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#luke writing
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Final result soft boyfriend!luke from this poll<3
Sunflowers & Chocolates🌻🍫
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Luke + f!reader
Warning : none! Well except for my horrible writing lol.
+masterlist | reblogs are highly appreciated!
Luke was happy, really happy. He just got home from tour in which he, not to be dramatic but had the time of his life, he is in a pretty good place in his relationship, the bands doing good and honestly he can’t believe it. He never thought that he would be in this place like at all. And he doesn’t want this high to end ever.
And with that in mind he thought of doing something for his girlfriend who he still hasn’t met after getting back. He went to the flower shop near his house and got a big bouquet of sunflowers (her favorite), then he got a box of chocolates and her favorite ice cream and he was ready to go.
He drove up to her apartment, greeted the small dog at the entrance (maybe he spent a little while petting it) and finally knocked on her door. It wasn’t locked but she didn’t answer, with worried eyes he slowly inched his way inside. “Baby!” His voice rang as his blue eyes searched every inch of the place. “Y/N” he called again, voice laced with worry.
He nearly dropped all of the stuff he had in his hands, nearly. But in a second he had her wrapped up in his long arms, head resting on top of hers, kissing her here and there. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He asks softly, his arms bringing her closer to his body, if that’s even possible.
He nearly dropped all of the stuff he had in his hands, nearly. But in a second he had her wrapped up in his long arms, head resting on top of hers, kissing her here and there. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He asks softly, his arms bringing her closer to his body, if that’s even possible.
He nearly dropped all of the stuff he had in his hands, nearly. But in a second he had her wrapped up in his long arms, head resting on top of hers, kissing her here and there. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He asks softly, his arms bringing her closer to his body, if that’s even possible.
“Nothing, ‘s fine” she says as she nuzzle against him, breathing in his expensive cologne. “Just hold me and I’ll be fine”
Luke hummed dropping one last kiss on the top of her head, picking her up as she squealed. He knew how to work in these situations, knew that she’ll talk to him when needed. He smiled, looking down at her face as he held her bridal style. Her arms wrapped around his neck. He dropped his head until his lips can brush against her lips. “I love you” he mouthed as he took her to the bed and placed her gently on top of it.
He crawled up on the bed, got comfortable then he pulled her onto his lap. “I love you more” she replied finally, reaching up to kiss his nose which scrunched in return launching her to a fit of giggles. “Impossible” he retorted, kissing her forehead as his fingers kneaded through her silky hair. “No way”
After a while of laying on top of him and listening to his heartbeat, she asked in a mumble “So, what did you get me?” He chuckled, squeezing her “Well, I bought you chocolate-”. “Say no more!” She said, sprinting out of the room. He laughed to himself, walking behind her to the living room table.
“Aww baby! You bought me sunflowers!” She exclaimed happily, turning around to kiss the man she was in love with. “Of course, baby” he replied, right after she pulled away. “That’s probably melted” he said referring to the bucket of ice cream he bought.
“Wow what crime did you commit?” She joked as she put it in the fridge, the flowers in water and opened the box of chocolates. “Can’t I love my girl?” Luke asked cheekily.
“You can! But it’s time for your girl to love you. So, go sit on the couch rockstar.” She said turning around.
“Here you go” she said feeding him a piece of chocolate. “But I got them for you”
“And now I’m feeding them to you” she said with wide eyes as if she’s talking to a child. He shook his head softly, taking the piece of chocolate onto his mouth, biting softly at her finger teasingly.
“Hey!”
“I actually got you something else too” he said, hesitantly looking up at her eyes. “What? Luke you didn’t have to!” She said with a mouth full of chocolates. He chuckled, wiping the corner of her mouth with his thumb. “I did baby, I did”.
He suddenly dropped to the floor and got on one knee. She nearly choked on her own spit as he reached inside a pocket and pulled out a small silver ring. “W-what are you doing?” She asked, the shock evident in her voice.
He took her hand in his and put the ring on her ring finger. Then he intertwined their hands as brought it to his face and gave a quick kiss. “It’s a promise ring. I promise to love you and be right here next to you for as long as you allow me to.”
“Luke!” She exclaimed, getting on her knees right next to him. “I love you so much!”
It was at that moment that Luke knew that there was no away he could ever not be happy as long as she was there.
🌻🍫🌻
+masterlist | reblogs are highly appreciated! So are your opinions as long as you aren’t mean lol
Thank you for reading!
A/N : I feel like this sucked so hard! I haven’t written in months and so this felt like first time writing a fic, I’m sorry but I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless.
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mydairpercabeth · 2 months
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The scenes of Luke training Percy were so expertly written. He wasn’t just training Percy, he was actively recruiting Percy. He fuels Percy’s anger and mistrust of the gods. He didn’t even need to alter how Percy saw the gods because he could already see the resentment Percy had of his dad, mirroring his own. He was absolutely sure he had Percy on his side but he didn’t account for one thing, Percy’s fatal flaw. Percy’s loyalty to his family and friends supersedes all else. Luke can’t betray Annabeth, almost kill him, Grover and Annabeth, put his mother in a dangerous position, and then expect him to be on his side. That is where he fails.
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murdrdocs · 2 months
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possessive luke with aphrodite!reader <3 he'd have her knees up to her chest, mumbling about "mine, mine, mine."
explicit sexual content; slight breeding kink; MDNI
it's almost like he's trying to convince himself with the way he's saying it. a deep growl in the crook of your neck, all bared teeth and snipped syllables, the harshness of his words matching the intensity of his hips knocking against yours.
you're sure it's the loudest he's been, both verbally and sexually. praising how perfect your cunt is, declaring that no one could fuck you like he does even if they prayed to the gods for assistance, his words ringing out over the clap of your skin meeting. he has a grip on your hips, fingers pressing into your skin with so much determination that you have to seriously consider the possibility of new bruises.
eventually, he decides the position isn't enough. he throws your legs over his shoulders, hinging at the hips to reach deeper. your moan is guttural with the first thrust, eyes rolling back until your head starts to ache.
luke, clearly proud of himself, makes a point to draw attention to the pleasure you feel, quickly reminding you that he is the one making you feel like this.
it's as if he's driving himself to insanity, spewing out broken phrases that follow no rhyme nor reason. through them all, with concentration you shouldn't be using in this moment, you pick up only half of his words.
something along the lines of, "need to make sure everyone knows you're mine," following the logic of, "i'll put a ... put a baby in here. make you my pretty girl for life."
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kamaluhkhan · 2 months
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THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)
read part two GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you want revenge on luke castellan)
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pairing: luke castellan x child of nemesis!reader (gender not specified)
word count: 8.5k
summary: luke hated your guts. he really did. he just hoped that no one could tell how, even after all this, you're still everything to him.
warnings/disclaimer: luke's POV. spoilers for the lightning thief and season 1 of pjo. some heated make-out sessions but no actual smut - MDNI / 18+. mentions of blood + death + alcohol. luke is 19 during tlt but i wrote this with him + reader being 21 by the end of this (this is important for the next part lol). anyways, luke + reader share clothes and lots of intense emotions they maybe possibly don't process in the best way. lots of ANGST - it's a greek tragedy fr!
author's note: welcome to my new hyperfixation! this fic is LONG but i hope she's worth it ♡
♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo
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(i. you have a sharp tongue)
fourteen year old luke was overwhelmed when he first stepped into the hermes cabin. it was loud and overcrowded and no one really seemed to care that they had a new cabinmate. the head counselor showed luke to an empty bed at the back, told him to get settled in, and left without another word. luke dropped his backpack before collapsing on the mattress. it was so thin that he could feel the springs dig into his back.
"you'll get used to it."
luke sat up to see you climbing through the window. 
you had a band-aid stuck on your chin, chipped nail polish the color of blackberries, and leather combat boots that looked way too heavy to be wearing in the heat of summer. 
“the shitty mattress?”
“i meant the whole chaos of cabin 11, and the way things work around here in general. if you can get used to the shitty mattress, all power to you.” 
your tone was friendly enough, playful even. you smiled at him so comfortably it made luke nauseous. 
“good to know.” he tried to smile back at you, but his heart wasn’t in it. “i’m luke, by the way.”
“yeah, i know. i’m —”
“y/n!”
you seemed entirely unfazed as the blond who called your name stormed over to you. you rolled your eyes, something only luke could notice, before turning to her.
“someone stole my candy.”
“i’m very sorry to hear that, maddy. gotta be careful around here.” your voice dripped like poisoned honey, deceptively innocent and sweet.
maddy was not having it. she huffed at you. “it was you, wasn’t it?”
“that depends. did you cheat at poker last night? again?” 
some of the chatter throughout the cabin paused, heads turning to listen in. 
“what? n-no!” 
“then you have your answer, maddy.” you exaggerated a sigh, as though you had already won the fight and were annoyed that she came back for more. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a new camper to show around.”
chiron had already given them a tour, but luke didn’t protest when you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the window with you. your hand was warm in his as you dragged him along to the corner of the cabin where a poorly made ladder waited for you. 
“come on.” you started climbing, and only stopped to look down when you realized luke wasn’t following you. “best view of camp. trust me.”
a shiver passed through luke. trust didn’t come easy to him. he also didn’t particularly want to return to a stuffy cabin where all he would do was count reasons he did not want to be there.
 so, luke followed you. he sat down next to you on the roof and looked out at the sun shining on his new home, but he couldn't help but be slightly bitter. the gods had gotten all of you into this life of endless danger and battles and monsters, and this was all they had to offer in return: a summer camp. 
it just didn't seem fair. 
there was something else he noticed then. what was it that chiron had said? camp half-blood was supposed to be a safe haven for all demigods. 
“i don’t get it. there are only twelve cabins, but aren’t there, like, a million other gods?”
you straightened your posture then, and turned to luke with a newfound interest. 
“camp half-blood only has cabins representing the twelve olympians. apparently, they’re the only ones important enough to have children worth recognizing, and they can’t even do that half the time,” you explained, impertinence laced throughout your words. it seemed like something you could never quite get off your chest. 
every  demigod knew that the gods didn’t appreciate sarcasm. they  didn’t particularly like being called out on their bullshit, either.
you didn’t seem to care; you even rolled your eyes up at the sky, as if challenging zeus himself. 
“anyways, that’s why the hermes cabin is so crowded. it takes in campers who are unclaimed or whose parent doesn’t have a cabin at camp. like me.”
“so, who’s your godly parent?”
you fiddled with the leather cord on your neck. it held a few clay beads like the other campers, but there was one silver charm he noticed only you wore — scales, by the looks of it. you clutched onto it.
luke realized that, despite your own advice, maybe you resented having to get used to the way things worked around here, and having to hide your resentment. maybe that was worse than having to sleep on an uncomfortable bed for the rest of your life.
"nemesis. goddess of revenge."
"that's....hardcore."
you scoffed and moved on to twisting the silver ring on your index finger. "a lot of people take it that way, and i think it scares them a bit.”
“so that’s why you’re extra nice to new campers, huh?” 
“no, i was just in a good mood today.” you smirked.
“guess i was just lucky, then.”
luke couldn’t help but smile at your laugh — sharp, biting. you nudged your boot against his sneaker, which shifted you closer to him, shoulders practically touching. 
“what people don’t understand is that it's more about balance, you know? you do good things, and good things happen to you. at least, they should. you do bad things and….” you pulled out an outrageously big bag of candy, dropped it between you and luke, and winked at him. “you face the consequences.” 
“that makes sense.” luke leaned over to grab a handful of gummy bears. “like karma.”
“yeah. exactly.” 
you bit the head off a red bear, both of you chewing in silence before you added:
“by the way, i’m sorry about your friend.” you swallowed and caught luke’s gaze. 
chiron warned him that word would travel fast around camp about what happened to thalia, and luke had prepared himself for anything — anything but your reaction. there was no pity in your eyes; instead, there was a hint of rage, as though thalia had been your friend, too. 
“she deserved more.” 
luke’s eyes caught the glint of a knife strapped to your belt. he took another handful of the candy you stole, and he thought about the fire and fearlessness behind your words, and, despite everything, it felt right to be with you then and there. 
“yeah,” he finally whispered back. “she did.”
we all do. 
neither of you said those words, but the suggestion was there, and it felt like a promise. 
(ii. you hold on to every stupid, little detail)
“slow down, tiger.” 
your voice echoed throughout the arena, and if luke had been fighting a real opponent, it might have gotten him killed. instead, he just stopped mid-swing, sparing another straw dummy from losing its arm. 
“left hand,” you noted as you walked past him towards a bench. “you, my friend, are in need of a break.”
luke loosened the grip on his sword. the only time luke fought with his non-dominant hand was when he had overworked the other. he must have switched an hour ago, but judging by how heavy his arm felt, it could have very well been two.  
his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his shirt soaked through. he could feel a dull pain behind his eyes, and luke was worried that if he stopped to catch his breath, he would pass out. or, even worse, have to face the reality of the shitty news he’d gotten early that day. 
“come sit with me,” you urged. “you’re exhausted, tiger.” 
luke bristled at your nickname for him. 
sure, luke loved that there was something only you called him, a secret kept between you in plain sight, but it was also a reminder that it was harder to hide behind the hero act when you were around.
everyone else at camp figured the nickname was a playful attempt at calling him strong and charismatic. the truth was that luke once told you that his favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes and that he would dream of playing sports as well as tony the tiger. for better or for worse, like most things, you wouldn’t let it go. 
case in point: if it was anybody other than you trying to get him to take a break, luke could have just brushed them off with a charming smile and continued swordfighting until his arms fell off, but in the two years since meeting you, luke had never met anyone as stubborn and convincing. like him, it seemed you were willing to fight and shed blood to get your way. luke was never really in the mood to make you bleed, even when feeling like he could burn the entire world down, so he usually gave in to your demands.  
as soon as he sat down next to you, you handed him an orange flavored energy drink — his favorite. anything other than water was hard to come by at camp without the enchanted goblets in the dining pavilion, or the right connection in the hermes cabin. he ran out of his stash the other day, but you must have noticed and gotten one of the stoll brothers to smuggle more in. 
“thanks,” luke said, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through him when your fingers brushed together briefly. 
 the two of you looked out at the sword arena, and all the straw dummies that luke had destroyed. you wait for him to take three big gulps of his drink before speaking again. 
“i guess chiron and your dad decided you weren’t ready for a quest.”
luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”
“the only time you’d skip out on capture the flag is if something really shitty happened.” you looked down at luke’s clenched fists, and that seemed to be all the confirmation you needed. “you promised annabeth you'd be there, and it's not like you to let her down."
fuck. he had completely forgotten that tonight was annabeth's first time as team captain. this entire week, she had been prepping a winning strategy. it wasn’t like annabeth needed him to win, but luke was her big brother, and he should have been there. you were right — he had let her down. 
the realization made luke’s day go from bad to worse. 
"i told her you were helping a new camper with an emergency. she didn't believe it, but she adjusted her strategy and we still won.”
“well, thank the gods everything worked in the end,” luke grumbled. 
“don’t thank the gods,” you quipped. “thank annabeth chase for her brilliant mind, and me for covering for your sorry ass.”
when luke didn’t indulge in your usual playful banter, you moved closer to him and brushed some curls away from his eyes. your skin warmed his forehead, and the small gesture made him feel better than he had all day.
“look, i’m not going to give you some bullshit inspirational speech about how the gods don’t get to define what a hero is, or how you don’t need a quest to prove that you’re worthy of being one. we’ve each been through that before, and i have a feeling this won’t be our last time, either.”
“then why are you here?” the question came out harsher than luke had intended it to.
“because she’s trying her best to hide it, but annabeth is really hurt that you didn’t show up for the game. i figured the least you could do is suck it up, come to the campfire, and make her those signature luke castellan s’mores. you could probably use one, too, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” 
you were right, again. luke was exhausted, he was furious, but most of all, he was starving.  
later that night, luke sat next to annabeth and vowed to make her as many s’mores as she wanted. you’d gone to sit with the hephaestus kids, trying to convince beckendorf and nyssa to join your cabin’s post-campfire party at the beach, even though they had to work in the forges early the next morning. 
when chiron made his weekly speech, congratulating the winners of capture the flag and thanking the gods for keeping everyone safe, you and luke caught each other’s gaze from across the fire. you rolled your eyes and luke bit back a smile as you turned back to beckendorf. he noticed your knees were practically touching. did you sit that close to everyone? 
luke was looking at you for so long that the marshmallow he was roasting fell into the fire, despite annabeth’s warnings. she handed him another one. 
"you should tell her how you feel," annabeth said. "stop being a coward." 
whether it was the smell of burnt sugar, the heat of the fire, or annabeth’s comment, luke started to feel dizzy. he did his best to shake it off, asking annabeth for a play-by-play of her strategy earlier that night, but he couldn’t quite get rid of the thought of you. 
(iii. you don't care if your clothes are stained with blood)
“i just….i can’t fucking believe you, luke.”
“i don’t get why you’re so upset — you’ve never cared about quests before.”
luke was hoping to break the news to you after capture the flag. unfortunately for him, word travels fast around camp. 
annabeth had the two of you scouting the east side for the flag, while she and some other athena kids took the west. you hadn’t found anything so far, which meant that you’d spent the better part of an hour bickering over luke’s choice of companions for his quest. a choice that included charles beckendorf and chris rodriguez, and purposefully did not include you, much to your fury.  
before you could continue arguing, luke heard the sound of footsteps approaching. he looked over to you, and you already had your shield and sword at the ready. 
a few red defenders emerged from the trees. one charged at luke, but you stepped in so he could deal with the other two. one of his opponents went down fairly easily, but the other put up much more of a fight. metal clashed behind him as you kept fighting as well. you might not have been as skilled a swordfighter as luke, but he knew that you could hold your own, at least until he was finished with the person in front of him. 
luke parried his opponent’s strike, causing them to take a step closer. he was preparing to disarm them, just as he heard you yelp and stumble to the ground. it only took a millisecond of his attention, but it gave his opponent the opportunity to elbow him in the face. luke felt a crack upon impact, and pain radiated from his nose; he powered through. 
he had to finish this fight, and he had to do it fast. you needed him. 
his ears were ringing as he finally knocked over his opponent, kicking away their sword and keeping his foot on their chest. luke turned around to see you having turned the tides, the blade of your sword dangerously close to your opponent’s neck.
you locked eyes with luke, and you both understood — it was time to go. the two of you ran through the forest, as far away as you could before having to stop and catch your breath.
luke removed his helmet to get some air, and dropped his weapons. you did the same. you looked at him, brows furrowed.
“your nose.”
luke licked his lips, tasting blood. the triumph of winning that last fight overshadowed the ache of his potentially broken nose. in fact, he liked the image of a ruthless warrior emerging from the glory and gore of battle, that even though he did not bleed ichor like a god, he still had power. 
you, on the other hand, didn’t look impressed. instead, you stepped forward and offered the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away the blood. 
“you don’t have to —”
“i know you think you’re a badass walking around all broken and bloody, but you shouldn’t deny your admirers your pretty face,” you teased. 
it was no secret that luke had numerous admirers around camp, a fact you loved to tease him about. he was sure that you relished in how flustered that made him. all you had to call him was pretty boy, and luke could be reduced to a blushing mess. 
it was pathetic how much power you had over him.
“besides, i wouldn’t have gotten out of that last fight if you hadn’t taught me that disarming technique earlier. i owe you. it’s what we do. we take care of each other, right?”
he couldn’t argue with that.
a few moments of silence passed as you cleaned his face. something shifted as you worked, the flirtatious grin fading away. when you pulled away, your sleeve was stained a dark crimson. 
“just tell me honestly,” you finally murmured. “why don't you want me to join your quest?” 
luke was genuinely taken aback by the softness of your voice, now devoid of its usual fire. you wouldn’t meet luke’s eyes, but being that close to you, he noticed they were slightly glazed over.
he had expected you to be angry at his decision. he expected you to yell and argue and try to change his mind. luke hadn’t expected you to be so hurt. so broken. 
he hadn’t planned on it, but luke decided to tell you the truth then.
“look, karma, if you come with me, my heart wouldn’t fully be in the quest. i’d be so caught up in….well, you.”
a pause.
“is that a bad thing?”
“not usually, no.” 
you smirked a little at that, and luke’s heart skipped a beat. it also made his decision even clearer. 
“but i need to be focused for this. i need….” he let out a deep sigh. “i need to prove myself. this is my first real chance, and i can’t fuck it up.”
you met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, your signature spark of confidence returning.  
“you won’t.”
you reached a hand up to play with his necklace. luke hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten until your fingers started tracing over those four clay beads. it made his entire body burst into flames.
“i’ve been wanting to do something for a while. and, aphrodite save me, it might be really stupid, but —”
luke took a lucky guess as to where you were going, and crashed his lips against yours. aphrodite knows that he'd been wanting to do that for a while, too. 
he often got drunk on the adrenaline of battle, the glory of winning, but nothing was quite like the rush of kissing you for the first time. 
it was messy and urgent, both of you aware that, at any moment, you could be interrupted. your noses were bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. the metallic tang of blood lingered on luke’s tongue, but neither of you seemed to care. you even bit his lip slightly, as if you wanted more. armor sat heavy and cold between your chests, preventing you from getting closer. luke had never loathed the protective gear more. 
he made up for it by lodging one hand underneath your jaw, and snaking the other beneath the celestial bronze, beneath the cotton of your shirt, admiring how your pulse quickened under his thumb when he grazed the soft skin of your stomach. you tangled your hands into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. he groaned and felt you smirk against his lips. 
luke had kissed a few people before, sure, but never like this: like a knife to the gut, and if you pulled away, luke would surely bleed out and die. 
it wouldn’t be a hero’s death, in the traditional sense, but at least he’d die happy. 
how many heroes could claim that?
when luke ran out of air, feeling like his lungs were burning, he had to pull away. 
you glanced down at luke’s kiss-bitten lips, then back to his eyes. luke flushed under the intensity of your gaze. 
