I Was Wondering If You Could Write A Needy Luke Trying To Get Readers Attention But The Reader Is Just

this broke me and put me together

⋆· ༘* love, every summertime !

pairing ★ jock!luke castellan x drum major!reader

synopsis ★ the one where you start over. or, a montage playing in the heat waves. (4.7k)

content ★ no reader pronouns, luke pov for finale chapter lfggg!!, long-distance relationship moments, silly silly teens, so much fluff it will make u sick to the stomach

notes ★ wc went crazy for the end of an era omagosh.... ily all so dearly, ty for making iss17 so very fun for me <3

series masterlist

Luke might be high, or something.

Except, he’s never gotten high before because he’s an athlete, and of course that’s bad in general for his health.

But you’re laying on his bed, back pressed into the mattress, arms stretched to hold his phone above your face, in a tank top because the heat’s starting to make the both of you woozy, so.

Maybe it’s the summer’s stifle getting to him. Even with his back pressed against the cold wall of his room, he can feel it—the oppressive lick of a heat wave settling over the city.

The spiral of the ceiling fan has already gone lazy, the sound of the blades’ chut-chutting petering out to a lame beat.

You tap your index finger against the back of his phone in the same rhythm, keeping time. A chime, half-flourishing and all-congratulatory, and you give a winning smile.

( Luke’s been looking for your smiles a lot, actually. There’s something in the sharp flash of your canines that make the vessels in his chest grow taut. )

“New streak,” you cut short some syllables and draw the others long; he knows you’re smug about beating his win streak. “I think I’m better at this than y—ack!”

The device slips loose from your hands and lands flat on your face. Luke doesn’t dare laugh aloud as he watches you process with your hands still frozen midair, but the way his body shakes the bed is telling.

You kick him with his phone still stuck to your nose. “Asshole.”

“Oh no, I must beg your forgiveness,” he croaks like an old, wizened man. Gandalf maybe, who knows—who cares, Luke’s picking his phone off your face and flopping down with an arm slung over you.

It’s too hot to share body heat, yea, but he’s Luke Castellan. Don’t care is his middle name.

“I’ll stop watching the GPs if you don’t.”

Oh, how scary.

“My poor baby,” Luke’s cooing out the term of endearment, pecking all over your face like a sap. He guesses he must be a maple tree then, syrupy-sweet. “Gravity got you bad, huh? Maybe we should go to space together and never have to worry about dropping your phone.”

You get your palm on his face, holding him and his mouth away. “Let me know if there are aliens on your solo trip to the asteroid belt.”

“That’s rude.”

“Okay?”

The moment you let your hand fall away, he’s hunting that spot of skin along the juncture of your neck that he knows is sensitive, attacking with his mouth and blowing a raspberry.

You squeak, thrash, jab your fingers under his jaw—ah fuck, now he’s the one squirming around, tearing up ‘cause why did he ever think it wise to tell you where he’s most ticklish?

“Stop,” Luke gasps into your neck, words stuttering as he hiccups his last giggles, “stop, I surrender.”

You pull your fingers away and he finds himself missing your touch already, no matter how mercilessly you’d tickled him.

Sun yellowed, careworn. An unmade bed and laying over blankets that should’ve been put away last season. Luke likes you like this, edges soft under the afternoon rays and sweat sticky on your temples.

Well, he likes you like this and likes you like that and just. Likes you whenever, wherever.

Yea, he just likes you. Totally casual, not that deep—you’ll probably drift apart come fall, when you separate for college. You raise a brow at his staring, pupils stretching, mouth just past ajar.

( The shape of you has long been carved into his bones. )

Okay, maybe he likes you a lot more than that, to the point where he hopes you don’t mind video calling too much.

♫ TV Girl ・ Taking What’s Not Yours

[ IMAGE: a snapshot taken in the reflection of a rearview mirror of a truck. Four teens sit in the vehicle—Luke at the wheel, you in shotgun, and Charles and Silena in the back. Charles holds up his hands in a ‘hang loose’ gesture, and Silena is laughing jubilantly. Luke is rolling his eyes. ]

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majmajmaj snr ditch be everyday post-grad

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beckydwarf had me thinkin we got school tmrw 😭

↳ majmajmaj u praying for september to come quick huh

lukestellans 🩵

↳ travstole NASTAYYY ↳ conmanstole ig he found sm1 to match his 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴

Life on the road is scarce.

The only movement Luke can spot is with the tall grass lining the lane of cracked asphalt, lit by the twilight. He’s pulled over under the shadow of an apple tree and already Silena, Charles, and you are hounding him to unlock the doors of his dad’s pickup.

“Open up!”

You pull at the collar of your shirt. “Why’s it so hot in here…”

“My dad hasn’t fixed the AC.”

Charles, bewildered, “Why couldn’t he fix the AC?”

“He’s a lazy ass.”

Silena slaps the flat of her palm against the window. “Lucas Castellan, unlock the doors!”

“The fuck, my name’s just Luke?”

The locks pop open with a resounding snick, the cheerleader being the first to dart out and grab the things in the truck bed.

( Luke doesn’t doubt that she’s taking the first pick of soda for herself. )

He’s unbuckling and striding around the front in a blur, fast enough to beat you to the punch. Luke snags the handle and opens the door for you, all princely and angelic.

You give him a look that says—if he’s reading it correctly and not being delusional—free kisses when Charles and Silena are too preoccupied with staring into each other’s eyes.

He ends up being right. While the other couple are stargazing in the meadow, you sneak back to the cracked, curbless road, you climbing into the passenger seat and Luke begging to let him straddle you.

Kissing comes easy now, almost second nature. He knows that you like it slower, his hands balling in your shirt and yours at his waist.

Luke also knows that you go crazy when he has to tilt back to yank off his foggy glasses, because when he does, you dive back in and mumble a breathless fuck against his lips, which in turn drives him insane, so he grips the front of your shirt harder which in turn drives…well.

You get the idea.

Though it’s starting to get dark out—crickets starting choirs and all—Luke’s senses are still hyper-alert, soaking in every trace of you against him.

He’s about halfway down the trail he’s planning to blaze along the line of your throat when Silena coughs. Alright, maybe he isn’t as alert as he thinks he is.

“I think it’s time to go back,” she says, eyebrows raised and hand on hip and all.

“Uh,” Luke fixes his hair and tries to slide off your lap, but you’ve got your traitorous fingers hooked in his belt loops, “where’s Beckendorf?”

Right on time, the big drum major parts the tall grass with his…back? Charles moonwalks to the door, being careful not to make eye contact with anyone; he’s got his head in his hands too, wearing a veil of disappointment.

Charles groans, “I hate both of you.”

“Raise your hand if you’ve ever been personally victimized by Luke and major?” Silena suggests, and her boyfriend’s arm shoots up immediately.

“Right,” you cough, “sorry.”

That doesn’t stop you from drumming your fingers on Luke’s thigh—while he’s driving in the dark! A true show of restraint as—Charles and Silena slump against each other in their sleep.

TO: monza baby

(15:32) did u know percabeth works here or (15:32) they r staring at me w beady ass eyes scary asfff 😨

FROM: monza baby

(15:34) NOWHERE in this town is safe istg 😭😭

“Need another sample?”

Percy’s grin is all too wide, teeth gleaming under the bright lights in the yogurt shop. He’s got his eyes curved into joyful crescents, but his creepy little irises still manage to peer out.

Annabeth stands behind him, a similar expression on her face, just without the creepy eyes. She holds out a small cup, paper gone flimsy between her fingers.

Little shits.

Luke takes the sample cup with a ginger hand and steps back cautiously to join you by the dispenser wall.

“Little shits,” he mumbles, craning his neck so that his mouth meets the shell of your ear. “How’d they both manage to score a job here?”

( It’s not like it’s hard to get a job at the yogurt shop. Luke got his first paycheck here, just before sophomore year; that summer, the heat had been suffocating, and on top of that, the AC was broken.

He doesn’t know if you remember it, but you came in with your friends during the deadest hour of the day. At high noon, with the aircon broken, the yogurt came out in spurts of watery mush. You tipped him nonetheless. )

You laugh softly, mulling over your options. Strawberry, plain tart, mango, etc. Luke doesn’t really care which one he’ll taste on your lips later.

“Short staffed, probably,” you tell him. “Or maybe they said they were from Kane Academy. Everyone knows that Mr. Boreas hates kids from ZC.”

“Honestly, his beef with the staff is insane,” he says, pulling down one of the levers.

A gentle hum permeates the cool, quiet atmosphere as the yogurt—solid this time, not like a few years ago with the broken AC—slides easily into his sample cup.

You lean over, tongue scooping over the top of the sample. “Didn’t you work here? I swear I remember you in that stupid apron.”

Luke’s raising the cup up to his mouth when you say that. He coughs, “Uh, just for a week or so. Needed money to buy my sports gear.”

“Right, ‘cause your dad didn’t want to pay unless it was for track or cross.”

“Yep.”

“Man, he’s a shitty guy. I’m honestly glad to be free from Heralds.”

Sudden, “I thought you said you liked it.”

Luke pivots to face Annabeth. She gazes up at the two of you with wide doe eyes, innocent and completely innocuous.

As if Luke doesn’t know how much of a gremlin she really is.

You shrug at her, eyes narrowing at the fact that she and Percy have been eavesdropping. “It’s mid as hell, I just couldn’t say so since I was the editor. Join yearbook instead, the cameras are way nicer.”

Luke jerks his head back. “Nah, yearbook was ass. Nobody knew anyone’s names—like, half the pictures are unlabeled or just wrong.”

Annabeth stares for a still moment, processing. Percy is looking over from behind the register, straining over the counter with his feet hanging off the floor.

The girl laughs, lips peeling away from her teeth, eyes squeezing shut with her hands on her stomach and all. Luke looks at Percy—the boy’s jaw has gone slack, eyebrows rising, blinking slowly like he can’t believe it.

