decency to look sheepish about it.

“That’s what I thought,” Percy scoffs, but it comes out sadder than he’d hoped.

“Cheer up,” Luke says, a sad attempt at lifting his spirits. “We’re almost at the training area.”

His own words seem to put a newfound pep in his step. After a quick glance at his watch, Luke’s already long strides seem to grow even bigger, leaving Percy speed walking to catch up.

Up until now, Luke had taken care to point out the various sights of Camp Half-Blood. He’d call attention to anything interesting the two of them would pass, like a spot where something funny has happened, or a hidden spot with a nice view. But now, he seems to be in a rush, bypassing building after building.

They don’t slow until they near the Athena cabin, when the armory comes into view. Campers walk in and out of the building holding various items, all looking completely at ease. Percy wonders if he’ll ever feel like that with Riptide. Sure, he’d used it just fine when it had come down to it, but he’d felt like a little kid with a plastic Lightsaber.

One of the campers leaves the armory with a spear that’s taller than Percy. A kid that looks even younger than him swings around a weapon with spikes, something vicious swimming in his eyes.

When they get closer to the door, Percy’s surprised to see that Luke chooses to move right past the building completely.

“Are we not going in there?” he asks.

Luke stops in his tracks as he turns around, a little confused. The expression on his face makes it look like he’d forgotten about the building completely.

After a second, his mouth falls open. “Oh, right.”

Luke gives another quick glance down to the watch on his wrist, a little nervous, like he has somewhere to be.

Percy realizes what his rush is immediately. It stings.

“You said lunch was at twelve,” Percy deadpans. “You’re stuck with me for another hour, so, sorry.”

“What?” Luke looks genuinely confused, but Percy isn’t buying it. “I’m not eager to get rid of you, dude. I was just checking the time.”

“Sure.”

Luke looks sympathetic when he throws an arm over Percy’s shoulder. When his steps start again, they’re thankfully much slower.

“I was checking to see if it was better to do weapons now or later,” he explains. “I’m pretty sure there’s a class going on down at the training area right now, and I thought you’d want to save the weapon handling for, uh… A time where there’s less people.”

Percy evaluates his words. The collective “No!” the Apollo campers had shouted down at the archery fields when he’d asked if he should try again echoes in his ears.

Maybe waiting for later is for the best.

“You’re probably right,” Percy admits, and Luke claps him on the back again, giving him a reassuring look.

“I have a good feeling about this one. And you shouldn’t get yourself down because you haven’t found what you’re good at yet. No one’s good at everything.”

Percy thinks about what someone had said about Luke’s unrivaled skill with a sword. And then he thinks about the way Luke’s arrows barely strayed from the center of the target.

“Except for you, I guess,” Percy says.

This makes Luke grin. He nudges him good naturedly. “I guess so.”

The two of them get to the training area in no time. It’s big — even bigger than the space cleared out for the archery field. The majority of the space seems reserved for those with weapons, a few racks set around with different sized equipment hung up. The clashing of swords and all sorts of metal slices through the air, making the entire place sound like a battlefield.

When the two of them pass by a few of the campers, Percy can see a fire in their eyes that burns bright and clear.

Luke’s making a beeline for a pavilion off to the side of the field, which is filled with a dispersing sea of people in orange. It’s clear that whatever class had been going on is over — campers leave in small groups as they talk amongst their friends.

“Hi, Luke,” a girl that passes by says. Percy has to blink when she literally twirls a piece of hair around her finger.

He gives her a smooth grin. “Hey.”

Someone calls his name and Luke greets him before the two of them do a long and complicated handshake.

Percy has the feeling that this is what it’s like to be a younger, way less cool brother.

By the time they reach the wooden structure, almost all of the campers have cleared out. There’s only about three of them left standing by the mat in the center of the room, so Luke leans against one of the wooden posts and motions for Percy to wait.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” you say, waving away two girls Percy assumes are your friends.

You watch them go for a few seconds before your eyes find the two of them, waiting quietly.

Your face pulls into a smug grin, much like the one that Luke had on earlier. “Castellan. Did you come back for more?”

He rolls his eyes, amused, before he gestures to the boy at his side. “This is Percy. He’s new, and I’ve been showing him around.”

You seem to light up. You reach your hand out for him to shake, your grip firm and solid.

“It’s nice to meet you Percy,” you say, giving him a big smile. “Is it true that you defeated the Minotaur?”

Wasting no time at all, it seems.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his head nervously. Your eyes are kind, but your stare is really intense.

“Pretty cool. And on your first day, too!” You jab a finger back at Luke. “It took him a few years before he did anything interesting.”

“Hey—”

You cut his protest off. “So what brings you two here? Surely you’re not here to watch me beat Luke up.”

