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sunsburns · 18 days

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LMFAOO im so glad u liked it tho 💗💗💗

the search for glory

pairing: luke castellan x ares!daughter reader

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

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

word count: 6.9k (i need help)

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

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

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

You hate swords.

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

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

"Again."

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

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

"Again." He repeats.

"No," you say.

"No?"

He almost laughs at you.

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

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

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

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

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

But that was years ago when you were kids.

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

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

"Again."

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

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

"Again."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The blade is heavy in your hands.

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

Your eyes snap to him. "Second?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you angry?" You taunt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hate it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You were."

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

"I know."

"So, I think we're even."

"You think?"

"You literally went ballistic."

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

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

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

"Okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You call each other names all the time."

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

“So what?” you mutter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ew," Percy makes a face.

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

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

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

"I'm being observant," she declares.

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

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

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

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

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

"We never kissed."

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

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

With that, Annabeth puts on her hat and disappears.

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

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

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

"Seriously?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm fine."

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

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

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

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

"Something's bothering you," he observes.

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

“And how would you know that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

"LUKE!"

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

"LUUUKE! LOOK AT ME! GROVER!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What you said earlier. About being even."

"Oh?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why can't you move away?

"Gotcha."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, that's it."

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

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

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

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

"You like fighting with me?"

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

"Don't lie."

"I'm not."

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

"Would that do it for you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mind your business, you little Krakens!"

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

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

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

return to masterlist

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sunsburns · 19 days

Text

i'm so glad this popped up on my dash like hey mark my beloved 💗💗💗💌💌

vincible

vincible | mark grayson x gn!reader (fluff)

alright since you all asked so kindly here's the fluff from my last hc 🫶🏾 :

cw: slightly suggestive but nothing nsfw. that's all :D

"why's it looking at me like that?"

the two of you are in bed and with his weight pinning you down, you find it hard to concentrate on what he means.

your head's all fuzzy with the way he's been drowning you in kisses. he kisses you like it might be his last chance to do so: sweet, languid until they melt into something more feral. the way his costume hugs his body doesn't exactly help your concentration, either.

your body's warm as it soaks up his body heat - he's like a fucking furnace - and it yearns. . no. . demands for his attention. you ignore him, making a soft, impatient sound that sounds more like a whine as you try to guide his lips back onto yours.

however, he keeps his head turned to your right, staring at a spot on your bed and says, "what're you lookin' at, huh?"

you pull back, confused, then follow his line of vision.

finally, you see what he sees: a stuffed animal perched against your pillow.

you watch as mark squints at the toy, then, tilts his head and scoffs in indignation as if it's just hurled an insult his way.

"what'd you say?" mark sits up and away from you, puffing out his chest.

the plushie stares at mark with big, black, empty eyes.

you stare up at mark, confused, as he carries on his one sided beef with your plushie.

"they cuddle you while im not here?"

mark crawls over to your plushie and grabs it by its soft neck, his fingers wrapping around the entirety. he pulls it close, putting his nose right up against the toy's. "you wanna say that again, tough guy? don't you know who i am?"

"mark, what're you doing -" you giggle, leaning back on your elbows to watch the ridiculous display before he shushes you.

"hey, you stay out of this. i'll deal with you later." he snaps before turning his attention back to the toy. "oh, you don't care? well, let's see if you care about this -"

mark suddenly shoves the toy into his face.

he flops down atop your bed, wildly flailing with one hand while the other mushes the plushie against his face. he's comically good at it, too, looking like he's being mauled by some feral cat.

he's only emboldened by your uncontrollable laughter: grunting with effort as he rolls over the stuffy and delivers a few blows. even making his own sound effects before he rolls onto his back, your toy gaining the upper hand once again.

this time, he sits the toy atop his face and flails like he's being suffocated. eventually, his body falls limp. the hand that isn't holding the toy upright falling limply at the side of your bed.

your plushie's fought dirty and won.

"i dunno, mark," you manage to say between hiccuping laughs, "you seem pretty vincible to me."

"very funny." comes his muffled voice from beneath the toy. he sits up, stuffy still in hand as he fixes you with an accusatory glare. "laugh. yeah, laugh, while your boyfriend's being mercilessly beaten."

he crawls closer and he thrusts the toy in your direction, waving it side to side by the back of the neck, holding it at arm's length like he's afraid it'll attack him. "i guess you want him now, don't you?"

you raise a brow. "don't misgender my plushies, grayson."

mark retracts the plushie and flips it upside down, looking at its bottom. "oh, right."

you let out a chortle of laughter and he's on you in seconds: pinning you down and smushing the plushie against your face, making kissy sounds while you breathlessly beg him to stop.

#i love him your honor #maybe i DO have some mark fics in the drafts...#but yall don't know that #💞💞💞#loba’s recs!!

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sunsburns · 20 days

Text

i’m sat with a little treat as i read and ignoring homework oh yes maybe i do love this little life

mom is kinda real tbh like 😭😭

“jojo” yeah can you hear me screaming?? and the way the first thing luke does is ask where she’s from I FELT MYSELF SMILING

ASKING HIM TO WALK TO THE GARDEN OH YOU AINT SLICK I SEE YOU and the way luke does it too ohhhhhh 💗🔥😀

“i got legs” LMFAOO i giggled. something i would say

the other campers noticing the change in luke only after a few days 😋😋 oh i’m eating this UPPP

“we can discuss quests when you get your own” DONT HURT EM NOW LUCAS

“he hesitated in his steps like he did earlier, but he didn’t turn around. his head switched a little like he wanted to look, but he held himself back.” OHHHHH HES SO WHIPPED WHIPPEDDD

“why did you… come after me?” i wanna give him a hug.

THE SUNNY NICK NAME??? HELLO??? LITERALLY SUNSHINE X GRUMPY TROPE TALSDJSK

this slow burn is gonna slow burn like no other slow burn has ever slow burned

jackie and wilson.

previous | next series masterlist.

summary: you haven’t been given a quest, but you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile.

paring: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader

word count: 4k

content: luke is still a moody teenager, reader is still the fly he cant get rid of. does he really want to, though?

notes: these first two parts feel very introductory but it gets juicy as we dive a little further in the next parts hehe. also who do we think readers godly parent is?

PART II — and lord, she found me just in time

For a hotshot lawyer, your mom couldn’t lie for the life of her. Every time you brought it up, she’d always quip that she didn’t need to be a good liar to be a good lawyer, since all new evidence is legally required to be disclosed to both parties before they are presented in court. Therefore, there is no lying, only brief twisting of the truth. She was good at that — clearly.

“You said you didn’t want me to leave you!”

The wooden floor of Chiron’s office wasn’t the most comfortable of lounging places, but you’d accidentally kicked the radiator after tripping over a horseshoe and Mr. D — who had escorted you there when you’d asked about speaking to your mom — had just sighed and told you to use the mist currently spraying from it as a form of communication. The whole Iris Message thing was still unusual to you, but at the same time, you’d tripped over a horseshoe because the owner of the office was half-horse. Does it get weirder than that? Probably not.

You leaned back on your haunches, disbelief written all over your face at the scene you…walked in on? Called in on? Iris Messaged in on? Whatever — you were more worried about what you were looking at than the right terminology to describe it.

“Oh — sweetie!” Your mom was quick to hop down from the kitchen counter, pushing the man who had been standing between her legs away from her so forcefully he fell back into the living room.

“What was that?” You heard him ask from afar. Your mom chuckled, buttoning up her blouse.

“The answering machine.” She excused, “I completely forgot I was supposed to call back my daughter. Would you give me a minute?”

The man agreed with a huff and your mom pushed the kitchen door closed with a click before looking at you, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms, “I didn’t. I sure do now!”

“I’ve been gone for, like, two days!” You exclaimed, “And you’re already inviting your boyfriend over? How old are you?”

“Oh, let it go.” The woman chastised, shaking her head and attempting to push down her amused smile. “I was bored.”

“Bored.” You chuckled, “Of course.”

