The Way Gabriel Never Doubted For A Second That Beelzebub Was Going To Give Him The Specialest Bestest

THIS IS KILLER AMAZING AWESOME READ NOW AF!!!

THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

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. 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 ♡

(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. luke thought you might have even 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 five 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 twelve 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 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 up 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 unsheathed 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. 

you could jam the weapon into luke’s heart, 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.

SECOND THAT

luke castellan x reader

★ “i’m restless, i’m wrestling with the song that you love, it’s been stuck in my head”

ABOUT - luke castellan is the only one at camp who sees right through your perfect and poised persona; and all he wants is the satisfaction of ruining it.

WARNINGS - smut, mentions of choking, both the reader and luke are TERRIBLE but luke is much worse lol, swearing, written from the perspective of a deranged luke, penetration, only loosely proofread.

A/N- i have NEVER written and posted smut before EVER. like i get close but i never go all out. so… no hate guys 😘 also i feel like this is a bit ooc for luke so just pretend he’s actually insane and terrible guys!!! if you ignore his incoherent ramblings, it’s PWOP sooo… anyways this might be the first and last time i ever write smut who knows

luke castellan is no amateur when it comes to pretending to be something else. growing up, the only thing that mattered to luke was receiving praise or recognition for being ‘great’ or ‘honourable’ or whatever.

when you live your whole life pretending to be a perfect person, you kinda start to believe you really are a perfect person.

and if everyone you meet also believes you are indeed a perfect person, what’s the harm in continuing to pretend?

at the end of the day, both parties gain something. you get the validation and acclaim that you truly deserve, and they get a role model they aspire to at least halfway resemble.

luke is the sweetest guy at camp- everyone loves him. and he deserves it, doesn’t he? he deserves their praise and love and respect. gods, he should be rewarded for pretending to be so admirable for so long. he’s entitled to it.

you, on the other hand? you don’t. you don’t deserve an ounce of the praise luke has worked so hard to receive.

to luke, you’re vermin. behind your polite smiles and sweet words, there’s darkness. there’s an evil lurking within you- he’s sure of it.

he sees it during early morning sparring sessions, watching from the wings while you tactfully dodge every attack that comes your way. and when you eventually falter, he sees how your eyes turn cold and your smile fades.

he sees how you take a shaky breath, brushing yourself off with your bony hands before flashing a toothy grin. he feels nauseous when you extend your arm out to shake the hand of your opponent- because how the fuck can they believe your little act?

your gentle kindness and bashful charisma is so obviously fake. of course, he’s not pissed that you’re acting; everyone at camp is acting to an extent. but you’re going all out, and he can still see through it. what pisses him off, is that nobody else seems to recognise how truly malicious you can be.

maybe it’s because you’re pretty. luke is no stranger to getting special treatment based on his appearance, and neither should you be. maybe that’s the whole basis of your appeal. it seems to be the only thing holding your pathetic little facade together, considering your sloppy acting skills.

if you were ugly everyone would be able to call out your bullshit straight away, and then he wouldn’t have to worry about sharing the spotlight. honestly, the only reason why everyone loves you so much is because half of them want to fuck you, and the other half want your attention or approval- not that it’d be worth anything.

it was the last week of spring, meaning only the year-rounders and a few of the older kids were at camp. you just graduated high school, and arrived at camp early.

of course, you just had to return to camp prettier, taller, more confident, and with a fancy college acceptance letter. maybe you were much smarter than you let on- but it became very apparent that your intelligence wasn’t the reason you got accepted into NYU once he learned what you were studying.

“oh, i’m getting a degree in art history,”

seriously? art history? that’s gotta be the funniest thing luke has ever heard in his entire life.

“really? why art history?” he asks politely, watching your every move as he awaits your dumbass explanation.

you shrug cheerfully, looking around at the few other campers scattered around in a tight-knit circle as they wait for you to tell them about your ‘lovely’ 18th birthday and ‘eventful’ senior year.

“i don’t know, my mum works with a lot of artists, so she said it’d be a good conversation starter,” you say cheerfully, as if it wasn’t the stupidest thing to ever exit your mouth.

luke can’t help but let out a little giggle, before instantly lowering his head to offer some non-verbal apology. but to his surprise, you laugh along. “yeah, i really wanna score a job at the MET or something. i don’t mind either way,”

luke nods politely, letting the conversation continue without interrupting with a snide comment or unsolicited laughter.

he plays along as the conversation continues, pretending he doesn’t want to grab you by the throat and push you against the wall, demanding you to confess. demanding you to tell the fucking truth; that you’re a manipulative sycophant who’s bound to end up in rehab for getting addicted to designer drugs.

why is he the only one that sees you for who you truly are? gods, if he knew any better he might be charmed. you were naturally picturesque- or at least you seemed to be. the way that you were sitting on the grass with your hair draping over your body; you looked gorgeous. but you always look gorgeous, that’s your best quality after all.

of course all of camp half-blood was fooled- you were to pretty and kind to be lying. maybe it was better to let them keep on believing that you were this perfect image of a girl.

but he’d still appreciate the satisfaction of seeing you for who you are- seeing you in your rawest form.

and then suddenly, he saw it. some athena girl asked you if you wanted to go on a run with her later, to which you politely declined. of course, you kept your composure, told her that you had to take a nap, offered her a sympathetic smile and a ‘maybe next time’. but she didn’t see the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head as soon as she looked away.

luke was astonished. you really were getting sloppy, huh?

and yet, nobody else saw it. nobody else saw the look of disgust on your face as soon as she finished talking. he was seething- how on earth could everyone be so blind?

luke looks around at the group of people surrounding him, his eyes darting back to you ever 5 or 10 seconds. they all look at you with awe- as if you’re the most precious thing on earth.

fuck that. he was going to put you in your place.

a few hours pass, and it was finally time for everyone to walk back to their cabins.

luke spots you walking alone to your cabin, your face dimly lit by the moon as it shines over the camp. he’s so overwhelmed with anger, he couldn’t fathom caring about the consequences of whatever situation he was about to put himself in.

he quickly catches up to you, meeting your walking pace as he shoots you a friendly smile.