“We’re trying to find what I’m good at,” Percy answers. He scuffs his shoe into the floor. “It’s uh… not going too great.”

“Have you tried sword fighting?” you offer. “Your track record’s looking pretty good already.”

Percy deflates. He would need another miracle for that to happen again.

“I think that might’ve been a fluke,” he admits.

You give him a bright smile. “Don’t sell yourself short, Percy. But if you want, me and Castellan can show you some hand-to-hand. And then you can try after us.”

He turns to face Luke, who seems almost excited at the idea. “That good with you, Percy?”

His eyes flicker between you both. In both of your eyes, he sees the same bloodthirsty fire he’d seen in the battling campers earlier. It seems you guys have already decided for him.

He nods anyway, just to be polite.

The two of you move quickly, shifting the mat over and clearing the surrounding area. You even go as far as asking Luke to help you move a bench that’s deemed too close to the space you’ve cleared out.

“I’ll try not to embarrass you in front of the kid,” you say.

Luke drops his half of the bench for a second, making you drop forward with its weight.

“We’re trying to help Percy find his thing. Save the real fighting for later,” he reminds you, and you mumble his words in a mocking tone.

The two of you stand side by side as you toe your shoes off. Luke tugs on the back of your shirt before you step on the mat. “Be nice.”

“I am.”

Luke’s words remind Percy of the whole reason they’d come here in the first place. He’s trying to find what he’s good at, but by the way you two are amping yourselves up, he doubts he’s going to get any actual training in.

“Nothing serious,” says Luke. “I can always hand your ass to you later.”

“You can try.” You crack your neck and then your knuckles, the popping sounds loud and vaguely threatening.

Both of you go through the motions of stretching and warming up your muscles before Luke beckons you forward. You begin to circle each other on the mat, your gazes locked firm on the other.

“Do you guys have rules for this?” Percy asks.

From what he’s heard of Capture the Flag, the camp seems pretty lax on issues with bodily harm.

“The basics,” Luke says, not even glancing at him, “no hits below the belt or to the back of the head.”

“And no maiming or killing, obviously,” you add.

Luke smiles. “Sunshine likes making everything free game, though.”

You match his grin with your own. “It’s more fun like that.”

Finally breaking you and Luke’s staring contest, you turn to look back at your one man audience. “I’ll show you a simple takedown, Percy.”

“Or I will,” Luke points out.

You roll your eyes, giving Percy a look that says, Can you believe this guy?

When you turn around, you reach out to touch your knuckles to Luke’s, something Percy’s seen boxers do on T.V. But that’s as kind as the fight gets. You rush forward immediately.

Percy almost can’t believe how fluid your movements are. It’s the first fight he’s seen up close, besides the little scraps he’s seen at school before. But those are absolutely nothing compared to this.

The two of you move so quickly he can barely understand what’s happening. His eyes barely register you moving to strike Luke’s face before he’s blocking your hit and countering with one of his own. His hits rain down fast and hard, but you manage to meet him blow for blow.

You duck and weave out of his way, catching his fist when it comes dangerously close to your face. After a bunch of close calls, he lands one good hit on you, and Percy is shocked to see how fast you recover, barely reacting.

Both of you seem to be able to recognize what the other is thinking before either of you even acts — you make an aborted move with your hand and Luke laughs, despite how out of breath he is.

“Remember what happened last time you tried that?” he goads.

Your stare hardens. You duck under his arm before he can clip the side of your face and you seize his wrist, twisting it backwards at a painful angle. Your free hand moves to shove his body forward, putting him in a bad spot. Percy sucks air through his teeth in second-hand pain.

Luke groans in discomfort, but with his chest now lower to the ground, it allows his free arm to easily wind around one of your legs, tugging you straight off your feet. You stumble, losing grip on his arm, and—

Luke is the one that hits the floor.

Percy rises to his feet so fast it pushes the bench back.

It’d been so fast, he had missed it completely. Even as he tries to play it back in his head, he can’t pinpoint how you’d managed that while you were tipping backwards.

You don’t waste a second, moving to pin him immediately. You capture his arms, and the way you force your entire body weight onto Luke’s back makes it nearly impossible for him to sit up without use of both of his arms.

Whatever magic move you’d pulled worked.

The fight is over.

…

For a second, at least.

Luke must start using muscles Percy has no idea exists, because the roles are quickly reversed — he shoots up so fast it has you careening off of him. And by the looks on both of your faces, neither of you even expected that was possible.

Before the wind can come back to your lungs, he pins your arms with a hand, using his other to block your knee that almost winds up somewhere very painful. You squirm around for a few more seconds, trying to slip out of Luke’s firm grasp, but all three of you can see it’s useless. You groan loudly when Luke begins to grin.

“Ah, fuck,” you try to mumble under your breath quietly, but Percy can still hear it.