“But I miss you.” She said then, smiling sweetly and leaning her hip on the island, “How’s camp?”

“It’s great.” You grinned, “The people are great, the food is great. Turns out, I am super with a spear.”

“A spear, huh?” Your mom nodded, “No surprise there, you’ve got a hell of an arm.”

You hummed excitedly, the previous event long forgotten as you filled her in on your first few days at camp, “One of my friends in cabin nine offered to make me a personal one.” Your mom furrowed her brows, “Children of Hephaestus. Blacksmith guy.”

“Right.” She nodded with a click of her tongue. “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” You smirked cheekily, ignoring the scoff and evil look she sent you in response.

“Alright. I best go.” She interrupted just as you went to make another comment about her guest, “I will see you at the end of summer. Okay?”

“Okay. Love you.”

Truthfully, you were happy to spend the rest of the day talking to your mom — it was so hot that morning that you’d thought about sacrificing your breakfast to Apollo in hopes that he’d ease up a little. You decided against it and just sent your prayers to each of them in general, hoping maybe your dad could fess up to actually being your dad.

Clarisse had suspected you would soon join her in the Ares Cabin — something about your skills with a spear and the swift right hook you sent Chris when he made one too many comments on your form during your training session with her. You weren’t even sure why he’d been there, but you could probably fathom a guess if you judged by the looks he sent her whenever she wasn’t looking.

After the exciting discovery that yes, you were good at something, Mr. D had come by to say you could either call your mom now or never. You chose the former option, obviously, and you only regretted it slightly as you heaved yourself up from the ground — already missing the sound of her voice.

You didn’t let it linger, instead you pushed the creaky door of the Big House open as gently as you could, even though it still swung back against the wall, and nodded at the pair sitting on the porch, currently in a heated card game you couldn’t recognise. They didn’t look at you for long, Chiron muttering something about meeting the Demeter kids by the fields to test your gardening skills before putting down a card that made Mr. D grumble in his seat.

You were trudging through the grass, huffing when the longer bits tickled your legs and made you go all itchy, when you spotted a body sat by the hearth in the horseshoe of cabins. You lit up, changing course and jogging over to them, “JoJo!”

Luke looked up at you, frowning, “What?”

His curls fell over his eyes and he shook them away, only to squint at the sun that shone into them. You sidestepped, your shadow proving ample shade so he could focus on you, and you stammered a bit when his face fell into focus. He was pretty.

You let out a breathless chuckle, folding your arms, “From Horton Hears a Who.” He shows no signs of recognition, “You’ve never seen it?” Again, his face did little to answer you, so you shrugged, “Whatever. I’ll get an answer out of you one day, I’m sure. We’ve made steady progress.”

“Have we?” He hummed, picking at the worn sleeve of his hoodie.

“Of course we have, ya’ nutmegger.” You quipped with a short chuckle, grinning when his eyes snapped back to yours.

“You still haven’t told me where you’re from.”

You tutted, “Where’s the fun in that? You gotta find out.”

He huffed, “Whatever.”

Since his outburst about New England the day before, Luke had done a considerable job at avoiding you. Well, you didn’t think he was doing it on purpose — he just wasn’t obligated to spend time with you anymore now that you were cleared to roam camp on your own. You’d seen him at breakfast, perched silently on the end of the bench and staring sadly at his soggy oatmeal, but then Clarisse had whisked you off to the training fields with Chris hot on her tail and you hadn’t seen him since.

You weren’t completely sure why you were so determined to break his shell. Maybe it was because you knew he never used to be this way — that underneath the deep frowns and annoyed huffs, was a happy boy who would spend days in the sun with his teeth bared in a wide grin — and you yearned to get a peek of who Luke Castellan used to be. To bear your eyes on the side of him he kept away and to find out why he did so, to understand him on a level deeper than anyone around you did, or even deeper than you understood yourself.

Or maybe because he’s hot.

Either way, you weren’t letting him slide away that easily. No sir. You straightened your back, “Going to the gardens.”

No reply, as usual.

A huff, “Mind walking me? I don’t wanna get lost.”

He looked at you, brown eyes flitting over your expression, before licking his lips and standing, “Fine.”

You grinned then, wide and sunny, “Great.”

You knew where the gardens were — hell, you could see them from where you stood, the two teenage sons of Dionysus chasing each other with sticks while the Demeter kids scowled at them. But you were new, and Luke was ‘the guy’ for all the new campers, so really he wasn’t allowed to say no.

You were desperate to know more about him; his favourite sport, movie, colour. Anything irrelevant that you could see in public and think: Luke. You just didn’t know where to start — he could shut down at any given moment, so which question was more fitting to ask before he built up his walls and fucked off?

You settled for something easy — something subtle that wouldn’t hint towards you asking about him. An easy question that any reasonable tour guide would have to answer.

“So, do you guys host any…mortal activities?” Looking up at him in question, brows raised as he once again made no indication that he’d even heard you speak.

But he had, “Not usually. Sometimes on weekends we’ll play volleyball on the beach, and I think Lee Fletcher has a soccer ball he kicks around but…” He shrugged, “No. Not really.”

You hummed, “You said we. Do you play volleyball?”

Nice one.

Luke stiffened a little, sort of appalled that you’d swerved the question on him so easily, but he answered with a grumble, “Not anymore.”

“Why?”

He shrugged, “Grew out of it.”

“Huh.” You said then, facing forward with a nod and continuing your trek through the long grass, occasionally reaching down to scratch your calves, “I don’t think I’ll ever grow out of baseball.”

Come on, Castellan, take the bait.

“Baseball?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, a little too excitedly for it to be a simple answer to a simple question. You lowered your volume and gave a more collected nod, “Yeah. Yes. I’ve played since I was old enough…little league.” You let out a weak chuckle, suddenly shy about the subject.

Luke nodded at you, “First base?”

“Left field.” You corrected with a proud smile, “I got legs.”

“Oh.” He replied, a little caught off guard at that. Although, he was also caught off guard when you said you played baseball.

You were debating whether or not to press when a gangly blonde boy with dark purple eyes jogged up to you and held out a wicker basket, “You’re the new kid right?” He didn’t wait for an answer before thrusting the basket to your chest, “I’m Pollux. We’re picking strawberries, c’mon, I’ll show you the best way to get ‘em.”

You weren’t sure there was a specific tactic to picking strawberries, but you stepped to follow him anyway. Turning your head to send a thankful smile to Luke for walking you down, you spotted him looking between you and Pollux with furrowed brows — then he noticed your stare and swallowed, nodding, “Uh, see you later.”

“Bye.” You replied, slightly starstruck. He walked off, but he did it slowly as if he was unsure of where to go next. You were positive he had somewhere to be — big shot counsellor and all — but as you stood, one foot in front of the other, face turned back to watch him go, he seemed to stutter in his steps at the top of the hill, deciding where to turn. His beaten converse led him west, and Pollux yelled you out of your stupor so you could help him and his brother pick strawberries.

As suspected, your strawberry-picking skills were pretty much the same as everyone else’s — really, how can one person be any better at picking strawberries than another? It’s a very simple task. Either way, Castor and Pollux didn’t envision you as their long lost sister, and the Demeter kids apparently couldn’t smell it on you that you were one of them, whatever that meant, so you were back to your search for daddy dearest — at this point, you weren’t even sure if you wanted to find out anymore. All this hassle and for what? It’s not as if he was going to attend the daddy-daughter dance with you, no matter which god he might be.

“So, do you, like, know Luke or something?”

Henry Furstatt was a Demeter kid a couple of years younger than you, who had been set the task of walking you to the lake where you would rejoin the Hermes cabin on their canoe lesson. He wasn’t very talkative until you’d put some distance between yourselves and the strawberry fields, where he posed his question.

You glanced at him with a thoughtful frown, “I mean, he’s been showing me around the past couple days, so…I guess —“

“I meant like,” He swallowed, waving his hands around, “from before. Did you know each other before you came to camp?”