“just promise me something, tiger,” you whispered, voice hoarse. 
“anything.”
“come back alive.”
luke leaned forward and placed another kiss on your lips, this one much gentler than before.
“i promise.”
(iv. you love like a scar that won't fade)
the nightmares were getting worse. 
luke woke up in a cold sweat, taking gulps of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.
“luke.” 
your whisper did little to quell the pit of dread growing in his stomach, but it did enough to bring him back down to reality. 
he was at camp half-blood (fuck the gods of olympus), in the hermes cabin (fuck you, dad), in a bed next to yours (fuck, if he could tell you what — who — was going through his head, he would).
“i’m…i’m fine,” he murmured back, voice catching slightly on the lie. 
like clockwork, you shifted from your bed to his, slipping under the covers. it didn’t matter that it was a hot summer night, and the minute your legs touched his, he could feel himself starting to overheat. 
your thumb brushed over the thick edge of his scar, up his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. it had been a year, living with this reminder. a reminder that he had failed, just as much as his father and the olympians had failed him. 
luke tried to pretend that he didn’t come back from his quest as a shell of who he once was. after all, it was meant to be his shining moment as a demigod, meant to gain him all the glory and father’s praise he once wished for. 
what a fucking joke.
every morning, luke would crawl into a different skin. he welcomed new campers and taught sword-fighting. he laughed with chris and his other siblings and strategized with annabeth for capture the flag. he would be the easy-going, charming, skillful senior counselor who respected the gods and honored them in everything he did. 
again: a fucking joke.
nights were different, though, with you so close to him, you who could always see right through him.
every night, luke was a fourteen-year old boy again, with so much rage and resentment he didn't know what to do with it. 
of course, you were always you - a bleeding heart underneath layers of armor. you didn't care about fate, or the gods, or the titans. you cared about justice, you cared about what was right and fair. 
most of all, you cared about luke.
“you were screaming,” you told him, voice barely cutting through the soft snores and sleeptalkings of your other cabinmates. 
“sorry,” he managed. looking at you in the dull moonlight, luke noticed the deep shadows under your eyes. 
“it’s fine. you just….you scared me, tiger.” 
your hand still rested on his cheek, and for a second, luke hoped you would kiss him, but you didn’t. instead, you told him to try and get some sleep, and sank further into his bed before closing your eyes. 
for the hundredth night in a row, luke hoped you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest as you fell asleep next to him.
since coming back from his quest, luke didn’t have it in him to suggest being anything other than friends, and you didn’t push it. there had been a few....moments between you, sure, but nothing more.
luke thought you might have changed your mind, because who would want to be with a bitter, worthless, wannabe hero? then again, that voice haunting his dreams…. luke could change that. 
but, at what cost?
(v. you protect people as ruthlessly as a starving dog)
luke could hear you talking to percy jackson outside. though he couldn’t quite determine what was being said, as much as he tried.
you entered the bathroom and instantly caught luke’s eyes in the mirror. you were wearing your faded pyjama shorts with cartoon crows, and a flannel shirt that luke had a sneaking suspicion might have been his. you smiled at him before setting up at the counter, one sink between you. 
“what was that about?” luke asked after spitting out a mouthful of minty toothpaste.
“oh, nothing.” you were searching through your toiletry bag for something, and seemed to come up short. “hey, do you have any extra dental floss?”
luke threw some over to you. as you effortlessly caught it, he noticed your knuckles, bruised and bloodied.
“what happened?” 
you finished flossing and briefly examined your hands before pulling out your toothbrush. 
“it’s not a big deal,” you assured. “some ares kids were picking on percy, and then they started pushing him around, like, really pushing him around, so….” 
“....you decided to send them to the infirmary.”
you squeezed some toothpaste on your brush before continuing. “i don’t need you to lecture me about how i shouldn’t be fighting with other campers because i’ve been here longer and i should be a good role model. you know what a good role model does? not let kids beat up other kids and think the worst punishment they’ll get is no dessert for a week.”
luke watched carefully as you jammed the toothbrush in your mouth and brushed with such force, he was worried your teeth might dislodge. he knew that you would shed blood for someone you loved, and that you didn’t particularly care if you had to break rules in doing so, because you believed that what was written was not necessarily what was right. 
in fact, luke loved that about you.
no, it wasn’t the fighting that luke cared about — it was who you were fighting for. 
percy was a good kid, he really was. luke just didn’t want you getting attached. 
“i wasn’t going to lecture you. i’m guessing chiron already did?” 
you nodded and spat out what looked like a combination of toothpaste and blood. you rinsed your mouth until the water lost its pinkish hue. once you were done, luke continued his train of thought.
“i just didn’t realize you cared so much about him.”
“about percy?” 
luke could tell that he didn’t have your full attention. you were packing your stuff back up, accidentally tossing luke’s dental floss into your bag, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.
“yeah. the kid’s only been at camp for three days, and you’re already acting like his guard dog.”
you finally turned to luke and glared at him. 
“maybe. but percy’s sweet and he doesn’t seem like the type to put up with bullshit. he’s been through a lot, and annabeth seems to like him, too. as far as i’m concerned, percy’s one of us, and i’m not going to let anyone push him around.”
luke raised an eyebrow at you. “he’s sweet?”
“yeah. like, just now, he gave me some blue raspberry jelly beans as a thank you. said his mom used to work at a candy store. he also wanted me to apologize to you for him. he feels bad about beating you in sword-fighting earlier.” 
you scoffed, like you resented luke for having to apologize to him on percy’s behalf. you definitely did not appreciate that guard dog comment. luke clenched his jaw, seething over what you had just said. 
satisfied with his reaction, you gave luke that nauseating smile of yours, tilted your head towards the exit. a truce, because you never liked to fight with luke for too long, and a order, because you knew luke would always follow. 
the two of you began walking back to your cabin in the warm mid-june air. 
“i wouldn’t say he beat me,” luke huffed. “it was beginner’s luck.”
“sure, tiger. it was beginner’s luck that disarmed the best swordsman we’ve had in the last 300 years.”
you nudged luke’s shoulder with yours, but he recoiled from your touch. 
“are you trying to make me feel worse?” luke tried his best to avoid snapping at you, keeping his tone measured.
“i’m just saying that maybe the kid has natural talent and that doesn’t make you any less talented. there’s no need to get jealous.”
luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion. 
to be clear, he was not jealous. it’s just that luke had spent years of blood, sweat, and tears getting to where he was then, and percy jackson had just gotten to camp. 
and, to be even more clear, luke was not jealous of how you were already defending percy with your whole body and your whole heart, the way you did for him. 
by then, you reached the front of the hermes cabin. luke could already hear the commotion of what he would need to deal with as soon as he walked in. the burden of being head counselor, one he approached with an elastic smile that could snap at any moment. 
you tugged on luke’s sleeve before he could open the door. 
“hey. are we okay?”
luke looked down at your fingers grasping the fabric of a sweatshirt he was just realizing was yours. your nails were painted a dark red, now chipped after a week of wear. you had begged luke to paint his nails then, and once again, he gave in. he even started to like the purple you had chosen just for him, so deep it was almost black. the same color you were wearing the first time you and luke met.
he smiled at the memory — a real smile, no plastic — and then smiled back up at you.
“we’re fine, karma.” and he moved to enter the cabin. luke could hear the threat of an argument bubbling up, what sounded like a petty one over a prank gone wrong.
“wait.” you tugged at his (your) sweatshirt once more. “there’s something i wanted to talk to you about, about tomorrow night—”
“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”
“yeah, i know, it’s just —”
“she’ll run through strategy for capture the flag then.”
“one of the aphrodite senior campers asked me to the campfire,” you blurted it out, and luke decided to ignore the sound of a fight breaking out from behind the wooden door.
what in the name of hades were you talking about?
“they asked you out? like…like a….” luke didn’t even want to speak the word, scared it would make it real.
“a date,” you said casually, as if that one word didn’t rip luke’s heart in a million pieces. “i said yes.” an admission that took all those pieces and set them on fire. 
sure, in the seven years since you and luke met, you’d each talked about boys, about girls, about dating and kissing them and going further. but there was something about this one that felt different. something about the way you told him.
“but, listen, i wanted to let you know it’s not —”
“good for you,” was all luke said through gritted teeth before someone started calling his name again, louder and more urgently, and he had to duck inside.  
(vi. you taste like burning cherries and righteous anger)
your team had won capture the flag, of course. the biggest news of the evening, though: percy jackson was the son of the sea god. 
he was a forbidden child, the hero of the great prophecy. 
everything was falling into place. 
all luke should be thinking about is kronos’ plan, and his role in it, and how a world without the gods of olympus was that much more in reach.  
unfortunately, for the time being, he was so consumed by you. 
you, from across the campfire, sporting cutoff denim shorts and fresh wounds from the game earlier. you, who had wrapped your knuckles in gauze, concealing their bruising, fixed the chips in your nail polish and stacked rings on your fingers. (for the record: luke had gifted you the one on your left thumb.) you, with dark lips that whispered too closely and laughed too loudly with a child of aphrodite— jordan li.
you hadn’t so much as looked at luke since congratulating each other on another win. when chiron announced his weekly gratitude to the gods at the start of that night’s campfire, you didn’t punctuate your resentment with your usual eye-roll or biting remark. you were too busy giggling at something jordan said.
luke wanted to be the one to whisper jokes in your ear. he wanted to be the one you left lipstick stains on later, along his jaw and down his neck. he wanted to be the one who kissed the blade mark on your shoulder and the bruises on your knuckles. 
and yet, hours passed and it seemed that the thought of luke had never so much as crossed your mind. he found himself at an after hours party with a few senior campers on the beach. a lethal recipe: a poorly crafted bonfire, some contraband drinks and you in jordan li’s lap, playing with their hair and pretending luke castellan did not exist. 
meanwhile, luke had katie gardner’s full attention. she was talking to him about the strawberry season, potentially leaning a bit too close into luke’s personal space, definitely flirting with him. 
luke could have done a lot worse than the head counselor of the demeter cabin, who always smelled like fresh lavender, whose eyes were the bright green of spring grass and whose lips tasted like golden honey. 
the problem was that luke only wanted you, and his eyes kept sliding over to where you were kissing jordan’s cheek, and he accidentally called the girl he was kissing by your name, which did not make her happy. 
katie threw her drink in his face, told him to wake the fuck up, and walked away.
a chorus of gasps and chuckles erupted as luke stood there, diet coke and vodka seeping into his shirt. the commotion seemed to capture your attention, because you suddenly appeared next to luke, an empty bottle of cherry soda in your hand.
“rough night, tiger?” your voice, that nickname, made luke sick, his face twisting into a frown. you don’t seem to notice or care. instead, you switched your bottle with luke’s and took a sip.
“looks like you were having a pretty good time,” luke practically sneered. “where’s your date?” 
 “they went to bed.” you swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimacing at its bitterness. “gods, this is terrible. you and i should go on the drink run next time — we have better taste.”
“so, are you and jordan like a thing now?”
you gave luke a smile he didn’t quite understand, but made his stomach churn in ways only you could. “would that be a problem?”
“of course not.” he answered way too quickly for that to be true. 
“let’s get out of here,” you suggested. “i think katie is about this close to strangling you with a tree branch.”
luke glanced over your shoulder to where green eyes glared back at him. 
nowhere could luke find it in him to care. he wasn’t even sorry. he just shrugged, took the bottle back from you, took his first sip all night. luke almost gagged (because of course you were right, and the stoll brothers had better fake ids than they had taste) but he suppressed it. 
“no. i’m good.”
biggest lie he ever said. like there wasn’t anger caught in his throat and jealousy swelling between his ribs.
“go find jordan,” he taunted. “kiss them, show them a good time! isn’t that the reason why you got all pretty?”
you narrowed your eyes at him carefully. your nostrils were slightly flared, and luke took a bit of pride in being able to rile you up.
“look, we haven’t really talked lately, and i think we should.”
“go find jordan,” he mocked once more. “almost all the aphrodite kids are here, and i’m sure you can be quiet enough to sneak into their cabin and if you want a quick fu—”
“luke.” you clipped his name, obviously getting to the limit of your patience with him. “if you want to stay here all night and be an asshole, you’re welcome to. you should know, though, that your happy-go-lucky hero mask is starting to crack and i don’t know if you could deal with the fallout from it shattering completely.”
you leaned in close and whispered that last part, very aware of the chattering that stopped and the eyes that watched the pair of you anxiously. luke was usually good at hiding that part of himself who wanted to burn the world down. 
in ways you didn’t realize, you were right: he couldn’t risk revealing it, not now.
not yet. 
“do whatever you want, castellan,” you spat out his last name, the combination of letters foreign in your mouth.“i’m leaving.”
luke should be proud of himself. he waited a whole two seconds before following you like a stray dog. 
luke didn’t know if he’d ever felt you that enraged by him, and it horrified him. it also made him hungry for more. 
“i’m not sure that jordan would want the two of us alone together at night,” he shouted after you, words echoing into the starless sky.
“gods, enough about jordan!” luke practically ran into you with how fast you turned around to confront him. “i was helping them with that stupid aphrodite tradition!”
“you….” luke faltered, all the snark leaving his body. “what?”
luke remembered silena beauregard once explaining the rite of passage to him: to prove themselves, a child of aphrodite had to make someone fall in love with them, and then break their heart.
“why…why would you agree to do that?”
you had reached the dining area by then, and you sat on one of the steps leading to the pavilion. luke stayed a few feet away, looking at you cautiously. 
“jordan and i are already friends, and they figured a fake relationship would be the way to avoid anyone from actually getting hurt in the process.”
“you seemed so…so into it, though,” luke stammered, the memory of you in jordan’s lap, laughter bubbling from your lips, still fresh.
“it’s called acting, dumbass.” the camp didn’t rely on electricity, but there were enough torches around that luke could see you roll your eyes. “anyways, i was trying to give you a heads-up last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” you took a deep breath. “and, honestly, i didn’t push it because….i figured i should test a hypothesis.”
a hypothesis? you’d known annabeth for too long.
“what hypothesis?”
you hesitated. 
“it doesn’t matter. fuck, this was stupid,” you muttered, and without another word, stormed through the dining pavilion, a short cut to the hermes cabin. your footsteps fell heavy against the marble, and luke’s not far behind. 
“what hypothesis?” he asked again.
nothing but rushed footsteps.
“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.
third time was the charm, because you stopped in your tracks and faced luke once again. a fire burned in the bronze brazier, where campers were forced to offer up portions of your food to the gods at every meal. its roaring seemed to captivate you, and the flames danced across your face, illuminating all your curves and edges.
“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated. 
this caught luke off guard. from the day the two of you met, luke knew you shared that feeling. you’d gotten quieter with your rage as you’d gotten older. luke supposed he got better at hiding it himself, as well. 
“i’m angry at the gods for letting bad shit happen even if they can stop it, and for building this world in the fucked up way they did. i’m angry at your dad for the way he’s treated you, but — you, luke castellan.” you finally met luke’s eyes with a gaze so sharp, luke almost felt himself bleed. “i’m also angry at you, and not just for your bullshit tonight.” 
your admission felt like a punch to the stomach, and luke was left with no air to breathe.
did you know?
“you haven’t been the same since your quest,” you continued, words slow and deliberate, the way you spoke when you were worried your voice would shake. “and i’ve come to terms with that in the past few years, but you….you’ve never tried to ice me out before. you’ve been acting distant since december, and it’s been driving me insane. do you realize how much i miss my best …..” you swallowed the word friend. “how much i miss you?”
luke hesitated, because what could he say? i know i’ve been distant, but i’ve been busy trying to start a war between the gods. sorry babe! 
would you hate him, if you knew? 
you had to have known that, despite the distance, luke missed you. for tartarus sake, in the last two days, he’d driven himself mad at you calling a fourteen year old boy sweet, and he was about to combust at the image of you dating someone else, with little care as to the collateral damage. 
"you can't just avoid me, makeout with katie fucking gardner, and then….” you trailed off, hiding your face in your hands. whether it was to hide embarrassment or tears, luke wasn’t sure.
a smirk spread across luke’s face at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one jealous at the bonfire that night. it lit luke up with the confidence he needed to not completely fall to his knees in front of you, beg for your forgiveness for everything he’s done.
“why do you care if i make out with katie fucking gardner?” 
as he waited for a response, luke walked towards you until your back hit one of the marble columns. 
“why do you care if i’m with jordan fucking li?” you clenched your jaw and looked right through luke. a clear indication that you wanted him to break down first; it wouldn’t be you who yielded this fight.
“because i want to be the one you’re with.” at that point, luke was so close to you that he swore he could hear your heartbeat. he reached out and played with the hem of your shorts. “why do you care if i make out with katie gardner?”
“because.” you drew in a sharp breath when luke’s fingers brushed underneath the denim, across the warm skin of your thigh. you closed your eyes. “don’t make me say it, tiger.” 
the desperation in your voice made luke want to do unholy things with you, to you. luke knew you didn’t think of him as a saint, and you never expected him to be one. the reality was that you weren’t much better, either. what was essentially an altar to the gods burned bright next to you, but it seemed neither of you had ever cared less about it than in that moment. 
luke would watch olympus fall. he would dethrone the gods and watch their glass castle shatter and find glory in a new world. in the grand scheme of things, he was willing to lose this battle.
in fact, he would have rather betrayed the titan lord himself than waste another second not kissing your lips. 
so, he kissed you, and you kissed him back with such force, such hunger, it was ungodly.
no, you certainly weren’t a saint — but you were divine, in the most brutal, intoxicating way. in the way you shuddered when luke lodged a leg between your thighs; in the way you threaded your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans to bring him closer; in the way the metal of your rings burned through the skin of his hip, right to the bone, which made him shudder, and you smile triumphantly against his jaw.
the more he tasted your smirk flavored by cherry soda and the ashes of nearby flames, the more he felt your feral teeth against his neck and your wicked nails digging into his shoulders, the more you tugged on his curls, the more luke thought: maybe. 
maybe you would give into your seething resentment, live up to those eye-rolls and snarky comments that got you in trouble with chiron, on the edge of hot water with the gods. maybe you would join the titan army. maybe, just maybe, this time, you would follow luke.
and yet — maybe wasn’t enough if it meant he could lose this. luke wouldn’t risk it, not until he kissed every battle scar and bruise on your body, and you did the same to his. 
“wait.”
it was the last thing luke wanted to do, but he complied. he took the opportunity to appreciate the chaos he created: your shirt in disarray, your lipstick a mess, your chest heaving and desperate to catch a breath. 
“i promised jordan that we’d keep up our charade for a week, two at the most. do you think we could keep this…” you tightened your fist around the fabric of his shirt. “a secret until then?”
luke responded by pressing his lips to yours once more, because there were definitely worse secrets to keep.
(vii. you wouldn’t hesitate to make him bleed)
luke had just left percy jackson to die.
he should be leaving camp, now, but he needed to see you one last time. 
the universe works in mysterious ways, because you were out on a run through the forest, and you crossed paths before he even had time to wonder where you were.
“hey, tiger.” you smiled as if this was a regular afternoon. the two of you would teach your afternoon activities, sneak away during dinner so luke could kiss you in that spot that made you gasp. “wanna join me? i was just wrapping up, but i could be convinced to go longer.”
for a second, he was tempted to. very tempted. 
“i don’t have much time.”
you seemed to notice luke’s sullen mood and you dropped your playful demeanor. 
luke explained: the messages from kronos in his dreams, him stealing the lightning bolt and helm of darkness to start a war between the gods and framing percy. the plan to destroy olympus that luke had pledged his life to.
percy was surprised at what luke had done, and luke could imagine that the rest of camp would be, too. luke was the golden boy of camp half-blood, everyone’s big brother. 
you, on the other hand, didn’t express any sense of shock. 
“luke.” you said his name like you weren’t quite sure it was poison. “i’m going to give you five seconds to tell me that you’re joking.”
five seconds of silence passed. you took a few steps back from luke.
“i….i should have told you sooner.”
“yeah,” you scoffed. “you should have. but, you didn’t. did it feel good, having the titan king whispering sweet nothings in your ear? all the lies about how this war is the only way to get the glory you so desperately want? it’s fucking delusional.” 
“it’s not delusional—”
“yes, it is!” you glared at him. “you’re on the wrong side of a war you made the mistake of starting.”
luke straightened his posture, thinking about how hypocritical you were being. 
“isn’t this what you’re all about? revenge, karma. your mom will probably join us, too. don’t you want to see the gods finally get what they deserve?”
“not like this. i can’t believe how desperate you are, to believe that kronos is going to make everything right. it’s pathetic,” you spat. “i’m not saying the gods don’t deserve to be taken down a notch. their fucking obsession with power and glory….it’s sick and twisted, but i don’t think your titan king is any better. i don’t think you are any better.” 