Luke releases you, sitting off of your legs and letting your arms go. His voice is light and teasing. “What’s it now? A hundred thirty-four to a hundred twenty-nine?”

“I’m at a hundred thirty-two. You aren’t that good.”

“My bad.”

You shove his face away from you as he laughs. Luke pushes himself up and tugs you to your feet, and you knock your knuckles together again in respect.

He moves over to a cooler by the edge of the pavilion as you sigh, stretching out your arms. You rub your jaw as you hiss quietly, and Percy remembers that good hit Luke had managed to get on you earlier.

“You’ve gotten a lot better,” you say to him. “Remember when you would hold your hands like, all the way down here?” You get into a stance that must look atrocious to you, because you laugh at the sight of it.

(Percy has no idea what’s wrong with it.)

Luke rolls his eyes as he walks back from the cooler, holding a bunch of ice cubes wrapped in a cloth. “Alright, laugh it up.”

“You’re lucky I was kind enough to help train you.”

“Of course. You were so kind you even made me ten times better than you.”

You make a face. “You’ve won twice in a row and forgot how to act. I’ve made a monster.”

He puts the cloth to your face a little more harsher than probably needed.

“It’s like I’m Frankenstein,” you continue after wincing. “And you’re my evil creation.”

Luke cocks his head. “I don’t think Frankenstein was creating anything. Wasn’t he a monster?”

“What? No.”

He hums. “I’m pretty sure I would remember. Frankenstein’s the green monster.”

“No, dumbass, Frankenstein’s the guy. Frankenstein’s monster—”

“How long did it take you guys to learn how to do that?” Percy asks.

Both of you turn to face him abruptly, and he gets the feeling that you’d both forgotten he was here. You’re quick to shove the cloth away from your face and towards Luke’s arm. He presses the ice to a spot there.

“A long time,” you say. “When I first started, everyone would wipe the floor with me. But I practiced hard, and barely anyone can beat me now.”

Percy’s eyes drift to the figure behind you. “Except for Luke?”

You frown a little. “Yeah, I guess.”

Luke whistles. “You guess?” He walks over to you and Percy, a smug look on his face. “I currently hold a hundred thirty-four wins to her a hundred thirty-one–”

“—Thirty-two—”

“—wins. I’d say we’re pretty evenly matched.”

You try to swat Luke away like he’s a fly. “Anyways. No one’s born good at this stuff. It takes everyone a while to learn.”

Earlier, you had taken down Luke so fast Percy hadn’t even realized you’d done it. And Luke had been strong enough to lift you straight off of him without using his arms at all. Percy’s sure it would take him a lot longer than a couple years to get that good.

“And you think that I could get good like you guys?” he asks.

You smile at him genuinely. You squeeze his shoulder, and Percy has the feeling that he’s about to get some really good advice.

“Trust me. If Luke can get this good, that means anyone can.”

Fed up with your trash-talking, Luke wraps one of his arms around your neck as he drags you back to the mat. With some dramatized yelling, he threatens to WWE bodyslam you into the floor if you don’t take back what you’d said.

Oh.

No wonder Luke had been in such a rush to get here before.

notes: yes i wrote this part half asleep ❤️ i hope my sleep deprivation did not stop u from enjoying!

tags:

1 year: @marshymallo @ghostisstuff @tayswiftlovebot @dangelnleif @bipstargirl @fearlessmoony @lyssaluvs @badcoping @dorcas4meadowes @surftrips @inejwraiths @lizziesfirstwife @randomnpc456 @pleasingregulus @supercutszns @superswaggycooch @teatimedisaster @liviessun @otchae @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @softtina @mermaid-mqtel @liv1104 @spacedilflvr @solarstar00 @poppysrin @annybah @pookiebear16 @awenthealchemist @locknco @obxstiles @nexxus13 @starxqt @cinnamongirll-444 @gisellesprettylies @toffeeprincess4 @wreckmyimage @mayadisaster @tenshis-cake @phtogravi @viavee123 @motorsp0rt @yummytootybutt @rishtish @luna-moon180 @thisfridaynight @pariahsparadise @nininehaaa @shamelesssuitstark

#I NEED ANSWERS NOW LOVIE #WHERE ARE THEY?????#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan fic

2K notes · View notes

itevilhag · 3 months

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he's my new obsession. 🧘🏼‍♀️

#someone who's finally my age #who woulda thunk #he's so handsome🥹#just a chance please charlie #charlie bushnell #luke castellan #pjo tv show

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itevilhag · 3 months

Text

(although im still not sure whether or not it'll actually happen, i've alerady written some things down, it just that it's still in chunks at this point.)