“Oh.” You responded, tucking a loose hair that had fallen in front of your face away, “No. Why’d you think that?”

Henry shrugged, his loose-fitting camp shirt doing wonders to hide the movements, “Dunno. He just hasn’t talked to many people since he got back from his quest…but he’s talking to you.”

“Well.” You were suddenly a little sheepish — were you pushing Luke too much? Was your constant questioning making him uncomfortable? You were only on a mission to find out more about him because he interested you, but did you interest him, or was he ready to boot you as far as you’d fly? “He has to, doesn’t he? He’s still a counsellor, even if he does hate everyone here.”

“True.” He settled with a nod, fiddling with a daisy he’d picked while you were walking.

You breathed a content sigh when you finally stepped out of the grass — the summer blooming made it slightly unbearable to walk through, tickling at your legs the whole afternoon. The beating sun didn’t make you feel any nicer, but you just wafted your shirt a little as you walked past the Hermes cabin and towards the dock.

Camp was always noisy; something you’d grown accustomed to the longer you stayed there. You never really noticed it until you were alone, but the chatter of the kids filled the air the whole day and only really faded out when they all went to sleep. It was slightly unnerving to sit in the silence, and the loud murmurs often comforted you — made you feel less suffocated as the new kid. Less eyes on you, the better.

You were so used to the noise, in fact, that you almost completely brushed past the argument that was brewing outside the Ares cabin just a few metres away. Fortunately, Henry spotted the commotion, and pulled you to a halt in favour of staring at the ever-growing crowd.

You followed his eyeline and spotted a burly looking boy with black hair — when he moved his head and the sun hit the right spots, you could see dark red highlights swimming in his locks. You thought that was a little bit much, but you forfeited commenting on it considering the giant machaira that hung on his back.

The boy in question was sneering at someone in front of him, but the corners of his mouth were perked up in an amused smile that made you think he wasn’t angry yet, but he sure was getting there. You couldn’t see who he was talking to, but as Henry ventured closer, you were forced to follow and eventually his words reached your ears.

“—big shot golden boy finally got himself a quest and doesn’t fancy sharing the details.” He laughed, deep and low in his throat.

Henry patted someone on the shoulder, and they stepped aside to let him into the circle. You stayed behind him, watching over his head and finally checking out the opponent. Your eyes stopped on the familiar figure, and his familiar curls that hung over his eyes — eyes that were glaring daggers in the Ares kid’s direction, casting shadows over his cheekbones and making his scar look a little menacing.

The boy continued after Luke showed no signs of replying, “We get it, Castellan. You failed, but that doesn’t mean you get to gatekeep the whole thing.”

“Dean, man.” You finally noticed Chris, standing off to the side of Luke and glancing at his brother in apprehension at the boy's words. “Back off.”

Dean just snorted, “Don’t defend him, Rodriguez. We let him mope, now it’s time for him to spill the beans.” He took a step closer to Luke, “What happened on your quest?”

You had only known Luke for two days. You weren’t sure if he was the type to fly off the handle, swing before reasoning, but you suddenly became aware that neither did anyone else. Sure, these people had known him for years — but you’d heard it from enough people to know that he was a different person these days. After his quest a couple of weeks ago, people had been walking on eggshells around the boy. Maybe a month ago, he would’ve calmly walked away and let Dean simmer in his anger. But now? Nobody could be sure, but judging by the look in his eyes, darkening by the second, you might be able to fathom a guess as to what he’s going to do with his hands now that they were rolled into fists.

“I mean, is this about glory? Because you won’t exactly be sharing it — ya’ can’t share what you don’t have.” Dean let out a chortle at his own joke, looking between his friends around him and grinning with them.

Luke stepped forward. And — you couldn’t blame anyone, really. After that last comment, you were all expecting fists to be swung. It was only reasonable. Maybe the old Luke wouldn’t have done it, but this new Luke was looking increasingly more angry at the world as the days went by, so when he took one measly step forward, the crowd around him let out a collective woah! and put their hands out to stop him from lunging. Including yourself.

Only he wasn’t about to punch Dean. His hand stayed dormant at his side, the only clear movement was the single step closer he’d taken to match the one the Ares boy had made earlier. He was only really stepping forward so his next words would hit harder — that’s all it was, words. They died on his lips when he realised the implications of his actions, looking between the outstretched arms and tense faces.

He looked at Dean, “We can discuss quests when you get your own.”

Then he walked off, past the crowd that didn’t bother stopping him. Looking around, you saw the looks on their faces — shame, from assuming Luke would evoke such violence off the sparring mat. You definitely felt it, but you didn’t stick around long enough to confirm that with anyone else. Instead, you left Chris to berate Dean in place of the head counsellor and followed the boy in question as he huffed up the hill towards the edge of the woods.

“Hey!” You said, breathless (you were not an uphill climber). “Hey, Luke!”

He hesitated in his steps like he did earlier, but he didn’t turn around. His head twitched a little, like he wanted to look but was holding himself back, but you simply rounded him until you were face to face. The anger had long since dissolved from his expression, replaced with soft confusion.

“Hi.” You huffed, still recovering from that incline, “Are you okay? That guy’s a dick.”

“I know.” He replied, short as usual.

You licked your lips, still catching your breath, and nodded. He remained silent, looking around you like he was just waiting for you to leave. You decided to take the hint, muttering lowly, “Okay, sorry for bothering you.”

But his hand reached out, circling your wrist just as you passed him. You looked at Luke, raising your eyebrows, watching as he stammered on his words, “I, uh, you aren’t bothering me. I just…”

He let go of you and you stepped back to your precious spot. Behind him, the crowd had dissipated, Dean long gone. Chris remained, staring up at the pair of you on top of the hill. You couldn’t pinpoint his expression, but he seemed to hesitate before turning his back. You looked up at Luke.

“Why did you…come after me?”

You scoffed a laugh, “What? Anyone would’ve, it’s like…common decency.”

He twisted his expression, looking amused and devastated all at the same time, “But they didn’t.”

He was right; before you’d set off up the hill, everyone had just been watching him walk off. It seemed a little out of character, but then again, you didn’t know these people as well as you thought. Luke let out a sad chuckle, shaking his head, “Everyone’s sorta given up on me now that I’m…”

“Moody and depressed?” You finished, raising a single brow. You smiled at him, and it lifted into a grin when he smiled back, albeit only slightly. But you’d take it. “I just think that they’re a little unsure.”

“They’re scared, is what they are.” He said firmly, staring at the ground in mirth, “Their precious golden boy won’t clean up all of their messes anymore and they’re scared that they’ll have to start looking after themselves.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” You said, even if you didn’t believe it. How could you? You didn’t know these people, Luke did. “They’re just worried about you.”

He scoffed, finally moving his head up and meeting your eyes. He went to say something, presumably another quip about the campers, but stopped himself. Backtracked. Instead he said, “Aren’t you angry that you haven’t been claimed yet?”

That was a deep question. You sat on it for a couple of seconds, reeling at the sudden shift of conversation, until you finally let out a low puff of air and shrugged, “I don’t really know how I feel. Why? Should I be?”

“This camp, it’s —“ He huffed, “It helps you, sure. But it also forces you to…mould yourself into the perfect kid for — for a parent who doesn’t care enough to watch you grow up. Help you live, use their divine powers when a dragon is clawing your fucking face off!”

He’d stepped closer to you, unknowingly, that final shout making you wince a little at the volume. He stopped then, evening his breaths and stepping back with an apologetic expression. You brushed it off.

“A dragon clawed your face off?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled weakly, “Tell anyone and I’ll kill you.”

You smiled at him, shamefully admiring his face. Now that he wasn’t glaring in anger, and his face was more relaxed, you could see the whites of his eyes. His lashes, unreasonably long, and his lips that were so plush you were close to asking him if he took a trip to see Dr Miami while he was on his quest.

“Gods.” You murmured under your breath, “You’re so pretty it sorta pisses me off.”