“hey, y/n. you got a minute?” luke asks, still adorning that charming smile. you smile back at him, nodding your head ever so gently, as if it would fall off if you moved it too fast. like a rusty elvis bobble head bought 1976 that resides on the dash of your grandmother’s busted car.

“yeah, why?” you hold your hands behind your back as you walk beside him, slowly approaching your empty cabin. luke shrugs his shoulders. “oh, i just had a little question. mind if we talk in your cabin?” he asks.

you nod, opening the door for luke and letting him walk through. you close the door behind him, before leaning your back against the wall. luke stands in front of you, his cheery demeanour vanishing as he crosses his arms.

“why the fuck are you such a little bitch all the time?”

you furrow your brows, mirroring his posture as you cross your arms defensively. “excuse me?”

luke rolls his eyes, letting out dry laughter as he looks you up and down. “you heard me,” he adds, watching you anxiously begin to pick at your lips with your freshly manicured fingernails.

“do you have a problem with me or something?” your whole body feels tense as you continue picking at your lips, your eyes locked onto his.

“yeah, i do have a problem. i’m tired of your little ‘nice girl’ act. it’s getting fucking annoying,” luke scoffed, taking a step closer towards you. your eyes darken, before shaking away your hostile expression.

“are you sure you wanna do this right now, castellan?”

“is that a threat?”

you pull your fingertips away from your lips, shifting your weight to the other side of your body as you cross your arms once more. you let silence fill the room before finally speaking up.

“listen, luke. everyone pretends to be someone they’re not. you and i just tend to do it more than others-“

luke cuts your off, taking another step forwards. “fuck off, we are not the same.”

you roll your eyes, banging your head against the wall as you groan irritably. “so what? are you gonna go around spreading cheap lies about me now?” you ask tiredly. luke shakes his head, slightly shrugging his shoulders.

“nah.” he replies curtly, his voice blunt and expression vague. “mkay, then what the fuck is your problem?”

luke takes another quick step forward, tightly holding your chin in his hand as he lifts your head to face him. “you’re my fucking problem.”

you let out a dry laugh, staring into his eyes as you attempt to intimidate him. “you’re such a loser.” you whisper, refusing to fight back against the way he’s gripping your face.

he stays silent, biting his lip as he looks over your form. “and you’re a brat.” he retorts.

“are we just going to keep throwing insults back and forth all night, or are you gonna explain why you’re so obsessed with me?” you ask playfully, cupping his face in your hand as an attempt to patronise him.

luke is stumped. to be fair, he is entirely obsessed with you. and he has been for years now. and now he has you cornered, watching your weak attempts at asserting dominance over him.

luke was over it.

suddenly, luke leans in, harshly pressing his lips against yours. you retract your hand from his face, pressing it against the wall as you feel his body moving towards you.

he wraps his other hand around your neck, only gently gripping it as to not alarm you.

luke is surprised by how you sink into his grip, pulling away to see your closed eyes and swollen lips. when you wipe your mouth and look at him with those hauntingly innocent eyes, he’s almost fooled.

you scoff, smirking as you tear away from his grip and take a few steps back. “is that all you wanted?” you say confidently, watching him turn around to watch you carefully pace around the room.

he shakes his head, groaning quietly as he walks over to you once more.

luke purses his lips, trying to suppress any sense of genuine attraction to you. but when his eyes gaze over to your red lips and flushed cheeks, he can’t help but let his mind wander.

“if you’re done, you can leave, castellan.” you say irritably, leaning against your bed frame.

it goes straight to his dick when you call him that, especially when your voice sounds so hoarse and cocky. he feels as though he’s finally accomplished what he’s been yearning to do for years now. he’s seeing the real you.

he couldn’t dare squander this opportunity now.

he pushes you down onto your bed, watching how your hair flows over your newly made bedsheets as your head hits the pillow.

“but you don’t want me to leave, do you?” luke says lowly, hovering over your body as his hand hold your wrists together above your head.

“i don’t care what you do, castellan.”

luke groans, pressing another rough kiss against your lips. you kiss back for whatever reason, and your firsts relax within his grip. it was almost as if you got off on the idea of someone calling out your bullshit. or maybe you got off on the idea of somewhat hating your guts. either way, luke knew you were more than eager to continue.

he let go of your wrists, before biting your bottom lip. your mouth opens slightly, offering entry to his tongue, deepening the kiss.

you hand cups his face, while the other grips his shoulder. after a few moments, he pulls away and begins sucking at the skin of your neck, leaving purple marks on your delicate skin while you let out hoarse whimpers.

his hands begin to fiddle with the fabric of your shirt, causing you to push his body forwards as you position yourself to sit on his lap. you take off your shirt, throwing it away as you run your hands down his back.

luke looks down at your chest, growing more aroused at the sight of your lacy little bra. it’s as if you knew someone was going to see it.

you feel a hardness growing from under his jeans, poking against your upper thigh as you slowly grind against his lap. luke let’s put a low moan, continuing to bury his face in your neck.

“i fucking hate you,” he growls, gripping the sides of your waist with his hands as you move against him.

“don’t care, take off your shirt,” you demand hurriedly, running your fingers through his hair as you tilt his head up to look at you.

luke rolls his eyes, before taking off his shirt. he quickly presses another series of harsh kissses against your neck, fiddling with the clasp of your bra as you push your chest up against his. you giggle softly at his incompetence, before he finally unhooks it and ravenously pulls it from your chest.

luke pushes your body backwards onto the bed, trailing kisses down from your neck and onto your tits. you let out a quiet moan, before biting down onto your hand in order to stifle the sound. his large hands knead your left breast, while the other grips the area just under your right breast, resting on top of your ribcage.

luke’s hands slowly move downwards, hip thumb tracing circles against the side of your hip as you gently grasp onto his hair. his fingertips gently pull down your shorts, leaving you in only your underwear.

he rubs his thumb over the wet fabric, before tilting his head to look up at you. “pathetic,” he mutters, smirking at your flushed faced. you groan, burying the back of your head further into the pillow as your back arches involuntarily.

luke’s thumb massages your clit from over the soaking fabric, watching you squirm in response. he lets out a dry laugh, before pulling down your panties and tossing them onto the floor.