Percy Jackson is fucking starstruck through the goddamn heart for the kid Luke has considered a sister since forever. You’re laughing with her too—a smear of yogurt stark on your bottom lip, mouth tilting in that crooked grin he’s learned to love.

Maybe it’s not that bad, after all. Luke looks at you like that too, even though he’ll never admit it.

lukestellans posted a story ・ 3h

[ IMAGE: a candid photo of you standing bleary in front of a TV with a bowl of popcorn in hand, dressed in an old sleep shirt and basketball shorts. You’re facing away from the camera and gazing at the screen which has zoomed in on the F1 Ferrari driver Charles Leclerc. He is wearing his helmet with the visor flipped up, eyes shining as he looks at something offscreen. The caption in the lower right-hand corner reads: mr steal ur bae. ]

majmajmaj replied to your story:

AND WHO WAS RHE ONE WAKING ME UP AT 6 AM TO PARTICIPATE IN HIS FORZA FERRARI RITUAL !!!

luvvbeaus replied to your story:

AS IF UR NOT THE SAME. GOOFY AHH MF 💀

You peer at him with your eyes at half-mast over the slope of your bicep, where the sleeve of your sleep shirt has ridden up.

“If you kiss me right now, we’re breaking up.”

Over the course of the night, you’ve buried yourself deeper into his bed—stomach to the mattress, one arm slung over a throw from the couch, another wrapped around a head pillow. The singular, thin sheet has long been kicked off, and his ceiling fan is at full blast to ease the heat, if only vaguely.

It’s about half past six in the morning; sun just beginning to wake, crickets disbanding choirs. And Luke, in all his stale, sleepy glory, goes whaaaaaat. You level him with a look, eyes going narrow and nose wrinkling.

( Your eyelashes have crust clinging to the roots, and maybe there’s a spot of dry saliva on your cheek. Luke think it’s the cutest you’ve ever been. )

Emphatic, “I’m serious. No liplocks with morning breath.”

He sinks back into his pillows with a discontented hum, hopes that you can hear his eyes rolling around in their sockets. “You’re so mean.”

“Brush your teeth first.”

Luke responds only with his knee, wrapping around the back of your own. The action pulls you closer, chilled skin on chilled skin—well, his skin isn’t ever chill near you. He just hopes the sun hasn’t gone too high to shine light on the warmth blooming in his cheeks.

Your sleep shirt is all rumpled. Sclera tinging with the barest, bloodshot red. Gaze unfocused, blinks slow and breaths even slower.

“I thought you said the race started around noon,” you murmur, words eddying with each rotation of the fan; nearly lost to the same old, lame chut-chut of its blades. “‘S too early, yea?”

Even quieter than you, “But we gotta get the snacks out and give some to Saint Leclerc.”

Luke watches your eyes rove, landing on the A4-size cutout of the Ferrari driver’s face pasted over the image of a saint. It watches over the frame of his door, left noticeably open to appease his parents—well, his mom more than his dad.

( He just printed it out to be funny. He doesn’t really have a Ferrari shrine, though he has a whole shelf dedicated to mini Mercedes models. )

Your gaze returns, more alert and awake, and you tilt your hand slightly forward to wrap one of his curls around your finger. It sends something racing up his spine in a tingle.

“Are the two religions of Italy really the Catholic Church and Ferrari?”

Luke’s laugh is muffled by his pillow. “Maybe.”

♫ Djo ・ Roddy

[ IMAGE: a living room in the late morning. The afternoon has just risen, curls of sunlight streaming in through the shuttered blinds while the rest of the space is lit by a TV screen. It is showing the live broadcast of a race. Luke is leaning forward on the couch, elbows on knees, head in hands, and very clearly distressed. ]

Liked by anniebethc, luvvbeaus, and 127 others

majmajmaj anw who’s that guy in orange…?

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lukestellans not bothering to steer u away when my forzas cant even ferrari

↳ luvvbeaus so if i said that max is a hottie u wont kill me right ↳ lukestellans but he is?? ↳ perciusjakcsn ^ WOAHH WAIT A DAM MINUTE 🫵🤨

Halfway through the race, in the middle of a yellow flag that’ll definitely turn into a safety car, Luke takes a glance at you.

The screen is reflecting in your eyes, glassy and all-enthralling. He watches a race car fly across your pupils, traces the track winding around the circumference of your irises.

Luke thinks about Saint Leclerc guarding his door. Could he grant the wish where you’ll still be here—settled into the couch with a half-eaten bowl of popcorn in your lap, eyes glued to the drivers taking a chicane—next summer?

FROM: monza baby

(9 mo) when r u loading up

TO: monza baby

(9 mo) alr packed (9 mo) leaving next week n miss u already 😞

FROM: monza baby

(8 mo) u up?? its like 3 am here

TO: monza baby

(8 mo) ots 5 here GO TO SLEEP

FROM: monza baby

(8 mo) damn not even a good night

TO: monza baby

(8 mo) its actually good morning but wtvr

[ video call from suzuka boy… ]

TO: monza baby

(7 mo) u comin home for winter break?? (7 mo) jst booked a flight back next week 😁

FROM: monza baby

(7 mo) break started early LMAOO alr back in town

TO: monza baby

(7 mo) LFG NEW YEARS KISS !!!

TO: monza baby

(7 mo) bad news 😞

He coos at the blurry you on the screen. The wi-fi here back in his dorm is ass, and the audio gets jumbled more often than not, but at least he can see most of the details of you. Still, he’d prefer it if he could see you in person.

You look like you might be in bed, covers pulled up to your neck; it’s hard to know that only a while ago, you’d been sleeping with the summer sheets, cottons soft and breathable.

Now, Luke would give anything to burrow under a thick blanket with you.

“Sorry, baby,” Luke sighs, laying his head on his desk. Outside, there’s a storm raging in the dark, rattling the windows. “Nothing’s going right. Flight cancelled, everything’s all booked until after break. Can’t even give you your first New Year’s kiss in person.”

“‘S—…ine,” you say. “It’s—…etter to be safe than—…orry.”

“Yea.” Luke lets a soft laugh escape his throat. It comes out choked. “Just miss you, is all.”

You smile, the edges of your mouth pixelating on his screen. “Me too. What time—…over there?”

Luke knows that you know; you have a clock with his time zone on your phone, and he yours. But you ask anyway, because being able to hear his voice when you aren’t half-asleep on your textbooks is a blessing in itself.

“Almost midnight.”

Somewhere on the far-off horizon, Luke can hear the distant pop of premature fireworks. It takes his thoughts by the hand to last spring, in that little Ferris wheel car—everything had been so easy then, with all the muddled carnival lights and sugar-rushed highs.

If time would allow it, he’d go back again and kiss you right there at the apex of the Ferris in all its gently lit glory; maybe that way, you’d have more memory of being together than apart like this. But as they say, distance makes the heart grow fonder…so.

You make a sound akin to a laugh, and upon hearing it, Luke feels like his sternum might crack. “We just fin—…dinner here. Maybe we—…blow a kiss over—…phone?”

( Even now, sleepy with a full stomach, you’re always coming up with the ideas that make him question his own senses—why didn’t he think of that before? Not that he minds being the brawn to your brains, even though it’s reversed half the time. Distanced or not, Luke’s always going to be fond of you. )

He can feel his eyelids start lowering to half-mast and his mouth make the barest, upwards tilt; watching the feed of himself at the top corner of the call, he’s almost taken aback by how smitten he looks.

“It’s 11:59 now.” A pause, and he just basks in the sound of your soft, bated inhales. Maybe if he closes his eyes, he can imagine that you’re sleeping in the same bed, knees hooked around each other and fingers knotted together. “Thirty seconds to midnight, baby.”

It passes in a haze.

We should count together.

‘Kay.

20—…18, 17, 16, 15—…12, 11, 9—wait, that’s not right.

He laughs softly, continues: 8, 7, 6.

You say the last numbers—5, 4, 3, 2, 1—together, and there’s a silent off-beat because you fumbled and skipped 10. He laughs again, and you’re with him, and then there’s fireworks and cheers from the other kids who couldn’t make it home.

Happy New Year, Luke.

Where my kiss at?

( The first words of the year, and he’s asking for a kiss already. )

Luke turns his face to the side, pointing at his cheek with an absurd exaggeration. He hears you pucker and blow a kiss, pretends that you’re really here and putting your lips to his; when he looks back at his phone, you’re looking at him with those half-lidded, hazy eyes—the kind where he can almost see the hearts lining your pupils.

And to make it fair, because he’s always been nothing but fair for you, Luke stays on call until it’s midnight at home to send his kiss bouncing along the satellites and wishing you a happy new year.

( And many more. )

FROM: monza baby

(6 mo) happy vals !! ur honestly the best bf like idk where id be if the Prom Incident did not happen

TO: monza baby

(6 mo) happy vals! and im literally ur first and only bf so far

FROM: monza baby

(6 mo) !!! (6 mo) AND YK WHAT WE SHOULD KEEP IT THAT WAY 😁

TO: monza baby

(6 mo) OH STOPPP IM BLUSHING

FROM: monza baby

(6 mo) ur never beating the babygirl allegations i just know u kicking ur feet

TO: monza baby

(6 mo) WHO TOLD U THAT 😨

FROM: monza baby

(5 mo) so abt spring break (5 mo) the cancelled flight curse struck ME this time

TO: monza baby

(5 mo) HUH WHAT

FROM: monza baby

(5 mo) long story short, parents abroad, flight cancelled, cant come back bc i dont have a key (5 mo) but srsly i rlly miss u like why does this always happen…. 😔😔

TO: monza baby

(5 mo) next time next time,,, miss u too 💔 (5 mo) my mom’s crying in her head rn bc she had all the musubi stuff ready for u

FROM: monza baby

(5 mo) NOOOO tell may im so sorry and give her a hug! u better eat all that spam on call i need to live thru u vicariously 😭😭

FROM: monza baby

(3 mo) happy birthday to the best guy around (ig??)