Luke laughed then — a genuine chortle that shook his chest and made passers by glance in his direction. His grin was uncharacteristically wide and for a second, a brief moment, you saw it. Luke Castellan, the one everyone looks up to. The one they turn to in times of peril, the one they giggle and gossip about under the shade of the fir trees.

Then you knew your answer to Luke’s question. No — you weren’t angry that you hadn’t been claimed. In fact, you didn’t think you’d care even if you were so long as he was smiling at you like that.

He calmed down, catching his breath, his face relaxing back into that cool expression he’s always got on. Maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you, but you were sure he looked a little less tense than before. He nodded, waving a hand, “Alright, Sunny. Let’s go canoeing.”

“Sunny?” You asked, walking alongside him.

He clicked his tongue, glancing down at you, “If Apollo won’t claim you as a child of the sun, then I will.”

“Alright.” You smiled softly, looking forward so he wouldn’t see it and run off. You picked at your nails, “So long as I can call you JoJo.”

“Let’s watch that silly movie it’s from and I’ll decide if you can call me that.”

“Deal.”

🏷️ @katherines-imagines @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry @jennapancake @cobaltskiez @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @m00ng4z3r @mischiefmoons (comment to be added/removed!)

#i’m literally giggling right now #i can’t do this #loba’s recs!!#luke’s cabin

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sunsburns · 20 days

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soulmate aus are literally the death of me 😭😭

kiss of life masterlist! 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

pairing: luke castellan x soulmate!daughter of aphrodite reader

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

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

content: pre-tlt. super angst (with a happy ending coming soon). slow updates (sorry gang i have school).

author’s note: this layout is inspired by @too-deviant !!

back to navigation. luke castellan masterlist.

part i: he led me to you

luke just got back from a shitty quest, and now he has to meet his soulmate too? worst. day. ever. 4k+

part ii: how many tons of love inside?

luke castellan is being haunted by kronos and… well, you. 6.4k

part iii: built a bridge to your heart (coming soon!)

you and luke are off on your quest you're totally not having second thoughts about choosing him, he's your soulmate after all... right?

part iv: the whole world could feel my heartbeat (in the works)

your quest has gone wrong, cupid's arrows are sharper than you thought, and quick! you have to blend in with the crowd so the monsters don't find you!!

part v: [typing…]

you’re hiding something about your quest, eros really doesn’t like being hunted, and now luke can’t sit still when you try to clean his wounds.

#ur praise means the world to me #loba’s cavern

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sunsburns · 20 days

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hii, could you maybe maybe do like luke x reader human au and their eachothers gym crush and their always asking one another to spot eachother?? preferably fluff????

ON IT 🔥🔥🔥✏️✏️✏️✏️ are we thinking smau? i think so

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan

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sunsburns · 20 days

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IM SO GLAD U LIKED MY SERIES i love your writing so much as well!❤️

STOP IT CAUSE YOU WERE COOKING!!! PEN ON FIRE!!!!

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sunsburns · 20 days

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kiss of life masterlist! 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

pairing: luke castellan x soulmate!daughter of aphrodite reader

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

content: pre-tlt. super angst (with a happy ending coming soon). slow updates (sorry gang i have school).

author’s note: this layout is inspired by @too-deviant !!

back to navigation. luke castellan masterlist.

part i: he led me to you

luke just got back from a shitty quest, and now he has to meet his soulmate too? worst. day. ever. 4k+

part ii: how many tons of love inside?

luke castellan is being haunted by kronos and… well, you. 6.4k

part iii: built a bridge to your heart (coming soon!)

you and luke are off on your quest you're totally not having second thoughts about choosing him, he's your soulmate after all... right?

part iv: the whole world could feel my heartbeat (in the works)

your quest has gone wrong, cupid's arrows are sharper than you thought, and quick! you have to blend in with the crowd so the monsters don't find you!!

part v: [typing…]

you’re hiding something about your quest, eros really doesn’t like being hunted, and now luke can’t sit still when you try to clean his wounds.

#guys i’m cooking #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #luke castellan angst #luke castellan smut #pjo series #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fanfic #luke’s cabin #luke castellan drabble #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan fanfiction #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan imagines

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sunsburns · 20 days

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AHHHH LUKE AND SUNSHINE !! I LOVE THEM SO MUCH MY AIR, THE REASON TO LIVE 💕💗🥰😘💖💞💓😻💘💝💌👩🏽‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻🩷💒🤍❤️‍🔥

one year with luke castellan

↳ october 14 with silena beauregard

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of apollo reader

word count: 3.1k

summary: silena beauregard helps you get ready for what is absolutely, definitely, totally not a date with luke

content: little bit of insecurity talk, r is insecure about scars she has from fighting

notes: it is october in their universe we are officially in the home stretch!!

Silena Beauregard thinks you’re one of the prettiest people at camp — and it’s not only because of your face.

You’re pretty in the traditional sense, of course. But she’s never seen someone light up a room quite like you do. You’re able to make people glow just by giving them one of your gorgeous smiles, something that it seems only you have mastered. And you’re ridiculously strong. She’s never seen someone look so pretty after effortlessly beating someone into the dirt.

You’re one of the most efficient medics at camp, too. She’s convinced part of your healing ability starts the second you see someone—something about your presence has its own soothing effect.

You’re one of the most capable people she knows, so it’s safe to say that Silena’s beyond honored that you’ve asked for her help with something.

She swings her cabin door open the second she hears the knock.

“Hi,” she greets, a small smile on her face.

You’re already grinning at her, and it feels like she’s lifted off of the floor with the force of your smile alone.

“Thank you so much for helping me with this, Silena.” You throw your arms around her in a big hug, and she squeezes you tight.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” she says genuinely. “Gods, when you first asked me to help you get ready to go out, I was so excited!”

“You’re the best,” you gush. “Your perfume smells so nice, by the way. Where’s it from?”

Silena is grinning while she tells you all about how her older sister took a class on olfaction in college and made this specific perfume just for her.

She leads you over to her vanity next to her bed, and flicks on the switch that lights up the entire mirror. You squint, not expecting it, and she says a little oops before dimming the bulbs.

“Is that better?”

“That’s perfect.”

Silena hums as she starts pulling out her different makeup pouches, searching in each drawer for everything she needs.

“So,” she starts, feeling awfully like her hairdresser back home. She leans against her dresser so she can get a good look at your face. “What’s the occasion?”

You look away from her faster than she can comprehend it, smiling sheepishly.

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

She squints at you, not believing it for a second. “Oh, come on. You came here to get all dressed up! There has to be a special something happening.”

“Well..” You drag out the letters while she gets started on moisturizing your face. “I’m just… It’s nothing super big.”

“Go on.”

“I’m just going to carve pumpkins.”

Halloween is in a couple weeks, and Silena could not be more excited. It’s one holiday Camp Half-Blood goes all out for, and the decorations everyone puts up are a perfect mix between frighteningly realistic and perfectly haunted. There’s pumpkin carving all month and a horror maze being put up next week.

“Oh, that’s so fun! Are you going with your siblings?”

“Oh, no. I’m going with Luke.”

Silena tries not to squeal too loud.

“You’re going on a date with Luke Castellan?”

“No, no, no—” you try to deny, but Silena doesn’t buy it for a second.

“Good for you!” Silena isn’t blind. Luke is gorgeous. He’s both adorably cute and insanely hot, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t have a crush on him at one point. “I’ve been wondering when he was going to ask you out!”

You slump in her chair like a sad balloon, and her hand stills by your face. “No, uh… he hasn’t.”

“Huh?” Silena puts down her brush to look you completely in the eye. “But—but you two are going to carve pumpkins.”

“Yeah, so?”

“And you’re going alone?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“And he asked you?”

You pause. “Yes, but, Silena—”

“Then it’s a date!” she insists, knocking a bottle clear off the vanity.

You’re frowning when you catch the container before it hits the floor. “There’s no way that’s even possible.”

Silena stands up straight, her eyes spinning around the empty room like she’s on a hidden camera show. She looks back at you with a very judgmentally raised eyebrow.