“luke…” you moan quietly, closing your eyes as your hips jerk into the mattress. his fingers trace your wet folds, before letting his thumb rub circles against your clit and forcing two fingers inside of you.

you whimper before pursing your lips, rolling your head around as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out. he quickens his pace, pressing down harshly against your clit while beginning to suck on the skin of your upper thigh.

luke holds down your hip with his free hand as you begin to squirm.

suddenly, he stops.

you look at him with a confused expression, your face red as he pulls his fingers out. he chuckles at your disappointed face, before taking off his pants and boxers. you stare at his length unashamedly, biting down on your bottom lip.

“so fucking needy.” he says lowly, his voice horse as he softly begins to continue massaging your clit. you moan, feeling your back arch as he positions himself in front of your legs. he forcefully spreads them open as he teases your folds with the tip of his erect member.

you let out a little whine, your voice trembling as you try to move your hips against his length.

luke rolls his eyes at your poor attempts at penetration, before slowly pushing his cock into your entrance. you let out a breathy, high pitched moan, your hands eagerly gripping your bedsheets.

he gradually pushes in the entirety his length, continuing to rub circles into your clit. luke tightly grips your waist as he begins to slowly pull out, before jamming himself back in. you let out a breathy yelp as you body moves with his thrusts.

like continues relentlessly pushing in and out of you, massaging your waist as his thumb gradually increases the speed of its attack on your clit.

you try to steady you breathing, your face flushed as lukewarm continues to deliberately overwhelm your body.

“mm… luke, i’m gonna…” you mutter, your hips jerking upwards. he smiles at you, amused by how blissed out you look taking his cock. “so soon?” he teases, rapidly moving against your body.

you let out a stammering series of whimpers as your back arches upwards, feeing yourself suddenly release. luke grins, continuing to rub circles into your clit as he rides out your orgasm.

luke slowly retracts his thumb, repositioning the hand to gently grip your hip. he begins to slow down his movements, before quickly thrusting into you repetitively. you squirm, the movements of your hips constrained by his grip.

suddenly, he pulls out, releasing onto your stomach. see? he was a gentleman.

luke gazes over at the girl he just reduced to a panting mess as he stands up and puts his clothes back on. he smiles at you as he zips up his jeans, before kneeling besides you as you turn your head to look at him.

“i wont tell anyone how fucking pathetic you are, don’t worry, princess.”

you nod, staring at him as he continues to look at your defenceless body. “such a pretty girl,” he hums, cupping your face in his hand before kissing your forehead.

he reaches over to your discarded underwear and gently pulls them up your legs, the gesture acting somewhat as a peace offering. he takes a step back, simply taking in how endearingly stupid you look.

you slowly sit yourself up, grabbing your camp t shirt and putting it on. “goodnight, luke,” you choke out, your voice hoarse and breathing shallow. he nods, smiling softly as he turns to walk away. “night, princess.”

gonna need a part two RN

— trickentine જ⁀➴♡ ︎

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader

summary: when eros, the god of love, makes the annual valentine visit to camp half-blood, he conveniently unintentionally leaves his bow and arrow in the capable hands of his younger half-sister.

warnings: nothing i think, except for like one curse word (pls do tell me if i miss any though!)

genre: ...romcom?

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

The gods were many things: powerful at their core, benevolent to those who merit it, temperamental when goaded, and mysterious in their methods— but there was one trait that defined them most of all, incandescently littered in their tales and lores: they were tricksters.

You really should’ve known better than to pick up that stray quiver of arrows.

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

The Aphrodite Cabin consistently made it a point to celebrate Valentine’s Day with much fanfare. Everyone has been busy the entire week preceding it; there were fresh roses to harvest, pink and red deserts to be made, hundreds of paper hearts to be cut, ribbons to be tied and acres to decorate. As one of the older siblings, a huge chunk of the responsibility fell on your shoulders. Needless to say, you spent an entire extra hour in the bathroom trying to put your concealer to good use.

A mere 10 minutes after leaving your cabin on day 6, you’d managed to snap and glare at nearly everyone who even thought of intercepting your path.

Nearly everyone because you knew better than to direct your ire at the god of love.

“You didn’t even blend.” Eros said, perusing your make-up judgmentally. “Consider your favorite demigod sister card revoked.”

In his current human form, his hair was a deep shade of black and coiffed to perfection, his eyes a brown hue that you could only describe as melodramatic, and his skin beautifully tanned from frolicking in the sunlight.

Gods, how you missed to frolick in the sunlight. These days, you had to slave in it.

“Lord Eros.” You bowed, desperately fighting the urge to roll your eyes and purse your lips.

“I adore what you’ve done with the place.” He waved his hand off dismissively. He trudges ahead of you, officially beginning his annual Valentine inspection. “Although I definitely think it could use a little more sparkle. Maybe a little more pink, too.”

‘Pink? For Valentines? Groundbreaking.’ You drawled inside your head. “The Hephaestus cabin is tinkering with a smoke machine to make it emit glitter.”

“Wonderful.” He replied passively, his attention drawn towards the dining pavilion where hundreds of glowing hearts hung from mid-air. Eros turned towards you. “Fairy lights on the beams, maybe?”

“On it.” You nodded your head tiredly, scribbling messily onto a notepad. “Anything else?”