“it’s time that the gods fall. this is the only way, even if it isn’t perfect,” luke countered. his voice was firmer now as he absorbed your anger. your mother was the goddess of revenge, but you clearly didn't understand the sacrifices, pain, and blood that was required to make the world a better place.  
luke just needed to convince you.
“we’ve talked about this for years,” he continued. “nothing is balanced! there’s no justice here, for anyone.  we can build a better world where we don’t have to burn our scraps and throw ourselves at monsters to get attention. we can fight together like we always have. y/n, i love—”
“don’t,” you snapped. “don’t you fucking dare. you should have died on your quest.” your voice laced with venom. one hand gripping the knife you always kept on your belt. “that dragon should have fucking sliced through you and saved us all the trouble.”
something pricked in the back of his throat, down to his stomach.
“you don’t mean that.”
“i do,” you promised. “at least you would have died with all of us thinking you’re a hero instead of the traitor you really are.”
you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance. 
“i’m not going to fight you,” was all luke could say. he noticed your hand tremble, and you tightened the grip on your knife to prevent emotion from slipping through your invisible armor. 
in that moment, you have could slice through luke, and it would hurt less than everything you just said, less than the murderous look you were giving him, like he was just another monster you wouldn’t think twice about sending to tartarus.
luke didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword before you charged at him, but he quickly had you pinned to the ground, the tip of your own knife pointed at you. he hesitated. the blade pressed harder against your cheek than he intended, enough to break the skin and let a few droplets of dark crimson escape. 
“please come with me,” he pleaded. you didn’t answer, but you did seem surprised by the softness of his voice. 
a few moments passed, the celestial bronze still between you. luke waited for you to see his way, to yield to his proposal.
you didn’t. instead, you took advantage of the situation. you wrapped your leg around his and flipped your position. in the process, you regained possession of your knife. without the hesitation that held luke back, you sliced through his cheek, deep. luke bit his lip to suppress a groan, tasting blood. your gaze set his whole body on fire as he waited for your next move. that was when you glanced down at his camp necklace, and the new clay bead added to commemorate this summer.
a turquoise trident.
“percy told me he was on his way to see you,” you realized. “what did you do?”
luke didn’t answer. he knew then that a choice ran through your head. 
and it stung, just a little, watching you sprint away through the trees in a last ditch effort to save percy’s life. 
there was a small, pathetic part of luke that wanted you to choose him, even if it meant you would have plunged the knife into his chest.
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tangledinlove · 3 months
Text
daylight
part one — the killerverse masterlist
luke castellan x daughter of ares reader
3.8k you and luke castellan via percy jackson
tags. the tangledinlove special (jealousy trope, best friends in love, denial of feelings etc.) and title from the tswift song
a/n. i havent written in sooo long please don’t make fun… also i kiss canon and characterization goodbye because i have not read the books since i was 7 years old
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i. back and forth from new york (sneaking in your bed)
Percy Jackson has become a light sleeper.
He didn’t think it was even possible to be yanked from sleep so harshly, but finds himself jolting awake whenever the kid nexts to him so much as turns over in his sleep.
He chalks the nerves up to his new… situation. If finding out your father is Poseidon and watching your mother turn into dust Avengers: Infinity War style could be called that.
This is also the first time he’s slept around so many people, so he thinks he’s just on edge. It’s not like he was ever close enough with anyone to warrant a sleepover before.
He shuts his eyes, willing himself to go back to sleep.
Until he can’t.
There’s tossing and turning from across the room, and then a muffled noise.
Someone’s sleep talking.
Percy groans in frustration before realizing he’s being too loud. Thankfully, the kid next to him seems to be desensitized to random nighttime grumblings. Which is understandable, seeing as there’s an entire classroom of other children around them.
Percy takes his pillow that’s barely thicker than his forearm and clamps it firmly over his ears. He counts sheep. He imagines them jumping over fences when that doesn’t work. And then he imagines them as Chiron when that doesn’t work either.
The grumbling doesn’t stop. But as Percy peels the pillow from his ears, he realizes that the measly fabric was able to muffle something.
The crying.
Percy squints across the room, his eyes well adjusted to the darkness by now. He can see the Thrasher now, tossing in their sheets as quiet sobs leave their mouth.
Heard what happened to you on the hill. And I just…
He can make out a dark mop of hair.
Wanted to say I’m really sorry.
Tall limbs and a red cotton shirt.
I know what you’re going through, believe me. I’m—
Luke.
That’s Luke’s bed, Percy realizes. The heroic and brave and wise boy who introduced him to camp is crying thirty feet away from him, and he has no idea what to do.
A twig snaps from outside, and Percy jolts upright. Ah, of course, how could he have forgotten about the second reason he’s feeling so twitchy? Apparently all of those mythological monsters he’d learned about are real, too. Because someone out there is plotting against him.
The memory of rain soaked clothes and the feeling of a sharp horn under his hands has Percy fumbling for his pocket, sweaty fingers closing around Riptide.
Should he wake Luke? Surely he would know what to do. But the idea sounded ridiculous. The camp was safe, it had to be. Grover had said it himself. It wasn’t possible for anything to get past that old tree on the hill.
But rational thinking was beginning to look less rational since he was alone with whatever creature was outside. Something was definitely on the other side of the wooden walls, and it was just Percy and his stupid pen against whatever monster is making its way nearer.
Whatever it is is nearly silent, making its way around with soft footfalls and quiet steps. But the wood of the patio outside creaks under their weight, and Percy thumbs the cap of his pen nervously.
The doorknob twitches, and a cold chill goes down Percy’s spine when he realizes that the door isn’t locked. The door creaks open without protest.
It’s a person.
Much less scary than previously anticipated, but a potential threat nonetheless. Percy watches in awe as the hooded figure carefully steps over the floorboard that he nearly tripped over about thirty times already, dodging limbs hanging out of beds and sleeping bags. A perfectly trained ninja in the night.
Percy pushes himself up using a forearm, concealing Riptide in his sleeve.
“Who are you?” he croaks, voice choppy from disuse. “I have a weapon, so don’t try anything.”
He winces at the way it's much less intimidating than he hoped.
The figure whips around, their hood slipping down to reveal their features. Moonlight streaming in through a window illuminates your face.
Oh. It’s you.
Luke had introduced you to him earlier in the day, and he can’t remember much about you. But he remembers the easy way Luke had been around you, a closeness that Percy hadn’t seen before.
You were lingering around the forge, and had gotten a front row seat to Percy nearly setting someone on fire.
“Luke, why are you giving hot tools to twelve year olds?” you’d asked as Percy shed his goggles and gloves frustratedly.
The two boys turned around to find you standing right behind them.
Percy flinched away, and Luke laughed at the face he was making. “Percy, this is—”
“Luke’s best friend,” you had proclaimed, slotting yourself against his side. Percy was on the fence with what he thought about Ares kids, but the difference between you and Clarisse could not be more clear. You were all smiles as you reached down to ruffle Percy’s hair. “Don’t tell Chris, or he’ll get a little angry.”
“Sure, killer,” Luke had said, a smile lighting up his face. He turned away from Percy to face you completely, both of his hands coming to rest on your sides. “I’ll see you at lunch?”
You saluted him seriously, but the way your other hand curled around his arm was awfully casual. “Absolutely, sir.”
He squeezed you once, sending you leaning away from his grasp. Percy felt like he was intruding on something as he watched the two of you playfully fight in front of him.
With a pointed look, Percy’d said, “Uhh. Alright. Nice to meet you?”
You at least had the shame to look a little embarrassed as you released Luke from the headlock you’d put him in. “It was nice to meet you too, Percy.” You took extra care to whack the back of Luke’s head as you left. “I’ll leave you to it!”
Luke watched you leave, a fond smile on his face as he tried to straighten out his hair. “Sorry, where were we?”
“What are you doing up?” you ask from across the room, keeping your voice as quiet as possible. Red Converse hit the floor softly as you make yourself comfortable in a cabin that’s definitely not yours. “It’s late. Go to sleep.”
“I thought curfew was strictly enforced here.”
“It is,” you yank your tattered hoodie over your head, dropping it onto the foot of Luke’s bed. “So keep it down before you wake up Katie. She’s snitched on me twice already.”
Percy huffs. “I’m not even—”
“S-Sorry.”
You and Percy go silent.
“It won’t… I won’t—”
“Luke,” Percy thinks he hears you say. You crouch at his side, sweeping his hair away from his face. Without even a grimace, or a sign of disgust, you wipe what must be his sweat off on your flannel pajama pants. Your voice is softened with affection. “It’s just a nightmare.”
“I won’t fail again,” he hiccups instead.
Your shoulders sag. With practiced hands, you shift the boy over and settle onto the empty part of the mattress with him.
Percy knows he’s being nosy, but curiosity keeps his eyes glued to your movements. You seem to know exactly what to do, digging through a bag at your feet and pulling out a cool water bottle. Your hands go to Luke’s shoulders as you gently coax him upwards, placing the water in his grip.
Luke’s eyes are still shut when he says, “Hey, killer.”
“Hi, hero.”
“What’re you doin’ here?”
When you don’t answer, Luke tips his head back to drink before tossing the bottle somewhere on the floor. He shifts over, giving you more room to lay down. Percy freezes when you meet his gaze head on through the darkness.
“Go to sleep,” you whisper, and Percy knows you’re not just talking to Luke.
You disappear into the mattress as Luke pulls you into a hug. Percy hears quiet rumbling as you whisper something to him, and he can’t tell which one of you pulls his head into the crook of your neck.
Luke sleeps silently for the rest of the night.
ii. now that i thought of you (things will never be the same)
Capture the Flag scares Percy to no end.
A chill goes down his spine as the other team lets out their battle cries, and he begins to doubt what Chiron said about no maiming being allowed. Some of those kids look like they’re out for blood.
The nerves only get worse as Annabeth drags him off to someplace in the woods and promptly leaves him to his own devices. No plan, no help, no sense of direction. He’s honestly expecting a bear to come out of the woods and maul him half to death, but after what feels like an hour of silence, he lounges back on a bit of rocks and watches the clouds.
“Hey, Goldilocks.”
Fear launches Percy to his feet as he takes in his surroundings. Riptide slips out of his hands and clatters onto his shield, spinning around the curved piece of metal like a Beyblade.
It’s you. Again.
“Relax,” you say quickly, raising your hands to show him you mean no harm. Your sword is tucked away and you have a slight smile on your face. “I was just going to ask you what you’re doing all alone out here. Our flag’s in the other direction, if you didn’t know.”
“I know,” Percy huffs, picking up his own weapon. He rights his armor as he looks at you suspiciously. “This girl Annabeth dragged me out here.”
“Annabeth,” you say amusedly. You glance around the two of you like she’s going to jump out of a bush.
“She’s long gone. She dragged me out here just to ditch me,” he says bitterly. “You know her?”
You have a weird smile on your face. “She’s like my little sister.”
Luke had said the same thing to him, out by the archery fields yesterday. “So you and Luke, you’re like, siblings too, then?”
“Gods, no!” you protest, your face scrunching together in disgust. “He’s just… He’s like…”
Percy watches you fumble for your words, his brow raised. You seemed pretty disgusted at his suggestion.
“He’s just Luke,” you decide on, and Percy nods, even though he doesn’t really understand. For a brief second, you look horrified again. “Did he… Say that we’re like siblings?”
“No,” he says, and watches as you smile slowly, satisfied.
Ohh, Percy wants to say. It’s like that. But he knows that you could probably tear his head off if you wanted to, so he bites his tongue.
“How long have you guys known each other?” he asks instead.
Your smile grows fond as you think about him. “Our entire lives. We were friends before either of us even knew about all of this.” You gesture to the two of you and then to the woods around you.
“That’s a long time.”
“Yeah. I couldn’t imagine this place without him,” you say thoughtfully, your gaze growing far away. “Hermes is lucky to have a son like him. He’s great.”
You talk about him so kindly. For a second, he can see his Mom in your eyes, and the adoring way she would speak about his dad on the rare occasions she would bring him up. And Percy knows it’s not nice to assume, but… He’s assuming.
Percy doesn’t phrase it like a question when he says, “You like Luke.”
A twig snaps somewhere nearby.
You’re silent for a second. “I — What do you mean?”
Percy doubles down. “You have a crush on him.”
“Alright, Goldilocks,” you say, amused. “I don’t like Luke.”
“Sure.”
“I don’t!” you insist, looking awfully embarrassed for someone who ‘definitely doesn’t like Luke.’
You turn to face the woods, and Percy has no doubt that your face is on fire.
“I thought you guys liked each other.”
“Percy, stop talking.”
“Like when you snuck into the cabin, I thought—”
“Percy,” you snap, your voice low.
“—you were dating. Like Jim and Pam. Or like Rory and Dean.”
You whirl back around, curious. “You’ve seen Gilmore Girls?”
He realizes what he said too late. “My mom made me watch it.”
Your smile disappears under your helmet as you slip it back on. “Good for her. And I’m sorry to leave you here, but I have to go.”
He frowns. “What? Why?” Percy almost doesn’t want you to leave. You’re the first person he’s seen in an hour, and your company isn’t that bad.
“My sister is about fifty feet away, and I’m supposed to be defending my flag that’s halfway across the woods.”
Percy perks up at this. “Annabeth’s back?”
Finally. He isn’t sure what she’d wanted him to do, because he definitely hasn’t done it.
You shove his shield into his hands as you brush past him. “No. Clarisse is.”
The words take a second to register, but once they do, Percy whips around in your direction. He finds nothing but the rustle of the leaves as you make your quick exit.
“Percy Jackson!” a voice booms from the direction of the woods.
He’s screwed.
iii. i once believed love would be (burnin’ red)
Their team won Capture the Flag.
Percy hadn’t done much, other than get claimed by Poseidon and be used as Clarisse bait. Nonetheless, he was enjoying the celebration feast.
Everyone was in high spirits — especially Chris, who had helped lead the team to victory while Percy was being pummeled by three angry Ares kids.
(Yeah, he was trying to not be too bitter about that.)
A group of campers were cheering on Annabeth for her plan that lead them to the big win. (Definitely not still bitter.) The comradery amongst their team was high, and even those that lost didn’t seem too angry about it.
Except for Clarisse and her cronies, of course. They were sitting in a corner, sending him furious looks every once in a while.
Percy made a mental note to ask someone about putting a deadbolt on his cabin door.
The other Ares kids didn’t seem to mind though, wearing any new battle wounds with pride. Percy could see you across the dining pavilion, talking with one of the boys from another cabin.
Luke did not look too happy about that.
Percy had thought he would be soaking up every glorious moment of the dinner, as he was the one who secured the flag for their team. But he had done nothing much other than sulk and push his food around with his fork.
“Who’s that?” Percy asks, once he notices where his angry glare is directed.
Luke is distracted when he responds. “Oh, uh.” He rubs the back of his neck. “That’s Max. Cabin 9. Hephaestus kid.”
Chris laughs as he takes his seat next to Luke, finally hungry after all of his celebrating. “He’s been trying to ask her out for a while now.”
“And he needs to take a hint.” Luke scoffs. “She clearly doesn’t like him.”
The two of you are sharing an orange. Max breaks off pieces for you to have, and Percy watches as you laugh at something he says, covering your smile with the palm of your hand.
The three of them are silent.
Percy’s head tilts. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Luke says, his tone steely. “She’s my… She’s my best friend. If she liked Max, she would’ve told me.”
The three of them watch as the boy stands up and you follow suit. Max tosses the rest of the orange into the fire as an offering, and the two of you head away from the celebration.
Percy gives Luke a side glance. If he had eaten anything, it probably would’ve been emptied up onto the table right now.
Luke shakes the table with the force he uses to stand up. “I’ll be back.”
His plate is left abandoned, and Chris snorts at his speedy departure. Luke’s practically jogging across the pavilion to reach you before you get too far. That old goofy cartoon running sound effect plays in Percy’s head as he does.
The boy closes the distance in record timing, stopping you and Max before you can make your way up a small hill just outside of the pavilion.
Luke must be a great liar, or just really convincing, because after a few words from him and an extended hand, you’re back at his side. You say a few parting words to Max before the two of you turn your backs on him and head back in the direction of the feast.
Unfortunately, it seems like Max is significantly unhappy with that.
He looks a little more than angry when he says something that has you and Luke whipping your heads around.
Whatever he said must not have been nice, because the next second, Luke is advancing in his direction, and the other boy is meeting him in the middle.
The small argument is beginning to attract the attention of the campers on the outskirts of the feast, with a few mixed reactions. Some look like they’re ready to jump into a brawl if need be, and others watch the argument play out, unashamed.
Percy grimaces. “Are they… okay?”
Chris gets up wordlessly to head in the direction of his friend, and Percy trails after him with not much else to do. Other campers join them, forming a bit of a crowd around the three of you.
Your voice sounds biting as you say something to the both of them, and while it seems like Max isn’t angry at you, it looks like he still spits out a snarky comment directed at Luke, if the smirk on his face says anything.
And that’s all it takes. Luke rears his arm back and strikes Max right across the face.
Something that sounds like a mix between a gasp and an “Ooh!” ripples through the crowd as he stumbles back.
That’s gotta sting, Percy thinks as Max steadies himself on shaky legs. The boy looks completely dazed from the single blow. If that’s what Luke can do with a single punch… Percy hopes he never gets on his bad side.
You shove Luke’s shoulder and say something to him, starting another disagreement between the two of you. But now steady on his feet, Max seemingly takes advantage of him being distracted and takes his own shot at Luke’s face. Percy sucks in air through his teeth as he rubs his jaw.
Luke’s on him in a second, wrestling him to the ground as he moves to probably hit him again. But you and one of the older campers rush forward to drag him off of Max just as Chiron’s booming voice sounds from the other end of the clearing.
The crowd scatters like a flock of birds. Chris drags Percy by the back of his shirt collar away from the scene, leaving you, Luke, and Max alone.
Everyone disperses back to their cabins, whispering about the events all the way up until the lights go out.
Alone in the Poseidon cabin, Percy doesn’t see the way Luke enters his own a few hours later, his knuckles sore but his heart aching.
iv. but its golden
You don’t look in Luke’s direction during Percy’s selection ceremony.
Once he’s selected Annabeth and Grover, you give him a genuine smile and squeeze his shoulder before walking away as fast as you can.
Luke calls after you, but you ignore him. The other twenty demigods at the ceremony look away in what’s probably second hand embarrassment.
Percy doesn’t see you again until much later. After knocking on his cabin door, you put a wad of cash into his hands.
“What’s this for?”
“Emergency cash,” you explain as he rifles through it. The stack is heavy. “I know Chiron gave you two hundred, but you never know. Use it only for emergencies, alright?”
“This is nearly two hundred dollars,” Percy says, shocked. “Where’d you get this from?”
“Summer job.”
“I can’t—”
“Annabeth already refused to take it from me,” you protest. “I thought you were my best bet.”
“This is a lot of money.” Percy doesn’t think he’s even held this much cash before.
“I know,” you say, before closing his fist around the money again. “But I know I could’ve really used this money on my first quest. So I’m giving it to you for yours.”
Percy was getting the impression that you weren’t going to leave his cabin with this money in your hand.
“Thanks,” he acquiesces with a smile. “Only for emergencies.”
“Only for emergencies,” you confirm, squeezing his shoulder.
“Were you nervous for your first quest?” he asks, tucking the cash into the inner pocket of his jacket.
You shake your head without an ounce of hesitation. “No. But it’s normal to be nervous, if you are.”
Percy thinks about his Mom, all alone in the Underworld. He was doing all of this for her. He was a little more than nervous.
“How were you not worried? Like at all?”
You shrug, picking at a loose thread on your hoodie. “I was with Luke. I didn’t really have anything to be worried about.”
Percy thinks about Annabeth and Grover. Could he rely on them? The Oracle’s words weigh heavy on his shoulders. Percy wished that he had someone he could count on like the way you relied on Luke.
“Are you mad at him?”
“Who said I’m mad at Luke?” You tilt your head in question.
“You ignored him in front of everyone earlier. It was kinda hard to watch.”
You look away, smiling. “Well, he was kind of being stupid last night. I’m not mad, I just needed to cool down.”
There’s shuffling in the doorway, and you don’t have to turn around to know who it is.
“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” you mumble under your breath. Luke’s holding an old box in his hands, staring straight at the back of your head.
You give Percy one last reassuring smile. “Good luck, Percy. And I know you and Annabeth aren’t all that close, but she’s a good kid. You can count on her.”
“She’s a good kid.” Luke repeats from behind you.
You turn to face him, your gaze assessing, and Luke’s eyes widen in what Percy thinks is slight fear. But it’s like his entire body relaxes when you move forward to flick his shoulder.
“Thank you for your great input, Luke Castellan,” you tease, leaving a quick kiss on the bruise on his lower jaw.
His eyes blow wide with surprise. “Yeah,” he stammers. “Yeah.”
“See you later, hero.”
The door swings shut behind you.
Luke stares blankly for a good ten seconds before Percy speaks.
“So…” he starts. “What’s in the box?”
“Yeah, uh,” Luke repeats, dazed. “It’s a, uh. A gift.”
Percy presses his lips together, slightly miffed.