#what do you guys think?#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #pjotv x reader #luke castellan angst #luke castellan fluff

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itevilhag · 3 months

Text

when the sun came up (i was looking at you)

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x fem reader

word count: 4.8k

summary: your poisoning in the woods and everything that comes after

content: angst + hurt/comfort. reader is poisoned which leads to aggression/hallucination; she gets restrained. general near death experience content ?

notes: title from out of the woods by taylor swift. these guys are NEVER escaping the trauma of the woods loll

The door slams inward, and the entire Apollo cabin goes silent.

There’s about ten campers inside, a few of them clustered around the cot in the center of the room. Every single one of them turns to face Luke with the same look painted on their faces.

Panic.

“Where is she?”

They part like the Red Sea, avoiding his eyes and scrambling to disperse throughout the room. Luke’s on autopilot, his eyes darting around the room for any familiar face as he pushes past those who don’t get out of the way fast enough.

A girl named Mary - or Maria? - is sitting by the window. She looks quickly down at her feet when he catches her eye. Beck blinks wide eyed at him as he side steps out of his line of fire.

(Something out in the forest. Screaming that could be heard from three cabins down. Uncontrollable aggression.)

“Luke,” Miles says, the only one brave enough to stand in front of him. He plants a firm hand on his shoulder, his brows knitted together. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

His hand gets shoved off immediately. Luke can’t believe what he’s saying to him — the disapproval in Miles’ voice at his presence in the cabin. He scoffs, trying to cool down the anger that threatens to flare up.

Hyperthermia, someone else had said. It doesn’t take a child of Athena to know the risks of it. You’re somewhere nearby, in pain, and Miles has the gall to tell Luke he shouldn’t be looking for you.

Luke’s badly contained temper comes back with a vengeance.

“You should fucking know better. She’s my…” Luke’s breath shakes as he inhales. “She’s my best friend.”

Miles wilts and turns to his siblings, looking for backup. Not a single one meets his eyes. He’s torn in half, clearly fighting with himself over something.

(“Luke.” Warmth around his wrist. Your hand. “Please hold me.”

Red palms. Your dried blood between the creases on his hands — the lines you’d trace while half asleep, leaning against his shoulder while trying to get some rest.

The coldness of your hands. Chocolate bars so rich you have trouble eating. The suffocating sterility of the hospital.

The entire goddamn state of Pennsylvania.

Luke won’t do it again.)

“Tell me where she is,” he snaps, his voice bordering on a snarl.

Luke Castellan is not above begging.

It’s quiet. Miles’ siblings are staring at the two of them, unashamed. Luke can see the guilt in all of their eyes.

The younger boy is frowning. “We’re not supposed to—”

“So what?” he grits out. “Do you expect me to sit around while she’s fucking dying?” Miles is silent, and Luke scoffs. He turns to the rest of the campers, his gaze sharp enough to hurt. They remain quiet.

“If none of you tell me, I’m going out there to find her myself.”

Miles is frowning. Luke turns his back on him. “Wait, Luke—”

“The river by the strawberry fields.”

It’s one of the older Apollo kids. Luke’s known him for a while, and he couldn’t be more grateful. The boy, Carter, is sitting on the cot that his siblings had been crowding around earlier. There’s a cut over his eyebrow and he’s clutching a bag of ice to his cheek. When his hand drops, Luke can see the tell-tale signs of new bruising.

“She’s hyperthermic,” a girl next to Carter confirms after she glances at Miles wearily. “Whatever got her out there was poisonous. We couldn’t break her fever.”

“A few of them just left for the river,” someone else offers. “It’s the coldest source of water nearby. They have to help her cool down, or else…”

She trails off, but she doesn’t need to continue for Luke to understand. The pity is rolling off her in waves.

What should be a comfort offers him nothing but the realization that it’s all real. You really are dying, so sick that the Apollo kids are at a loss of what to do. This isn’t another night terror — a messed up idea his mind has come up with to torture him.

It’s real. And this time, waking up won’t save him from it.

He can only hope he looks as grateful as he feels when he mutters out his thanks.

“Luke,” your friend Liza calls before he can get too close to the door.

She’d done your hair for you just last week, perfectly woven braids you’d shown him with a grin. When he faces her now, there are unshed tears in her eyes. “You need to be careful. She’s- not herself. And she’s scared.”

Uncontrollable anger. The red mark on Carter’s face is beginning to make more sense.

The other kids standing around the cabin give Luke tentative looks, although he’s not sure why. Do they expect him to cower at the thought of you hurting him? Surely they should know by now.

He turns away from them and starts in the direction of the river.

—

It’s not that far, just a left out of the Apollo cabin and about a five minute walk towards the woods. If he goes fast, he knows he’ll catch up with you in no time.

The short distance is why Luke hears you before he sees you.

As he gets closer to the river, the quiet sounds of nature are drowned out by the words of the Apollo kids standing over you.

“Ah, shit— Lucy, hold her.”