“Everything’s perfect, except…” He trailed off before raising an eyebrow at you. “Find yourself a boyfriend, maybe? You need to loosen up.”

“Oh my gods,” You muttered under your breath, fighting the urge to physically recoil.

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you slacking off on training.” Luke chastised with a tut, tugging your arm towards the training areas. Your feet were basically dragging against the dirt, soiling your sneakers and flicking particles of dust against your skirt, but you couldn’t care less.

“Luke, look around you. What do you see?” You asked, your tone too saccharine to be considered serious.

He decided to humor you anyway. “Hearts.”

“10 points to House Hermes. Now,” You leaned in conspiratorially, “Who do you think set this whole place up?”

Luke barely opened his mouth before you answered your own question.

“Me.” You jabbed a finger against your chest. You narrowed your eyes at him. “I set this whole place up. I planned it— the theme, the color scheme, the glitter, the ribbons, the dazzling pink fountain with mini-Cupids who sing at the hour!”

“It looks very pretty!” He said, panicked.

“Yes, I know it looks very pretty.” You kissed your teeth. “Don’t you think I deserve a little break because it looks very pretty?”

He shook his head.

“You are insufferable!” You groaned.

“Hey! In my defense,” He raised both of his arms in the air to plead innocence, “You’re the one who said you wanted to develop a skill by the end of the summer."

His voice was pitched higher by the end in a poor imitation of your’s. You scrunched your nose in distaste.

“Gods, why do I keep digging my own grave?” You mumbled. Luke shook his head in amusement.

He led you into the clearing of the archery field, a line of circle targets dotted around the edge of the forest. A quiver of arrows was hung against the branches, different from the ones in the armory but definitely familiar to you.

“You can use those. Guess one of the kids forgot to return them after practice.” He shrugged. Luke mustn’t have noticed the difference.

You reached up to grab the weapons, still incredulous but definitely not alarmed enough to hesitate. The material thrummed in your hands.

“Go shoot.” He grinned.

“Very helpful instructions.” You muttered.

“Well, it’s pretty straightforward, sweetheart.” He sauntered over to one of the targets, leaning against the wooden frame. “You’ve been taught the basics, you just need the application. Now, shoot.”

“I could literally hit you.” You said blankly as you mounted the arrow against your bow.

“Consider it your challenge to not hit me.” He raised a thumbs-up.

“You’re insane.” You responded, irked and stressed by his casualness. “I’m sleep-deprived!"

Again, Luke just shrugs his shoulders. You huff, but then follow his lead anyway. You close one eye as you raise your weapon to your line of vision, zeroing in on the target.

As soon as the arrow flicked away from your fingers, it changed its course. When it should’ve followed a curved arch towards the red target, it whizzed away and made a beeline straight for Luke. A pink trail of haze followed its path.

“Duck!” You yell.

The arrow pierced through his chest at nearly the same time Luke’s body collided with the ground.

“That’s where those went.” Eros snapped his fingers as he emerged behind you. His glinting eyes were looking intently at the bow and quiver on you, an imperciptible smile on his face.

Your eyes widened in surprise. Shit.

“Lord Eros! I sincerely apologize.” You immediately took off the weaponry, holding them in your hands then kneeling as if to offer them back. You definitely did not want a god to be at odds with you. The two of you might have the same mother, but that didn’t mean you were equal in Aphrodite’s eyes. “I wasn’t-”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, sis.” He said, tapping your shoulder. Was he actually consoling you? “I shouldn’t have left it out in the open anyways.”

He pulled you up by the arm gently, snapping his fingers and getting the remnants of grass off of your knees. He even picked off a stray leaf from your hair. What in Tartarus was this?

For as long as you’ve known Eros and he’s practically coerced you into a dysfunctional sibling relationship, this was the kindest thing he’s ever done. Yes, the bar was low.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

“You didn’t use this on someone, did you?” Eros asked, cradling the quiver and bow against him like a child.

“I think I managed to hit Luke—”

“You didn’t!” He interrupted with a theatrical gasp, a hand covering his mouth. He was such a drama queen.

You narrowed your eyes. He planned this, didn't he?

He smirked wider when he noticed the change in your demeanor, the realization behind your gaze. You swore his pupils changed to hearts for a moment.

“Good luck with lover boy, little sis.” He turned around, showing you the back of his hand as he waved goodbye.

thinking about this again

you never disappointed me - part five

part one part two part three four

➻ synopsis: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader ; luke tries to apologise for the party, but it takes you a while to forgive him (10 things I about you AU)

➻ word count: 3753

➻ warnings: ooc/kind of loser!luke, ooc silena, she/her pronouns used for reader, swearing

➻ did this take a month? yes. am I sorry? yes. will it happen again? absolutely

TAGLIST: @myxticmoon @wicca-void @leeknows-wife @thekittyxo-blog @number-onekidqueen @instabull @slaybestieslay946 @sflame15-blog @yourfavmiki @ivory-sage @caramelandvenus @chasebeth @maraudersmyloves losergirlcrowley amortencjja wisecrownpaper iammightsadyall odeasforyou rlqfpdl

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You were humiliated. You’d spent all night crying, mortification setting in thick over your body as you lay on your bed. However, despite how embarrassed you were, you were mostly angry. Angry at Luke for acting so affectionate, for making you believe that he really liked you then pulling away at the last second. Angry at yourself. Angry that after all these years, all it took was one stupid boy to bring down all your walls; angry that you let yourself be led into this situation.

And so that morning, instead of letting yourself mope around about it anymore, you picked yourself up with a new determination. You were angry, and everyone was going to know about it. Your braids were pulled extra tight, not in the mood to deal with flyaways or gentleness, and the smudged eyeliner around your eyes served as a reminder of the tears you’d wasted.

There was a much shorter line at the Lava Wall than usual. Although skipping out on activities could earn you some shitty chores or revoked dessert privileges, your bad mood had seeped into the whole area, practically lowering the temperature around you. You only had a few newer campers dare to enter your territory, and it took a Herculean effort to not snap at them for even coming near you.