It’s obvious to him how the two of you feel about each other. He just wonders if either of you will ever figure that out yourselves.
series masterlist
a/n. evil boys i love u. if i ever write more luke fic itll be through one of their povs so their interactions are less restrained!! lmk if u enjoyed theyre my sillies
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supercutszns · 3 months
Text
a place with you; luke castellan
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wc: 2.8k (got a little carried away whoops)
pairing: luke castellan x f! reader
synopsis: luke is used to people coming in and out of hermes’ cabin without a second thought. so when you’re having a hard time adjusting to camp life, he doesn’t expect you to stick by his side, even after you’re claimed.
warnings/notes: shy reader going through a tough time, hurt/comfort, pining, kisses, fluff, potential ooc luke i don’t know what i’m doing, most of this is prob inaccurate lol, i got wayyy too attatched to this i am sorry, title inspired by dragon eyes by adrianne lenker
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Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s used to delivering, passing things along, letting them enter his life and leave him. Sometimes it makes him angry. At his father, at the world, at himself.
So when you passed through the Hermes cabin for the inevitable few weeks before getting claimed by your Godly parent, the last thing Luke expected was for you to stay.
When you first got to camp you were terrified. Luke remembers that much. He can still picture you in Chiron’s towering shadow as he led you up to Hermes cabin. He gave you the usual spiel about the cabin, the land of the unclaimed, but it clearly hadn’t quelled your nerves. You were wringing your fingers together when Luke first spotted you, your eyes blown wide in what he knew as shock and a sort of . . . grief. For a life you’d left for what Luke knows as a life you’d never really have. He’d seen it in so many campers before you. He’d see it many times after.
“This is Luke, Hermes’ head counsellor and one of Camp Half-Blood’s finest,” Chiron pointed him out to you at the entrance. After Chiron introduced you, Luke held your name in his memory. Not because there was anything particularly intriguing about you at first, to be honest, because he’d seen a lot of people like you that needed help settling in (although maybe not many his age). It was harder for some people to adjust than most. He knew that better than anyone.
“Nice to meet you,” he stuck out his hand for you to shake after Chiron left. “I’m Luke.”
You sniffed, shaking it without looking at him. You were so, so embarrassed. This whole time you’d been too stupidly overwhelmed to process anything. Why was this so hard for you? Was it this hard for everyone? “Hi,” you managed, and that was it.
Now, weeks after your first meeting, you’ve concluded that it was not, in fact, this hard for everyone. The camp is crowded but full of life. You’ve never seen more happy kids in your life. There’s a sense of community on the wind.
So why can’t you feel it? Why is it so hard to connect with people? To participate in the fun? Everywhere you look there’s people but it’s all just so . . . lonely. You don’t fit. You’re lost.
Luke wakes up at night when the cabin door creaks open. He’s already tossing, so it’s no surprise he catches it. Unfortunately, he’s supposed to be a good counsellor—sneaking out at night is against the rules, and you’ve gotta reign the strays back in before they cause a ruckus. Sure, Luke’s not exactly a stickler for the law, but the least he owes is to make sure everyone’s safe.
Groaning, he draws himself out of the comfort of his bunk but doesn’t get far when he spots a familiar silhouette slipping out the door. He knows it’s you. He’s been hearing crying at night, and this is confirming his suspicions. It makes him ache in a million different places. Every time he thought about approaching you he shut himself down almost instantly, because who the hell wants some random guy coming up to them in the middle of the night and drawing attention?
This time, though, he’s a little worried.
It’s chilly tonight but not too bad, especially when you’re huddled up in a ball on a hill in front of the lake, grass tickling your ankles. Your tears keep you warm.
It’s a sorrow that feels bottomless. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You don’t know why everything’s so hard.
There’s a scuffling of shoes, and your name is carried to you on the heels of a breeze. Oh God. There’s someone else here.
You sniff and smear your tears on the palms of your hands the best you can but a little part of you only wants to cry more now that you’re all anxious, and you only have a few seconds to collect yourself before you turn around and see Luke, your cabin leader, with furrowed brows. “Oh, h-hi, Luke.” It’s hard to ignore the splinter in your voice. You curse yourself a thousand times.
“Hey,” he says hesitantly, eyeing you in a way that makes you feel entirely exposed. “You, uh, you know you’re not technically supposed to be out here, right?”
You start to scramble to your feet with an apology on your tongue but surprisingly he laughs, a gentle sound, and beckons you to sit back down. “No, no, I’m not gonna get you in trouble or anything, just . . . letting you know.”
It’s uncertain if you should keep sitting, but you decide to because well, you’re already down here, and things can’t go lower than this. Luke comes to sit next to you and you stare out into the sea like your life depends on it. “Wanna talk about why you’re out here?”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“I mean,” Luke sighs, scooting a little closer to you. “Most people don’t up and leave in the middle of the night because they’re having a great time.”
The answer is too hard to say so you don’t reply.
Again, Luke sighs, and you try not to look at the shadow the moon casts on his admittedly handsome face. “It’s hard settling in, I know. It happens to a lot of people. I’ve . . . I’ve seen a lot of them, and it doesn’t get any easier.”
“Well it sure seems easier,” you snap, and your self-control flies away before you can stop it. “I have no idea why I can’t just suck it up and fit in here. Everyone seems so happy and it’s driving me nuts because I’m just so confused on why I can’t—why I can’t—process any of it.” Tears burn your eyes. “I’m just miserable. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
In the corner of your view, Luke’s face falls. “I’m your guide, you know that, right? I can help you.”
You sniff, embarrassingly pathetic. “I know.”
He comes even closer. “So why didn’t you ask?”
“Because I—I don’t know, you’re busy all the time with all the people in there, so I’m sure your job’s already stressful as is, so—”
“My job is to help you,” he says, a hand on your shoulder. “That’s what I signed up for. If you need something, I’m the one to ask.”
“I’m not sure you signed up for me crying like a baby,” you swallow, the ripples of the lake blurring together. “I mean, I’m like, older than half the kids here, and they’re all so much better than me. I’m not good at a—anything, and I’ve tried it all, and nobody’s claimed me yet, and I feel so weird and old and alone and . . .” It’s too much to think about so you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, hoping the sting wards off the thoughts. “What if I’m nothing? Why am I here?”
You’re crying again, hiccuping into your hands. Shame sears into you. Luke’s arm curls around your shoulders and you realize how cold you are when he’s warm, so warm, and you want to cry even harder. You don’t even know him, but it’s the most tenderness you’ve received in what feels like years. “Hey, deep breaths,” he murmurs, rubbing your arm with his other hand. “It’s okay. Look at me.”
It takes a ridiculous amount of strength to heed him. His hand catches your cheek and you can’t bear to pull away. Something strange rustles in your stomach.
Luke’s taught instinct when faced with situations like these is to reassure that the Gods always have a plan. But he doesn’t feel like much of a liar tonight. Both his hands steady your face towards his, your skin damp and cold beneath his thumb. “It's not your fault. It always takes a little bit of time for people to get claimed, it’s never . . . well, you can never tell.”
“What if I don’t get claimed?” You say it so quiet you can pretend it was imaginary.
His eyes crinkle at the sides when he says, “Well, Hermes’ll always have a place for you.”
I’ll, Luke wants to say, I’ll. His father is not responsible for his cabin’s kindness.
“No one really prepares you for how overwhelming this is,” he continues, thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek. Your vision is clearer now, and Gods, he is handsome, isn’t he? Even when his eyes are forlorn. “It’s harder in a way when you’re older. More to leave behind. Less to look forward to. It’s easier when you have a friend. Or a great cabin head.” He tilts his head with a faint smile, “Lucky for you, I’m both.”
It almost makes you laugh, and that’s enough. “It’ll get easier,” he promises softly. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
Your cheeks burn. It’s hard to keep his gaze, so you blot at your eyes with your hands as Luke gently slides his off your face. “Thank you. Sorry for, um, all that. And the crying.”
He chuckles, “Don’t even worry about it.” You watch him rise in the throes of starlight. He offers you a hand. “Aren’t you cold?” He asks after pulling you up, and you sheepishly nod your head. He tosses you a sweater he’s been wearing, and it smells like firewood. Nostalgic, in a way. “I’m gonna poke around for some tea. Wait for me back at the cabin.”
Before he leaves, he squeezes your arm and that thing happens again in your stomach. “No need to be embarrassed, by the way. You can come to me anytime. I’m probably less busy than I look.” As he walked away, he added, “And don’t worry about the crying. You’re pretty either way.”
Either way. The tea doesn’t seem important anymore because your face is on fire.
Time reveals that Luke is right. He is a great cabin leader and a friend, and it’s hard to tell which he’s better at. You fall in with him right away. Soon enough, you’re drawn into your new life, so slowly you barely realize it’s happening. The days get shorter and you start wishing they were longer. The nights get easier. And when they’re not, Luke tucks you into his bunk and folds you in his arms until you drift off. You pick up a bow. A sword. Luke tells you to straighten your shoulders with a hand on the small of your back, and you swear it always lingers. You braid garlands of carnations for your cabin mates and they wear them with pride. It’s warm, your cheeks hurt from smiling, and things start to feel like home.
Until you’re claimed.
Now you’re a ghost in Hermes cabin, another empty bunk to be filled, and Luke stares at it until he can remember every last detail of what it looked like when it was yours. A beautiful, gentle daughter of Demeter, no longer in arms’ reach. He should’ve seen it coming.
He sees you with your siblings all the time. You’re so happy and he envies it. You belong there, he knows that, the way your face lights up at the dinner table and how you giggle when your half-sister presents you a flower. But sometimes your eyes wander, and something inside them dulls, until you look at him, too.
Luke’s place at camp is to be nothing but a funnel for lost campers to find their home. He’s a temporary stop in everybody’s journey. He’d made peace with it a long time ago. But here you are, messing it all up, because you still don’t leave him.
You beg him to give you another sword-fighting lesson. You sit next to him at bonfires. You pick him for partner camp activities. It doesn’t matter how many younger boys want to latch onto him for guidance—he sees you heading towards him, and he can’t imagine choosing anyone else.
But you’re always whisked away by your siblings, separated at meals and in sleep and in activities so it’s never, ever enough. Why did he delude himself into thinking you’d stay forever?
After weeks of distance from you, he’s elated when you have even a fraction of a conversation. “Hey, Luke!” You call out to him, and he finds you instantly. You’ve broken away from your siblings to get to him.
“Hey,” he smiles, and hopes he doesn’t look too pleased.
You lean a little towards his ear, and you smell like every wonderful thing in the world. “Can we hang out tonight? On the hill?” You’re a little bashful when you say it and it’s entirely endearing. Even now, you’re still so unsure. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” he says almost instantly, and it makes you look less nervous. “Yes. Absolutely. But don’t get caught breaking curfew now, you hooligan.”
Someone calls your name and you give a curt, playful nod. “Yes sir, camp counsellor sir!” He carries your laugh close to his heart until night falls.
You’re already there when he arrives, a vision in the moonlight before he even sees your face. “Hey, angel.”
When you turn around you look flustered. He won’t pretend like it doesn’t flatter him. “H—hi, uh, hello.”
There’s a moment where the world is still. The two of you, alone, for the first time in ages.
He sits down next to you, and it’s like the first time all over again. You get to talking, about your days, your anecdotes, your cabins. The strangeness of it all. “It’s so weird waking up in the morning and not having you yapping in my ear,” you remark, and he teasingly pushes your shoulder.
“Well, one of us has to be the talker, and it’s clearly not you,” he retorts.
You fiddle with blades of grass between your fingertips, weaving them together. “I’ll have you know I had a cabin-wide conversation about Capture The Flag yesterday, and I contributed greatly.”
“Oh, really?” He grins, knocking your elbow to steal your attention. “Look at you, coming out of your shell. I’m so proud.”
It’s hard to hold his gaze for more than a second. You’re afraid you’ll do something stupid if he keeps looking at you like that, but you almost want to. “Oh, shut up.”
He puts a hand on your shoulder. “No, I’m serious. I’m proud.” His eyes rake over your face. “You’re flourishing. You found your place.”
You can’t stop yourself from saying, “I kind of miss my old one.”
There’s a way he studies your expression that makes you feel utterly helpless. You wish you could dish it back to him, but you know you just look awestruck whenever you stare at him for so long. He’s quieter when he replies, “I miss it, too. A lot. Sometimes, I—” His face scrunches up like he just tasted something sour. “Nevermind.”
Frowning, you prod, “What? What is it?”
He sighs and turns to the horizon. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him struggle. “Sometimes, I wish you hadn’t been claimed. Sorry, that’s . . . that’s awful, I know.”
His surprise is evident when you say, “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t either.”
He turns back to you. “Really?”
“Really,” you nod, staring at the beads on his necklace. “You’re the only reason I’ve adjusted here at all.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.”
“It’s true. And I miss you.” A few months ago you would’ve kicked yourself for saying this. But Luke has a way of inspiring confidence in people.
“I miss you, too. So much.” He gently prys the grass you’ve been weaving out of your hands, now a small necklace. “But look at how talented you are. I’ll tell you, I’m lucky you’re still sticking around. For most people, Hermes is touch-and-go.”
Luke leans forward to tie the garland around your neck, and your pulse picks up. “This isn’t about Hermes, Luke,” you try to be firm but it comes out soft. “It’s about you.”
His hands stop fiddling and rest on your neck. When he speaks, you can feel his breath on you. And you have no idea that he’s been waiting to hear that his whole life. “What’s about me?”
It’s not fair, your inability to string sentences together only worsens right when a beautiful boy is this close to you. “Hermes isn’t—it’s not special because of your father, it’s special because of you.”
There is nothing else you can possibly think of saying with the way his fingers trace up your neck and hold your jaw. “Yeah, well,” he murmurs, “The only reason anything in my life is special is because of you.”
You don’t know if it’s a lie or not; you don’t care. His nose nudges yours. There’s a moment where you wonder if this is as close to Elysium you’ll ever get. Then he slips a hand to the back of your neck and pulls you to his mouth.
He kisses you in a near fury, then when he knows you’re not going anywhere, it’s the gentlest thing you know. It’s hard to believe this is even happening. Your hands weave through his curls but he holds you steady, and thank the Gods for that because you’re pretty sure you’re melting. You kiss again, and again, and again, until you genuinely think you’re going to pass out and you have to pull away.
“Aw, look at you,” he murmurs when you can’t meet his eyes, a playful lilt in his voice. “Still so nervous.”
“Would you shut up?” You press your face into the crook of his neck with a huge smile.
He kisses the top of your head. “Love to, angel.”
Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s supposed to believe he’s bringing the best of humanity to the Gods and glory above.
But screw the Gods. He’s keeping this one for himself.
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kisses4kaia · 15 days
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mdni. 18+ content.
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college!luke castellan doesn’t care about hickies.
of course, his frat brothers tease them relentlessly, but he does nothing to rebate the suggestions from most that they were from you. it wasn’t any secret that you and him had been fucking—casually, of course, he didn’t have time for relationships—for some time now, but it always left you a little jarred when he would be so open to the display of red bites left splayed on his neck.
“won’t they see?” you ask a bit dumbly after luke asks you to mark him through passionate kisses. rudely—your friends thought—he’d pulled you away from the dining hall with no explanation other than ‘needing you’.
“what?” he says, slightly breathless from kissing. the question had taken him aback because, had he not made it clear by now?
“won’t your friends see the… you know?” the sheepish tone in your voice elicits a deep chuckle from luke before he presses his lips against your neck, not hard enough to create hickies just yet, but not exactly gently either. “you want the truth, princess?” your eyebrows furrow a little dumbly but you nod with curiosity. “i think you love seeing ‘em on me, and you love when people know they’re from you,” he says. “and you know i don’t care if anyone sees. i know you know me better than that, don’t you, baby?” luke’s timbre is so low, so arousing and you can hardly keep the needy whimper in.
you just nod, no more doubt within you as you trail kisses down his scar, to his jaw, down to his neck and collarbone. the satisfied groans you elicit from him as you find that spot on his throat sends you in a daze almost immediately. his lips catch yours again before he flips the both of you over, settling on his knees in front of you.
luke’s mouth is everywhere, nibbing at the surface of your skin, laving his tongue over the fresh ache. his strong hands pulling your shorts and panties down in one go. “gonna mark you here,” he says, catching the plush flesh of your inner thigh between his teeth, sucking on the area and conjuring a livid stain on your skin.
he forges more and more red marks onto your skin before he finally puts his mouth on your neediest place. luke’s suctions his lips around your clit, forcing a choked gasp from you and a hand flying down onto his head. he groans against you as your back arches and your fingers tangle in his hair, tightening and tugging. he works hard, like he’s being paid to eat you out, but really, he knows he would pay to die between your thighs.
just as luke’s tongue pushes it’s way into your sopping hole, you feel that blissfully hot, white, sensation swim over and past you. your thighs are most likely suffocating luke, but he doesn’t seem to mind, or even notice really.
his tongue fucks you through your orgasm, and upon coming down from your high, luke’s head rises from your middle.
“we’re still casual, though?”
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too-deviant · 1 month
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mdni 🃏
• luke castellan who always has his hand in your back pocket
• luke castellan who looooves forehead kisses
• luke castellan who is always rearing to get you alone
• and finally manages to pull you away by your belt loop during the campfire
• luke castellan who is, above all else, an ass man
• his hands are always there. squeezing and kneading. he lives off it.
• never in front of the kids ofc
• but whenever he can get you alone, he will
• luke castellan who bites your collarbones
• luke castellan who loves the look of those lacy panties and can’t stand seeing them discarded
• so he pulls them aside and runs his fingertips over the edges as he fucks you
• luke castellan who loves it when your hands are in his hair, running through his curls
• pulling on them
• luke castellan who eaaats it
• like a man starved
• hands gripping your thighs
• he’d be okay if you suffocated him, in all honesty
• a hero’s fate!
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coryosbaby · 3 months
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—ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴏᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ‘ᴛɪʟʟ ɪ ᴘᴀꜱꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ !
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(Luke Castellan x bimbo! Reader)
Content warning . Victory sex? Choking, size kink, dumbification, marking, Sub! Reader, Dom! Luke
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“Baby!”
Luke’s excited voice echoes throughout your empty cabin. Your curious eyes look up at him, distracted by drawing on pink lipstick with a fine tipped brush. Your lovely boyfriend wraps his arms around you from behind and kisses you flat on the mouth.
“We won,” he says, grinning. “I took the flag.”
You smile excitedly, turning around to hug him.
“That’s so amazing, Luke!” You reply. “ I’m so happy for you!”
It’s true. Your lover may be the best fighter in camp, but that doesn’t mean you don’t get giddy everytime he wins (yet another) capture the flag game.
Not to mention he’s like, insanely hot afterwards. Taking note of him, he’s sweaty and flush with the thrill of battle, and you think this is his best look: when he’s claimed something for his own.
You guide him to your bed, checking him for any major cuts or bruises. He never has any, and that doesn’t change today. You drop to your knees regardless, and nuzzle your face against his thigh. It’s one of your favorite ways to show affection towards him at times like these, when he needs to calm down and let his body rest.
However, you can’t help but clench when his hand wraps around your hair and he pushes his hips towards you. He does it unknowingly, out of instinct, but that doesn’t stop you from pressing a kiss to the crotch of his jeans.
He pauses, a smirk forming on his face.
“Need something, baby?”
You nod, a small “mhm” leaving your lips.
His eyes are teasing as his fingers grasp your chin, directing you to look at him.
“Are you going to be good?” He asks, all serious and deep, and you smile up at him, doe eyes gleaming as you excitedly play with the zipper on his jeans.
“I’ll be so good, Luke. Promise.”
“That’s my girl.”
He thumbs over your bottom lip, watching your hands much tinier than his unzip his fly. You pull out his hard, aching cock, the tip pretty and pink. You watch a pearl of arousal slide down his shaft, watch as he looks down hungrily at you. Your mouth waters.
You kiss his cockhead, letting his stringy precum glaze your lips, before sticking out your tongue and gently licking him. He lets out a heavy breath, his hand falling into your hair.
“Fuck,” he groans, sighing. “Such a good little princess for me.”
You whine, beginning to guide him into the warm heat of your mouth. His smell, all sweaty and musky, makes your brain fuzzy. It’s disgusting really, how desperate you are for him after a tournament. Letting him fuck your throat after a game is almost tradition.
And he knows it, too, teases you as you take him all the way in the back of your throat and choke on him. He presses you further down and lets your nose rest against his pubic bone. Your eyes roll back.
“Mmm,” he groans. Tears leak out of your eyes and smear your mascara as your throat contracts. “ Does my dick taste good, baby? How’s it feel having the greatest swordsman in the entire camp fuckin’ your throat, huh? Y’like that?”
You can’t reply, and he knows that. But you let out a guttural moan, making Luke growl.
“Such a stupid little thing. I asked you a question, baby, I expect you to answer it.”
Your lips slide off of him with a loud pop, your lipstick smearing on the side of your cheek as you gasp for breath.
“Love it, Luke. Love your cock so so much, just wanna suck on it forever…”
He grins, then, lets out a little chuckle between his lips as he guides you back down on his cock.
“That’s better.”
You trace your tongue filthily along the vein on him, move your hand down to palm one of his balls. You’re almost dizzy with it as you suck him, and you think you can stay like this for the rest of your life with his hands in your hair and his cock down your throat.