“Wait, you…” She blinks twice. “You don’t think he likes you?”

You look away from Silena so you can stare holes into the mirror instead.

“I don’t just think that. I know there’s no way he ever would.”

Silena knows her eyes are wide as saucers at your completely incorrect assumption.

Luke Castellan has it bad for you — it’s something everyone’s kind of accepted by now. He’s constantly following you around, constantly talking about you, constantly teasing you, and constantly giving you the biggest heart eyes ever. Apparently, it’s obvious to absolutely everyone but you.

Silena thinks the chances of Luke not having a massive crush on you is a big fat zero.

But… you seem pretty sure, and she knows the two of you are close. Who would know better than someone who’s actually friends with him?

She resumes her work on your face after a very hesitant second. “Did he say something to you?”

You shake your head, your eyes shut while she pats product into your face. “No, Luke’s way too nice, he’d never.”

And it’s also probably because he’s absolutely obsessed with you, Silena thinks to herself.

“Then why do you think he would never like you?”

Your face screws up while you think about it, your eyes going through every shade of emotion. After a quiet few seconds, you groan and move to put your face in your hands.

She bats your palms away from the powder she’s set under your eyes. “Not the face!”

“Oops, sorry,” you say, holding your hands up and away.

“But answer the question.”

You look at your shoes, and your face is twisted with embarrassment when you say, “We fight all the time. No guy would ever like someone who argues as much as I do.”

Silena’s at a loss for words. You and Luke’s little rivalry is far from a secret, and it’s very clear to everyone that he enjoys getting his ass handed to him every other day by you. And it’s also totally obvious he loves riling you up and teasing you until you get flustered.

“Boys can be weird,” she says, adding the finishing touches to your eyelashes. “Luke argues with you all the time too. He’s flirting with you in his own way.”

“Could you imagine?” You laugh, but it sounds a little sad. “There’s no way any normal guy would ever like the girl that makes fun of him for breathing too loud.”

If that’s the case, then Luke Castellan is far from normal. He leaves your little arguments with the biggest smiles on his face.

“Me and Luke are only ever going to be friends,” you insist, your eyes fluttering open now that Silena’s all done. “Especially because…” you trail off before waving your hands around aimlessly. “You know how Luke is.”

“What about him?”

She takes a quick glance at the weather outside before cracking open a few of her sisters’ trunks for you. Silena knows they won’t mind that she’s borrowing her clothes, especially if it’s for something as special as a date with Luke Castellan.

Because that is absolutely what this is, no matter how much you deny it.

“He’s really cute,” you say simply, a wistful hint to your words. “And everyone knows it. He could have anyone he wanted.”

“Yeah,” Silena pipes up, ankle deep in an array of sweaters. “Like you.”

You throw a decorative pillow at her that she swats away with a laugh.

“Just off the top of my head, I can name about fifteen people madly in love with him who are much nicer to him than I am,” you point out, turning onto your stomach. “There’s absolutely no reason why he would like me of all people. ”

Silena tosses a nice sweater at you before giving you a very pointed look. It upsets her to see people doubt themselves, especially when it’s a person as lovely as you.

“And how many of them has he wanted to hang out with alone?” she points out.

Your lips flatten out into a line, annoyed, because you know she has a point.

“He asked you,” she reminds. “Not anyone else.”

She lets you sit with your thoughts while she finishes finding something nice for you to wear.

The Aphrodite girls own such a huge amount of clothes, which makes for good variety but makes choosing what to wear beyond overwhelming. Silena takes a few minutes, but is able to narrow down about eight different pants to just two jeans.

“Which one?” she asks, comparing the way they’d look paired with your shoes.

She’s definitely leaning towards the one on the left, but your sweater would look so much cuter with the one on the right. She looks up at you to gauge your opinion, and finds that you’re staring off blankly into space.

“Hellooo?” she says, snapping her fingers at you. “Are you okay?”

You blink hard, like you’ve just now realized that she’s been trying to speak to you. Silena thinks you gesture vaguely to the one on the right before you go limp in her pile of pillows.

“I’m sorry. I’m so grateful you’re doing this for me, I swear. But I just can’t stop thinking.”

The girl gives you a sympathetic smile, tossing the rejected pair of pants to the side so she can come sit down next to you.

“It’s no problem at all,” she insists, fixing a few wayward bits of hair. “Talking about what’s bothering you really helps me.”

You squeeze her hand thankfully. “I just hate Luke,” you say, without a hint of conviction in your voice. “He makes me think about stupid stuff like this.”

There’s a dejected look on your face, and Silena rubs your back soothingly.

“One of my older sisters always tells me that comparison is the thief of joy,” she says sagely. “Don’t compare yourself to those other girls. You’re a gem, and I promise you Luke sees it too. There should be no room for doubt in your life.”

The gloomy shadow over your head wanes when you give her your infectious, always sunny smile.

“You’re really wise, Silena.”

She tries not to let that get to her head, but she can’t help and grin at you. “I know!”

You move to unfold the partition in the corner of the room while she goes to put on some music. She pops her CD in and Natasha Bedingfield fills the room.

“So,” Silena says, while she starts packing away her makeup. “How long have you liked Luke?”

There’s a thud when you drop something behind the divider, and then a shuffle as you hurry to pick it up again.

“What?”

“It’s something everyone goes through,” she jokes as she shuts her drawers. “So don’t worry, you’re not alone!”

“I… I mean, well—”

You cut yourself off before you can trail off too much.

“Gods,” you grumble. “He’s just so charming it makes me sick.”

Silena stops herself from clapping her hands together but allows herself a few seconds of giggling. “I know, right! He’s so sweet.”

“Too sweet. I used to be immune to his stupid face, but it’s like I’m weak now,” you lament from across the room. “He asked me to carve pumpkins with him and I stuttered for like a minute straight before saying yes.”

“Young love,” she says dreamily, imagining the big ask. “That’s so cute!”

You laugh, and it sounds like little bells jingling.

Her CD plays on in the back while you finish getting changed, and Silena begins to tell you about how she almost took someone’s eye out the last time she carved a pumpkin. She insists that painting is much more fun, and the two of you end up making pumpkin painting plans by the time you shut the partition.

You hold your hands out and give a little spin, and Silena’s jaw drops. You have a real, palpable shine to you that makes her feel like the sun is being reflected into her eyes.

Each piece is beyond flattering on you, and she decides that whoever made the whole neon orange camp t-shirt a required thing is downright evil.

“You’re glowing,” she coos. “Oh, you’re so pretty! You gotta be ready to catch Luke, ‘cause he’s definitely going to pass out when he sees you.”

You drag her into one last hug, giggling and bashful. “Thank you, Silena. I look this nice because of you.”

“As if,” she says. “You’re one of the prettiest people ever. This is all you!”

She gives you a once over again, and it’s like an actual light bulb turns on over her head. She pictures you with this leather jacket she got a while back and knows it’s exactly what you need.

“It’s cold out, and I have a jacket that’d go perfect with this, give me a sec!”

Silena darts quickly on her feet to the walk-in closet that one of her sisters built a few years ago, letting you do your own thing in the main part of the cabin. It takes her a few minutes to rifle through the amount of outerwear her family owns, but she finds the coat tucked between a big black puffer and a thrifted hoodie of her brother’s.

Silena calls your name, excited to see your final look come together, when she pauses in her tracks.

Someone else is standing in the cabin, and she can’t help but slap her hand over her mouth to resist screaming.

“Sunshine, as I live and breathe.”

Luke’s also exchanged his Camp Half-Blood shirt for more casual clothes, and though that orange tee does wonders for his arms, he looks especially nice in his knitted sweater and nice jeans.

He’s so hot. She has no idea how you’re even conscious right now.

You’re looking at yourself in the mirror, but Silena does not miss the wide grin you have on your face when you catch sight of him behind you.

“You’re breaking into cabins now?” you ask.

Your voice is so calm and even that Silena wants to applaud you. She feels nervous just at the sight of him.