Luke watched you from afar, hidden away in one of his typically safe smoking spots. He was trying to gauge your mood, see if anything was fixable. His prospects currently looked grim. He watched in anticipation as a young girl made a dumb mistake. Luke thought it wouldn’t have been her fault — Chiron had made him tour her around camp only a few weeks ago and she’d been pretty beat up before she got to camp. He watched you yank her off the Lava Wall moments before disaster, and held his breath as you both seemed to falter. The girl looked like she was going to burst into tears, and your face was unreadable, which was usually not a good thing. Just as he thought you were going to take out all your feelings on the scared kid, you crouched down to her level, thumb wiping away her spilled tears. You spoke softly to her, bringing her down from an impending breakdown with a gentleness that didn’t often emerge at camp.

The interaction gave Luke some hope, maybe your heart hadn’t totally closed off. That thought was quashed, however, when minutes later you ripped Travis Stoll a new one for being an ‘egotistical dickhead’ as he fooled around on the wall. Luke was genuinely shocked at the volume which came from your body, he could have mistaken it for a conch horn. Even Travis seemed a little taken aback at your outburst. Usually your bad moods were pretty easy to avoid — stay out of your way and you stayed away from others. Clearly today, though, you had anger to get out of your system, and you weren’t hesitant in expressing it.

You were still upset by lunchtime, and your day only got worse.

“Dance for me, cowboy,” Katy Gardener yelled, evil grin shining across the Dining Pavilion. You kept your head down and ignored it, hurrying to your table. A body popped up in front of you, blocking your path.

“What do we owe you for the table dance, babe?” Ethan crooned, and if you were in a slightly more private setting you would have decked him. You grumbled out a “Fuck you,” and shoved past him towards Drew, knowing that at least she wouldn’t reproach you in public. Ethan clearly wasn’t done with you yet, though, and began an all too innocent conversation with Mr D.

“Why don’t you ask how her weekend was, Mr D?” He said, throwing a casual glance over to you.

“Unless she kicked the crap out of your dumb ass, Elton, I don’t wanna hear it.” You could have kissed Mr D, and then immediately recoiled at the thought. Ethan’s embarrassed expression was enough to please you though, and you sunk into your meal silently, but at least not active with anger.

After lunch Luke tried to apologise to you, or explain himself at least. He knew you were upset, but he was still feeling good about himself. He had noble intentions, and was doing objectively the right thing by not taking advantage of you when you were drunk. None of these sentiments were expressed, though, when you stormed right past him, making sure to land an extra aggressive stomp on his foot as you went. Chris couldn’t hold back his loud laugh, clapping Luke on the back in semi-sympathy as he headed to his own next activity. Luke stood dumbly in his spot for a few minutes, unsure of how exactly to proceed. Clearly you were more upset than he thought.

Your own next activity was Ancient Greek with Mr D. You didn’t know why he taught it at all given you personally thought he was hardly fluent, but it was one activity you actually didn’t mind, especially as you got older. Whilst the younger kids had lessons focused on getting used to the alphabet and language, the elder campers who were more fluent had more traditional ‘english’ classes — learning about texts and languages, only in Ancient Greek so the dyslexia didn’t slow you down as much.

You shot Mr D a tightlipped smile as you walked into the pavilion, hoping to get by the lesson unscathed, though you didn’t have much hope. Both Ethan and Luke were in this class, and you really didn’t want to see either (though Luke usually skipped, so he wasn’t such a pressing issue).

Just your luck, Ethan was already in his unassigned assigned seat behind you, filling in the campers who didn’t attend the party about your escapades. You just rolled your eyes, trying to seem somewhat graceful about your own actions, but the leering eyes of your peers was making it supremely difficult. For once you did regret not making many friends at camp — if you had, maybe your humiliation wouldn’t be such a hot topic, but the very presence of your class reminded you why you had no interest in being friends with them.

The room thankfully quietened down when Mr D walked in, the whole camp somewhat wary of his temper. He started the lesson: Shakespeare. You perked up a bit from your slouched position in the chair. Whilst school wasn’t exactly your strong point with the ADHD and dyslexia, Shakespeare was something you actually kind of understood. When you were younger your Dad had taken you and Silena to a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and you’d loved it ever since. Shakespeare translated into Greek was maybe your dream.

Mr D started talking about sonnets, and you got the distinct impression that he didn’t totally know what he was talking about — or just didn’t care enough to go into any detail. You figured that was more correct since he was the god of theatre, but you could never be totally sure with Dionysus. Regardless, he’d moved on from explaining the basic form of a sonnet and had set you a project: write your own version of Shakespeare’s sonnet 141. You sat straighter in your seat, unable to hide the small smile that had crept onto your face. You raised your hand, slightly offended by Mr D’s eye roll.

“Yes, Miss I-have-an-opinion-about-everything?” He sighed, but you persevered nonetheless.

“Do you want it in iambic pentameter?” You asked.

“You’re not going to fight me on this?” He hesitated, and you revelled in the fact that you could still surprise him after all these years.

“No, I think it’s a really good assignment.”

“You’re just messing with me, right Barton?”

“Beauregard,” You corrected for the thousandth time, “But no. I’m really excited to write it.” You picked uncomfortably at your cargos as the class watched your exchange.

“Go see Chiron.”

“What?”

“Get out!” He yelled, not quite angry but you weren’t going to be the one to test him. There were rumours of previous campers who’d been turned into dolphins and you did not want to continue that legacy. You wandered out of Greek class, still slightly confused at what had just happened, and headed back to your cabin, not bothering to go see Chiron. With the cabin to yourself you tried to get a start on Mr D’s project, but inspiration was lacking and you resorted to taking a nap instead.