Luke has a primal stare as he watches your lipstick coat his cock in pretty pink stains. His hips buck up, once, twice. He’s about to cum, so he pulls you off of him.
“Gorgeous girl,” he compliments softly, wiping your mouth with his thumb. Drool drips down your chin and neck. “Want you on your clothes off and you on your back, okay? Can you do that for me?”
You nod obediently. Your wobbly legs lift up and you begin to unzip your pink jacket, then your Bebe top underneath comes off with two perfectly manicured hands. You slide your skirt off, and unclip your bra. But before you can take off your heels, Luke tsks. Ever the gentleman (to you, at least), he puts your foot on his thigh and undoes the laces on them.
“Are these new?” He asks, genuinely curious, as if he isn’t about to fuck your pretty brains out.
You nod, heart racing as he smiles up at you.
“I like them,” he drawls, gently tickling your ankle. “They’re cute.”
“Cute?” You say, giggling. “My shoes are cute?”
“Of course they are. They’re stilletos.“
You smile at the fact that he’s remembering the type of shoe because of your many rants to him about clothes. You let him remove them for you before sliding your panties down your legs and crawling onto the bed. He gives your ass a teasing slap as you crawl over him to your fluffy pink pillows.
He towers over you, slipping his shirt off and revealing his bare torso. You almost blush like a school girl, and pinch one of this biceps.
“You’re getting so strong,” you say in awe, feeling the muscle underneath your hand. Luke laughs, kissing your jaw.
“Gotta get big to protect my girl, don’t I?”
You bite your lip, his words sending a throbbing sensation straight to your already dripping core. He pushes his jeans and underwear past his meaty thighs and hastily kicks them off before giving his cock a few heavy strokes. He brushes his tip up against your folds, teasing. You whine, burying your face into his shoulder.
“I need it,” you say against his ear, sugary and sweet. “I need you.”
And how can he resist that, when you’re so pretty and pliant underneath him? He groans, pressing himself into your tight entrance, his hands going to either side of your head as he splits you open. Your thighs spread of their own accord, inviting him in even further.
“Such a tight little slut,” he moans out, watching how your pussy lips practically choke his cock. Your back arches.
“All for you,” you whisper.
“That’s right, sweet girl,” he punctuates each word in between thrusts, his pace increasing ferociously at the thought of owning you. “This little pussy? These tits? That fucking brain of yours, it’s all mine. Mine to toy with, mine to use… all of it.”
Your eyes roll back as he begins to mercilessly pound your pussy into the mattress. His big hand plays with your throat, then his fingers wrap around it and he squeezes. Your airflow is nearly cut off, and you gasp for breath as he presses harder. Your pussy gushes slick at the movement. Your lips press against the vein on his wrist, and you stick open mouthed kisses to the skin there. It isn’t long before you need to be let up; however, Luke’s grip on your neck doesn’t move. In fact, it tightens— you try to move it off, try to lift your head up to breathe, but Luke slams you back down into the pillows. Your hand grabs his much bigger one, a small, choked murmur of his name tumbling from your lips, begging, “Luke.. please”.
And that makes his hips stutter. He knows you want this, knows that this is something you’ve always liked. If he had actually hurt you, you would’ve said the safe word.
He shoots inside you with an animalistic growl, his cum coating your inner walls in thick white ropes, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Your legs shake and squeeze his hips as he empties himself into you, your clit still throbbing hotly. Luke isn’t a non giving lover, and while his softening cock rests inside your cunt he reaches down and rubs slow, deliberate circles into your clit.
“Cmon,” he breathes out, watching your pussy spasm. “Cmon, baby, give it to me. Let me see you cream on my fucking cock.”
You whimper loudly, your orgasm hitting you so intensely you fear you may pass out. Your back arches up into Luke’s touch as he helps you ride out your high. When you come down, shaking and sticky with release, Luke’s fingers leave you and he wraps you into your arms. He presses a kiss to your hair, and you sigh happily when he pulls you on top of his spent body.
“Luke?” You ask him. Your fingers play with the hand shaped bruise forming on your throat.
“Hm?”
“I love you.”
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@mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry
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bruisedboys · 1 month
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luke castellan x fem!reader
I think we need to talk about possessive!luke castellan and his shy!gf …
luke who likes to mark you up with love bites!! he desperately needs everyone to know you’re his, and he can’t give you his last name (yet. he plans to as soon as you’re both ready) so he makes do with love marks instead … he’ll have you pressed against the mattress, his thumb pushing gently into the hollow of your throat to hold you still. you’re breathless underneath him as his mouth works away at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. and the lovely sounds you make when he does it just egg him on further! not to mention how pretty your neck looks when he’s finished.
luke who buys you a necklace with his initials and tells you you’re not allowed to ever take it off … he’s half joking and half super serious but you smile softly and tell him you wouldn’t want to take it off, anyway. and luke hopes the time never comes when you do want to, because he really likes how his initials look dangling over your sternum. it makes him dizzy every time he catches a glimpse.
luke who loves when you cling to him!! especially in public or at big group events, you’ll often cling to his arm or his waist in your shyness. and he loves it, something about being your protector stirs a feeling in his chest that he can’t explain. of course, he’d let you do your own thing if you wanted, but you don’t want to. you seem to want to be latched onto him as much as he wants to be latched onto you. he’ll always have a strong arm around your shoulders or waist, or have his bicep hooked between your soft hands. even when he’s talking to his friends he’s got you glued to his side.
luke who’s super handsy and touchy because he’s just so so obsessed with you! in public he tones it down (for your sake, of course. if it was up to him you’d be in his lap 24/7), but when you’re alone he’s so grabby and needy, tugging you by your belt loops to give you a kiss, hauling you into his chest by the hips to wrap you in a hug, pinning you against the wall to tease you (and then make up for it by slathering you in kisses).
luke who’s just so sickeningly obsessed with his shy girl, and he has to make sure that everyone, especially you, knows you’re his forever <3
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atlabeth · 1 month
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geyser
series masterlist
pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader
summary: percy learns about the first girl luke castellan ever loved.
a/n: this is a lil sad. sorry about that. but i really like it and it came out of nowhere in like 2 days so i hope you enjoy despite the sadness. title from the mitski song
wc: 6.5k
warning(s): major character death; not shown but hangs over the whole fic. angst made angstier by fluffy flashbacks. mostly told through percy’s pov but includes luke, annabeth, and reader povs
also if you saw this before on another account DONT WORRY... that account was also me. im just doing some stuff behind the scenes right now as i figure stuff out lol i promise no plagiarism is going on
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Percy thought that his head might explode. 
He didn’t know how he was still walking, honestly. His mom died, he killed a— no, the— Minotaur, all the Greek myths were real and his dad was one of them, and now he had to deal with that freak accident with Clarisse and the toilets. 
At least he would be ready next time she tried to beat him up. Percy had been the new kid enough to know there would be a next time.
All he could do was stare at the Minotaur horn in his hands, the only sign that what happened outside the border was real. The horn in his hands and the hole in his heart. 
Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d been thrown into the deep end, and the only thing on his mind was when he would start to drown. 
“Hey.” Percy looked up to see the counselor he’d met earlier with Annabeth—Luke. He tossed a ziploc bag at him and he caught it, taking a moment to look at what was in it. 
“I stole you some toiletries from the camp store,” he explained. “Thought it might make you feel more at home.” 
“…Thanks.” He didn’t know if Luke was joking, but the damage had already been done. And it was the nicest thing someone had done for him so far. He set it down next to his Minotaur shoebox. “Is this the best that it gets?” 
Luke’s lips quirked up in a slight smile. “For now. We’re a little crowded, if you couldn’t tell.” 
“Just a little bit.” Percy stood up from his sleeping bag and worked out the knot in his shoulder. “Where’s your bed? Assuming you have one.” 
“I couldn’t wrangle all these cats without some back support,” he said, and he pointed to a bed in the corner. It was the only one on its own without a bunk, and he had a fair amount of decorations. Counselor privileges, he figured. Percy walked over, Luke trailing behind him. 
“Nice place,” he said. Percy picked up the Yankee’s cap on his bedside table and nodded as he looked back at him. “Nice taste.” 
“It’s for Annabeth,” Luke said. “She wanted us to match.” 
Percy nodded again in approval. “Good taste for both of you.”
Luke had various other things around — an alarm clock knocked over next to the baseball cap, a huskie sticker on the wall half-scraped off, a poster for an album he didn’t recognize. 
But the thing that caught his eye was a polaroid hanging on the wall, surrounded by a smattering of others varying in size. 
The first one had to be an old picture—Luke didn’t have his scar, and the biggest smile stretched across his face. He had a girl close with an arm slung around her waist, and she might’ve been smiling even more than Luke. A bright energy emanated around her, something that must have transferred through the picture, because Percy found himself feeling a little better just looking at her. He wondered if she was a camper. 
His eyes flicked to the next picture, which was another one of Luke and that girl. They were both laughing as she tried to put a blue hat on Luke’s head, and he protested with a hand on her wrist. They were in the forefront of a baseball game, Percy noticed.
There were other pictures, too—Luke, a girl dressed all punk, and what looked like a young version of Annabeth, most notably—but a majority of them were either Luke and that girl, or the girl all on her own. In every single one, she beamed brighter than the sun. 
Percy pointed at the picture of Luke and the girl at the baseball game, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Who’s that?”
That seemed to catch Luke off-guard, his lips parting for a moment as if he wanted to say something. It barely took him any time to get back on track, but Percy found himself frowning. 
“That’s…” Luke cleared his throat, wet his lips, shook his head. “A friend. A very good friend.”
“Does she go here?” Percy asked. 
“She did.” 
He frowned. “Where is she, then?” 
“Percy—” Luke’s voice was strained, but he didn’t really notice as he went on. 
“I didn’t see her around,” he continued, “and you look pretty close.” 
Luke blinked a couple times, and Percy swore he could see the telltale glimmer of tears starting in his eyes. A muscle worked in his jaw, and suddenly Percy was worried that he’d said something horribly wrong. He had a talent for that, it seemed. 
Fortunately, he was saved by the bell—conch shell?—and something like relief flooded through Luke’s expression. Tension still coiled in his body. 
“Come on,” he said, that camp counselor smile coming back as he put his hand on Percy’s shoulder and guided him away from the enclave. “That means dinner’s about to start.”
Percy’s frown deepened as curiosity won out again. “Was she your—”
“You don’t wanna be late,” Luke continued, ignoring his attempt. “I assume you’re pretty hungry after two days spent out?”
Well, that only made him want to push harder. But Percy figured he wouldn’t get anything out of him—especially not now. 
“…Yeah,” Percy said. “Starving.”
An odd look flickered across his face, but again, it only lasted for a second before he was back to normal. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Eleven! Fall in!” 
Percy was at the back of the line by virtue of him being the new kid, and he found himself looking back at that picture of Luke and the girl. He didn’t know why, but something drew him to her. Before Percy could think about it more, the line was moving and his growling stomach drew his attention away. 
He would have plenty of time to ask Luke about it later. 
Or rather, ask him and piss off the only person who’d tried to be his friend so far. 
…Gods. 
Maybe he was going to drown sooner than he thought. 
-
“Luke—” 
“No!” 
“Luke, please!” 
“Annabeth will kill me if she knows—” 
“She won’t know!” 
“Alright, alright— stay still, you two!” 
Your mother laughed from behind the camera as you and Luke fought with each other, you trying your damnedest to get your Red Sox cap on his head as he tried his damnedest to stop you. The frantic laughter on both sides made it a little difficult for either of you to succeed in your quest, but eventually, you got the rock up the hill and the hat on his head. 
“Take the picture, Mom!” you exclaimed, pulling Luke even closer by his arms so he couldn’t get it off. “I need the proof!” 
“I knew this was a bad idea,” Luke groaned, staring at the camera as you wrapped your arm around his side and leaned into him. He could already imagine your victorious smile, brighter than the sun beating down on them in the stadium, and just the thought of it made one of his own flit across his lips. 
“Oh, shut up, Castellan,” you said. “You chose to come to this game. Everyone’s gonna know you’re a Red Sox fan now.”
“You said you wouldn’t tell her!” Luke defended, wrenching his arms free of your control to take the hat off his head. “I don’t even care about baseball!” 
“You care so much about it,” you said cloyingly, “and you’re ride or die for the Boston Red Sox.” 
“If you say a single word—” 
“Okay, kids!” Your mother pointed at the seats next to her. “The game’s about to start—you can keep arguing, but only if you sit down so I can see.” 
“Sorry, Mom.” You grinned at her as you pulled Luke over to your seats—they were a step up from nosebleeds, but they were the ones closest to the balcony so you could at least peer over the railing down to the diamond.
“It’s alright, sweetheart.” She glanced at Luke with a smile, and he could really see where you got it from. “We’ve gotta make him a fan somehow.” 
“I guess I can live with the brand.” Luke set the cap back on your head once you were seated, purposefully pulling the brim a little over your eyes, and he smiled at you. “Even though it looks better on you, anyways.” 
“You just don’t have what it takes to be a Red Sox fan in the heart of Yank territory,” you mused, pushing the hat back up so you could see. “It’s fine.” 
Luke rolled his eyes, but he could hardly bite back his smile. 
“I am glad you came, though,” you said, glancing back at him. “I’m glad you came with me in the first place. This is gonna be the best semester.”
“Thanks for having me,” Luke said. “It’s… it’s been a while since I’ve left camp.” 
“Fingers crossed for no monster attacks, eh?” You held up your hand. “At least, not during the game. I could live with it happening any other time.” 
“Don’t speak it into existence,” your mom said. “We’re going to have a monster-free school year.” 
To humor her, you made a claw over your heart and pushed out. She hummed in satisfaction, and you looked over at Luke. “It’s gonna be fine.” 
“Yeah,” he said. “Because two kids like us aren’t gonna draw any attention.” 
“Oh, I know we will,” you said. “But I know it’ll be fine.” 
Luke frowned. “How can you be so sure?” 
You shrugged with a smile. “I’ve got you.”
And in that moment, he was thankful for the freakish heat that honestly made no sense in the spring—at least it covered up any sign of what your words did to him. 
Luke thought you were joking when you asked him if he wanted to come back home with you for the school year. He didn’t know why you wanted to go back in the first place, being a Big Three kid that apparently had a death wish, but the thought of him leaving camp was almost inconceivable. 
Even after you assured him you weren’t joking, he still wasn’t sure. He was on the run with you for three years, then… 
Well, he couldn’t think about it for too long. But Luke had been on the outskirts of regular society for so long, doing nothing but fighting for his life, that he didn’t know if he could actually function at a normal school.
But it felt right for you two to get some normal time together after you were separated for so long. It took him a semester to decide, but one day during your usual Iris message conversations, he told you he’d love to spend the rest of the year in Boston with you. Luke still remembered the grin you wore, your disbelieving but victorious cheers, the apology you yelled back at your mother for your noise. 
Luke watched you as you talked with your mom, discussing Boston’s chances and player statistics and baseball jargon he didn’t think he’d ever understand, and he knew he would sit through a thousand Red Sox games if it meant he would get to keep seeing your smile.
You must have felt his eyes on you, because you glanced over at him. “Are you okay?” 
Luke smiled. Gods, he was so glad you were here. 
“Never better.” 
-
“That one nearly got me,” Luke said. 
Percy huffed as he picked up his sword from the ground—he was pretty sure he would officially lose his mind if Luke disarmed him with that stupid move one more time. One benefit to the Hermes cabin being too scared to associate with him after getting claimed was that he wasn’t making a fool out of himself in front of other people. 
“Maybe I can only beat you when I pour water on myself,” he said. 
Luke chuckled as he took a bottle from the cooler on the side and held it up. “Wanna try?” 
He shook his head. “I think my arms will fall off if I keep going with you.” 
He tipped his shoulder. “Fair.” 
Percy stared at the ground as Luke gathered himself, trying to put the free range thoughts roaming around his head in order. It didn’t help that he’d gained a million questions after Poseidon claimed him, and it didn’t help that there’s been a newest addition to his dream last night. 
He still felt strange asking Luke about it, but he had to know more about her. Percy didn’t know why it felt like his mission to find out who this mysterious girl was, or why he felt that strange connection to her. Maybe it was the way Luke acted whenever he brought her up, maybe it was that she’d popped up in his dream next to him at the very end, maybe it was just plain old curiosity. 
“I’m not supposed to be alive,” Percy said, breaking the silence. “I could die at any time in a bunch of different horrible ways. So will you tell me more about that girl on your wall?”  
Again, Luke seemed to be caught off guard by it. Percy heard the crunch of plastic as his hand clenched ever so slightly around the bottle, and he tried to cover it up with an arched eyebrow. “Why do you want to know so badly?” 
He shrugged. What was he supposed to say? 
“I’m curious,” he decided. 
Luke huffed a dry laugh before he took a sip of water, and he stared off into the distance for a while. He did a lot of staring whenever this girl was brought up. They looked like they were best friends in those pictures, but maybe whatever they had ended badly. And if she was a demigod too…
Well, it would make sense why he didn’t want to talk about her. 
“You know that phrase about curiosity?” Luke asked. 
“And how it killed the cat?” 
He nodded, drinking some more. “It goes double for demigods.” 
“Everything else wants to kill me,” Percy said. “So curiosity’s gonna have to get in line.” 
Luke’s laugh was a little more genuine this time, and he shook his head. “I guess I can tell you a little about her. You actually probably have a right to know.” 
“Is she a half-blood?” Percy asked immediately. 
He nodded. “Yeah.” 
“Who’s her parent?” 
Luke capped his water bottle and looked at Percy for a good, long moment. His face glowed in the warm afternoon sun, his scar cast in a softer light than usual. The scar used to unnerve him, but he’d gotten used to it after weeks staring at it during sword fighting. 
“She was a child of Poseidon, Percy,” he said. “Just like you.” 
Percy felt short of breath, like Luke had just knocked his sword out of his hand and shoved him to the ground. But he stood on his own two legs that somehow still worked, and Luke hadn’t moved. 
He had a sister? 
“I have a sister?” 
“…Had,” Luke corrected. “She… she died a few years back.” 
A vice latched onto Percy’s heart. He was still having a hard time breathing. No wonder Luke always used past tense when he was talking about her. 
He had a sister, he wasn’t alone, but he was because she was dead. And if Luke was one of her friends, that meant she died young. 
Gods. 
“What about their oath?” Percy asked, trying to ignore the aching in his chest. “I’m already on thin ice for my whole existing thing. How did Poseidon get away with two kids so close to each other?” 
Luke shrugged. “I’ve never known why gods do things. Her mother was a great woman, though—I could see what drew Poseidon to her against the oath.” 
One half of Percy wanted to ask every question that kept popping into his head. The other side of him wanted to break down and cry. 
“How did you meet her?” 
“We ran into each other when we were both young,” he said. “Both child runaways, both demigods, both New Englanders—we decided to rough it out on the road together. Couldn’t be any worse than doing it on our own.”
Percy tried to imagine it. A young Luke and a younger version of that girl—maybe Percy’s age—living together in the wilderness and fighting monsters. Surviving off of nothing but their wit and skill, facing death each day before they’d even reached middle school. 
“It… it didn’t happen then, did it?” he asked hesitantly. 
Luke shook his head. “Couple years later. All we did was watch each other’s backs out there.” 
Percy couldn’t help himself. “What happened to her?”  
“The same thing that happens to everyone,” Luke said flatly. “There’s a reason I’m the oldest one here.” 
“That doesn’t make it better,” Percy insisted. “It— it makes it worse, Luke. You see that, right?”  
Luke stared at his empty water bottle then tossed it back into the cooler. When his gaze met Percy’s, he was shocked by how… tired he looked. Beyond exhausted—bone-weary. Percy wanted to say more, but he didn’t get the chance. 
“This isn’t good conversation,” Luke said, “and it’s getting late. You should hit the showers before dinner.” 
The sun still beat down on them, bright and angry in the sky, but Percy provided no argument. He had a lot to think about. 
Before they went their separate ways, Percy stopped and looked back at him. “I’m sorry she’s gone, Luke.” 
Luke’s gaze went unfocused for a moment, his eyes growing glossy. “So am I.” 
-
Percy sat on the floor of the Hermes cabin in the corner that used to be his, staring at his meager belongings. He had to decide what to take on his quest, which was made easier by the fact that he hardly had anything to his name. Things could always be worse, though. At least he would have a change of clothes. 
He should’ve been doing this in his own cabin, but it felt too empty, too suffocating in its silence. Eleven was still more familiar. He heard the door open and saw Luke walk in, and his eyes lit up when he saw Percy. 
“Hey,” he said. “I wanted to see you before you left. How’re you feeling pre-quest?” 
“Like the world’s about to end,” he said. 
Luke’s lips twitched into a smile as he sat on the bed across from Percy. “Understandable. It kinda is.” 
“It’s just overwhelming.” Percy shoved the unfolded clothes into his backpack. “I have to clear mine and my dad’s names and get Zeus’s bolt back, or else war will start. No pressure at all.” 
“You were chosen for a reason,” Luke said. “You may not see it, Percy, but you’ve improved a lot since you got here. If anyone can do this, I think it’s you.” 
Percy looked up at him, and he was reminded of the way their last conversation went. He was asking before he could really stop himself. 
“I could die on this quest and never see you again,” Percy said. “So could you tell me more about my sister before I go?”  