“Gods, I really don’t want to, but if this is going to work, we’re going to need to—”

The girl gets cut off by a scream. A warped plea ripping itself from your throat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” another voice says in pity, and the fear that’s wrapped itself around Luke’s chest begins to constrict his lungs.

He’s by the water before he can even realize that he started running. There’s only three healers here, but the way they’re huddled around you still manages to block you from view.

He has to remind himself to breathe, to continue inhaling and exhaling so he doesn’t pass the fuck out.

In.

(Three jagged lines, angry and red hot.)

Out.

(Pus oozing from the gapes made in marred skin.)

In.

(Cold to the touch. The weight of your unconscious body on his back.)

Out.

It’s stupid. They’re trying to save your life, trying to keep you from cooking yourself from the inside out, but Luke takes the closest Apollo kid by the back of their shirt and drags them behind him, breaking the iron tight ring of people hiding you from view.

Your hands are bound.

Golden fabric circles your wrists, locking your arms behind your back. The girl, Lucy, has both of your legs secured under an arm while she tries to work another strip around your ankles.

Luke sees red.

He bites back the venom threatening to spill from his mouth.

These girls are young, he tries to remind himself through the anger that’s burning hot in his chest. They’re scared too.

He drops to his knees, hands moving immediately for your bindings. The same hands that have held him through nightmares and his mother’s fits are locked together and held by your own weight into the dirt.

Your shoulder is inches away from his hand when Luke is yanked backwards harshly. It feels like an electric current shakes his skull when his head hits the stones lining the river.

“Luke,” Casey, the girl he pulled away, says his name frantically. His vision is swimming, but he pushes himself up onto his forearms despite the ringing in his ears that tells him to stay down. “We really didn’t want to, but she’s getting violent, she—”

When the world comes into slight focus, he can see the unmistakable footprint shape pressed into the front of her t-shirt. Maya, the girl by your head that’s trying to help Lucy ease you into the water, has a raw scratch going down the expanse of her arm.

Despite your bindings, you’re putting up a fight. You lock your knees before thrashing out, knocking Lucy back a few inches as you try to jab Maya in the nose with the back of your head.

“It’s everywhere!”

It takes Luke a second to even recognize your voice as your own. It sounds like your larynx has been shredded, the usual cadence of your voice unrecognizable to his ears.

Casey doesn’t bother trying to push him back down when he surges forward for you.

It’s the first good look he’s gotten of you since this morning. You’d eaten breakfast together like always, your knees knocking against his whenever you got super into the story you were telling him and Chris.

When it was over, some of your friends ended up dragging you away for the rest of the day. There was an apologetic grin on your face as you waved at him from across the pavilion.

He should’ve gone with you. Should’ve, should’ve, should’ve.

His fingers are already working to loosen the knots at your wrists when he remembers he should say something. “Killer, it’s me,” he says, trying to tamper down the waver in his voice.

The golden fabric falls limply to the ground. The skin below it is rubbed raw from your thrashing, and the sight makes Luke want to empty his stomach. He tries meeting your gaze, but your eyes are squeezed shut, your face turned away from him as you sob.

You need to calm her down, Luke thinks to himself. Stressing her out is going to worsen everything. Calm her down.

He thinks about his nightmares, about the sweat sticking his shirt to his back and to his bedsheets. You’ve helped him through it countless times, what feels like every night since his quest.

You had seemed so sure of yourself from the very start, like brushing his hair from his face and knowing exactly what to say was second nature to you. He’d hold you on those nights and fall asleep to the feeling of your gentle exhales against his chest. Luke doesn’t know a place safer than with you in his bed, one of your arms thrown over him and the rest of you tangled together.

Luke clenches his hands, trying to will the shaking away. He doesn’t know how to do that for you, and it makes hatred fester in his chest.

He pushes stray strands of hair away from your face before moving to untie the fabric at your ankles. The other girls have long backed away by now, know that trying to stop him would be useless.

You’re quiet. Painfully so. But the moment your legs are free, you move like you’re being fueled by fire. Luke barely dodges the swipe you make at his face as you kick your leg out in a wide arc. He flattens himself against the ground, and you wrestle yourself on top of him, your legs curling around one of his and locking him against the dirt.

He’d taught you how to do this.

Lucy lets out a startled gasp, and Casey moves forward to drag you off of him, but he holds up a firm hand, the message clear.

Stop.

You waste no time. Your hands string around his neck, constricting in a way that's sure to leave bruises. Your eyes had been pressed firmly shut earlier, but now they’re blown wide. The sclera of your eyes are red and aflame, and your constricted pupils are swallowed up by the color of your irises.

Your face is devoid of any emotions. You don’t recognize him.