The rift between you and Luke became public knowledge at that night’s campfire. Without even realising it you’d started sitting with him most nights (or rather he sat with you, bothering you until you submitted to a conversation). Then suddenly you were avoiding him like the plague, spitting out a harsh “Get fucked, Castellan,” when he called your name softly, almost begging you to talk to him. You were never one to back down from your decisions though, and left him in the dust, taking a seat next to Clarisse. You could tell even Chris could see something was seriously wrong as he pressed a kiss to Clarisse’s hand and disappeared somewhere, presumably to sit with Luke.

You didn’t even really know why you were at the campfire in the first place. You’d been only a handful of times before you knew Luke, and now you didn’t want to know him yet here you were. Clarisse tried to keep you entertained with her quiet comments — which did admittedly make you snort a laugh once or twice, but you were otherwise miserable. You sure as hell weren’t going to participate or chat to anyone, and you were really regretting not just pursuing your usual routine of getting to the top of the Aphrodite cabin for stargazing. Plus, you could feel Luke’s eyes following your every move, and you were getting fed up with the kicked puppy act.

Your final straw was the singing — why was everyone in Camp Half-Blood so obsessed with singing? The second some douchebag from Apollo brought out a guitar you were done, launching yourself out of your seat and stomping back towards your cabin for some peace and quiet. Just as you were crossing the threshold out of the amphitheatre a hand grabbed your arm and you whirled around to face the culprit, ripping your arm out of his embrace.

“Touch me again, Castellan, and I swear to the Gods I will make sure you have no hands to use.”

“Look, I just wanted—”

“I don’t care, Castellan. We don’t always get what we want, do we?” You knew you were being mean, but you frankly didn’t care. When Luke was shocked into silence, mouth slightly open as he searched for anything to say, you took the opportunity to leave him in the dust, trying to keep your confident walk even as your legs were shaking slightly.

“Bro, what did you do to her?” Beckendorf approached Luke up near the exit of the amphitheatre.

“I didn’t do anything,” Luke snapped, before taking a beat to calm himself down, “She would’ve been too drunk to remember.”

“But the plan was working!”

“What do you care? I thought you wanted out.” A slight blush crept on Beckendorf’s face, accompanying the dumb grin.

“Yeah, well I did, but, um, that was until she kissed me.” Despite his own bad luck, Luke couldn’t help but be happy for Beckendorf, slightly hating the fact that the lame younger boy had grown on him significantly. He let Charles ramble about the kiss for a bit despite his decreasing interest in the conversation, very glad when Percy joined them.

“So I talked to Clarisse,” He said, and Luke knew by his tone the news wasn’t going to be good. Beckendorf was still hopeful (or just naive) though, and pestered him for more details. “’Hates him with the fire of a thousand suns’ is the direct quote.” All three of them grimaced, yet Beckendorf persisted.

“Hey, we don’t know. She might just need a day to cool off.” Luke thought back to the bruise you’d left on his foot earlier in the day.

“Maybe two.”

The Aphrodite kids were all in archery except you, who’d claimed to be sick to get out of it. So, Silena was on her own and vulnerable to Ethan approaching.

“Hey there, Cupid.” He popped up behind her, not noticing the grimace creeping onto Silena’s face.

“Hi, Ethan.” She refused to look at him, focusing instead on aiming her arrow.

“I want to talk about the end of summer dance.” Silena rolled her eyes as the rest of her siblings pretended to mind their own business despite their innate need to know what was going on.

“Look, you know the deal. I can’t go if my sister doesn’t.” The end of summer dance was exactly what it sounded like; a big party for all the kids at camp to celebrate the three months they’d spent together and send off the kids who weren’t staying all year round. Though the actual dance was supervised, it was a well known secret that all of the older campers stayed out through the night drinking and dancing, and most of the folk around camp turned a blind eye for the night. Usually, your dad would pick you up just before the party started, which would inevitably result in a fight between you and Silena. Now though, Silena wasn’t quite so against leaving early, wanting out of the boy drama she’d found herself in.

“Your sister is going,” Ethan said, puffing out his chest as if it made him look more manly. Silena’s surprise was genuine.

“Since when?”

“Let’s just say I’m taking care of it,” Was all Ethan said before walking away, confident swagger in his step as he passed in front of your siblings, and Silena wondered how many of them were holding back the urge to let go of their arrow as he crossed them.

Still, Ethan had to make good on his word, so he found himself approaching Luke again. Rummaging around in his pockets, Ethan presented him with 200 dollars in cash. Luke raised an eyebrow, not bothering with words.

“This should take care of everything for the dance. I’m sure you don’t own anything presentable so this is for a new outfit, flowers for her, whatever. As long as she comes to the dance.” Luke stared at him, and was disgusted at what he was feeling. He might’ve been growing a conscience, something that would be greatly inconvenient for his life as the scary, unsociable older guy at camp.

“I’m sick of your game,” He said finally, pushing the cash back towards Ethan, who frowned. Luke got the distinct feeling he’d never been told no before — except by you, of course. Ethan exaggerated a huff and reached back into his pocket, pulling out one more hundred dollar bill. Luke faltered. He was sick of hurting you, but three hundred dollars was a lot of money. And without any way of making income as a year-rounder it was only more attractive. So Luke swallowed his pride and his morals and took the money. Though, getting you to ever consider going out with him again was basically a hopeless case.

So Luke began his new quest of getting you to speak to him again. He’d shown up to the Lava Wall full of audacity and enthusiasm, and waited patiently in line as you helped the other kids, pretending you couldn’t see him. When it was clear he wasn’t going to leave — or have his turn on the climbing wall — until you acknowledged him, you rolled your eyes aggressively.

“What are you doing here?” You snapped, gesturing for the Athena kid standing behind Luke to have her turn.

“I want to improve my time,” He smiled, and you could tell he thought he was being cute. You only partly secretly agreed.

“You’re so…” You trailed off, unable to find a word appropriate for your audience of children.

“Charming?” He asked, and there was that smile again. “Wholesome?”