Luke smiled wistfully and sighed. “You really won’t let this go, will you?” 
“It’s not really something you just let go,” he said. “Besides, I… I saw her in my dream last night.” 
Luke’s smile faded. “You did?”  
Percy nodded. “For a split second, but I know it was her. I felt the same way I did whenever I looked at her pictures. And… it’s the second time she’s shown up.” 
He let out a long sigh and shook his head, his gaze trailing off to the wall. He always looked so much older when he talked about this girl, like he was a war veteran reminiscing on his lost love. And from what he’d gathered, it might not have been too far off. 
“I told you we ran together when we were young,” he said, and Percy nodded. “We were both nine, and it should’ve been terrible, but she had a way of making everything better. Always found the bright side of things, was always able to make me laugh.” 
“She was from Massachusetts—right in the middle of Boston.” Luke chuckled as he looked at Percy. “Huge Red Sox fan.” 
Percy grimaced. “We all make mistakes.” 
Luke smiled, though it faded a bit. “We got separated for a while, but we found each other again when I got to camp. Things were more peaceful than they are now, so she’d been claimed at camp pretty quickly. I figure Poseidon wanted her to have the protection of him openly standing behind her after what happened.” 
He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘what happened’?” 
Luke shook his head. “That would be an awful story to send you off on.” 
Percy wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Luke was probably right—Percy didn’t want to make him relive it and then have to go on a death quest right after.
“A happier part, then,” he suggested.
“She ran away from home as a kid to protect her mom, but now that she had an idea of what she was doing, she started going back to school. She invited me to stay with her during the school year one year, and I accepted. That—” Luke’s throat bobbed, and the other hand clenched into a fist— “that was when she died.” 
In his stunned silence, Luke got up and went over to his alcove. He pulled the drawer open on his bedside table and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. It must’ve been folded and crumpled a million other times in messier ways by all the creases he could see, but when Luke opened it, he could see handwriting all over the front. 
A letter. 
“We Iris messaged each other constantly while she was at school,” he said, “and we wrote back and forth when we couldn’t. This was the last letter she sent me.” 
Percy’s first instinct was to say he wouldn’t be able to read it, but he realized that he didn’t really care. These were words that his sister wrote—he would sit here the rest of the day forcing sentences to make sense if that was what it took. 
So he took the letter when Luke offered it. 
To the one and only Luke Castellan, 
My mom said yes! After a very long interrogation (she now knows basically everything about you) and a million promises that you would be as careful as possible and that you were good enough at sword fighting to take down anything that could come after us, she said you can spend the year here. We spent a couple hours every day making my mom’s study into a guest room, so you have a place to stay.
I’m an idiot that didn’t bring enough drachmas so that’s why I have to send this letter—hopefully it gets to you soon enough, because we’re gonna come get you a week before my winter break is over. Mom is letting me drive down because she says I have to get my permit soon. It makes sense that my first big test is getting to you. If we don’t make it, it’s because we died in a fiery crash. 
Just kidding. I’m a great driver. But tell me some of your favorite songs when you reply and I’ll burn a CD for the ride—I figured out how to use LimeWire. Oh, and throw in a couple drachmas with the envelope so I can Iris message you next time. I miss your face and your voice, and my hand is cramping up writing all of this. 
But this is so exciting! I can’t wait to introduce you to all my friends at school, and show you my favorite places in the city, and make you into a Red Sox fan. And you can come to my soccer games— I’m the greatest forward there is. 
Jokes aside, I’m going to make sure you have the best time. We’ll spend every second together, Luke. We’re gonna make up for the time we lost. 
I can’t wait to see you again.
Your hurricane.  
It took Percy a long time to get through it with the words swimming all over, and it didn’t help that his vision had grown blurry. 
Tears, he realized as he blinked, and he did it again to make sure they wouldn’t fall. He couldn’t cry in front of Luke, not over a girl he didn’t even know—even if she was his sister. But maybe he was grieving that—the fact that he would never get to know her. 
“God, man. I— I’m sorry.” Percy couldn’t think of anything else to say. “She sounds like she was great.” 
Luke couldn’t even manage a smile this time as he stared at the wall. Percy was surprised he could even talk to him about it. 
“She was,” he murmured. “You would’ve liked her. And gods,” this time, a bit of a smile broke through despite it all, “she would have loved a little brother.” 
“I’m gonna make her proud on this quest,” Percy vowed. “I’m gonna clear our dad’s name for her.”
Something in Luke’s gaze had changed—sadness, almost regret. “You’re a good kid, Percy. I hope your quest doesn’t change that.” 
I hope I come back alive, he wanted to say. But given the topic matter, he didn’t. Percy carefully folded the letter back up and handed it to Luke. 
“Thank you for telling me about her, man,” Percy said. “I… I know it can’t be easy.”
Luke let out a shuddering breath as he stared at the closed letter—Percy wondered how many times he must have sat in this same position, reading her words. “No better way to honor her memory than helping her brother.” He glanced at Percy. “I see a lot of her in you.” 
He’d been wondering if he had anything in common with her. Percy felt a sudden flare of anger shoot through him—it wasn’t fair that she was dead. Poseidon was a god, and she was a teenager. He should have saved her. 
Percy’s mouth was drier than a desert. A part of him wanted to curl up in a ball and sob over the sister he never got the chance to know, but the other part of him knew—from what little Luke had told him about her—that she wouldn’t want him to. 
“I should get going,” Percy said, standing up from the floor. “We have to leave for the quest soon, and Annabeth and Grover are probably wondering where I am, and…” 
Percy trailed off, and Luke nodded in understanding. He turned around and took one of the photos off the wall—one of you alone in the middle of a park, wearing a bucket hat and absolutely beaming. 
“You deserve to have a part of her with you,” he said. “For good luck.” 
He felt himself choking up, and he pushed it down as he accepted the photo. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.”
“Good luck, Percy,” Luke said. “You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you.”
Percy found himself studying the picture of you once he made it outside, trying to memorize your face. With your wide, infectious smile that emanated pure sunlight, he could have mistaken you for an Apollo kid. But when he looked at you, he got that same warmth that he felt every time he imagined his father. 
“I won’t let you down,” he murmured. “I promise.” 
-
After sleeping in his train seat for half the day, Percy vowed to never complain about his bed in Cabin Three again. He was gonna be going down to the Underworld with permanent cricks in his neck. 
Grover was still sound asleep—Percy envied him for how easily it came to him in the worst conditions—but thankfully, Annabeth wasn’t. Her gaze was focused on the view as their train chugged along. 
Percy cleared his throat in a flawless attempt at getting her attention, and it worked. 
“You’re awake,” she said. 
“Unfortunately.” Percy sighed. “How much longer do you think it’ll be?” 
“Another day, at least,” she said. “And we’ve got a layover in St. Louis.” 
“St. Louis,” he hummed. “Nice.” 
They sat in silence for a while—there wasn’t much to talk about when they were coming off of two— or was it three, now?—near-death experiences. But eventually, Annabeth cleared her throat, taking a page from his book, and it worked again. 
“There— there’s probably something you should know,” Annabeth said, and that worked even better than clearing her throat. “You’re not the only Big Three kid to come through Camp Half-blood lately.” 
“I know,” he said. “Grover and Luke explained it.” 
Her eyes widened slightly and she leaned forward in her seat. “Luke did?” 
“…Yeah. You all already told me about Thalia.” Percy glanced away, suddenly feeling a chill in the train car. “Luke told me about my sister.” 
Annabeth went silent. 
“It’s okay,” he said. “I kind of annoyed Luke until he told me. Doesn’t really seem like a subject people at camp like to talk about.” 
“I’m just surprised he did,” she murmured. “They were… they were close, Percy. Her death destroyed him—Thalia and your sister. All of it’s complicated.”  
“Yeah,” he sighed, “I got some of that.” 
“I only knew her for a year at camp, but everyone loved her,” she said. “She was nice. Popular. Always helped when she could, always had the biggest, most infectious smile on her face.” Annabeth looked down at her hands. “She didn’t deserve the fate she got.” 
Percy didn’t think he’d ever grieved so much for someone he never knew. “But her and Luke—were they…?” 
“Yeah,” Annabeth said, “they were a thing, later on.” 
That seemed to be all she wanted to say on the matter. Percy decided not to push. 
“How did you meet her?” he asked. 
Annabeth’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I met her on the day I thought I would die.”
-
For the first time in her life, Annabeth Chase couldn’t think. 
It had all happened so fast. One second she was running with Luke and Thalia and Grover, praying to her mother and any other gods that would listen to make the horde of monsters let up even a centimeter.
The next, she’d collapsed on the ground, never so grateful to have grass and dirt and dust in her face. But she could hear Luke yelling, barely able to make it out in her delirious state—she didn’t know when she’d last had a sip of water, and they’d been running for at least three miles—but he sounded hysterical. 
She remembered her last clear thought: they weren’t going to make it. 
But they had. They had, so why was Luke losing his mind? 
Annabeth pulled herself up from the ground—how long had she been bleeding out of those slashes on her arm?—and looked for the rest of her friends. Luke wasn’t yelling anymore, instead arguing with someone she didn’t recognize in a bright orange shirt. Grover’s furry legs trembled as he stared down the hill they’d just gotten up, completely silent, and Thalia— 
Where was Thalia? 
Annabeth tried to get up but her legs gave out almost immediately, and steady arms caught her before she could fall to the ground again. Kind eyes served to ease some of her panic—she was older than Annabeth, maybe around Luke or Thalia’s age. 
Thalia— 
“Hey, you’re okay,” the voice said, and Annabeth’s attention was drawn back to you. “I’ve got you.” 
“Where’s Thalia?” she blurted out, because now she couldn’t think of anything else. 
Your brows creased and you glanced back down the hill—Annabeth did too, and she saw Grover and Luke arguing with each other. Or rather, Luke was yelling at him as Grover anxiously hooked his hands through his hair. 
“I don’t know,” you said, “but right now, I need to make sure you’re okay. Are you hurt?” 
Annabeth absentmindedly held up her arm, but she was only focused on her friends. Why wasn’t Thalia with them? Why was Luke so upset?
You cursed under your breath in Ancient Greek as you cradled her arm, and you looked back down the hill. Annabeth could see at least half a dozen other kids. 
“We’ve got two half-bloods and a satyr, one injured!” you yelled back. “Get Molly and Brayden!” 
“Three,” Annabeth found herself saying. “There’s three half-bloods—” 
“Annabeth!” 
Her head shot up at the sound of Luke calling her name as he bounded over, and her eyes widened at the blood steadily spidering across the fabric of his shirt. 
“Luke, you’re hurt—” 
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “It’s fine.” 
“We have Apollo kids coming,” you said, looking up at him, still cradling Annabeth’s arm. “We’ll get y—” 
Your sentence stuck in your throat, and Annabeth could see tears welling in your eyes as your brows furrowed. She thought Luke’s eyes might burst out of his skull as he stared at you, his lips parted but nothing coming out. Neither of you were able to form words. 
When he finally did get something out, it was a single name. One Annabeth knew by heart, one that he’d mourned for years. 
“Luke?” you whispered. 
Before he had the chance to do anything, two teenagers got over the hill and called out your name, the same one Luke used. He always said you were dead, but you clearly weren’t dead, because you were here and you had her arm in your grasp and while your hands were cold, they weren’t cold enough to be dead— 
“Molly’s gonna take care of you,” you said, looking back at Annabeth and cutting off her inner dialogue. “She’ll get you to the infirmary and heal you up, okay?” 
“My friends—” 
“They’re gonna be okay too,” you said. “I promise.” 
Annabeth looked up at Luke, and he nodded. “We’ll be with you soon, Annabeth. We— we have to talk about some things.” 
So she went with Molly down the hill, and Annabeth put pressure on her bleeding wound when she told her to—it had started to sting like hell now that her adrenaline was fading. 
She looked back just in time to see you and Luke share the tightest hug ever. 
The hug of two people who realized they weren’t seeing ghosts, Annabeth thought. 
-
You bolted up in bed, eyes wide and your chest heaving as you rapidly sucked in air. Your fingers found purchase in your bedsheets, desperate for something familiar—it took a second for you to recognize your surroundings, that you weren’t in an endless void, but your childhood bedroom offered little comfort.  
You ran a hand over your forehead, damp with sweat, as you tried to calm down. Your breathing slowed, but you couldn’t shake that awful feeling that hung over you in your sleep. 
Your nightmares were getting worse, you knew that much. That raspy, demented voice used to be a rarity, and now it appeared every night. You could usually deal with your nightmares, but the sense of absolute dread that voice and the pit fostered in you was too much. You hadn’t managed to sleep through the night once since you came home for the school year.
You could deal with the monsters—to you, this was the worst part of your godly blood.
A knock rattled on the door out of nowhere, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The only thing that calmed you down was the thought that monsters didn’t knock. 
“Come in,” you croaked, your throat drier than a desert. 
Thankfully, a monster hadn’t come to make your night even more miserable. Luke stood in the doorway, his eyebrows creased in concern, messy curls hanging just above his eyes. He wore the Red Sox t-shirt you’d bought for him at the game you dragged him to, and in your addled state, you didn’t even think to tease him about it. 
“Are you okay?” He should’ve been as disoriented as you, but his alerted eyes told a different story. 
You could only think of one thing. “How did you know?” 
Luke’s lips parted for a moment, as if he hadn’t even considered it. “I could just feel it.”
You managed a smile despite every atom in your body screaming at you. “I think that means you can come in.” 
He closed the door behind him, and you shifted over in your bed to make room for him. There wasn’t much in a twin, but you made it work. Luke’s weight pressed into the mattress, making you adjust your position, and it was more comforting than any amount of blankets. 
“You’re so cold,” he murmured, laying the back of his hand against your arm. “How do you live like that?” 
“Blame my dad,” you said. “I’ve got water in my blood.” 
“I think that’s probably a bad thing,” Luke said, and you knocked your shoulder into his with a huff. 
“You know what I mean.” 
Luke let his hand fall back in his lap, and as you brought your knees up to your chest, you pulled the covers with them. 
“So,” Luke said, glancing at you, “what’s got you awake at the witching hour?” 
“The usual,” you mumbled. 
“Nightmares that might be prophetic?” he asked. 
You made a lazy gesture with your hand. “Bingo.” 
“The worst sense of dread imaginable?” 
“Bullseye.” 
“I’m sorry,” he said. 
You shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t deal with.” 
“You don’t always have to put on a front, y’know,” Luke said. You felt his eyes on you. “You don’t always have to be strong.” 
“I’m naturally strong,” you said with mock austerity. “Comes with the god for a dad.” 
Luke chuckled and shook his head. “You know what I mean.” 
“Yeah,” you murmured. 
You leaned into his side, fitting your head into the crook of his neck. Luke wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, and you let out a contented sigh. 
That voice in your nightmares seemed so small when you had Luke. 
“Can you stay?” you asked softly. 
He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.” 
“Just like old times,” you whispered. 
“Just like old times,” he agreed. 
Luke ran hot, and you’d never been more thankful for it as you fully settled into his side. Icy blood ran through your veins, and you let out a shaky sigh. You could hear his steady breathing, feel his heartbeat through his chest, and the anxiety from earlier began to steadily fade. You never felt safer than when you were with Luke. 
There was something between you—you weren’t that stupid—but you hadn’t talked about it. With you and Luke, it was just… you and Luke. You didn’t have to put a label to it. 
How could you put a label to your relationship, when you’d spent your first few years together fighting for each day, and then the next few thinking the other was dead? 
Maybe someday, you would talk about it. But for now, this was more than enough. 
“Don’t worry,” Luke murmured in your ear as your eyes began to droop. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” 
And by the gods, you believed him. 
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Note
Hey there!! I see you write fics and I don’t know if you take requests?? If not don’t worry!! But if u do, could you write a luke x reader where the reader struggles with anxiety and ocd? Like checking things a lot (checking doors are locked, oven is off etc) and struggling with intrusive thoughts. But like it doesn’t need to be dark or anything, more like Luke helps to reassure her and it’s more like cute n sweet. If not comfortable writing about this tho I totally understand!! Thank u and love ur writing x
A/N : Ok first of all thank you so much!!! I’ve been feeling like I suck at writing for a while and all so this helped so much!! Ily<33 and I do take requests (for future reference lmao). Anyways I hope you liked this!!
Warnings : ocd, anxiety attacks and such. Well it’s not really graphic but it’s there. Also it’s smol🥺. Had no idea what to name this lol +masterlist | reblogs are highly appreciated<33
Better with You | lh
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Ever since you were born, you had always been prone to worrying. As a child, you had been anxious about getting lost or separated from your parents. As you grew older, your fears shifted to other things: locking doors, turning off the stove, making the bed at least seven times a day, making sure you hadn't accidentally offended anyone, apologizing over and over again when you really didn’t have to.
It wasn't until you were in your late teens that you finally found a name for what you were experiencing: obsessive-compulsive disorder, or OCD. It was a huge relief to know that there was a reason behind your constant need to check things and your intrusive thoughts. And that there wasn’t something “wrong” with you. But even with the medication and therapy, you still struggled.
And that’s where Luke comes in. After you met at a coffee shop one day, he has been the absolute sweetheart, leading him to become your boyfriend and one of the most important people in your life. He had been with you through it all. He had held your hand during panic attacks, listened patiently as you talked about your fears, and never once judged you for your struggles. He was your rock, the best friend, the boyfriend that you could always count on.
One day, you were sitting on the couch, scrolling through various social media platforms, when you suddenly felt a jolt of panic travel through your spine. Had you turned off the oven before you came back to the living room? You couldn't remember. You gulped, closing your eyes for a moment, trying to push the horrific thought away, but it kept nagging at you, growing louder and more insistent with each passing moment.
"Hey," Luke said, his cerulean eyes filled with worry as he took in your distress. "Is everything okay?" You shook your head, unable to speak.
"What's going on?" he asked, taking your hand in his much larger one.
"I don't remember if I turned off the oven," you hiccuped, tears threatening to slip past your waterline. "What if the house burns down?"
Luke squeezed your hand. "It’s okay, why don’t we go check together? Hmm?”
You stood up, feeling slightly unsteady. Luke immediately wrapped his arms around you, securing you in his hold and led you to the kitchen and together, you opened the oven door. It was off.
"See?" Luke said, smiling down at you. "Everything's okay. The house isn't going to burn down."
You let out a shaky breath. "Thank you."
"Of course babe" he said, wrapping his arms around you once more and kissing the top of your head. "I'll always be here to help you through anything."
You leaned into him, cuddling into his loving embrace. After focusing on his heartbeat for a while, it was easy for you to finally calm down. With Luke by your side, you knew that everything would be alright.
A/N: Thank you for reading! Hope you’re having a great day. I love feedback, it helps so much.
+masterlist | reblogs are highly appreciated!<333
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cobrakaisb · 2 months
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always an angel, never a god
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summary: the aftermath of luke’s failed quest to the garden of the hesperides includes a dirty motel, a new wound, and sharing a bed with his best friend. 
word count: 2.8k
featuring: ONE BED TROPE, set pre-tlt, luke and reader both have crushes on each other, lowkey hurt-comfort, mentions of injuries/getting injured, death, angst with a tiny bit of fluff
“let’s just stop here for the night, then we can keep moving,” you begged, standing in the motel parking lot. luke was weary, eyeing the property distrustfully. “it doesn’t look safe,” he mumbled, hand fisting the strap of his worn blue backpack so tightly that his knuckles were white. “please,” you whispered, eyes shining with tears. it had been a rough couple of days, especially with the major losses you’d both suffered. 
“just until tomorrow morning,” you begged. he sighed, but nodded his head. you exhaled a breath of relief, as your forehead came to rest on his shoulder. he stiffened, but relaxed under your soft touch. your lips ghosted against his shoulder, as you planted a soft, barely-there kiss on the faded green cloth. luke’s fingers gently brushed against the back of your hand, wrapping around your wrist. you lift your head from his shoulder, lacing your fingers together, and lead him towards the motel lobby. 
it’s clearly rundown; the carpet floors are dirty and the room reeks of mildew and sweat, but neither of you complain. you're just happy to have access to a bed and a shower. luke walks up to the check in desk, ringing the small bell to alert the employee(s) that someone was here. a few minutes pass by, but then an older man comes out from the back room. he looks hesitantly between the two before asking, “can i help you folks?”
“we’d like a room please. just for tonight,” you explain, squeezing luke’s hand a little tighter as the man continues to stare you two down. you can’t imagine what you look like to him: bruised, battered, bleeding, and crying. not to mention luke’s face; the wound was still open and dripping blood every few seconds. you’d done what you could on the road to help stop the bleeding, but the only real way to heal it was going to be with stitches and deep disinfectant.      
“just your luck, we have one room left,” he smiles, inputting something in the system before handing you a key. you smile tightly at him, feeling the tension in luke’s shoulders seeping into your bones. why would there only be one room left if the parking lot was empty? “thanks so much,” you replied, leading luke out of the lobby and towards your room on the second floor. 
“i really don’t like it here,” he grumbled, setting his bag down on the floor once you entered the room. you toed off your worn out black converse, locking the door behind you as you rolled your eyes. “it’s just one night. besides we need to rest and regroup now that…” you started to say, but ended up pausing. it hurts to mention her; the wound in your heart is still fresh. you swallow, taking a deep breath before turning to luke, “let’s take care of your face.” 
he nods, wordlessly following you into the bathroom. he watches as you grab the first aid kit from the backpack and turn on the hot water. he waits patiently, occasionally admiring you, while you wet one of the few provided face clothes. “this might sting,” you whispered as you began to clean away at the blood and grime caked onto his cheek. he winces, gripping onto you for support. 