Luke matches your grin with his own. Completely ignoring your question, he says, “You look really pretty.”

You duck your head, flustered. “Thanks, Luke. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He clutches his chest, his knees buckling. “Wait, did you just—”

“Luke Castellan, don’t start—”

“Did you just compliment me? Are you getting soft on me?”

“In your dreams.”

“I’m starting to think this is one,” he says easily. “I’d say there’s an angel in front of me right now.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you answer through your laugh.

Neither of your smiles fade away for a single second as he moves to stand behind you in the mirror.

You stick out your hand in his direction. “Do you mind helping me put this back on?”

There’s a little flash of metal that Silena recognizes as a necklace you’d had on earlier, and she stifles a laugh. You’re more smooth than you give yourself credit for.

“Of course,” Luke says, as kind as ever.

From the walk-in, Silena has an excellent view of him struggling with the clasp. He pulls an awkward face or two before he gets it secured around your neck and even goes to fix the chain for you.

Silena’s jaw nearly unhinges itself when Luke’s hand slides down your back, his fingers dancing over your skin.

“Pretty gnarly scars, right?” you say, shifting your sweater. It has an open back, and though you don’t look too uncomfortable, you don’t seem used to having your back exposed. “They’re kind of scary to look at.”

“I think they look cool,” Luke replies, and it’s clear he’s not just saying that to flatter you.

There’s a bunch of scars littering the expanse of your skin, both new and old. Some are the size of a scratch while others are larger and inches thick.

Silena knows that although some campers see their scars as a sign of strength, there’s still a bunch of them who get insecure about the way the marks look.

She immediately feels bad. She hadn’t even thought about asking if the sweater was something you were comfortable with.

You look disarmed by his words, your hand moving back to run over a few of the marks. After a few moments, your face breaks out into another smile.

“Watch out, Luke, or I might just win our next sparring match,” you warn teasingly. “I’ll slip right through your hands with the way you’re buttering me up right now.”

“Funny,” he says flatly, before dragging you away from Silena’s mirror. “Wanna head out?”

“Sure.”

He’s starting to walk backwards to the door when his head tilts. “You don’t have a coat?”

“Nope. I’ll be fine, though. A single gust of wind won’t kill me.”

Silena fights back another squeal when Luke shrugs his jacket off and places it around your shoulders.

“You can borrow mine.”

“I’ll be fine, Luke. You keep it.”

“No, I insist.”

“Silena’s just run to get me one of hers, I’m sure she’ll—”

The coat and hanger get shoved back into the depths of the racks before you can even finish your sentence. She swings the closet door open, a fake frown on her face.

“Whoops,” Silena says. “I think I lost it.”

“What?” you say incredulously, looking awfully embarrassed with Luke’s jacket around you. “Are there no other—”

“Nope, sorry.” She shuts the closet door behind her. “My sisters get a little tetchy about sharing their clothes, you know how siblings can be!”

You glance down at your borrowed sweater before looking back at Silena, realization creeping up your face.

“Man, that really does suck,” Luke says, not sounding disturbed in the slightest. He’s grinning when he puts his hand on your back to usher you out the door.

“Maybe that jacket will show up eventually.” Silena shrugs, a shameless smile on her face. “What a bummer.”

Luke shuts up the rest of your complaints by slotting your arms through the sleeves himself, refusing your attempts at giving it back to him. He zips up the front too, just for good measure.

“I hope you guys have fun!” Silena says before the door shuts.

Luke looks back to wink at her while your back is turned. Before he lets the door close, he mouths two words at her.

Thank you.

notes: so so sorry there was not much of luke and sunshine in this but i really wanted to show more of her feelings for him!! she has some real struggles as a girl in love with the camp sweetheart

++ thank you all so much for ur patience bc its been a hot minute since ive updated lol. as always feedback is soooo appreciated tysm for reading! <3

#WOOOHH I MISSED THEM #luke’s cabin #loba’s recs!!

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sunsburns · 20 days

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finally had the time to read 😭 you’ve done it again lia pls spare us some talent!! i think i can write a whole essay about how good this is

like let’s start about how endearing reader is like okay baddie taking no ones shit and the CHEMISTRY with luke omgfjehdka had me giggling and kicking my feet as if i’m actually there 😭🥰

“we have controlled climate” OHMYGODJH JUST LET ME HAVE THIS JSNSK

“now we can match” EHRHAKSDJSJ

AND AND the fight about massachusetts “do i smell like shit?” HAHAHSHAHS SASSY MEN I LOVE IT

jackie and wilson.

previous | next series masterlist

summary: you haven’t been given a quest, but you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile.

pairing: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader

word count: 4.1k

content: broody!luke, teenage dirtbag!luke but also not really, sprinkles of mean!luke, r is unbothered and does not gaf about his lil emo boy act, this is four thousand words of r being a pain in luke’s ass, probs will make a part 2 bc i love them your honour

notes: speaking my truth: i am a british gal. any banter in this about the new england states is entirely stuff i got from reddit so plz don’t scrutinise my american states knowledge

the layout of this fic is very much inspired by @murdrdocs if that wasn’t obvious but also icarus if u want me to change it i will jus say the word :00

PART I — she blows outta nowhere, roman candle of the wild

All things considered, you took the news of your heritage pretty well.

Sure, there was a lot of yelling — mostly through the wall after you locked yourself in your room and started packing a bag — but at least you didn’t sit on it in denial for several hours.

Honestly, you should’ve seen it coming.

The first time you realised you could see things nobody else could, you tried to admit yourself into a ward. Your mom went a little panicky, and she never did perform well under pressure, so she caved and said you were special. Too special for the other kids at your school, too special for anyone to know about it.

After that, she got more tense. Eyes darting around whenever you guys went out in public, hand lingering for a second longer on your back before she sent you to school — as if she felt like she’d never see you again. She would stay up at night and read you old Greek tales before you went to sleep, and acted way too serious about it. More serious than when she would read you Dr Seuss.

Honestly, it was a miracle you went unknowing for so long. Maybe you were insignificant, or maybe the Stymphalian Pigeon that tried to kill you after school was just slow — because you were seventeen when you got attacked by your first monster.

You took it out pretty easily — and by that, I mean you outran it through the bustling streets of your hometown until it flew messily into a bus and you dodged your way to your apartment in a flurry. Your mom’s resolve cracked like a thin layer of ice and you were packed and ready to go to this camp she spoke of before the clock had hit four-thirty.

Most of the yelling that you guys did was along the lines of — “I can’t believe you waited this long to tell me!” — and — “I didn’t want you to leave!” — “I get that, but seriously mom, I almost got eaten by a bird today. A little context going in would’ve been nice!”

You threw yourself into a taxi — much to the disdain of your mother, who insisted on at least getting you to the hill. You then reminded her that she would have to pay the fare all the way back to their apartment and it honestly wouldn’t be worth it and that you’d call her when you got the chance. She let you go with a huff, folding her arms across her chest and creasing the silky material of her pink blouse.

The next hour was about as awkward as taxi rides go, even more so when you got out in the middle of nowhere. You weren’t even sure you were at the bottom of the right hill but sent the poor guy on his way anyway and prayed to whoever your divine parent was that you weren’t about to get gunned down by an angry farmer for mistaking his land for a summer camp.

Thankfully, the empty fields shimmered into something worth travelling for when you took a tentative step across its threshold. The sun seemed to get brighter and the breeze became softer. It was nice from where you stood, and it probably would’ve gotten nicer the closer you got.

Had you not tripped over a rock and tumbled down the hill ungracefully, landing in a heap at the bottom, a few feet away from a dirt path that split off in two directions. You sat up with a huff, blowing your hair out of your eyes and squinting at your surroundings now that they were much closer. You didn’t bother to heave yourself up, catching your breath and letting your gaze flitter over the scenery.

It was cute.