“Unwelcome,” You settled on, turning back to your duties.

“You’re not as mean as you think you are, you know that?” You froze for a second, then told the kid waiting to start to hold on until you could get rid of him.

“And you’re not as badass as you think you are.”

“Ohh, someone still has their panties in a twist!”

“Don’t for one minute think that you had any effect whatsoever on my panties,” You scoffed, subconsciously adjusting your denim shorts.

“Then what did I have an effect on?” Despite the two of you clearly arguing, there was a surprisingly vulnerable look in his eyes. You ignored it.

“Other than my upchuck reflex? Nothing.” You turned on your heel, making it clear the conversation was over.

You were absent from that night’s campfire, which Luke was grateful for since Percy and Beckendorf had much to say about the plan, none good.

“So she’s still majorly pissed,” Percy started and Luke snorted.

“Yeah, got that, genius.”

“Well the question is, how do you stop a girl from being mad?” Beckendorf asked, and Luke could only cringe at how they sounded. With the way the three of them were talking, any passerby would surely think they were three prepubescent virgins. From next to them, Annabeth sighed harshly.

“Look, Luke. You embarrassed her, her ego’s taken a hit. Devastating for any girl, especially damaging for a daughter of Aphrodite. You need to get on her level; even the score and embarrass yourself for her.” The boys sat back, stunned. One by one they processed the instructions, nodding slowly. Thank the Gods for Annabeth Chase was the only thing Luke could think.

With much planning and a little bit of outside involvement (Luke swapped some of his chores with Clarisse’s to get her to agree), the plan was set in motion.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. We can make fun of the little kids singing Disney songs?” Clarisse lay on your bed as you cleaned your bunk area and you looked at her skeptically.

“Why tonight? We never go to the sing alongs.”

“Dunno,” She shrugged, “Something to do. Plus, summer’s almost over and soon we won’t get to spend any time together.” You grinned, reaching over to pinch her cheek lightly.

“Aw,” You cooed, “I knew you liked me deep down.” Clarisse swatted your hand away but smiled nonetheless, and the two of you stayed huddled up on your bunk gossiping until dinner.

Swayed by Clarisse’s begging, the two of you ended up at the sing along, much too close to the front for your liking. You struggled through the karaoke songs, only staying to commentate to Clarisse. You’d heard one too many awful renditions of classic childhood pop songs when the amphitheatre went quiet, no one knowing who was meant to be leading the next song.

“You’re just too good to be true,” The voice rang out into the night, unaccompanied voice making you gasp immediately in recognition. This was your favourite song, but hardly anyone knew that. It was the song you used to dance to with your dad when you were a kid, before you even knew you were a demigod.

“Can’t take my eyes off of you.” People were murmuring now, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from and who it belonged to — no one who’d sung before for sure.

“You feel like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much,” You gasped again as you saw the figure emerge from the darkness. Luke Castellan was singing at the camp sing along. You couldn’t hold in your giggle as he continued to sing a cappella, coming into the light of the stage. He seemed to be searching for something though, eyes roving over the audience.

“Can’t take my eyes off of you.” His eyes locked with yours; he found what he was looking for. Before you could dwell on the incredibly cheesy act, music swelled to life, the Apollo musicians seemingly having learnt the piece beforehand. You wondered how much planning went into this. Your joy only increased as Luke began to dance; dorky, outdated moves that made you laugh out loud — a sound so unfamiliar that a few campers had to look back to check it was really you. You laughed and clapped along with everyone else, thoroughly enjoying Luke embarrassing himself in front of the whole camp.

The performance had to end at some point though, and you found yourself rising out of your seat to give a standing ovation, whooping and cheering along with everyone else. By chance you caught a glance of Clarisse’s face to see her already watching you, a satisfied look evident on her face. You were confused for a second before a memory struck you — a late night on the roof trading drunk secrets and stories where you told her about your childhood connection to Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You. You were floored, and also kind of flattered. You knew it would have taken a lot for Luke to go to Clarisse for help — she was scary when she was pissed, and she was definitely pissed at Luke after the party.

You felt that little ball of light start to flicker in your chest again, and you were scared. But more than that you were excited. Despite everything else about you, you were a daughter of Aphrodite and a teenage girl, and the most romantic thing to ever happen at camp just happened to you. You guessed Luke had probably grovelled enough, and you would’ve told him that immediately if he hadn’t been swarmed by campers congratulating or laughing at him. Deciding you couldn’t put yourself in the middle of that crowd, you settled on telling him in the morning.

regulus’ last christmas with sirius

the 1975 SETTLE DOWN REFERENCE?2&:!2 i swear when i saw it i audibly gasped omfg i luv that song so much

THABK YOU FOR NOTICING IT OMD!!! love the 1975 they’re sooo luke coded

i want him so bad

I have loved you ever since I’ve known you, Jo. I couldn’t help it. TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET in LITTLE WOMEN (2019) dir. Greta Gerwig

Some more regulus content!

songs i think the marauders era characters would EAT THE FUCK UP!!

james potter

‘say yes’ by elliott smith

i feel like james doesn’t really listen to music that much, more so just pick out a few songs that sirius and remus like and just go with it. remus loves elliott smith (despite his more ‘grunge’ music taste) so he would play a lot of his songs when he’s alone or just chilling out.

james would hear this song and be like “UMMM THIS IS SO ME CORE” and he’d listen to it on repeat for WEEKS.

remus lupin

‘my iron lung’ by radiohead

this mother fucker is a radiohead stan. remus is the radiohead bf sirius is his blur gf.

he loves a little guitar riff and then absolutely nonsensical breakdowns in the middle of the chorus 👍

also i feel like he just relates to the teen angst vibe of it. he listens to it when he’s upset that he’s a queer werewolf from care home. so HIS ‘iron lung’ in that sense would be he queerness and his upbringing, or maybe even sirius at some points.