“it’s okay. you’re okay. i’m almost done,” you said, trying to soothe him. instead of watching your motions, he looks at your face. your eyes, ones which normally shone bright with joy, were dull; the vibrant colors muted by your sadness. he wondered if you felt pity for him and his failure, or if you were still coping. this quest wasn’t meant to be a three person one, but you refused to let him partake in the challenge alone. he couldn't help but blame his dad for your sorrows; everything always came back to the gods.
“can you sit down on the toilet for me? i want to clean the cut, and i need a better vantage point,” you explained, putting the towel on the side of the sink as you opened the first aid kit. he complied to your orders, taking a seat on the closed toilet. he waited with bated breath, as you dug around in the kit, looking for whatever it was you needed. finally, you made eye contact with him, a small smile on your face as you held up a cotton ball and bottle of peroxide. 
luke groans, throwing his head back in frustration. “no, absolutely not,” he mumbled, moving his head away from you. he froze, however, when your palm rested against his uninjured cheek. “please luke, i don’t want it to get infected,” you whispered, voice soft and thick with emotion. his brown eyes meet yours; they’re swimming with worry. “okay,” he relaxes, rolling his shoulders back to release some of the tension in them. you smile softly, trying your best to be reassuring as you remove your hand from his cheek to pour a small amount of peroxide onto the cotton. 
“this is going to sting,” you warned. luke takes a deep breath, and subtly nods for you to continue. as gently as possible, you begin to clean the deep wound running from his eye to his jaw. luke hisses, his right hand gripping onto your thigh. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” you mumbled, but you continued your ministrations. luke doesn’t answer, simply gritting his teeth and keeping a hold on your thigh. after a few more swipes, you pause to inspect the wound. your hand grips his jaw, and you turn his face to the right; satisfied with your work, you throw the used items in the small garbage.
he watches as your attention focuses back on the first aid kit. you’re digging through the small red box, searching for the required items to stitch up his face. despite his dire situation, the crushing weight of worthlessness and embarrassment, and his most likely infected wound, he couldn’t help but feel serene. being here with you was exactly what he needed; you were all that he needed. 
“okay so i have the needle and thread. do you want to shower first? otherwise you won’t be able to,” you explained, moving back to stand between his legs. luke’s hands came to rest on the small of your back, fingers creeping under the hem of your tee shirt. “i’ll shower, then you can stitch me up,” he agreed, humming softly as you absentmindedly twirled one of his black curls around your finger. “perfect. i’ll be right outside,” you whispered, trying to step out of his hold, but his arms just tightened around you. 
“stay,” he pleaded, brown eyes widening. you sighed, a conflicted look in your eyes. “i can’t lose you,” he whispered. “i won’t lose you,” he continued, resting his head against your abdomen. you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. everything was getting to be too much, on the both of you. “i’m not going anywhere angel, i promise,” you replied, fingers carding through his hair in a feeble attempt to soothe him. he lets out a shaky breath in response, and you can feel his tears seeping through your tee shirt. 
“it’s okay. i’m right here,” you whisper, trying to keep your voice from cracking. your fingers still card through his hair as you lean down and plant a gentle kiss on his forehead. this whole quest has been a pot of emotions, and it seems like it’s finally boiled over the edge, for both you and luke. you want to let your guard down, and crumple to the floor and sob, but you don’t. luke needs you right now. 
a few minutes pass by, but he calms down. he sits up straight, arms still holding you in a vice grip. “i’m sorry,” he mumbled, and you aren’t sure what he’s apologizing for. “there’s nothing to apologize for. i’m here to support you, whatever that looks like,” you explained, cupping his jaw with a small reassuring smile on your face. “will you just sit outside the door? i need to know you’re there,” he said, reverting back to the original conversation. “whatever you want,” you answered. once the words leave your mouth, his arms unravel from your waist. you step back, giving him room to stand. he pulls you right into his chest. “we’ll talk later,” he promised, waiting for your hum of agreement to let go.
“shower. you reek,” you teased, trying to bring some joy back into the depressing atmosphere. he finally cracks a smile as he pretends to smell his underarms. “a shower is a good call,” he agreed, lightly pushing you towards the door, a sign that he wants to get changed. you obliged, leaving the room just as the sound of gushing water arises. 
luke takes his time in the shower, letting the water drip down his clean body. he knows you’re sitting right outside the door, just like you promised, because he could hear your soft humming and mutterings. he was angry, and he refused to let that anger out on you. instead, it stews inside of him; all the resentment, annoyance, and disappointment. he was supposed to come back a hero, they all were. instead, he’s returning a failure, and with one less friend. he thinks about his father, who recycled a quest from the history lessons at camp and refused to help. he thinks of you, his pillar of strength. he thinks of beth, hoping that she reached elysium, where she belonged. his mind wanders back to camp half-blood, and the faces of his siblings and all the unclaimed children fill him with dread. what will they think, now that they’re head counselor failed?
“are you almost done?” you asked, pulling him from the depths of his mind. he shakes his head gently, water spraying from his soaked curls. “just finishing up,” he answered, turning the water off. “i put your pajamas on the sink,” you replied, closing the door so he has some semblance of privacy. “thanks,” he answered, and the sound of the opening curtain muffled your reply. he takes a couple extra minutes to dry off and pull on his pants, purposefully leaving the shirt to the side. 
“okay i’m decent,” he shouted, and the door cracked open. he sees you standing there with your eyes closed, and he can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “i told you i was decent!” he laughed, and you opened your eyes with a giggle. “i just had to make sure,” you replied, your usual smile encompassing your cheeks. he playfully shakes his head at your words. “whatever you say,” he said, and reclaimed his seat on the toilet lid. 
you took your spot between his legs, and his hands found their home on your waist. “this might hurt, and take a while because i have to go slow, but it’ll help you heal,” you said, holding up the needle with a shaky hand. luke grabbed your wrist, steadying the shaking. “hey, it’s gonna be fine. i trust you,” he mumbled, placing a soothing kiss on your palm. “i know, but i hate seeing you hurt,” you answered, taking a deep breath. finally, once you’ve calmed down, you begin stitching up the wound. luke remained still through the entire process, but you could see the pain in his eyes. in a matter of minutes, and with the quick snip of the scissors, you tied off the stitches. 
“done,” you announced, tapping on his forearm. luke thanks you, and gets you from his spot, admiring his reflection in the mirror. “handsome as ever,” you whispered, heat creeping up your cheeks when you realize he heard you. he blushes at your words, but still manages to throw a cocky smirk your way. he doesn’t comment on your words, instead he pushes you towards the shower. “get cleaned up so we can sleep,” he mumbled, closing the door on his way out. you’re frozen, forgetting how to function, but once you regroup, you take the time to shower. 
it’s longer than usual, but you deserved it after everything this quest has put you through. while you’re standing under the showerhead, letting the water wash over you in waves, you can’t help but blame yourself. everything that went wrong could be pinpointed back to you. you and beth were supposed to take care of the dragon, but you were distracted by your worry, turning to check on luke. in that split second, everything went downhill from there. you should have just remained focused, followed the plan, and none of this would have happened.
“i think you should get out of the shower now, before the motel sends us their water bill,” luke whispered, opening the door to the bathroom. you clear your throat, blinking harshly. were your cheeks wet from the water or tears? “i’ll be out in a minute,” you promised, and luke agreed. once the door closed, and you were back in the privacy of the bathroom, you stepped out of your sanctuary. it’s when you dried yourself off that you realize you forgot to grab your sleepwear, but thankfully luke had you covered. sitting on the bathroom counter were a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, along with your hairbrush. you felt yourself smiling gratefully at the gesture, and started your nightly routine. 
he heard the sound of the door opening before he saw you. you were wearing the clothes he’d laid out, and your hair was dripping wet, despite your efforts to dry it. you threw the towel on the floor, letting it sit in a sopping wet heap, before climbing into the bed. he didn’t think you’d comment on the fact that the motel manager seemed to be playing matchmaker, and he was right. you lied down silently, pulling the covers up to your chest as you turned to face him. 
“it’s all my fault,” you whispered, eyes glossing over as you looked at him. luke’s eyebrows furrowed, and a confused look took over his previously serene face. “what?” he replied, uncertainly. “everything with beth, your scar, the quest. it’s all my fault,” you continued. he was baffled by the fact that you genuinely believed that. something of this caliber, of his undoing, was not your fault. “why would you think that?” he asked, genuine curiosity present in his tone. “i was supposed to distract the dragon, we both were, but i was nervous. i looked away for just a second, and the dragon maimed beth. then came for you,” you answered, voice cracking and shaking. luke’s hand cupped your cheek, wiping away at the lone tear before it could drip down the bridged of your nose. 
“beth died a hero, she knew what she was signing up for,” he whispered, thumb rubbing over the apple of your cheek. he wanted to reassure you that none of it was your fault, that nobody would blame you for what happened, that he didn’t blame you. “the blame doesn’t fall on you,” luke continued, staring softly into your eyes. “never,” he finished, kissing the tip of your nose. 
“but she’s gone. and your quest…” you trailed off, more tears brimming at your water line. “my quest was stupid anyway,” he replied, pulling you closer to him. “it was never serious. not to him,” and luke didn’t need to specify who the him was. “but it was important to you,” you said, finally meeting his brown eyes, “so it was important to me.” luke sighed at your words, his eyelashes fanning his cheekbones. “you’re the most important thing to me angel. i’ve stopped craving his approval long before this,” luke explained. 
he wished that he kept his closed so that he didn’t have to see the shocked look on your face. or the pity flashing behind your eyes. he knew, deep-down, that you didn’t pity him, you just felt bad for everything he’s faced. you felt guilty for the relationship with your parent, when he had none.
“he loves you luke, you must know that. maybe not as much as i do, but there has to be some compassion there,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled your foreheads together. “nobody can love me as much as you do,” luke whispered, lips ghosting over your skin from the proximity. “of course not, angel,” you answered, closing your eyes. he knew the stress of the quest and day was taking over you, so he let you fall into the arms of hypnos. 
when you were really asleep, he whispered the words he’d been dying to say: “i love you.” 
the way i am not strong enough to be your man // always an angel, never a god
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murdrdocs · 2 months
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thinking deranged, depraved thoughts about luke like,, making r ride her pillow, like hands on hips guiding her.. talking her through it even 😔
explicit sexual content; MDNI
eventually, you would stop being goaded into doing things by luke.
you should've seen through his meticulously chosen words when he 'offhandedly' mentioned that riding a pillow seemed pleasurable. you should've known that his endgame was sexual gratification for either of you when you told him it wasn't in your opinion. you should've seen him praying on your pride in order to get you to try it out in front of him.
and you definitely should've known, or at least remembered, that luke is confident that he can do most things better than you, leading you both here: luke's hands firm on your hips, pushing and pulling you in languid movements against the bunched up pillow between your thighs.
"theree you go," he encourages you in a long drawn out breath. his dark eyes flicker from the fabric sack between your legs—which just so happens to belong to him—up to your lazy eyes. he smiles, small and gentle.
"feels good, right?"
you don't want to admit it, knowing that an i told you so would be imminent. but you won't lie, so you stay silent. which is enough for luke.
he laughs a little, leaning forward to press a tiny kiss right beneath your navel.
"'s okay. i know it does." he takes a second and then his face scrunches in concentration. or ... wait. no. it's curiosity.
"what if we...?" his sentence remains unfinished as he starts to guide your hips faster, making sure your clit catches the seam each time. your reaction is immediate, hands flying to luke's shoulders as a gasp tumbles out from between your lips.
he's grinning now, nodding to himself.
"there we go, there she is. keep going just like that, angel, and you'll be finished in no time."
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prettiestlovergirl · 24 days
Text
PRETTY GIRL
tw: MDNI; fem!reader; demeter!reader; light bondage; corruption kink; bathroom mirror sex; bareback; fingering; light edging; unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it)
a/n: loosely inspired by this booktok post i saw about the fmc wearing ribbons in her hair & the mmc using one to tie her hands behind her back and fuck her, sooooo. this was kinda shit but shhhhh. enjoy, my lovelies! 𓆩♡𓆪
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whenever people had to describe you, they'd always mention the pretty ribbons you wore in your hair.
it was like your signature look, you always had some matching ribbon tied up into your hair some way with every outfit.
luke castellan was especially fond of the ribbons, they just accentuated how sweet and innocent you were. you were probably the purest thing he'd ever laid eyes on and he wanted nothing more than to be the one to ruin you.
he felt dirty, evil, for wanting to corrupt someone so sweet, almost angelic, like you, but when you showed up late to your regularly scheduled training session out of breath, with flushed cheeks, a basket of strawberries, and a pretty green ribbon tying up your hair... he couldn't bring himself to care anymore.
you'd been just so apologetic, explaining that you and a couple of your siblings decided to go strawberry picking and lost track of time, but all luke could focus on was your plump, pouty lips and imagining what they would look like around his cock. his cock twitched at the thought.
of course, he reassured you that it was okay, that you didn't need to stress. "relax, pretty girl. i get it." he'd cooed, reaching out end tucking a loose lock of hair behind your ear.
you'd been instantly relieved, thankful, that he was being so sweet about your slip up. when he offered to let you use the hermes cabin bathroom to clean the dirt off your face, you obviously told him yes.
luke was always so helpful when it came to you. your knight in shining armor, you once called him. he just always seemed to be there in your moments of distress, knowing just want to say every single time.
all of this led to right now, your body pressed against the bathroom counter, your eyes on luke's in the mirror as he lifted your orange camp tee off your figure and dropped it on the floor.
"fuck..." he groaned instantly, your pretty green bra matching the ribbon still holding your hair up in place. "so fucking gorgeous." he cooed in your ear, making you shiver as he pressed his lips to your neck.
"y-you're sure this is okay?" you asked, glancing over at the door nervously as he kissed down to your collarbone. he sunk his teeth into the skin, making you gasp and moan out.
he marked you as his, creating the first impure mark on your body that only he and the gods would ever know was there.
"i promise, pretty girl. 'm just helping you relax. you were so stressed earlier." luke hummed, squeezing your hip gently to reassure you that everything was okay, that this was all for you.
you nodded, relaxing into his grip as he brought his lips back down to your shoulder. his free hand snaked up your front, pulling your bra down and instantly wrapping his hand around your boob, squeezing.
you moaned out louder, your back arching into him as you leaned your head against his chest. your eyes squeezed shut while he watched your face in the mirror contorting with pleasure.
this went on and on until he was absolutely satisfied with the amount of hickeys on your shoulder and you were a moaning mess against him, your pussy practically dripping through your shorts.
"you're doing so good, pretty girl." he murmured as he brought both of his hands down to take care of your jeans, letting them drop along with your panties and moaning at the view.
your inner thighs were soaked in your own arousal and luke's cock twitched at the sight. he wanted to just fuck you right now, but once again he needed to be patient. if he moved too fast n hurt you, you'd never want to do this again, and that was something he couldn't risk.
he spread your legs out a bit wider, encouraging you to hold onto the counter. "no one's ever touched you here, yeah?" he asked, his voice a bit breathy as he looked at how your pretty pussy looked in the mirror.
"uh-huh." you nodded, your own voice breathy as his fingers reach down and spread your pussy open. "no one but you" you reassured, moaning out as he gently slid a finger inside, your walls instantly clenching around it as you watched in the mirror.
fuck, you were so tight around just one of his fingers, luke couldn't wait to feel how you'd clench around his cock. just the thought made his dick get even harder, if that was even possible.
you gripped onto the counter even tighter with one arm while the other latched onto him. the intrusion was a brand-new feeling to you, but one you certainly enjoyed.
"o-oh, gods!" you moaned, unintentionally grinding down against his hand as he began to pump it inside of you. you whimpered and moaned out, nails digging into his arm and making him hiss in pleasure at the sting. look at you, marking him back.
it wasn't long until you were sagging back against him, forcing your eyes to stay open and watch through your lashes as his finger moved in and out of your pussy.
you became a moaning mess, grinding against him as you started to feel a knot tightening in your core. "mm, luke, i f-feel something!" you gasped, bucking your hips against him. he pulled his finger out, making you whine instantly as your cunt clenched around nothing.
"luke!" you whined, biting the inside of your cheek as you suddenly felt so empty without his finger inside of you. "relax, pretty girl. 'm gonna take good care of you." he cooed, pressing a kiss to the side of your head as you pouted but nodded.
he reached his hand up to your hair, tugging the green fabric holding it up and pulling until the knot came undone, your hair falling down over your shoulders.
"what are you doing?" you asked, your brow furrowed sweetly as he held the ribbon his hand. "just trust me, baby. you do trust me, right?" he asked, giving you his own mocking pout.
"'course..." you nodded, still so confused until he grabbed your hands and started to tie them behind your back. you wanted to ask more questions, but you didn't want him to think you didn't trust him! so you obediently let him tie a knot.
"that's my good girl." he praised, hiding his smirk at how much you really did trust him. "now, this is gonna hurt a bit, pretty girl, but i promise after a minute it's gonna feel so good." he murmured while he fisted his cock.
"o-okay..." you nodded, nervous butterflies fluttering around your stomach as you felt his tip slowly start to probe your entrance. "fuck!" you cried, your eyes screwing shut and your face contorting in pain as he slowly started filling you up.
"fuck, l-luke, you're too.. fuck, you're too big!" you whined, tears welling up in your eyes as you tugged against the fabric binding your hands together.
luke had instantly groaned upon entering your warm, wet pussy. he'd barely got a quarter of his cock in, your pussy far too tight and squeezing him. he wanted nothing more than to push in and start thrusting, but he had to be good, for your sake. at least, this time.
"just gotta breathe, pretty girl. need you to relax." he grunted, straining with the effort to stay still. you whined more, but once his hand connected with your swollen clit, you started to relax.
he pushed in more and more until finally, he was all the way in and your cunt stretched to fit him. "oh, fuck, fuck!" you moaned out, eyes fluttering shut as he finally started to thrust in and out of you.
you were still clenching around him, your puffy walls clinging to his cock like a vice while he held you hands behind your back. he moaned as he got rougher, finally just unable to help himself. you were too wet, too tight, too fucking good to keep moving so slow.
"tell me you're mine." he commanded as his thrusts got a bit harsher, his grip on your hips tightening as you whined out. "fuck, fuck, 'm all yours! all yours!"
he thrusted quick and rough, his eyes firmly glued to the mirror so he could watch the way your wet pussy created a creamy white ring around his cock when he thrusted into you.
this went on and on until you started to feel that same knot building up again, your hips bucking against his as he thrusted. "f-fuck, luke, it's h-happening again!" you moaned, his thrusts getting faster and faster until finally, you came on his cock, soaking him in your juices.
he continued to thrust faster and rougher, now chasing his own high as you whined over the sensitivity. "fuck, baby, fuck, pussy's just so fucking good!" he moaned, until finally he pulled out and covered your back and arms in ropes of his cum.
you all but collapsed against him, panting heavily as you turned to bury your face into his neck. he held you just like this until you caught your breath and came down from your high.
eventually, you both got cleaned up and redressed, your legs already sore as you walked out hand and hand.
you hadn't noticed at the time, but your pretty green ribbon never made it back into your hair. instead, it was tied neatly around luke's free wrist, making sure everybody knew exactly who you belonged to.
ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ
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tangledinlove · 2 months
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when the sun came up (i was looking at you)
part three — the killerverse masterlist
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pairing: luke castellan x fem reader
word count: 4.8k
summary: your poisoning in the woods and everything that comes after
content: angst + hurt/comfort. reader is poisoned which leads to aggression/hallucination; she gets restrained. general near death experience content ?
notes: title from out of the woods by taylor swift. these guys are NEVER escaping the trauma of the woods loll
The door slams inward, and the entire Apollo cabin goes silent.
There’s about ten campers inside, a few of them clustered around the cot in the center of the room. Every single one of them turns to face Luke with the same look painted on their faces.
Panic.
“Where is she?”
They part like the Red Sea, avoiding his eyes and scrambling to disperse throughout the room. Luke’s on autopilot, his eyes darting around the room for any familiar face as he pushes past those who don’t get out of the way fast enough.
A girl named Mary - or Maria? - is sitting by the window. She looks quickly down at her feet when he catches her eye. Beck blinks wide eyed at him as he side steps out of his line of fire.
(Something out in the forest. Screaming that could be heard from three cabins down. Uncontrollable aggression.)
“Luke,” Miles says, the only one brave enough to stand in front of him. He plants a firm hand on his shoulder, his brows knitted together. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”
His hand gets shoved off immediately. Luke can’t believe what he’s saying to him — the disapproval in Miles’ voice at his presence in the cabin. He scoffs, trying to cool down the anger that threatens to flare up.
Hyperthermia, someone else had said. It doesn’t take a child of Athena to know the risks of it. You’re somewhere nearby, in pain, and Miles has the gall to tell Luke he shouldn’t be looking for you.
Luke’s badly contained temper comes back with a vengeance.
“You should fucking know better. She’s my…” Luke’s breath shakes as he inhales. “She’s my best friend.”