TO: monza baby

(3 mo) turning a blind eye to the last part LMOAOAO (3 mo) but thank you, ur literally the best ever ily 🩵

FROM: monza baby

(3 mo) woah think i just passed out hi…. ily2

TO: monza baby

(3 mo) have u ever regretted choosing ur major bc engineering uhhhh (3 mo) [ GIF: a crying emoji with its hands up, disintegrating ]

FROM: monza baby

(3 mo) glad u asked bc the answer is EVERY FUCKING DAYY 💀

FROM: monza baby

(2 mo) and if i said anniversary then what !!

TO: monza baby

(2 mo) I WAS ABT TO TEXT THAT HEY

FROM: monza baby

(19:00) wya the games starting (19:00) first time i see u in 9 months and we r lost already 😭😭

TO: monza baby

(19:01) wdym “we r lost” its just u (19:01) im in the stands close to band,, if u see percy then he’s next to me (19:01) THE SIDE EYE HE IS GIVING ME ITS LETHAL SEND HELP RN!!!!!!

It’s just a midsummer practice game on home turf, but Luke knows his team’s been grinding to make it possible.

Well, it’s not even his team anymore, but he still feels responsible for that rowdy group of kids in that stinky locker room next to the sports medicine classroom. Maybe that’s why he dropped twenty dollars—ten dollars per ticket, just to see an unofficial match!—so he could finally see you in person again.

It’s just practice for everyone—band camp requires at least one live practice, so the newer kids are shuffling around the back, instruments unsure in their hands as the boys who just made varsity jog in place to shake off their jitters.

( You both have only seen games from the field and never the stands. He remembers that first touchdown at the beginning of senior year, remembers looking back to the bleachers and spotting you in uniform; brows tight, arms crossed, haloed in the floodlights. He thinks he might have fallen in love with you there. )

Nine months. Four quarters, two semesters, a couple breaks; none of which you’d spent together. Luke can’t expect you to be the same; hell, he’s changed during his freshman year in uni.

Annabeth and Percy would be juniors come September. Travis graduated, and so did Ethan and Sherman and Alice; Connor is drum major, Michael Yew is the captain of the football team, and the memory of you and Luke only lives with the upperclassmen. The freshmen don’t even know who you are.

It’s a cold comfort.

Luke doesn’t even hear the whistle go off to signal another play, because he finds that your touch is sliding between the gaps of his hands, warmth bleeding into his side.

The stands rise in time for some kid’s touchdown—and that’s Jason Grace catching the ball in the endzone! What a stunning play, he transferred from Jupiter High and he’s already scoring so well for Zeus City—but it doesn’t really matter.

He can’t hear any of it; the screams, the band playing the fight song, the cheerleaders going Z! C! H! S!

All he knows is your fingers knotted in his, you with your crooked and tilted grin, you sitting next to him and waving hi to Percy in the drum section and Annabeth with the flutes and flipping off Connor with his silly baton.

( You. )

Luke squeezes your hand, a heartbeat rhythm. “Hi, major.”

You hold him just as tight, and he has to take a breath because his chest feels full and ready to burst. “Hey, Castellan. Miss me?”

Fuck yes, he does. Distance really does make the heart grow fonder—not that he’ll admit it openly, but if the two of you weren’t somewhere with a lot of eyes, he’d be having a repeat of the Prom Incident.

But you’re here in the bleachers, not in uniform and just a bit older, more mature than you were when he last saw you, and honestly, Luke wouldn’t have it any other way.

Zeus City High School Varsity Football isn’t his team anymore. Luke doesn’t go to this school, he hasn’t been in the area for months. But when you stay sitting as everyone else stands to cheer, leaning closer until your soft breaths brush his cheek and he lets you press a chaste kiss to his mouth—it feels like homecoming.

♫ Ariana Grande ・ Daydreamin’

[ IMAGE: a snapshot of you and Luke sitting together on the bleachers while everyone else is standing in the moment. Luke has his varsity jacket in his lap, facing away from the cameraman, head tilted to wholly give you his attention; you are wearing a shirt with the names of everyone in marching band and looking at him with your mouth just past ajar, saying something with a small grin. ]

Liked by majmajmaj, perciusjakcsn and 273 others

conmanstole so sick they got me pulling out ARIANA

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majmajmaj I MAY BE RETIRED BUT NO PHONES ONTHE FIELD TFFFF !!!

↳ conmanstole IF U SNITCH I SWEAR

beckydwarf ariana is a queen wdym #CONNORSTOLLNOTMYDRUMMAJOR 🙄

↳ lukestellans #CONNORSTOLLNOTMYDRUMMAJOR vs #CASTELLANSUCKSASS who will win....

perciusjakcsn ?? @.anniebethc

↳ anniebethc Yogurt shop. Tomorrow, after practice. ↳ perciusjakcsn !!!!!!

p.s. ★ full circle!! boy what a journey.....challenged myself to not get teary but the moment i wrote "it feels like homecoming" i just lost it,, begging for ygs to share ur feedback, i love watching ppl scream and go crazy w me <33

sharing is caring, please reblog & interact ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ᡣ𐭩

luke tags; @melllinaa @amortencjja @arsonnaire @ma1dita @m00ng4z3r @ishouldbepushindaisies @witch-lemon @ahh-chickens @spiderbeam @jennapancake @traumatrios @omg--bluexx @dangelnleif @apolloscastellan @hiraethavis @lukecastellandefender @bookshelfminstrel @cherr-y-eji @solangelotus @liviessun @thaliagracesgf @ddarling-ddearest-ddead @l1a-pjosversion

© klineinie 2024 :: do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or use ANY works to train ai

solangelo my lovelies

(my pjo stuff are always a flop)

𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫

Angst

Luke Castellan x Apollo!fem!reader

Parties were secret affairs at Camp Half-Blood.

Well, secret from Chiron, the one who would put an end to them. Mr D. could usually be convinced by one of his children to keep quiet if a dash of something alcoholic was poured into his Diet Coke. Once curfew had passed and all the younger children had been safely and snugly tucked in and Chiron and Mr D. had retreated to Big House, all those involved would gather in one of the emptier cabins that had older campers. The Hypnos kids would place a sleeping spell on the younger kids that belonged to the cabin hosting the party.

And then the fun would begin.

The alcoholic beverage supply was not immense, but there was enough provided from older Hermes campers to get, well, severely wasted.

Luke knew that path hadn’t been your initial idea, but you were well on your way there.

He on the other hand, hadn’t drank that much, stopping after he noticed just how much you had been drinking.

You weren’t usually like this. As a daughter of Apollo you were intelligent and responsible, a trusted head counsellor and a masterful healer. It was usually he causing mischief and getting hurt, and you patching him up and reprimanding him.

How the roles had reversed. Instead of your modest camp uniform and demeanour, you were in ripped jeans and a striped tank top and had converted into an absolute entertainer, lighting up the room. You weren’t acting like a semi-rowdy nineteen year old anymore, but a fully-wild twenty-five year old college student. He wished he was as drunk as you, because it seemed you were having the time of your life from how enthusiastically you were laughing with a random Ares girl you had traded drinks with.

Instead he was the only vaguely sober one in a crowd of drunk late teens playing inappropriate games or dancing. It wasn’t fun anymore.

The games were the only thing that kept him there.

“Ok… y/n,” one of your sisters - he couldn’t tell in the dim light, Apollo children all looked golden - drawled, pointing insistently to you. “Do a dare or spin the bottle!”

He observed as you appeared to think, contemplative as you sipped beer - gods you needed to stop drinking, please - before reaching for the glass bottle on the floor. The small crowd cheered and squatted in a wonky circle, Luke joining them and sighing lightly.

He hated this game. Hated how you would happily kiss anyone. He wished in these moments that he did have the courage to talk to you, to tell you how he felt and sweep you off your feet. And then it would be him you would kiss and hold hands with, and he would take care of you and do anything to make you laugh.

But instead you kissed others.

Finally, after a few clumsy grasps of the bottle, you drunkenly clutched it before giving it a rough spin. It whirled around and around noisily, colours shining off of it, and at that moment he loathed that gleaming glass neck, loathed it with a passion for pointing at everyone but him-

For not-

Pointing at him.

At him.

And by some miracle, by some grace from the Gods, it was pointing at him.

His heart raced wildly and he struggled to breathe as he glanced up at you. You were already looking at him. Your eyes looked golden in the light, and your hair covered most of your face, hiding your expression. He inhaled and exhaled shakily, hoping to calm down as he waited for your move.

You stayed still.

Still.

Still.

Maybe this was awkward for you, he suddenly realised, panicking. After all he was your best friend, of course it was weird to kiss your best friend. In fact you were probably waiting for him to call it off, but he’d taken so long to understand, he was an idiot.

“It’s o-okay,” he stuttered, cursing himself, “you don’t-“

You pounced at him, your lips smashing together. Immediately his mind went blank. It was burning, passionate, fierce, and somehow infinitely better than anything he’d ever guiltily dreamed about as he lay awake. He noticed vaguely that you’d landed in his lap and wrapped your arms aggressively around his neck. He was much more preoccupied by your lips, how they moved against his perfectly. How when you were this close to him, you smelled like chocolate chip cookies. How your lips and mouth and tongue tastes like flawless hot spun sugar. How you were into this, and into him. How all of his dreams had come true and maybe this wasn’t a terrible night.

And then you dragged a hand through his curls and it felt so good he had to fight not to groan, ugh.

“Get some, Castellan!”

“Something’s getting a little hot in here.”

And this meant nothing, he realised suddenly as the catcalls continued, his thoughts returning. Because this was all an act, something to impress the others and make them laugh from your boldness. Luke was just the pawn, something to elevate you higher-

He felt sick, his lips slowing, before stopping completely, pulling away from you. He faked a weak smile, drawing his face further away from yours and avoiding eye contact. He didn’t want to see the drunken humour in your eyes.

“Ok, your turn next!!” Someone yelled, and it was all over.

——————————————

So it stayed, an almost torturous existence before he noticed your eyelids drooping as you sleepily accepted the Ares girl’s shot glass. And finally, finally, he had an excuse to get out of this hellhole.