Then the distinct sound of horse hooves clipping against the ground evaded your ears, and you looked up to greet the centaur who now stood above you. You thanked the gods for your moms intricately detailed bedtime stories as you pulled yourself up onto your feet and allowed yourself to be introduced to Chiron and Mr. D, who then led you to the four story house that overlooked the valley.

Your induction was swift and sweet — since you pretty much knew and had accepted everything already. There were a couple of glances and muttered comments about how you had gone so long without being targeted, but Chiron had said he wanted you to get the tour before dinner so you could settle straight to bed after the campfire, and caught some young kid by the t-shirt as he ran past, asking him politely if he could send Luke over.

The awkward two minutes it took for your tour guide to reach you stretched on for a painful amount of time, but you would relive it a hundred times over if it meant you didn’t have to experience the agony you called your first meeting with Luke Castellan.

He was tall, with a dark mop of curls that hung over his furrowed brows. His skin was tanned from all the time he spent in the sun, and his shoulders were broad enough to intimidate, but not broad enough that you were intimidated. He was your age, seemingly, and the cuffs of his green cargo pants brushed against his ankles only an inch higher than they would sit on an average person.

His most memorable feature, however, had to be the deep scar that stretched from the top of his left brow all the way to his cheekbone — it was jagged and sharp, cutting across his eye roughly, as if he had been clawed. He probably had. It was raised and shone pink under the sun, so you could tell it was fairly new, but it had healed over enough to indicate that Luke was probably tired of hearing people ask about it. So you didn’t. You barely gave it a glance before you raised your brows at him with a cheeky grin and gave him your name.

He nodded minutely, one of the only movements he made after he’d parked himself in front of you other than the sliding of his eyes from one person to another as they spoke to him. After Chiron and Mr D had given him the rundown, he gave a slight nod of his head in one direction before walking away and expecting you to follow.

You caught up to him, sidling up on his left with a huff and a smile, “I’m getting the feeling that you're sorta sick of this giving this tour all the time.”

He didn’t respond. He just looked at you, and then stopped walking, watching as you froze two steps ahead of him before shuffling back to his side sheepishly. Then he lifted an unbothered hand to the right, “Those are the strawberry fields.” He then gestured ahead, “That’s the beach.” And then to the left, “Those are the training fields.”

Then he started walking again, and you hesitated for only a second before following, “Wow. Don’t give me too much information all at once.”

Your sarcastic comment was ignored, and Luke nodded towards the bank of cabins you were nearing, “These are the cabins. Twelve. One for each Olympian. You’ll stay in the Hermes cabin until you’re claimed.”

“Right.” You nodded, “God of Travellers. Makes sense.”

He let out a breath, not pausing in his stride as he passed through the curve of houses, not sparing a glance to any of them. You took notice of how the other kids looked at him in apprehension, with a hint of fear when he got too close. He cut down an alley between two cabins — one with a dangerous amount of barbed wire across the top and another that glowed gold under the sunlight — before the pair emerged through the trees at a pavilion.

“This is where we eat.” He said. “Dinner is soon.”

“Cool.” You nodded, “What are the options? Because if food here is lacking, then I will be packing.”

You let out a useless chuckle at your own joke, but it landed flat. “Yeah, that wasn’t funny.” You muttered lowly. With a click of your tongue, you glanced over the horizon and pointed at something from afar. A tall structure that stuck out the tops of the trees, “What’s that?”

“The climbing wall.” Luke answered plainly.

“And that?”

“The Amphitheatre.”

You looked up at him, pulling a face he didn’t bother to glance at. Then you noticed a bunch of campers filing through the trees and into the pavilion the two of you stood at the edge of. They entered in groups and made their way to their designated tables, chattering and gossiping as they did.

You looked at Luke, “Well, that was…great. Truly, a riveting experience. I will say, though — your delivery needs some work. The dark and gloomy act works most of the time, but not when you’re giving a guided tour.”

That got him to look at you, and you held back your triumphant smirk. He frowned, “What?”

You shrugged, “I’m just saying, nobody is going to listen to you talk about this place if you describe it like this.” You lowered your tone into a subpar impression of his voice, and you swore you saw his brows twitch. Clearing your throat, you waved a hand, “No need to worry about that now, though. Just point me in the direction of the Hermes table and I’ll be out of your strangely well-conditioned hair.”

Another eyebrow twitch. You were getting the hang of this. Maybe one day you could get him to move other parts of his face!

You half expected the boy to ignore you and walk off — and he did. But it was in the direction of the Hermes table, so you counted it as him showing you the way. Most of the campers were seated by the time you’d arrived, and you were thus forced to sit yourself on the end of the bench, uncomfortably beside him. He was unbothered.

During dinner you were swiftly introduced to some of your peers — Chris Rodriguez gave you a lopsided grin and informed you politely that you would need to sacrifice some of your food before you got stuck into it. Travis and Connor Stoll sidled up on either side of you as you grumbled at the hearth, and yapped your ear off about the fundamentals of camp.

(So all the sneaky stuff Chiron doesn’t know about. Like how you can skip out on archery training if Lee is the one running it because he never has it in him to snitch. Or that the pegasi stables were the go-to hook up spot for summer campers, but the back of the Amphitheater was the go-to hook up spot for the year-rounders. When you asked what the difference was, they winked, and when you asked what happened if a year-rounder hooked up with a summer camper, they chuckled and walked off.)

Chiron gave you an introduction that made you feel like a new kid being asked to tell the class one fun fact about yourself, and around six kids at your table asked if it hurt when you fell down the hill.

Overall, a good first night. As far as first nights at a summer camp for half-gods goes. By the time all the campers had gone back to their respective cabins, you were ready to turn in and clock out for the day.

But you wanted to try one more time. Last attempt, and then you’d let it go.

When Luke — who you had discovered earlier was the counsellor of the Hermes cabin, and apparently a role model for the kids — came over and silently handed you a folded orange shirt with a leather cord sitting on top of it, you smirked.

“Hey, now we can match. How cute.”

He blinked at you, “Everyone is wearing the same thing.”

“The same shirts, you mean.” You tilted your head, “But we’re both wearing green cargos. And white socks. White sneakers.” Your grin widened as you watched his eyes flit down your form, taking in the outfit you had on. You were right — the only difference between you two was the white tank top you had on, soon to be replaced by the shirt he had just handed to you. You thought for a moment that it would work, that he would make a face, or say more than two sentences to you in response.

But he didn’t. He just huffed and walked away, and you watched with an appalled expression. You narrowed your eyes.

Okay, so maybe you weren’t ready to let it go yet.

The next morning, you were rudely awakened by a small child who was sprawled across your torso, having shifted from his own sleeping bag that was beside yours. He couldn’t have been any older than six, his orange camp shirt sitting like a dress on him, and if he wasn’t snoring into your chest, you would’ve thought he was adorable.

But you really needed to pee.

After you slowly but surely lifted him back onto his own pillow, you stood up with a stretch and stepped precariously over the other kids, balancing carefully on the tips of your toes so you didn’t step on any of them. The sun was barely rising, and you were the only one awake, so you held your breath and reached out for the handle of the bathroom door.

“That’s not your bathroom.”

You flinched, losing your balance and toppling back. A hand between your shoulder blades prevented you from crushing any of the kids on the floor, and you steadied yourself before meeting the eyes of the person who spoke.

Luke was staring intently at you, his eyes blinking hard as if he’d only just woken up. He was in nothing but a pair of blue sweat-shorts and you fought the urge to rake your eyes over his bare torso, watching as he lowered his hand back to his side, “That’s the counsellor's bathroom.”

“Right.” Came a low mutter, under your breath. Then louder, you asked, “Well, where is the campers bathroom?”

“Outside.” He answered, “Around the back of the cabins.”

“Out—“ You started, and then realised everyone else was asleep and swiftly lowered your volume, but kept your expression exaggerated. Wide eyes, furrowed brows. “Outside?”

“Yes.”

“But…it’s cold out there.”

“We have a controlled climate.” He said, folding his arms across his chest. His biceps tensed, “It’s never cold.”