As the airflow to his lungs slows, it would make sense for his adrenaline to propel him upwards, to get him to wrestle you to the ground and pin your arms. He’s done it before and could do it again, despite how difficult you make it.

But there’s another part of his brain that’s taking over, dragging him away from his instincts to protect himself.

Because it’s you.

The same way his natural battle instincts have been hardwired into his brain, it’s like his body has a visceral reaction to being with you, to hold you in his hands and shelter you from everything else.

Luke rubs soothing circles into the backs of the hands that are wrapped around his throat. They’re searing hot.

“Kill-er,” the syllables are stilted, coming out intermittently whenever he can manage to get air through. He’s surprised he can even speak right now, knowing the strength that courses through your veins. If you’d wanted him to, he’d be down for the count.

You’re going easy on him.

He moves his hands off of yours to hold the back of your head. Sweat runs down from your forehead, your body working tirelessly to cool you down. Your wild eyes dart across his face frantically, taking him in for what seems like the first time. Confusion and recognition is flickering across your face.

It’s then when Luke sees the puncture wound on your neck, the mark green and sickly and throbbing at your pulse point. He brushes hair away from your face.

The grip around his neck begins to loosen slightly, and he takes in as much oxygen as he can through his gasp for air. He takes your hands in his again and squeezes once.

“It’s me, sweetheart. It’s Luke.”

The tension you’re using to lock his legs into place dissipates. You blink hard, like you’re trying to come back to yourself.

He should throw you off of him now, he knows he should. Your hands are no longer tight around his throat, and the heat of your body where it's pressed against his is unbearable.

“Luke,” you rasp. “Luke.”

“It’s me, it’s me,” he mumbles, the relief pouring through the cracks. He lets go of your hands to run a soothing hand down your back. The back of your shirt is soaked through with sweat.

Your face cracks. You lean down close to him, your face curling in anguish.

“Luke, they’re everywhere.” Your voice is quiet, like you’re trying to tell him a secret no one else can hear.

He nods before he knows why. “I know, I know. It’s why we need to take you to the water. It’ll help, killer, I promise.”

You’ve gone a little boneless, your arms giving in as you collapse against him. The heat emanating from your skin is growing oppressive, and he knows he needs to move. “I can feel them, Luke. It’s everywhere.”

“I’m sorry, I know,” he says again, heaving you upwards. One of his hands goes to the back of your head as the other secures itself around your lower back. He repeats his words into your hair as he inches both of you closer to the water.

He’s going to have to let you go. Letting you cling onto his body heat isn’t doing you any favors, but he finds his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt when you wind yourself around him.

Hold her, everything in him seems to say.

So he does.

“Luke,” someone says, snapping him out of your orbit. It’s Casey, standing ankle deep in the water in front of him. He’d almost forgotten anyone else was here. Maya and Lucy look on from the grass with matching concerned expressions. “You have to hurry. There’s not much time.”

There’s a water nymph standing a few feet in fromt of them — this must be her river. She’s cocking her head at you curiously, and when Luke sucks in a broken inhale at the sudden drop in temperature, he knows it’s her doing.

The fabric of his pants gets soaked through with the icy water immediately, but he sinks deeper into the river despite it. You jolt in his arms the second the water comes up to your chest.

“Luke,” you sob, your grip around his shoulders growing painfully tight. “I can’t, I can’t, I—”

He pries your face out of the crook of his neck regardless of the way you’re protesting.

Luke is shivering. You are far from it. You’re even making it worse, trying to wrap yourself around him even with the heat that’s threatening to kill you.

When he knocks his forehead against yours, he says your name, your real name, with as much force as he can muster.

“Do you trust me?”

Luke has no idea what tricks your mind is playing on you. He doesn’t know if the poison will take five minutes or ten hours to leave your system, and has no idea if this water will even help you. Your organs could fail in an hour and this entire thing would have been pointless. He could be lying to you right now, giving you false hope that he can fix it all. But pressed so close to you, he watches as your eyes dilate, and he knows that you’ve placed your trust in him.

The tears that have collected in your eyes spill over, running in rivulets down your face. He wipes them away with careful hands as you slump in his arms. Luke presses another kiss onto the high point of your cheek.

He works to unwind your arms from around his neck, and you groan like it physically pains you. He’s mumbling apologies the entire time, laying you on your back as the salt of your tears mixes with the freshwater of the river.

He knows he shouldn’t be touching you, shouldn’t be giving you another source of heat, but you give him a look that breaks his heart when he tries to loosen your hold on his wrist. He folds. He leaves a comforting hand against your shoulder blades as he scoops water to pour over your head.

He doesn’t stop until he hears your teeth chattering from the cold.

Luke doesn’t torture you with the distance any longer. When Casey gives him a look of approval, he tilts you upward to pull you back into his chest. You fit perfectly into the dip of his shoulder, and he holds the back of your head as close to him as physically possible.