He walked over, dodging campers all around, before he approached, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, y/n,” he said softly, “I think we should get outta here. You seem kinda tired and so am I.”

“How did you know that?!” You asked incredulously, spinning around to him in shock.

“That you were tired?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh,” he chuckled awkwardly, “your eyes are all droopy, it’s kinda obvious.”

“Huh. Well, y’know what, I kinda agree. Let’s go.” You shrugged, waving to the Ares girl as you walked with him. You linked arms and he tried to act normal. You two never shared this much casual contact.

“What’s her name?” Luke asked, focusing on his surroundings, as you walked out the door.

“I have no idea,” you replied cheerily, breaking from him and taking a leap off the step. It didn’t end well, with you tripping and falling in a heap on the damp and cold grass.

“Are you ok?” He asked, knelt over you and concerned. You giggled, nodding and accepting his hand as it pulled you up.

“Ok, just- let me- hold onto me, ok?” He said, looping an arm around your shoulder to keep you steady. He held on as you laughed like a little girl and clung to his t-shirt all the way to your cabin.

The stars were nice tonight. For once, you could see them, like billions of shimmering white dots in the skies and it really added to the peace of the scenery. The air was cooler, there were no people, and it was so much quieter. More serene. He felt as if he could breathe. He glanced at the stars once more as he led you up the stairs to your door, before dropping your hand. Or trying to. You didn’t let go.

“Good night,” he whispered, giving your hand a squeeze and trying again.

Your grip wouldn’t loosen.

“Luke,” you murmured breathlessly, stepping forward, bringing your joined hands to your chest. He could feel your breath, warmth, pulse. Fast. Like his. “Why are you….”

“What?”

You looked as if you were going to say more, but couldn’t find the words, instead stepping even closer, and he could feel your joined hands compressed between your two chests. His chest was still, his breathing completely halted as your eyes observed him delicately, his eyes, nose, scar, jawline, cheeks, mouth, as if he was a priceless painting.

You met him once again.

It was softer this time. Your lips still moved in sync, but it was sweeter, calmer. If the other kiss had been caramel, this was smooth, gorgeous honey. As if you had all the time in the world to dazzle him with your smooth kisses. You probably did. Your hands were slower as well, leaving warm trails all over as they made their way down his back, over his sides and under his shirt, where your fingers traced the hard contours of his chest. He had to restrain the urge to shiver violently at your touch.

You pulled away a fraction, warm breath hitting his lips. “Come inside. Stay over.” You panted against them.

He wanted to. Tiptoeing in with a smile on his face and crawling into your bed, with you beside him? His dream. Being tangled in your bedsheets, waking up with every limb of yours and his twisted together, and your hair splayed over his chest? His Elysium.

But you were drunk, deeply drunk. And if he was ever lucky enough to experience any of that, he wanted to have the real event, where alcohol didn’t influence your willingness. He wanted you to be sober.

“I can’t.” He withdrew from you, out of reach. “You’re drunk and I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”

“What do you mean?”

“Y/N, I’m your best friend, you don’t like me that way. You’re just drunk.”

“Yeah. Like super drunk.” You affirmed, nodding enthusiastically. “But that doesn’t change anything. I like you sooo much-“

No. Luke wouldn’t hear this. After liking - maybe even loving - you for this long, your drunk, confused notions would hurt him too much. He refused to listen.

“C’mon let’s get you to bed so your hangovers not too bad.” He interrupted, taking your arm and leading you into the cabin. “We’ll talk about this later.”

Needless to say, you would never talk about it again if it was up to him.

He left quickly, once you were tucked in, before you could give him a response, with a hurried ‘goodnight’.

Once he was tucked comfortably in his own bunk in cabin 11, he pondered the night’s events. A whole lot of drinking. Stupid games. Not one, but two kisses. Even if they meant… nothing. They were nice either way, and probably the only two he would ever get from you.

————————————————-

The next day, he admitted, was a disaster on his behalf.

He’d had a strong plan to pretend nothing had ever happened. And then while he was getting dressed, four of his siblings wolf-whistled and smirked when they saw him. Clearly not something everyone had forgotten.

And when he saw you at breakfast, wincing slightly and looking drowsy, the moment your eyes had flashed to his, all he could think about were the kisses. He couldn’t see straight, and stumbled while he grasped his breakfast tray, and before he knew it, he hadn’t even said hello to you.

The avoidance gradually increased. After breakfast, he steered clear of you, going straight to his class with younger demigods. He didn’t make an effort to accompany an injured camper to visit you, instead sending one of their friends with them. And during lunch, where he’d usually visit you at the infirmary and bring food, he stayed at Hermes table, with nervous feet rooted to the floor.

He could tell by dinner, you were confused, hurt even, from the glances you were sending to him. And he wanted to go over, make it up to you by sitting beside you and telling you one of the Stoll’s latest schemes, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do so. It was like he was a shy toddler all over again, clinging to his mother’s leg, and he was so embarrassed for it.

That night, he swore the next day he would be better about everything. Be honest, available and just see how things would go from there. You guys had been through anything. Surely you couldn’t let each other down for this.

He woke early, with a clear mind and went to retrieve breakfast for him and you. Finding you in the infirmary, rolling bandages, he took a deep inhale before stepping in, ready.

“Hey,” he greeted, cringing a little at himself as you dropped the bandage in surprise, and watching as it rolled all over the umber planks in white streaks.

“Oh, uh, hey,” you replied, scrambling to pick it up and sending him a distracted smile. Not the greatest start, but he could improve.

“Sorry I haven’t been around. Been busy, around the place with new campers, y’know,” he lied, feeling guilty, “funny, haven’t actually seen you since we-“

“Hung out at the party?” You interrupted, nodding.

What? Hanging out? Just hanging out did not qualify ignoring him till the party was over and then two kisses and an almost-confession.

Unless you didn’t want to acknowledge the truth. Apparently, this was the case.

“…. Yeah.” He hesitantly agreed, searching your eyes for any signs you might want to take back what you said.

You wouldn’t even meet them.

“Anyway,” he placed the plate down on the bench, faking a smile, “here’s breakfast. Have a great day.”

And as he walked out, disappointed that you had let him down, he couldn’t help but wonder how things would’ve turned out differently if you had been sober.

How he wished you had been sober.

i am going to raise hell if my man doesn’t get the coriolanus snow treatment on this app. i am so serious.

tweets with pjo characters (iv.)

content summary: same deal as last time idk. persassy, grover being a cutie pie, reader fighting for their life, percy and luke beef, chris being a himbo!

note: gonna have to make a masterlist for these lmfaoooo. finally finished exams guys new semester starts next, week, my free time is clears i'm so back. also charlie bushnell is so so pretty i could stare at him for days let's talk about it.

part one / part two / part three

FORWARDS BECKON REBOUND

luke castellan x reader

based on this request !!

★ “mystery of lack, stabbing stars through my back”

ABOUT - luke castellan lovingly pissing off his girlfriend while she’s reading

WARNINGS - luke being annoying in a cute way

you’re alone in your cabin in the early afternoon, enjoying the silence that comes after your half-siblings leave to join in on camp activities for the day. you lay on your stomach with your back towards the ceiling, quietly reading a jane austen novel.

peace and quiet was a rare occurrence at camp half-blood- a rare occurrence that you consistently took advantage of. wether it be sneaking luke into your empty cabin during cold winter nights, exploiting the absence of the rest of your siblings as they go home for the year, or simply spending days reading for hours undisturbed.

so here you are, basking in the quiet of your cabin as you read peacefully. your elbows prop up your torso as you flip through the pages, letting your legs move idly.

suddenly, you hear the door to your cabin open with a loud creak. you whip your head around, only to find your loving, gentle boyfriend standing in the doorway. you watch him as he closes the door behind him.

“hey, princess,” he says breathily, walking over to you with his hands in his pockets. you nod softly, before turning your attention back to your book.

luke sits down at the end of your bed, watching you read in silence for a moment. sadly, luke is one of the most energetic and social people you have ever met, so you brace yourself for whatever he’ll say or do next- knowing the serenity of your afternoon will soon vanish.

“what’re you reading?” he asks quietly, before laying down next to you with his back sinking into your mattress. he turns his head to look at you, resting his hands on top of his stomach.

you turn a page, eyes locked on your book as you respond. “emma, by jane austen,” you say quietly. he nods, quiet giggles escaping his mouth. “of course you are.”

you both lay like this for a few minutes, luke trying not to disturb your peace and quiet. but watching you look so focused on your book, laying on your stomach with your hair cascading down your body- you looked too gorgeous to be left alone.

luke was starting to feel jealous of the fucking book, especially the way you’re holding it so delicately.

luke adjusts his position on your bed, turning to lay on his stomach with his head still facing towards yours. his body is pressed against the mattress lazily, but his hands are less relaxed. he moves his hand towards your arm, softly caressing the bare skin that was holding up your book.

“you okay?” you mumble quietly, still looking only at your book.

“mhm…” he nods, moving his head to lay on your shoulder. he reads the page, letting his body move much closer to yours. you giggle as he tilting his head down to kiss your neck, your cheeks turning pink.

he wraps an arm around your waist, resting his hand on your hip. he lets his head lay back down on the mattress as he begins to press soft kisses on the side of your torso.

you roll your eyes, trying to stifle a flustered smile. “luke, i’m trying to read…” you whine, finally turning your head to face him.

“i know, i know.” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss your forehead, taking advantage of the way your head is turned towards his.

you sigh, closing your book and placing it neatly onto your bedside table. he pouts at you as he grabs your waist, pulling you closer to him. you laugh quietly, wrapping your arm around his back as you bury your head in his chest. he kisses the top of your head as he softly rubs the side of your waist from under your shirt.

you groan quietly, shaking your head. “so needy…”

sometimes i get a tad bit silly xx

𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗙𝗧 ! - 𝗣.𝟭

child of dionysus x luke castellan 🍷

IN WHICH… the man you hate just can’t seem to leave you alone

warning! this fic contains- swearing // alcohol mentions // shitty parents // use of y/n // angst // daddy issues! // spoilers to tlt // probably not book accurate // implied sex!! // no actual smut, but definitely heavy illusions to sex (both characters are 18) // loss of virginity // drugs (medicinal) // blood // reader wears a swimsuit?? // reader gender isn’t mentioned i think // mentions of death/drowning // ends on an cliffhanger!!!