You let out a sigh, throwing your thumb over your shoulder and pointing at the door, “Can’t I just use this one? You aren’t using it, and everyone else is asleep, they’d never know!”

He stared at you blankly and stayed silent for a long time. You wouldn’t be surprised if he just never said anything until you walked away, which you were well prepared to do, letting out a deep breath and folding your own arms over to preserve heat as you clambered towards the front door, muttering complaints under your breath the whole time. You made it three feet (or two sleeping bags) away from him when he finally piped up.

“Be quick.”

Turning around, Luke was already making his way back to his own bed, and you ogled shamelessly at his back muscles as you shuffled to his bathroom and made your way inside. You did your business quickly as requested and washed your hands under the low pressure of the sink before cracking the door open once more. The cabin was the same, everyone else still sleeping calmly. Luke was standing by his bunk, now clad in black shorts and his camp shirt. He paid you no mind when you padded back to your sleeping bag, grabbing your bag and stifling through the clothes you had packed.

You walked up to breakfast with the unclaimed girl you had met the previous night — Lana — and listened and she told you intently about the lore of Luke Castellan.

“He never used to be the way he is. He was happier before, always grinning. More than ready to help anyone here. He was…well, everyone either wanted to be with him or be him.”

“And then what happened?”

“He went on a quest. It went wrong. He came back with that ugly scar and he hasn’t been the same since.”

You made a comment that the scar wasn’t ugly, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d add on that it made him look pretty hot. But you did know better, and you knew that Luke was three people ahead of you in the line and could probably hear what you were saying. So you kept that tidbit to yourself and ate your cereal in silence.

When breakfast was over, you stood from the bench and turned, only to stop short when you realised Luke was standing behind you. Looking up at him, you raised a brow, “Yes?”

“I’m showing you around today.”

“You showed me around yesterday.”

His lips tightened, “We’re actually doing stuff today. Seeing what you’re good at.”

“Oh.” You ran your tongue over your teeth and nodded, “Well, where do we start?”

“Archery.”

Turns out, you were pretty awful at archery. Even after you’d stopped firing arrows into the treeline, you still never hit the middle of the target. Lee had to correct your posture four times, and you broke six arrows. Eventually, you decided that Apollo was not your father, and shuffled over to where Luke stood beneath the shade of a tree — where he had been standing the whole hour.

“Y’know, just because you’ve got this broody bad boy thing going on, doesn’t mean you have to linger in the shadows all the time.” You commented, picking at your fingernails and readjusting the long sleeve you wore under your camp shirt, “You just look weird.”

Luke pointed at your cheekbone, “You’re bleeding.”

You huffed, “I know.” You kept holding your bow too close to the side of your face and the feathers of the arrows kept scratching you whenever you let them fly. Lee mentioned how most people make that mistake the first time round, but you’d done it so much that he’d cut your lesson short and told you to get a bandaid from one of his siblings. You didn’t.

He stared at your cut for a moment, like he was thinking hard about something. But he didn’t, and pushed himself off the tree he was leaning against and brushed past you, “Let’s go to the forges.”

You were better at blacksmithing than you were at archery, but the sword Charles Beckendorf was helping you weld still came out wonky and discoloured. He was a nice kid, funny, and your lowered spirits from your previous task had been quickly uplifted despite you not having much skill in his department. He let you keep the sword anyway, and you swung it jokingly at Luke as he led you to the Amphitheater.

You made swooshing noises as you did so, chuckling when he didn’t so much as flinch, “Don’t act so tough, Castellan, I could take you out even with a dodgy sword.”

“You couldn’t.” He muttered, “I’m the best sword fighter here.”

You let out an over dramatic gasp, running ahead and swivelling around so you could meet his eyes, “Holy shit, was that…did you just…tell me something about yourself?” You grinned and his frown deepened, “Aw, Luke. We’re getting somewhere! This is amazing, I’m so proud. Soon enough we’ll be best frien — “

Before you could finish your incessant teasing, Luke grabbed your forearm and yanked you in front of him just as a kid on an out-of-control Pegasus toppled past you. You watched him disappear in mild shock, before looking back at the boy in front of you, “Hey, thanks. Almost got trampled. How embarrassing.”

He narrowed his gaze, “Do you not take anything seriously?”

You shrugged, “Not really. I’d ask you the same question, but…” You made a face. It was obvious that he was very serious, even if he never used to be.

“Let’s go.” Was his boring response, moving swiftly past you and into the Amphitheatre so quickly you would’ve assumed he was trying to get away from you. (Which he definitely was).

You weren’t really all that bothered, not when you were having so much fun pissing him off.

It took all of ten minutes for Luke to put your sword fighting lesson to an end. Not only had you insisted on fighting with the wonky sword rather than a working training one, you also kept pushing him with your hands whenever he got too close.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to do it.”

“Hey, it’s working, isn’t it?”

You were pretty shit at it anyway, so you didn’t fight him when he said you were cutting your lesson short. You simply tucked your weapon onto the sheath he’d handed you and followed him down the hill to the dining pavilion.

“So, where are you from?”

He didn’t answer you for a couple of minutes, something you’d been well prepared for. But you couldn’t help but ask — he intrigued you. A little too much, maybe.

You continued, “Because you seem like a Mass guy.”

Luke stopped in his tracks, turning to you, “Mass…achusetts?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, fighting off your amused smile when he pulled a face. Finally, an expression!

Truth was, Lana had told you he was from Connecticut. You just wanted to see how he’d react, if he would react at all — apparently he isn’t immune to everything.

“I’m from CT.” He made it very clear, and you tried your hardest not to laugh. “Okay? I'm not some Boston Masshole, got it?”

You raised your hands in surrender, “Got it.”

He stared at you for a second longer, as if to ensure you really did have it. Squinting at your amused smile before nodding and continuing his walk. You thought it would go back to silence, but apparently you’d lit a fuse.

“I mean, what makes you think I'm from MA?” He asked, his tone of voice so appalled you’d think he’d been accused of some sort of crime. “Do I smell like shit?”

A chuckle, “What?”

But he just whirled on you once more, lifting his arm and gesturing to his pit, “Do I? Do I stink of shit?”

You didn’t feel like sniffing him, so you just shook your head, still laughing, “No.”

“Then what — ?” He stopped, narrowed his eyes, “Where are you from?”

You tried to hide your smile, but it was getting really difficult. The last two days he’d been nothing but broody and miserable, one word quips being his only form of communication other than dark frowns. But one mention of Mass and he’s suddenly down to chit chat? You couldn’t help but laugh — unfortunately, it only spurred him on.

“You think this is funny?” He scoffed, nodding, “Yeah, bet you’re from Maine too.”

Your laughter continued, little giggles spilling out of you whenever you thought about the situation too hard. You shrugged, “I don’t think I wanna tell you after this.”

Luke nodded like he was expecting you to say that, “Something a Mainer would say, I’m sure.”

You grinned wide, very proud of yourself for getting a visceral reaction out of the boy — even if you had to piss him off to do it. Just as you went to reply with a witty comeback that would have him ranting and raving for the rest of the night, the dinner conch sounded, interrupting what you’re sure would’ve been a very entertaining conversation.

You walked on past him, not stopping, but slowing down so you could cough into your fist, “Flatlander.”

You didn’t look back but you did hear him scoff in shock, and you were sure he stood there frozen for at least twenty seconds because he entered the pavilion way later than you did. He made a point to fix you with an annoyed stare as he sat down a few people away from you — and Chris raised a brow.

“What’d you do to him?”

You shrugged, digging into your mashed potatoes before anyone could tell you to wait until you’d made your offering, “Told him he looked like a Bay Stater.”

He chuckled, wincing under his breath and shaking his head, “You’re evil. I like it.”

You smirked and said nothing — but whenever your eyes flickered over to Luke, his were just flickering away from you.

#gonna go binge the next parts #like pls #it’s so good #i’m so excited #i wish i could write like this #had me SAT #luke’s cabin #loba’s recs!!

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