Miles wilts and turns to his siblings, looking for backup. Not a single one meets his eyes. He’s torn in half, clearly fighting with himself over something.
(“Luke.” Warmth around his wrist. Your hand. “Please hold me.”
Red palms. Your dried blood between the creases on his hands — the lines you’d trace while half asleep, leaning against his shoulder while trying to get some rest.
The coldness of your hands. Chocolate bars so rich you have trouble eating. The suffocating sterility of the hospital.
The entire goddamn state of Pennsylvania.
Luke won’t do it again.)
“Tell me where she is,” he snaps, his voice bordering on a snarl.
Luke Castellan is not above begging.
It’s quiet. Miles’ siblings are staring at the two of them, unashamed. Luke can see the guilt in all of their eyes.
The younger boy is frowning. “We’re not supposed to—”
“So what?” he grits out. “Do you expect me to sit around while she’s fucking dying?” Miles is silent, and Luke scoffs. He turns to the rest of the campers, his gaze sharp enough to hurt. They remain quiet.
“If none of you tell me, I’m going out there to find her myself.”
Miles is frowning. Luke turns his back on him. “Wait, Luke—”
“The river by the strawberry fields.”
It’s one of the older Apollo kids. Luke’s known him for a while, and he couldn’t be more grateful. The boy, Carter, is sitting on the cot that his siblings had been crowding around earlier. There’s a cut over his eyebrow and he’s clutching a bag of ice to his cheek. When his hand drops, Luke can see the tell-tale signs of new bruising.
“She’s hyperthermic,” a girl next to Carter confirms after she glances at Miles wearily. “Whatever got her out there was poisonous. We couldn’t break her fever.”
“A few of them just left for the river,” someone else offers. “It’s the coldest source of water nearby. They have to help her cool down, or else…”
She trails off, but she doesn’t need to continue for Luke to understand. The pity is rolling off her in waves.
What should be a comfort offers him nothing but the realization that it’s all real. You really are dying, so sick that the Apollo kids are at a loss of what to do. This isn’t another night terror — a messed up idea his mind has come up with to torture him.
It’s real. And this time, waking up won’t save him from it.
He can only hope he looks as grateful as he feels when he mutters out his thanks.
“Luke,” your friend Liza calls before he can get too close to the door.
She’d done your hair for you just last week, perfectly styled strands you’d shown him with a grin. When he faces her now, there are unshed tears in her eyes. “You need to be careful. She’s- not herself. And she’s scared.”
Uncontrollable anger. The red mark on Carter’s face is beginning to make more sense.
The other kids standing around the cabin give Luke tentative looks, although he’s not sure why. Do they expect him to cower at the thought of you hurting him? Surely they should know by now.
He turns away from them and starts in the direction of the river.
It’s not that far, just a left out of the Apollo cabin and about a five minute walk towards the woods. If he goes fast, he knows he’ll catch up with you in no time.
The short distance is why Luke hears you before he sees you.
As he gets closer to the river, the quiet sounds of nature are drowned out by the words of the Apollo kids standing over you.
“Ah, shit— Lucy, hold her.”
“Gods, I really don’t want to, but if this is going to work, we’re going to need to—”
The girl gets cut off by a scream. A warped plea ripping itself from your throat.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” another voice says in pity, and the fear that’s wrapped itself around Luke’s chest begins to constrict his lungs.
He’s by the water before he can even realize that he started running. There’s only three healers here, but the way they’re huddled around you still manages to block you from view.
He has to remind himself to breathe, to continue inhaling and exhaling so he doesn’t pass the fuck out.
In.
(Three jagged lines, angry and red hot.)
Out.
(Pus oozing from the gapes made in marred skin.)
In.
(Cold to the touch. The weight of your unconscious body on his back.)
Out.
It’s stupid. They’re trying to save your life, trying to keep you from cooking yourself from the inside out, but Luke takes the closest Apollo kid by the back of their shirt and drags them behind him, breaking the iron tight ring of people hiding you from view.
Your hands are bound.
Golden fabric circles your wrists, locking your arms behind your back. The girl, Lucy, has both of your legs secured under an arm while she tries to work another strip around your ankles.
Luke sees red.
He bites back the venom threatening to spill from his mouth.
These girls are young, he tries to remind himself through the anger that’s burning hot in his chest. They’re scared too.
He drops to his knees, hands moving immediately for your bindings. The same hands that have held him through nightmares and his mother’s fits are locked together and held by your own weight into the dirt.
Your shoulder is inches away from his hand when Luke is yanked backwards harshly. It feels like an electric current shakes his skull when his head hits the stones lining the river.
“Luke,” Casey, the girl he pulled away, says his name frantically. His vision is swimming, but he pushes himself up onto his forearms despite the ringing in his ears that tells him to stay down. “We really didn’t want to, but she’s getting violent, she—”
When the world comes into slight focus, he can see the unmistakable footprint shape pressed into the front of her t-shirt. Maya, the girl by your head that’s trying to help Lucy ease you into the water, has a raw scratch going down the expanse of her arm.
Despite your bindings, you’re putting up a fight. You lock your knees before thrashing out, knocking Lucy back a few inches as you try to jab Maya in the nose with the back of your head.
“It’s everywhere!”
It takes Luke a second to even recognize your voice as your own. It sounds like your larynx has been shredded, the usual cadence of your voice unrecognizable to his ears.
Casey doesn’t bother trying to push him back down when he surges forward for you.
It’s the first good look he’s gotten of you since this morning. You’d eaten breakfast together like always, your knees knocking against his whenever you got super into the story you were telling him and Chris.
When it was over, some of your friends ended up dragging you away for the rest of the day. There was an apologetic grin on your face as you waved at him from across the pavilion.
He should’ve gone with you. Should’ve, should’ve, should’ve.
His fingers are already working to loosen the knots at your wrists when he remembers he should say something. “Killer, it’s me,” he says, trying to tamper down the waver in his voice.
The golden fabric falls limply to the ground. The skin below it is rubbed raw from your thrashing, and the sight makes Luke want to empty his stomach. He tries meeting your gaze, but your eyes are squeezed shut, your face turned away from him as you sob.
You need to calm her down, Luke thinks to himself. Stressing her out is going to worsen everything. Calm her down.
He thinks about his nightmares, about the sweat sticking his shirt to his back and to his bedsheets. You’ve helped him through it countless times, what feels like every night since his quest.
You had seemed so sure of yourself from the very start, like brushing his hair from his face and knowing exactly what to say was second nature to you. He’d hold you on those nights and fall asleep to the feeling of your gentle exhales against his chest. Luke doesn’t know a place safer than with you in his bed, one of your arms thrown over him and the rest of you tangled together.
Luke clenches his hands, trying to will the shaking away. He doesn’t know how to do that for you, and it makes hatred fester in his chest.
He pushes stray strands of hair away from your face before moving to untie the fabric at your ankles. The other girls have long backed away by now, know that trying to stop him would be useless.
You’re quiet. Painfully so. But the moment your legs are free, you move like you’re being fueled by fire. Luke barely dodges the swipe you make at his face as you kick your leg out in a wide arc. He flattens himself against the ground, and you wrestle yourself on top of him, your legs curling around one of his and locking him against the dirt.
He’d taught you how to do this.
Lucy lets out a startled gasp, and Casey moves forward to drag you off of him, but he holds up a firm hand, the message clear.
Stop.
You waste no time. Your hands string around his neck, constricting in a way that's sure to leave bruises. Your eyes had been pressed firmly shut earlier, but now they’re blown wide. The sclera of your eyes are red and aflame, and your constricted pupils are swallowed up by the color of your irises.
Your face is devoid of any emotions. You don’t recognize him.
As the airflow to his lungs slows, it would make sense for his adrenaline to propel him upwards, to get him to wrestle you to the ground and pin your arms. He’s done it before and could do it again, despite how difficult you make it.
But there’s another part of his brain that’s taking over, dragging him away from his instincts to protect himself.
Because it’s you.
The same way his natural battle instincts have been hardwired into his brain, it’s like his body has a visceral reaction to being with you, to hold you in his hands and shelter you from everything else.
Luke rubs soothing circles into the backs of the hands that are wrapped around his throat. They’re searing hot.
“Kill-er,” the syllables are stilted, coming out intermittently whenever he can manage to get air through. He’s surprised he can even speak right now, knowing the strength that courses through your veins. If you’d wanted him to, he’d be down for the count.
You’re going easy on him.
He moves his hands off of yours to hold the back of your head. Sweat runs down from your forehead, your body working tirelessly to cool you down. Your wild eyes dart across his face frantically, taking him in for what seems like the first time. Confusion and recognition is flickering across your face.
It’s then when Luke sees the puncture wound on your neck, the mark green and sickly and throbbing at your pulse point. He brushes hair away from your face.
The grip around his neck begins to loosen slightly, and he takes in as much oxygen as he can through his gasp for air. He takes your hands in his again and squeezes once.
“It’s me, sweetheart. It’s Luke.”
The tension you’re using to lock his legs into place dissipates. You blink hard, like you’re trying to come back to yourself.
He should throw you off of him now, he knows he should. Your hands are no longer tight around his throat, and the heat of your body where it's pressed against his is unbearable.
“Luke,” you rasp. “Luke.”
“It’s me, it’s me,” he mumbles, the relief pouring through the cracks. He lets go of your hands to run a soothing hand down your back. The back of your shirt is soaked through with sweat.
Your face cracks. You lean down close to him, your face curling in anguish.
“Luke, they’re everywhere.” Your voice is quiet, like you’re trying to tell him a secret no one else can hear.
He nods before he knows why. “I know, I know. It’s why we need to take you to the water. It’ll help, killer, I promise.”
You’ve gone a little boneless, your arms giving in as you collapse against him. The heat emanating from your skin is growing oppressive, and he knows he needs to move. “I can feel them, Luke. It’s everywhere.”
“I’m sorry, I know,” he says again, heaving you upwards. One of his hands goes to the back of your head as the other secures itself around your lower back. He repeats his words into your hair as he inches both of you closer to the water.
He’s going to have to let you go. Letting you cling onto his body heat isn’t doing you any favors, but he finds his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt when you wind yourself around him.
Hold her, everything in him seems to say.
So he does.
“Luke,” someone says, snapping him out of your orbit. It’s Casey, standing ankle deep in the water in front of him. He’d almost forgotten anyone else was here. Maya and Lucy look on from the grass with matching concerned expressions. “You have to hurry. There’s not much time.”
There’s a water nymph standing a few feet in fromt of them — this must be her river. She’s cocking her head at you curiously, and when Luke sucks in a broken inhale at the sudden drop in temperature, he knows it’s her doing.
The fabric of his pants gets soaked through with the icy water immediately, but he sinks deeper into the river despite it. You jolt in his arms the second the water comes up to your chest.
“Luke,” you sob, your grip around his shoulders growing painfully tight. “I can’t, I can’t, I—”
He pries your face out of the crook of his neck regardless of the way you’re protesting.
Luke is shivering. You are far from it. You’re even making it worse, trying to wrap yourself around him even with the heat that’s threatening to kill you.
When he knocks his forehead against yours, he says your name, your real name, with as much force as he can muster.
“Do you trust me?”
Luke has no idea what tricks your mind is playing on you. He doesn’t know if the poison will take five minutes or ten hours to leave your system, and has no idea if this water will even help you. Your organs could fail in an hour and this entire thing would have been pointless. He could be lying to you right now, giving you false hope that he can fix it all. But pressed so close to you, he watches as your eyes dilate, and he knows that you’ve placed your trust in him.
The tears that have collected in your eyes spill over, running in rivulets down your face. He wipes them away with careful hands as you slump in his arms. Luke presses another kiss onto the high point of your cheek.
He works to unwind your arms from around his neck, and you groan like it physically pains you. He’s mumbling apologies the entire time, laying you on your back as the salt of your tears mixes with the freshwater of the river.
He knows he shouldn’t be touching you, shouldn’t be giving you another source of heat, but you give him a look that breaks his heart when he tries to loosen your hold on his wrist. He folds. He leaves a comforting hand against your shoulder blades as he scoops water to pour over your head.
He doesn’t stop until he hears your teeth chattering from the cold.
Luke doesn’t torture you with the distance any longer. When Casey gives him a look of approval, he tilts you upward to pull you back into his chest. You fit perfectly into the dip of his shoulder, and he holds the back of your head as close to him as physically possible.
The two of you sit there and listen to the sound of the shifting water around you until your skin begins to prune. He holds you there, feeling your steady heartbeat against his until his breathing evens out.
Your hands are cold again.
Luke remembers how they had felt when he had sat by your hospital bed and tried not to cry.
But this time, the cold is comforting. You’re not burning up anymore, your body no longer threatening to swallow you whole.
He had Carter check your temperature. And then check it again fifteen minutes later. Your temperature is a perfectly healthy 98 degrees fahrenheit.
He watches your chest rise and fall underneath the blankets. And then he presses his hand against it just to make sure it isn’t a trick of the light.
He cares about you. A lot. But he knows you’re going to drive him crazy with worry by the time you’re both twenty-five.
Luke sits with a towel wrapped around his shoulders as various Apollo kids come in and out to check on you. It’s not that he doesn’t trust them, but being more than fifty feet away from you isn’t something he thinks he can stomach right now.
He would’ve probably sat in his drenched clothes all day if someone hadn’t threatened to kick him out for dripping water all over the floors. Chris had come by to drop off a change of clothes from the cabin, and had left him with warm sweatpants and the hoodie he had given you a long time ago. There were paint stains on the sleeves from that one time the Apollo kids had dragged him into crafts with the younger campers, and the edge of one of the sleeves had long since worn away with age.
It was your favorite of his, oddly enough. He was more likely to find it draped on your frame than on his.
(“Hey, Castellan,” Chris had joked the first time you’d stolen it from him. “Nice outfit.”
You’d grinned, prodding him with the point of your shoe. “Think I wear it better?”
You did.
For the rest of the night, Luke wondered why he felt so weird after Chris had referred to you with his last name.)
He puts the hoodie aside for you and sits in the plain shirt offered to him earlier instead. The fabric of the sweatshirt smells like you now. It’s not his anymore.
Someone clears their throat from behind him. He turns to find Casey leaning against one of the beams, staring at the two of you with something swimming in her eyes. “The poison’s run its course. She’s on the mend.”
“Right,” Luke says. He’s too tired to say much else, and he’s still bitter about the way he had found you, sobbing with your wrists tied around your back. He’s trying hard not to be angry at them, so he avoids looking at the injuries left behind on your skin. “Thanks.”
She doesn’t move from her spot, watching and observing. Luke waits for her to spit out whatever it is she wants to say.
“You’re lucky, Luke.”
He fights the urge to scoff. ‘Lucky’ is probably the last word Luke Castellan would use to describe himself. If he was really lucky, you’d be sitting by the lake with him and he’d be rubbing sunscreen over your back so you wouldn’t get burned. “I’m lucky that my best friend almost died?”
She purses her lips. “That’s not what I meant.”
Your light breathing rustles the thin sheet over you and he slips his hand into yours. Traces the veins at your wrist.
“I meant that you’re lucky to have each other. I can tell the two of you are close.”
He wants to laugh. Close. Luke wants to think that after a lifetime of having each other, you’d be considered something more than close.
“She wouldn’t have made it, if you hadn’t shown up.”
He had known that, of course. But hearing her say it out loud makes it too real. You’d almost died. Again.
“I know Miles kind of chewed you out earlier, so I’m here to apologize on his behalf. You’re a really good guy, Luke.”
He turns to face her. Her red curly hair is messy, like the stress of the day has worn her down.
Luke finds his lingering irritation dissolving. She’s just a kid.
He nods at her and decides to not acknowledge her compliment. “Thanks for apologizing.”
She turns on her heel quickly, shutting the door behind her.
“I am pretty lucky.”
Luke can’t turn around faster. You squeeze his hand three times and he feels the weight on his chest lifted.
“Sorry that I keep doing this to you.”
You’re halfway smiling. He smiles, too, even though he feels dead on his feet.
He drops half of his face into your stomach, and you move to scratch at his scalp. He sighs. You smell like the cool freshwater of the river.
“Yeah. You should be sorry.”
You sit up before he can protest and kiss the mess of curls on top of his head. You don’t seem to mind how they’re damp and gross, threading your fingers through them and dragging your nails in that way you do.
Luke wants to hold you forever and hurt anything that’s ever looked at you wrong. He wonders how you’d feel if he went back into the forest and sent whatever did this to you back into Tartarus with his bare hands.
“I’m never letting you go out into the woods ever again,” he says instead.
“Oh?”
“You’re living up to your nickname, killer. Each of these hospital trips takes a decade off my life, you know.”
“My bad.”
He drags your hand out of his hair to slot your fingers together. “If I ever catch you in here again, I’m killing you myself.”
“Duly noted.”
“I’m serious. If I see you within thirty feet of this cabin again, you’re in for it.”
You laugh, light and sweet. You do your mock salute. “Yes, sir.”
He doesn’t get up from where he’s laying on your chest, and you don’t move an inch for a while.
“Thank you, Luke,” you say after a bit. “I would’ve been dead, like a decade ago, if you weren’t around. You do so much for me.”
He squeezes your hand. “I’d do anything for you. I’d even let you strangle me a hundred more times.”
You sit up abruptly, and Luke knows he’s fucked up.
“What?”
Your hand goes under his chin and you force him upwards before he can stop you. You tug the neckline of his shirt down and he tries to protest, but he hears you gasp and knows it's too late. He can’t see your expression with the way you’re inspecting the column of his neck, but you are silent the entire time.
“Gods, Luke…” You say after a while. Your hand drops quickly to your lap like just the sight of the bruising has burned you. “I tried to- tried to kill you. I didn’t realize what I was doing. I’m so… I didn’t know-”
He shakes his head, meeting your gaze head on. You’ve started tearing up again, your eyes trained on the splotches of purple around his throat. “Wasn’t your fault. Don’t even imply that shit. You weren’t yourself, do you understand?”
Your hand is limp in his when he reaches for it. The two of you sit in the quiet of the Apollo cabin again, listening to the sounds of the stray campers that walk past the windows outside.
“I can’t believe I did that. I deserve to be locked up. I’m a monster for doing that to your pretty skin,” you say absentmindedly.
Luke cracks a smile. He thinks he’d let you drive a knife through his heart and still say it wasn’t your fault.
“I didn’t understand what was happening. But I could… feel everything.”
He runs a hand up your leg, soothingly. “You don’t have to—”
“No, it’s fine.” You shake your head. “I couldn’t really see ‘cause my vision was all screwed up. But I wasn’t scared.”
“I was,” he admits readily, squeezing your thigh.
If one of you dies first, he hopes it’s him. He’s had a taste of you dying twice already and isn’t sure what would happen to him if he had to watch it really happen.
“I wasn’t. ‘Cause I could feel you,” you say. You’re looking right at him but seem so far away. “I could hear your voice, but I couldn’t tell if it was you. But I knew you were with me when you were stroking my head like you do when you try and put me to sleep. And I wasn’t scared anymore.”
Luke feels like someone’s torn open his ribcage and shoved his organs back in.
Is this normal? he wonders. To feel this strongly about your best friend?
He stops himself from surging forward and taking your face into his hands.
What would he even do? Luke isn't even sure himself. He forces the ridiculous thoughts from his head and pulls your hand up to kiss your palm. He presses his mouth into the center and moves down to your injured wrist and then to the warm skin by your pulse.
You let out a watery laugh. “You’re stuck with me for life. Until the end.”
He smiles into the skin of your wrist. You’re joking, he’s sure of it, but he wouldn’t mind forever with you.
Luke stands up for the first time in what feels like hours. He nudges you forward on the twin sized cot, and you let him settle behind you. It’s a slightly awkward fit, but you don’t seem to care, lying comfortably against him. Your body is warm where it's pressed to his chest and Luke knows he could do this forever.
“I’m never letting you out of my sight again,” he says lightly, pressing a kiss into your hair. He doesn’t want to think about how serious he is. “So don’t get sick of me yet.”
You tuck yourself under his chin, pulling his arms around your front. Something inside of him clicks, like turning on a light, or slotting something into place.
When you turn around to kiss his cheek, it borders dangerously on the corner of his mouth.
“As if I’d ever be sick of you, hero.”
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notes: will i ever give her a break? i guess we’ll never know! i cant tell if i dislike this bc im sick of reading it or if i didnt edit it enough 😭 so kindly let me know if u enjoyed :)
tags — lmk if u want to be removed/added!
killerverse: @yoremins @qtkat @mischiefmoons @cedricsleftelbow @syraxesrevenge @whiteoakoak @acourtofdeppressionandanxiety @dummie-dummiest @softtina @amberpanda99 @luvvfromme @3alamari @esposadomd
luke castellan: @chasebeth @silkenthusiasts @urmomsbananabread @sunny747 @randomgurl2326 @repostingmyfavs @au-ghosttype @mrsaluado @holy-macncheese-balls @catluvwr @katemlk @lukecastellandefender @wonuskie @kitkat-writes-stuff @bugcuti3 @bookworm-center @justanotherkpopstanlol @quinnsadilla @tinolawithrice @jjenjoysthings @marisrope @cantstoptherecs @anotherblackreader @iamforeverandalwaystired @siriusly-parker-main @mclando81 @amortencjja @inlovewithcarsthatrunreallyfast @amoreva
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