[a/n]-we’re just going to say tlt takes place in 2005, so luke and will have been born in 1986. also, incase you didn’t know, Hera doesn’t have any demigods, so her cabin is empty :)

part two is in progress, just wanted to put something out until then. also kinda ends on an odd note because it wasn’t intended to be multiple parts

🎧- night shift by lucy dacus

6.6k words (oopsies)

You hated Luke Castellan above all else.

Coming from you, that was a pretty bold statement, considering that you had a fiery hatred for plenty of things. Whether it be people who smacked their gum too loudly or ignorant gods who brushed off their children with no remorse, everything seemed to unwillingly ignite a spark in you. However, someone in particular really seemed to piss you off.

The mere sight of his stupid curls and even stupider scar hadn’t always awakened such a burning rage in you; in fact, he used to do the opposite. He was fourteen when you first met him.

April 13th, 2000

Luke had been placed into the chaos of Cabin 11, the other campers unfazed by a new demigod living with them as they carelessly bumped into his shoulder while playing tag. Old magazines scattered the wood floors, and dust covered the edges of his scrappy bed. With a sigh, he threw his bag onto the floor and escaped the overwhelming sensations provided by his siblings.

The light tour Chiron provided was seemingly useless as he mindlessly waltzed down to the lake, unsure of another quiet space to go to. He performed a quick glance around to ensure he was really alone, and then plopped down onto the rocky shore with a groan. Without his father and now Thalia, he wasn’t sure if he’d survive a night at this bullshit camp.

“You okay?” You emerged from the woods, staring at him with a concerned expression. He jumped slightly, startled by your presence since he literally just checked to see if he was alone. “Oh, uhm, yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?” You asked, noticing the way his tone was so unconvincing while sitting down next to him and staring out at the view. It wasn’t typical of you to be so welcoming, but you had recently received dessert privileges back after getting them taken away for punching some Aphrodite girl, so a cheery mood was accompanied. He glared at you, slightly annoyed by the way you interrupted his moment of peace. But then again, you weren’t really bothering him, so he figured you could stay. You were also breathtaking, so how could he shoo you away?

“No.” Luke replied honestly after a moment of silence, a slight grimace decorating his features while thinking about his long past.

“Fair. I’m sorry about your friend.” You said, your voice filled with empathy rather than pity as you kept eye contact with the horizon despite the cooling wind that turned your eyes glossy and ruffled your neon orange shirt. “Thanks.” He muttered as the memories flooded his mind, to the point where he had to clench his teeth together so he wouldn’t cry.

“I’m Y/N. Child of Dionysus.” Turning around, you offered a friendly smile until you realized he had his head buried into the crook of his elbow and emitted gentle sniffles. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. Did I say something? I’m trying to work on it, I swear-“

“Does it ever get easier?” He interrupted, although his request came out muffled as he whispered into his skin.

“Well… sorta.”

“Sorta?”

“You get used to the whole Greek God thing, I guess.” You reply, avoiding the question he was clearly implying about his father being present. It wasn’t one you typically liked to talk about, along with most of the other campers with daddy issues. The truth was, you hated the gods for abandoning their children, but speaking out about that would have some brutal consequences. Let’s just say you would lose more than just dessert privileges for a week.

“I’m heading down to the bonfire; you should join.” You said after another long pause of silence, standing up and dusting the particles of sand that had collected on the bottom of your denim shorts.

“Okay.” He stood up, wiping his eyes, and followed you as you hiked through the trees.

“So, why were you stalking me again?” Luke spoke up with a sarcastic tone, stepping over the large tree trunks that had fallen down onto the forest floor.

“Woah, I was not stalking you, newbie.”

“Sure looked like it when you magically appeared out of the woods.”

“Well, I wasn’t, okay? Mind your business.” You snapped, the caring facade slipping away as you stared at him harshly enough to pierce his heart.

“Jeez, sorry.” Luke looked down at his feet, feeling a little guilty for being too pushy with practically a stranger. After seeing his suddenly reserved body language, you stopped the hike and faced him.

“Don’t apologize.”

“What?” His gaze averted back up to meet your cold expression.

“Don’t apologize. I was being a bitch. Stand up for yourself.”

“Uhh..” Luke was now extremely confused, looking around as if this was some sort of prank show with the way you switched up so fast.

“Let’s try again. I’m gonna say the sane thing, and you’re going to stand up for yourself. Kay?”

“I don’t-“ He started, but was quickly interrupted by you.

“Well, I wasn’t, okay? Mind your business.” You repeated from earlier, making your voice sound even ruder as you dramatically exclaimed.

“N-no? Is that what I’m supposed to say?” He questioned, still nervously glancing around and searching for some sort of explanation or another person hiding in the undergrowth to reveal it was a silly joke. You raised your eyebrows in disbelief at his terrible performance, blinking slowly as you scoffed.

“Oh gods. It’s not what you say; it’s how you say it. Be more confident.” Stepping back, you repeated the sentence again. “Well, I wasn’t, okay? Mind your business.”

“No.” Luke said, this time with more pride, although he kept staring at you for a sign of approval. “Good!” You supportively with a grin, turning to continue your walk. And after a sassy eye roll, Luke followed behind.

“Just trying to protect you from the Ares kids. They can be assholes.” You happily explained, a little too cheery for someone who just snapped at him.

“Yeah, okay.”

Luke knew he should be bothered by your interesting behavior. I mean, most would, but deep down, he liked how you were empathetic in such a strange way. It made him feel human, instead of like a tourist attraction that people whispered sweet nothings to and stared at curiously.

“Don’t take anyone’s shit, and soon enough you’ll be swimming in kleos.” You stated, swaying with every step and providing plenty of hand gestures.

“Kleos?”

“Glory. Everyone here is basically fighting to be respected.”

“Oh. Shouldn’t everyone just be respectful?” He obliviously asked, ducking under a low, hanging branch.

“They should, but they aren’t. But with glory, it makes you important. People sit up when you walk in the room; stay out of your way; things like that.”

“Wait, so I just have to stand up for myself, and suddenly I’m all important?”

“Sometimes. Usually, though, you have to major in some skill. Archery, sword fighting, healing, etc. You been claimed yet?”

“Yeah, Hermes.”

“Oh.” You replied, dissatisfaction noticeable.

“Oh??” Luke questioned, offended and sounding a little more rude than he intended.

“It’s not really a bad thing. Just different demigods are usually good at certain stuff. With Hermes, they typically tend to be good liars.”

“What’s your talent?” Luke asked, causing you to go quiet for a minute while thinking.

“Well, I’m really good at poker. That’s about it.”

“You’re a good talker, too.” He said, causing you to shoot him a threatening glare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you give decent advice, and you’re pretty welcoming. That’s a plus.” He instantly backtracked.

“Half of the camp would disagree with you on that. Turns out hostility doesn’t get you the best reputation.”

“You’re hostile?” Sure, you may have had a little anger management problem, but hostile? You seemed sweet enough to Luke, at least.

“I don’t talk to all the newbies like this.”

“Then why me?” Luke, from his understanding, wasn’t special. He didn’t stick out. He wasn’t super hot, smart, or funny. He was just average, in his opinion.

“Dunno. Why not?” You said, which wasn’t entirely true. He just seemed different, like he was hiding more beneath the surface. Similar to a puzzle that you needed to solve, except if you didn’t, you’d be burdened with a painful itch of curiosity for the rest of eternity.

“Hm, Fair. But what should I try to achieve kleos?”

“Don’t go for archery or healing; the Apollo kids will smoke you. Maybe sword fighting? I could show you the basics sometime.”

“Sword fighting it is.”

May 21st, 2001

"Where were you during arts and crafts?" You asked while sitting down next to Luke at lunch, clearly irritated by his absence during this morning's activities.

"I was-" He tried to explain, but you had already taken his hands and begun to inspect them, your touch shutting him up. You huffed in annoyance while gently tracing over his callouses and cuts.

"You were training again."

"I just needed more practice. I didn't mean to-" He started, feeling remorse for not showing up, but you were there to quickly interrupt him.

"Save it. I have bandages back at my cabin; let's go. It's the least you can do for leaving me with your siblings all morning." You slammed your hands on the table, standing up and practically dragging Luke to follow you (he would have followed even if you didn't force him).

Once a long distance away from the pavilion, you brought up a topic he wasn't the most comfortable with. "Training to prove yourself?" He swallowed back his anger, not wanting to lash out at you, despite the fact that you could obviously take it.

"Maybe I am. Who cares?"

"I do. Stop caring about the gods so much."

"Easy for you to say. Your father's here." Luke mumbled mockingly under his breath, barely above a whisper, but you heard.

"I'm not sure he even knows my name. He's a drunk dumbass, not exactly great dad material." This shut him up, his gaze traveling to the dirt floor until you reached Cabin 12. Silence and tension filled the air as you opened your backpack, scouring for the gauze and anticipatant. Gripping his wrist with a rage-filled force, you carefully rubbed the Neosporin over the red cuts and wrapped his palms with the stretchy material gifted by an Apollo friend.

"Don't say I don't care about you. You know I do." You whispered, breaking the quiet atmosphere and filling it with fiery love.

"But he doesn't."

"So?"

"He's my father. He should."

"You should stop focusing on what you don't have. Working yourself to the bone won't improve your relationship."

He didn't respond, not having an argument or a sassy comment whipped up, because you were right. He manufactured this mindset that if he was good enough, if he had glory, Hermes would finally notice him and would finally love him. However, there was always a little voice in the back of his head that made him doubt all of his hopes for a family. You just amplified that voice like a microphone.