The two of you sit there and listen to the sound of the shifting water around you until your skin begins to prune. He holds you there, feeling your steady heartbeat against his until his breathing evens out.

—

Your hands are cold again.

Luke remembers how they had felt when he had sat by your hospital bed and tried not to cry.

But this time, the cold is comforting. You’re not burning up anymore, your body no longer threatening to swallow you whole.

He had Carter check your temperature. And then check it again fifteen minutes later. Your temperature is a perfectly healthy 98 degrees fahrenheit.

He watches your chest rise and fall underneath the blankets. And then he presses his hand against it just to make sure it isn’t a trick of the light.

He cares about you. A lot. But he knows you’re going to drive him crazy with worry by the time you’re both twenty-five.

Luke sits with a towel wrapped around his shoulders as various Apollo kids come in and out to check on you. It’s not that he doesn’t trust them, but being more than fifty feet away from you isn’t something he thinks he can stomach right now.

He would’ve probably sat in his drenched clothes all day if someone hadn’t threatened to kick him out for dripping water all over the floors. Chris had come by to drop off a change of clothes from the cabin, and had left him with warm sweatpants and the hoodie he had given you a long time ago. There were paint stains on the sleeves from that one time the Apollo kids had dragged him into crafts with the younger campers, and the edge of one of the sleeves had long since worn away with age.

It was your favorite of his, oddly enough. He was more likely to find it draped on your frame than on his.

(“Hey, Castellan,” Chris had joked the first time you’d stolen it from him. “Nice outfit.”

You’d grinned, prodding him with the point of your shoe. “Think I wear it better?”

You did.

For the rest of the night, Luke wondered why he felt so weird after Chris had referred to you with his last name.)

He puts the hoodie aside for you and sits in the plain shirt offered to him earlier instead. The fabric of the sweatshirt smells like you now. It’s not his anymore.

Someone clears their throat from behind him. He turns to find Casey leaning against one of the beams, staring at the two of you with something swimming in her eyes. “The poison’s run its course. She’s on the mend.”

“Right,” Luke says. He’s too tired to say much else, and he’s still bitter about the way he had found you, sobbing with your wrists tied around your back. He’s trying hard not to be angry at them, so he avoids looking at the injuries left behind on your skin. “Thanks.”

She doesn’t move from her spot, watching and observing. Luke waits for her to spit out whatever it is she wants to say.

“You’re lucky, Luke.”

He fights the urge to scoff. ‘Lucky’ is probably the last word Luke Castellan would use to describe himself. If he was really lucky, you’d be sitting by the lake with him and he’d be rubbing sunscreen over your back so you wouldn’t get burned. “I’m lucky that my best friend almost died?”

She purses her lips. “That’s not what I meant.”

Your light breathing rustles the thin sheet over you and he slips his hand into yours. Traces the veins at your wrist.

“I meant that you’re lucky to have each other. I can tell the two of you are close.”

He wants to laugh. Close. Luke wants to think that after a lifetime of having each other, you’d be considered something more than close.

“She wouldn’t have made it, if you hadn’t shown up.”

He had known that, of course. But hearing her say it out loud makes it too real. You’d almost died. Again.

“I know Miles kind of chewed you out earlier, so I’m here to apologize on his behalf. You’re a really good guy, Luke.”

He turns to face her. Her red curly hair is messy, like the stress of the day has worn her down.

Luke finds his lingering irritation dissolving. She’s just a kid.

He nods at her and decides to not acknowledge her compliment. “Thanks for apologizing.”

She turns on her heel quickly, shutting the door behind her.

“I am pretty lucky.”

Luke can’t turn around faster. You squeeze his hand three times and he feels the weight on his chest lifted.

“Sorry that I keep doing this to you.”

You’re halfway smiling. He smiles, too, even though he feels dead on his feet.

He drops half of his face into your stomach, and you move to scratch at his scalp. He sighs. You smell like the cool freshwater of the river.

“Yeah. You should be sorry.”

You sit up before he can protest and kiss the mess of curls on top of his head. You don’t seem to mind how they’re damp and gross, threading your fingers through them and dragging your nails in that way you do.

Luke wants to hold you forever and hurt anything that’s ever looked at you wrong. He wonders how you’d feel if he went back into the forest and sent whatever did this to you back into Tartarus with his bare hands.

“I’m never letting you go out into the woods ever again,” he says instead.

“Oh?”

“You’re living up to your nickname, killer. Each of these hospital trips takes a decade off my life, you know.”

“My bad.”

He drags your hand out of his hair to slot your fingers together. “If I ever catch you in here again, I’m killing you myself.”

“Duly noted.”

“I’m serious. If I see you within thirty feet of this cabin again, you’re in for it.”