"And you left me alone with your brothers. Bleh." You smiled, trying to lighten the mood a little while tying off the first bandage.

"C'mon, they aren't that bad."

"You should have heard how they were talking about Julia from Aphrodite Cabin."

"Ew." He laughed, looking at you while you concentrated on wrapping his last hand. You looked so stunning like this, with your pearly teeth peeking between the skin of your lips and your eyes squinting while focusing on making sure it was perfect. He was truly a dumbass, focusing on the gods while you were right in front of him. "Done." You said while tucking in the end of the gauze. He hinged his hand open and shut a few times to make sure it was sturdy, and of course it was.

"Thank you." Luke praised you, not just for patching him up, but for caring.

"Anytime. Hey, I made you something during arts and crafts." You dug through your plastic junk drawer, clinking around all the junk in search of something specific.

"Hm?"

You snatched up a small beaded necklace from the drawer before extending your hand and showing it to him. It was crumpled up, the flimsy string intertwined with itself and the beads out of order, so he picked the jewelry up and awed at the handmade piece. It was wooden beads painted in deep burgundy paint with your first name spelled out in Greek letters, strung on black elastic.

"It's gorgeous." Was all he could manage to utter out, still starstruck by the thoughtfulness of your gift.

"Thanks. We should probably get back to lunch before it's over." You replied, and for the first time in Luke's year of knowing you, you look flustered. You nervously glanced down at the laces to your shoes and fiddled with your fingers, even swaying from the tips of your toes to the back of your heels.

"Yeah, yeah." He agreed, slipping the necklace on and walking out with you behind him. For the rest of the day, he was all smiles and giggles, with others unsure of why he was in such a good mood. Until the inky night sky swallowed the bright blue light, and nightmares came with it. 

Most demigods were prone to the occasional bad dream, but Luke was a frequent victim of Hypnos’ curse. Every other night was filled with images of losing what he loved, but he was too embarrassed to talk to someone about it, so he suffered silently.

That night, the dreams were particularly horrific, to the point where he awoke covered in sweat and probably some tears, too. His mind debated whether or not sneaking out and waking you up was a bad idea, but the thought of staying awake alone in his bed another minute scared him more than any profanity you could throw at him for interrupting your “beauty sleep.”

Tiptoeing silently outside the hot cabin, his heart pounded as he traveled to your room next door. He was still in flannel pajama pants and an old tee shirt with some vintage band plastered on it, the chilling wind erupting goosebumps. 

Luckily, your bed was right next to a window, which he promptly (and quietly) tapped on to wake you up. A few groans and twists later, you slid open the glass and gawked at him.

“Luke, what the fuck are you doing?” You whisper-yelled, praying to the gods none of your siblings woke up and started bitching.

“I had a nightmare.”

“You woke me up at two in the morning because you had a nightmare?” 

“Please, I just need someone to talk to.” Hearing the desperation and seriousness in his voice, you couldn’t possibly reject him, no matter how tired you were.

“I’ll be out in a second.” 

Sliding the window shut, you slipped on some sandals and exited to see Luke, who was standing on the porch. 

Walking down the steps with him tracking behind, you waited until you were isolated by the lake to talk. “Everything okay?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been having really bad nightmares lately, and I know that sounds stupid, but I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Have you tried talking to the Apollo kids? It’s not rare for them to deal with insomnia.”

“Well, no. It’s humiliating. It’s taken me a year to talk to you about it, and you’re my best friend.” Luke skimmed past the term ‘best friend’, unsure if you felt the same. It was stupid; you were definitely his best friend, but what if he wasn’t yours? 

“First of all, it’s not. But I don’t mind talking to them. I can say I’m having nightmares, and they’ll probably give me melatonin, and then I can give it to you.”

“You’d do that? Smuggle drugs for me?” He spoke softly, the moonlight enchanting his features. 

“Course. You’re my best friend.”

December 27th, 2002

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You yelled at Luke in the empty Hera Cabin, angrier than ever. Word had spread to you like wildfire of a quest Luke had accepted, despite the fact it was a suicide mission.

“Listen-“

“No! You told me you didn’t care about the god’s approval anymore. And now you’re going on some bullshit quest?! You’re a fucking dumbass.”

“I just need one chance to prove myself to him.” He pleaded, begging for you to understand and forgive him, even though he knew you weren’t the “forgive and forget” type. Honestly, he was about 80% sure you were still holding a grudge against him for stealing the dessert off your plate three months ago.

“Why aren’t you happy where you are? You’re the best swordsman at camp in three hundred years; half the girls here are in love with you, and everyone practically worships the ground you walk on!”

“I don’t care about them.”

“Do you not care about me, either?” You spoke softly, which was a dramatic shift from the heated yelling a few seconds ago.

“What? Of course-“ Luke cared about you more than anything— more than himself or any silly god. It wasn’t very far-fetched to assume that he even loved you, although his anxious self would never admit anything of the sort. But this quest was a dream of his, and it wasn’t possible for him to just give it up.

“Whatever. I’m done with your bullshit.” You cut him off and stormed out, leaving him to watch you walk away with an aching pain in his heart. That wound was left open as he set out for his journey that night, along with two other campers who were slightly underqualified.

The quest went to shit the minute they left camp’s solace, with monsters attacking from every direction. However, he and his companions were able to make it to the guarded tree with only a few minor injuries.

Until Luke reached for the golden apple and was sliced by the dragon who protected the fruit. Blood gushed out of the cut that decorated his eye as he stumbled away. The loss of blood and shock caught up to him, and eventually he lay in the arms of his friends, fading in and out of consciousness.

The idea that your life flashes before your eyes when you're near death is indeed true. Memories of previous years flooded his brain, from his childhood to his teen years (which mainly consisted of you). As the light faded away, all he could think of was how he never admitted his love to you and how your last interaction with him was an argument.

The next time he awoke, he was in the camp infirmary, dazed as he slowly blinked the sleep away from his eyes. The teenage nurses yelled at him as he slowly stood up and deliriously walked outside, but he couldn’t care less. He just wanted to see you and apologize. His near-death experience was a wake-up call, a sign that what he was feeling towards you wasn’t just friendly admiration.

Luckily for him, you were waiting for him outside, sitting on a wood bench as you anxiously bounced your leg. As he stumbled out the door, you immediately stood up and rushed towards his weak body. What caught him off guard was the way you hugged him instantly, wrapping your arms around his torso while burying your head in his chest. For the first time in days, you were able to breathe, inhaling his musky scent rapidly. The fight had taken a toll on you. You lied awake at every night scared out of your mind that he would die hating you.

“I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things, I was just angry at you for leaving me, but-” You rammbled into the cloth of his shirt, the vibrations on his skin making his heart flutter.

“Don’t apologize.” He said with a loopy smile, making you laugh with relief while remembering the first time you met. His original plan of confessing his love to you the moment he woke up with a dramatic spiel was immediately thrown in the trash as he looked at you from above. The worries of ruining this magical friendship you had spent two years building overtook the joys of the possibility that a new relationship would blossom. So for now, he was comfortable being friends with you. Best friends.

The stares from others went unnoticed, Luke too enchanted by your warming touch to see the way others gawked at him from afar, like he was a monster. Not until the next day, when he wasn’t drugged, at least.

When he looked in the crowded bathroom mirror the next morning after plenty of rest, it almost scared him. His gash was a beaming red with dried maroon blood on the edges and a violet hue discoloring the nearby skin. Swallowing nervously, he did his best to clean it up with warm water before rushing to the picnic tables for breakfast, where you sat munching on cereal.

“You’re the most brutally honest person I know. How bad is it? Like, can I even show my face anymore?” He blurted out, causing you to glance up with a slight panic. After a few seconds of consideration, you replied.

“It makes you look badass.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely. Go get something to eat and come back to talk to me.” Luke responded with a nod, heading off to grab a quick breakfast. With a tray of pancakes in his hand, he returned and sat down across from you.

“So?” You waited eagerly for some explanation of his trip.

“It went like shit. You’re right, I’m not good enough.”

“Woah, I never said that.”

“You implied it.”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant you shouldn’t rely on your successes or failures to determine your worth.”

“Same thing.” He retorted with a scowl, stuffing his mouth with food.

“Not even close. So, what’d you learn?”

“That I need to train harder.”

“Holy shit, you are a dumbass.” You said with a long blink and a theatrical sigh.

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure. How’s Annabeth?” Annabeth and you were always so different, but somehow that made you closer. She spent her hours strategizing and acting like an adult, and you spent yours playing games and wishing you were younger. Regardless, she was like a little sister to you.

“She’s… like usual.” Luke replied with a crinkle of his lips.

“Mm, so she’s still forcing herself to be an adult at nine?”

“Yeah, just about.”

“We should get her to play poker with us one night. Help loosen her up a little.”

“Not a chance.”

March 19th, 2003

You and Luke stood side by side, anxiously waiting for Capture the Flag to start, while Chiron yapped about the rules. You’d already heard the whole spiel of instructions multiple times, so naturally you grew bored, and your mind wandered off to the boy beside you.

He looked like a true warrior, with his pointy metal helmet that somehow sharpened his features. Over the past few summers, he had grown significantly, and the puff on his cheeks had thinned out. Needless to say, he wasn’t short of admirers.

You painfully watched as hundreds of girls fawned over him and even began to dread getting ready in the bathroom because of how many praises were thrown at him.

Luke sensed your annoyance from afar, although it wasn’t hard to notice by the way you scowled every time someone approached him with a new compliment. However, he thought you were just envious of the praise he received. In reality, you felt threatened, like someone would steal your spot in your best-friend-who-sometimes-flirt-with-each-other relationship with him. He would never let it happen though, even if you weren’t aware.

“Let the games begin!” Chiron yelled, snapping you out of your daydreaming session.

“You take the east side of the forest, I take the west, we meet up in the middle, right?” You wanted to confirm the Athena cabin’s strategy with him, to which he replied with a quick nod.

“Mhm. See you on the flip side.”

“See you on the flip side, Castellan.” You both turned to the different small groups that you were leading, setting out on foot to start your plan.

Annabeth and a few other geniuses had spent the past two weeks carefully crafting a flawless plan for today’s Capture the Flag game. You and Luke would attack, traveling into their side of the woods, while the rest would defend.

While you might not have been the best swordsman, you were a master of trickery and deception and decent at fist fighting. Plus, you had a solid team backing you up.

“So basically, we just need to fight some of the red team and then meet up with Luke and his group in the middle. Kay?” You instructed to your acquaintances, who diligently followed behind you as you hiked through the evergreen trees, until you saw a few of the other team lurking around. With a surprise attack, you were able to defeat them, with little of your squad lost in the process.

You kept on trekking through the dark depths of the forest before spotting some of the best members of the red team, specifically Sam from Ares cabin.

They were the biggest asshole around, and extremely cocky for someone who was the second-best sword fighter in camp. Plus, they were always trying to get in your pants, along with every other counselor who was old enough. To be frank, they were super hot, but you weren’t interested in anyone currently. Well, anyone who wasn’t Luke Castellan.

Knowing you wouldn’t win this battle, you shuffled to the bushes and silently watched while thinking of a good plan.

“Nice try. Up. Slowly.” Sam said unexpectedly, causing you to sigh with frustration and calmly stand up, along with your teammates.

“So, you can either give up now and save yourself the trouble, or we can do the whole fighting thing and eliminate you that way. Your choice.” They stated with a smile, only egging you on.

“What a little bundle of joy you are.”

“Hm, okay, fighting it is.” They sliced for your stomach, the metal of their blade clinking with the iron of your breastplate. You were stunned at first, but immediately charged back while his goons attacked your friends.

The sound of swords slicing and heavy grunts filled the woods, alerting Luke, who was a decent distance away. Most of his teammates had been eliminated, so now it was just him and one other member. He lightly jogged to the scene, not caring too much.

Meanwhile, your group was putting up a solid fight, but so were they. You clashed swords relentlessly with Sam, while your teammates suffered a bloody battle. In a mere minute, all of your team had surrendered, but so had all of Sam’s team.

With every second that passed, your efforts got messier and energy your got lower, and it was apparent this wasn’t going to be your victory. With one clean slice, Sam nicked your arm violently, and you let out a scream in response. Unbeknownst to you, Luke heard your pain and panicked, changing his pace from a careless jog to a speedy sprint. His partner yelled at him, confused, but Luke just kept going, despite his muscles that ached like fire.

You grew exhausted, now just weakly defending yourself from every attack. Seeing how unfocused you became, Sam took this opportunity to swipe your feet with his leg and send you tumbling to the ground, disarming you in the process.

Both panting heavily, they shakily brought the blade to your neck and stepped on your torso to prevent less squirming.

“You’d be a lot hotter if you weren’t such a bitch.” They said, and before you could come up with a witty reply, Luke had charged from behind. Slicing at Sam with adrenaline-fueled anger, he instantly knocked them down to the floor.

“Don’t ever talk to them like that again, or I’ll seriously fuck you up. Okay?”

“Okay, Jesus! What are you, their boyfriend or something?”

Luke wasn’t sure how to reply, so he didn’t. Was this too protective of him? No, he was just helping a friend. Right?

“Just say you surrender already.” He mustered up.

“Fine, I surrender.” Sam mumbled, and Luke took his sword away while they fled. Then, he turned to you, who was watching the whole thing from the floor.

“Holy shit, thank you.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. They hurt you?” He replied with a grin, helping you up with his right hand.

“Nothing bad.” You responded, twisting your arm to get a glance at the cut. He winced with empathy while grabbing your wrist so he could get a better glance.

“Ouch. Go to the infirmary. It’s bleeding a lot.”

“Whatever. Go get the flag, trooper.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. With a sly salute, you both headed your separate ways. Luke had a pep in his step as he jogged to the bright flag, forgetting all about his partner, who was somewhere in the trees far behind him.

You headed to the nurse, getting it cleaned and patched up easily before setting off to the lake. Sitting on a pointy rock, you waited mindlessly for this stretched-out game to end. Technically you were still in, but your match with Sam was enough fighting for the day.

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long, because Luke emerged from the forest a few minutes later carrying a gleaming red flag with pride.

Standing up, you cheered with excitement as you ran up to him, squealing like a little girl. He stopped in front of you and dug the pole into the rocky shore with a grin. Still in awe, all you could manage out was a toothy smile in reply.

“Congrats, Castellan.”

“Eh, it was no big deal.” He joked, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Whatever. Bonfire tonight!!” You laughed and made sure to yell out the last sentence for all of your teammates, who whooped with glee.

When the sun drifted down the horizon that night, you and dozens of campers headed down to the shore, where a sparking fire raged. The flames danced as you sat around, scattered on different logs. You currently sat on the floor next to Luke while he sat on the wood, leaning your back against the dead tree and ever-so-slightly brushing up against his legs.

Everyone had noticed your change in attitude over the last few years. You seemed bubblier and more happy because, well, you were. Falling in love with someone who had a chance of reciprocating feelings was heaven. Every long stare from across the room and gentle touch made your skin crawl with adoration. Maybe you should tell him. But why ruin everything?

As the night stretched on and the violet sky dissipated into a jet black that was freckled with stars, you grew sleepier. And after the third yawn in only ten minutes, you decided it was time to hit the hay.

“Okay, I’m calling it quits. Night guys!” You stood up before turning to Luke.

“Goodnight, Luke.” You whispered in such a caring tone that he felt shivers down his spine. Speechless, he watched with hearts in his eyes as you walked away.

“At least try and be discreet.” One of his friends laughed as soon as your figure went unseen.

August 2nd, 2004

“Absolutely not. No way!” Annabeth yelled at you.

You, Luke, and her all sat on the floor of Cabin 12 playing Uno because apparently gambling “isn’t appropriate for an eleven-year-old.” The problem was that you liked to make up your own rules, while Annabeth strictly stuck to what was written in the instructions.

“Beth, everyone plays this way! Just take your six!”

“If your friends jumped off a cliff, would you?” She gave you her signature death stare.

“What are you, my mom? Luke, what’s your opinion?”

“Do not drag me into this.”

“I quit. I’m heading down to the lake, you guys wanna come?” You stated, slamming your mountain of red cards onto the floor and jumping up to search for a bathing suit in your dresser.

“I have archery training.” Annabeth said, grabbing her stuff and walking out.

“I’ll go.” Luke replied a little too eagerly.

“Okay. Meet me at the docks in ten?”

“Sure.” Using his bandaged palms to push off the wood floor, he left to go change.

Slipping into your black swimsuit, you threw a baggy shirt over it and skipped down to the shore, where Luke was waiting with his feet in the icy water.

“Hey.” You alerted him of your presence while sliding off your cover and tossing it down beside you. His breath hitched, and he couldn’t help but gawk at the slivers of your exposed skin. Nervously swallowing, he weakly replied. “H-hey.”

Ignoring the way he stuttered and stared, you jumped into the cool lake. The blue water engulfed you in a refreshing embrace, rolling off your skin as you emerged from the surface.

“I’ll race you to that buoy over there.” You pointed to the white float that bobbled up and down.

“Deal. Winner gets loser’s dessert for a week.”

“Deal.” You took off before he was even in the water, pushing off of the wood dock to accelerate forward.

“Cheater!” Luke yelled playfully before jumping in and following your path.

Eventually, he caught up and even reached the buoy first, grinning triumphantly as you paddled towards him.

“I hate you.” You mumbled, but the beaming smile plastered on your face told another story.

“Fine, you can keep your dessert privileges, but I still want bragging rights.” He offered, not caring a smidge about anything but making you happy.

“Gods, you’re such a good person.” You said, knowing you would have taken his food and flaunted on him for the next seven days.

“Race you back?”

“Fuck no. I’m tired.”

“I’ll carry you. The waters not too deep; you can sit on my shoulders while I walk.”

“You’ll drown.”

“I’m pretty ripped; I think I can manage carrying you one hundred yards.” He jokingly replied with a flex of his bicep, which was definitely appreciated by your wandering eyes.

“Sure. I’m not saving you if you do end up drowning, though.” You climbed onto his shoulders, and he gripped your calfs to help stabilize you and because he really just wanted an excuse to touch you.

“That’s a pretty badass way to die.” He said while trailing through the fresh liquid.

“To die while swimming through five-foot-deep waters?”

“Well, not when you phrase it like that.”

“How would you phrase it?”

“Glorious hero meets his fate at the lake with another counselor’s thighs wrapped around his head.”

You both froze with shock when he uttered his suggestive remark, even Luke not realizing his mistake until after. He felt his cheeks go hot and nervously tried to apologize for making you feel uncomfortable.

“Oh my gods, I swear I did not mean-“

You cut him off with a deep and angelic laugh, clearly not hurt by his poor choice of words.

“You’re a dumbass.” You choked out through heavy giggles, and he instantly relaxed upon realizing you didn’t think he was a complete pervert. Every laugh you released was like a weight off of his shoulders, and that was when he knew he could not shove his feelings down anymore.

Hours had passed, and you two ended up watching the sun fall by the lake while sharing a cherry red and white striped blanket. Not a word was whispered as you rested your head against his shoulder, his curls dripping onto your skin. He couldn’t help but smile as he felt your slow inhalation of the crisp air.

Once night arrived and the cicadas started chirping, it was finally time to break the comforting silence.

“I’m gonna go shower.” You said while slowly standing up and letting the towel drape off of your body.

“Me too.” Luke replied, getting up and placing the towel back on your shoulders so you wouldn’t have to brace the chilling breeze in a swimsuit. As you walked away, he couldn’t help but stare.

“Wait, I need to talk to you once you’re done. Meet me in the Hera Cabin after we’ve showered?” He called out after you, to which you nodded in response.