You laugh, light and sweet. You do your mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

He doesn’t get up from where he’s laying on your chest, and you don’t move an inch for a while.

“Thank you, Luke,” you say after a bit. “I would’ve been dead, like a decade ago, if you weren’t around. You do so much for me.”

He squeezes your hand. “I’d do anything for you. I’d even let you strangle me a hundred more times.”

You sit up abruptly, and Luke knows he’s fucked up.

“What?”

Your hand goes under his chin and you force him upwards before he can stop you. You tug the neckline of his shirt down and he tries to protest, but he hears you gasp and knows it's too late. He can’t see your expression with the way you’re inspecting the column of his neck, but you are silent the entire time.

“Gods, Luke…” You say after a while. Your hand drops quickly to your lap like just the sight of the bruising has burned you. “I tried to- tried to kill you. I didn’t realize what I was doing. I’m so… I didn’t know-”

He shakes his head, meeting your gaze head on. You’ve started tearing up again, your eyes trained on the splotches of purple around his throat. “Wasn’t your fault. Don’t even imply that shit. You weren’t yourself, do you understand?”

Your hand is limp in his when he reaches for it. The two of you sit in the quiet of the Apollo cabin again, listening to the sounds of the stray campers that walk past the windows outside.

“I can’t believe I did that. I deserve to be locked up. I’m a monster for doing that to your pretty skin,” you say absentmindedly.

Luke cracks a smile. He thinks he’d let you drive a knife through his heart and still say it wasn’t your fault.

“I didn’t understand what was happening. But I could… feel everything.”

He runs a hand up your leg, soothingly. “You don’t have to—”

“No, it’s fine.” You shake your head. “I couldn’t really see ‘cause my vision was all screwed up. But I wasn’t scared.”

“I was,” he admits readily, squeezing your thigh.

If one of you dies first, he hopes it’s him. He’s had a taste of you dying twice already and isn’t sure what would happen to him if he had to watch it really happen.

“I wasn’t. ‘Cause I could feel you,” you say. You’re looking right at him but seem so far away. “I could hear your voice, but I couldn’t tell if it was you. But I knew you were with me when you were stroking my head like you do when you try and put me to sleep. And I wasn’t scared anymore.”

Luke feels like someone’s torn open his ribcage and shoved his organs back in.

Is this normal? he wonders. To feel this strongly about your best friend?

He stops himself from surging forward and taking your face into his hands.

What would he even do? Luke isn't even sure himself. He forces the ridiculous thoughts from his head and pulls your hand up to kiss your palm. He presses his mouth into the center and moves down to your injured wrist and then to the warm skin by your pulse.

You let out a watery laugh. “You’re stuck with me for life. Until the end.”

He smiles into the skin of your wrist. You’re joking, he’s sure of it, but he wouldn’t mind forever with you.

Luke stands up for the first time in what feels like hours. He nudges you forward on the twin sized cot, and you let him settle behind you. It’s a slightly awkward fit, but you don’t seem to care, lying comfortably against him. Your body is warm where it's pressed to his chest and Luke knows he could do this forever.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again,” he says lightly, pressing a kiss into your hair. He doesn’t want to think about how serious he is. “So don’t get sick of me yet.”

You tuck yourself under his chin, pulling his arms around your front. Something inside of him clicks, like turning on a light, or slotting something into place.

When you turn around to kiss his cheek, it borders dangerously on the corner of his mouth.

“As if I’d ever be sick of you, hero.”

notes: will i ever give her a break? i guess we’ll never know! i cant tell if i dislike this bc im sick of reading it or if i didnt edit it enough 😭 so kindly let me know if u enjoyed :)

tags — lmk if u want to be removed/added!

killerverse: @yoremins @qtkat @mischiefmoons @cedricsleftelbow @syraxesrevenge @whiteoakoak @acourtofdeppressionandanxiety @dummie-dummiest @softtina @amberpanda99 @luvvfromme @3alamari @esposadomd

luke castellan: @chasebeth @silkenthusiasts @urmomsbananabread @sunny747 @randomgurl2326 @repostingmyfavs @au-ghosttype @mrsaluado @holy-macncheese-balls @catluvwr @katemlk @lukecastellandefender @wonuskie @kitkat-writes-stuff @bugcuti3 @bookworm-center @justanotherkpopstanlol @quinnsadilla @tinolawithrice @jjenjoysthings @marisrope @cantstoptherecs @anotherblackreader @iamforeverandalwaystired @siriusly-parker-main @mclando81 @amortencjja @inlovewithcarsthatrunreallyfast @amoreva

#LOVIE how dare you #can i call you that????#my heart genuinely hurt while reading this #you're curing my loneliness whilst making it worse #THAT'S A COMPLIMENT I SWEAR #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan angst #luke castellan fluff #pjotv x reader #pjo x reader

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