He needed to confess how he felt about you immediately, or his chest might actually explode. He needed to tell you about how his heart raced every time your touch lingered a second too long, how he ranted to Annabeth every night about the things you did that made him swoon, and how he was madly, head over heels, in love with you.

Once the musk of lake water had fully washed off, you headed to the infamous empty cabin, where Luke was waiting. His hair was still wet from the shower, causing his curls to separate, and he fidgeted with his fingertips while anxiously waiting for your arrival.

“You okay, Castellan?”

“No, I’m not, actually. I need to tell you something, like right now.” He stuttered out, his lip crunched up like he was in pain.

“You’re scaring me a little, but I’m all ears.”

“I love you.” Luke blurted out, the tension in the air increasing significantly with just three words.

“What?” It seemed as if the world had stopped, even the birds quieting down for a listen.

“I’m in love with you.” He repeated, like it was no big deal, like it was second nature.

“You love me?” You whispered out, almost like it was unheard for you to be loved.

“More than anything.”

You swallowed, thinking for a second while he awaited a response.

“I love you too.”

With the conformation of your words, he leaned in until the tips of his nose rubbed against yours. His lust-coated eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips, making it apparent what he wanted. Luke breathed in your fresh scent heavily while watching and waiting for a reaction—for you to pull away or do something.

Trailing a hand up into his hair, you delicately pushed his head until your lips met. His skin was honey-sweet as you gingerly kissed; it looked like something out of a romance movie. He forced himself to be a gentleman and pull apart after a few seconds, no matter how much he wanted to kiss you until his oxygen ran out.

Looking up into his eyes, you craved more. This built-up tension between you two was finally erupting, and it needed more than just a little kiss to be satisfied. So, you took charge and feverishly leaned in for more.

His hands cusped your cheek, carefully avoiding any boundaries you might have set up. That was until you snagged his bottom lip with your teeth, and he lost all self-control. The sweet kisses turned into a full-blown make-out session as he steadily snaked his hand down your torso and to the fat of your ass.

Only breaking for air when absolutely necessary, passion filled the atmosphere, along with hushed moans from the both of you. Luke warily trailed his hand upwards to your chest, and you could tell where this was heading. Panting, you removed your lips from his and spoke up.

“I’ve never.. I’m still…”

“Me too. Do you.. still want to?” He revealed, his heart racing while still daintily grazing your skin.

“Yes. Please.” You desperately nodded, like death was approaching if you didn’t continue. With that, he laid you down on the squeaky mattress of an unused bunk bed and hovered over.

“Gods, you look stunning.”

୨୧

part two in progress…

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if you need to be mean (be mean to me)

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.5k

summary: (established relationship) you and your boyfriend are so good for each other, until you’re not—and both of you feel guilty leading up to that night (Luke Castellan x dionysus!reader)

warnings: suggestive mdni if you’re uncomfortable – nondescript mentions of sex

a/n: someones gotta take mitski away from the pjo editors for fucks sake. yes, this is based off of ‘i don’t smoke’ (audiotree live) don’t look at me.

(posted 1/30/24 thanks to my betas ellie and lari @lixzey & @mrsaluado )

___

[ you come down and tell me, “i was meant for you”, baby || being with you makes the flame burn good ]

Your father once told you when you were younger that you were a divining rod for mayhem; you attract it, cause it, and in very few instances, you are the cure. It’s why your roles and responsibilities at camp hid you away from your full potential, and Luke knew you could achieve greatness if you left with him. He understood your madness more than you’ll ever know, and saw you for what you are–his cure. But he made his choice long before he recognized his devotion to you, distancing himself in order to fulfill his plans of waging war against the gods. Sweet and sultry words slip from his lips to distract you from the growing distance of his heart from yours. A distraction is what he’s always been, and he’s good at playing the part. After all, everything he’s learned about deception and acting, he’s picked up from you. 

The guilt still sits heavy in his heart as he watches you walk around your bedroom the night before he leaves. Luke’s wondered if there’s any way he can convince you to come with him, but he knows your heart is softer than his, more forgiving. He thinks his damnation is past forgiveness anyway.

You trod over to meet him on your bed, hands full of moisturizer as you climb onto his lap and you look so willing and pliant to whatever he’ll say next. Luke knows you’ve been extra gentle with him lately, and it makes him sigh. This would be easier if you hated each other. But that’s the farthest thing from the truth.

Soft hands rub the moisturizer into his skin, delicately caressing his scar, and when he opens his eyes again, you’re smiling and looking how he wants to remember you. His lovely girl, who holds his rage like someone should’ve held his 9-year-old self running away from home. His hands settle around your hips, holding onto you until he can’t anymore and Luke wonders if there was any prophecy out there that could’ve told him that he’d always be running home to you. He just has to take the long way home this time. 

By morning, you might not look at him with this much love, and he’s not even sure you’ll forgive him, so he pulls you into a kiss so deep that even Kronos’s attacks on his mind can’t pull him away.

“Mmmm,” you moan, gasping for air as he continues the assault down your neck, marking you with his lips so you have something to remember him by, “Not that I’m complaining, but what’s gotten into you, angelface?” If only you knew.

“Can’t help it baby, you’ve got a face I’d go to war for,” he mutters, pressing another kiss to your lips, “and a heart I’d die for.” He’s smiling into your cheek, but his expression falters for a moment when you look into his golden-flecked eyes.

Maybe you know more than you let on, awareness cognizant in your features. The jig is up, and he’s ready for you to call him out on it—but a half smile falls upon your face instead, and for some reason, this feels like the inevitable goodbye. There was never much you two could hide from each other after all.

“I know it’s been hard lately, Luke. But let me take your pain away. Please,” and it sounds almost like you’re begging.

The both of you are a little guilty tonight, hearts heavy and conscious of what this means for the both of you, hoping that your actions will suffice as the coercion, the explanation, the apology— instead of the unspoken truth that will come to light when you wake. 

___

[ if you need to be mean, be mean to me || i can take it and put it inside of me ]

Both of you are more desperate tonight, bodies moving languidly like you have all the time in the world. It’s a conversation in itself as he ruts into you, trying to stuff you to the brim so you won’t forget what it’s like to feel him in your bones. 

‘Promise you’ll remember me.’

Here, in the confines of cabin 12, you are his alone, and there are no gods or monsters that can take away the feeling of you from under his fingertips. Yours are grasping onto his arms, leaving crescent-shaped indents as you will away whatever’s eating at his brain, and through the golden glint of his irises, for a moment he looks like himself again, unburdened and soft. 

‘Is there any other way?’

He’s convinced your wanton moans are his salvation, legs thrown over his shoulders, and his name in your mouth. You’re hanging onto him for dear life as he melts into you, and you wonder if you hold on any tighter, maybe this won’t have to end. But the both of you are chasing an inescapable conclusion, obstructing any thoughts or words with another tangle of your lips. 

‘I don’t know how to be without you.’

Tongues clashing like swords for one last battle, and there’s no winner at the end of this one, no matter how good it feels.

“Luke, p-please!” 

The scream rattles your throat and his fingers graze your pulsepoint as he moans lowly, watching your eyes roll back. It’s undetermined what you’re asking for, but the both of you bask in what comes after, him falling into your embrace as you writhe at the thought of wondering if this is the only glory you can offer him and if it’s enough to satiate his inherent need for revenge. 

‘How do you expect me to forget you?’

___

[ if your hands need to break more than trinkets in your room || you can lean on my arm as you break my heart ||  just don’t leave me alone wondering where you are ]

'You could fix him.'

The thought echoes as loudly as Kronos’ orders recalibrate in his brain the edges blurred from your powers, and he stares up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling as he lets out a deep breath. 

His mind is clearer than it’s been in months, and his gaze turns to see you watching him, messy hair framing your sleepy face. Your eyelids flutter slowly as you both take each other in, immortalizing this moment with both of you hoping the other will change their mind. Luke pulls your hand to his lips, kissing each of your fingertips before holding it over his heart. If there was anything else you could do to extract his madness, you’ve already exhausted all your efforts. And if there was a way to make you see his perspective, he’s run out of words to convince you. Both of you are stubborn and more like your fathers than you care to admit; what a shame that neither of you has the power to prove them wrong. The fear is the only thing keeping you both awake now. If you close your eyes, you might never see him again. 

“You need to rest now, baby. Think I’m gonna stay up for a little while longer,” Luke whispers into the dim light.

“Are you gonna stay here tonight?” The words slur from your lips as you fight the weight of your eyelids, desperate for a moment longer with your lover. You hope that even as you lose consciousness you’ll still be able to finish the job for his sake.

“There’s nowhere else I’d be, trouble.”

___

[ i am stronger than you give me credit for ]

As soon as he’s sure you’re asleep, he lifts your hand off his heart and sneaks out from under your covers without a sound. Pulling his clothes on and grabbing his converse, Luke makes sure there’s no trace left of him here. It’ll be easier for you when you wake up, less of his mess to pick up after. He looks around your room and admires how it’s a museum of your relationship—a liberty he was never able to have or fully share with you in cabin 11.

Surely that’s the gods’ fault too, that he’s never had anything to call his own besides you and the space you share with him wholeheartedly. His fingers hover over the photos of you two tacked to your bulletin board, and the flowers he picked from the field sitting in a vase. Luke turns to you, creeping to your sleeping figure, and tucks you in properly under the duvet, hands seamlessly making his side of the bed. He tries to ignore your outstretched hand resting on his pillow.

At the very least, Luke hopes you know that he cares for you so meticulously in this way, knowing that he’s about to lose himself as soon as he walks off the campgrounds. He hovers over the foot of your bed, inhaling the scent of berries and linen for one last time.

“It’s you and me, trouble. I love you.”

Every step he takes towards the door and down the stairs of your loft is a nail in his coffin.

Luke chooses to wage war upon the world so that when you find him again, he’ll be a better man. 

A hero. 

All for you. 

He just hopes that he can see it through.

___

“To make her happy, I would invent God if I had to.” -Marguerite Duras

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