sirius black

‘beetlebum’ by blur

one thing abt sirius is that he only listens to brit-rock or 2000’s pop punk bangers with explicit sexual innuendos. they just hit!

he’s an early p!atd stan btw. soz.

and a deftones boy. cringe!

but he really likes blur!! he listens to it for hours at a time. he just LOVES the chorus soooo much. it’s a bit basic but he likes it.

lily evans

‘velvet ring’ by big thief

i feel like lily is a folk fan above all other genres of music. obviously she loves fleetwood mac, taylor swift, etc… but her loyalties lie with the cluttered, wordy and intimate lyricism of artists like big thief, clario and sidney gish.

lily listens to this specific song whenever she feel nostalgic or when she’s got growing pains. it kinda grounds her. she’s the type of person who gets so fixated on the past or what her futures gonna look like, so she channels those feelings into reflection instead. she finds a lot big thief’s songs do just that :)

marlene mckinnon

‘debris’ by lowertown

marlene loves indie girl music!! she loves messy vocals and melancholic chord progressions, so she lovesss lowertown.

this song is basically the verbalisation of how she feels other people would treat her if she finally opened up. she feels deeply attacked by the lyrics lol xx

mary mcdonald

‘this is what makes us girls’ by lana del rey

this mf loves lana del rey more than anything. she is a dark feminine born to die giant falsies dark pink french tips and ices mocha latte typa girlie.

this song just makes her feel so powerful and so connected to her friends!! she thinks it’s just so her. she also feels like her attractiveness is one of her best qualities (which isn’t true she’s literally the funniest and kindest girl at hogwarts) and one of her only strengths and she HATES FEELING THAT WAY… so when she listens to lana she’s like ‘mmm she’s so mother! she gets me!!!’

she knows she’s a pretty girl with a group of pretty girl friends and she loves it!!!!

regulus black

‘you’re on your own kid’ by taylor swift

ok regulus is not a tswizzle fan by any means.

but pandora likes her and forced him to listen to a few of her favourite songs. when this song came on he was like “… ok wtf 😧 she’s so me”

all of the lyrics just ATE in his mind. he relates to every lyric PAINFULLY SO.

pandora

‘whatever’ by elliott smith

pandora listens to literally every type of music ever.

she likes phoebe bridgers and found out about elliott smith though her, and heard this song and was like “elliott smith wrote this song about reggie and i xx”

they’re best friends! they are literally the bestest of friends. such a pure friendship.

all of them :)

‘spring’ by angel olsen

bro you’ve gotta listen to this song. it’s like evil crack.

this is the best thing since sliced bread.

part two immediately.

⋆· ༘* god, it's brutal out here !

pairing ★ jock!luke castellan x drum major!reader

synopsis ★ the one where the football team hasn’t won a game in a nearly a decade. luke castellan changes some things. (4k)

content ★ no pronouns used for reader, bad teenager humor, inaccuracies bc i am not a band kid, very vague smau, not proofread, best viewed on mobile

notes ★ when i tell u that i switched writing styles for this, jubi and iss17 r so different. pls enjoy the crack tho, bc frankly, i think im hilarious

series masterlist

Opinion | Football team reaps the rewards it does not deserve

Heralds Vol. 77, Issue 1

Zeus City High School’s VAPA groups have won more championships that the football team ever has. Just last school year, marching band took sweepstakes in nearly every round, placing first in regionals and second in nationals. Other groups such as cheer, choir, and color guard also took competitions by storm, setting the highest win rate in the history of the high school.

However, their efforts aren’t as recognized as the football team, even though ZCHS hasn’t won a single game in a decade. Meanwhile, performing arts struggles with the leftovers of the football team’s funding.

“It’s really unfair and discouraging,” freshman Percy Jackson provided in a statement. “It’s my first year in band and I had to duct tape my broken snare harness because we don’t have money for new ones. Look, the football team got new equipment and a locker room renovation. My recycled uniform smells like […] and they get custom practice jerseys.”

Jackson’s sentiment is shared widely among the student body associated with VAPA. Members such as junior Miranda Gardener feel that their passions are put aside for a sport that contributes nothing to the school other than spirit.

“Being in color guard is stressful, especially because a lot of us take hard classes, too,” said Gardener. “I love performing, but I’ve honestly thought about not trying out again because we work hard for nothing, and the people who barely work get everything.”

The administration office and football team have not reached out in response to inquiries.

It’s around that time of year where you could walk out of the classroom and see four people blowing their nose down the hall and one person pretending to use the bathroom but really just searching up the answers to a test.

Luke Castellan is one of them. Your fingers are picking at the edge of the hall pass, a click click against the plastic that echoes hollow in the hall.

He hears you coming, back curled in the position he’s taken over the water fountain. Castellan gives you a cursory glance, goes back to drinking, and then looks at you again. You walk faster.

Double-take, his spine unfurls to stand upright, wrist wiping away the droplets on his mouth.

“So I read your article,” he says right as you cross tangent paths. He leans against the wall, pseudo-casual, hands stuck in the pockets of his jeans. “Just wanna let you know that football’s definitely gonna get a win this sea—your pass is a toilet seat?”

Your face burns, heat licking from your neck to forehead. Your eyes flick to a deflated rubber duck sitting atop the fountain’s porcelain edge, the tail of which is punched out and threaded with a tag that reads HALL PASS.

“And yours is a bath toy?”

Red blooms over the high of Castellan’s cheeks, and he snatches the duck off the fountain, hiding it behind his back.

“Shut up,” he grits, the bath toy making an airy sound in his tightening fingers. “Who even let you write that article anyway?”

“I’m the editor-in-chief,” you say, smug-like, shrugging like it’s nothing. You take a look at his face, the downward draw of his brown and the brutal set of his mouth.

Castellan’s exhale comes out from his nostrils in a hiss, jaw feathering.

“We’ll win this season,” he says, low, quiet. He’s so close that you can almost see something wading in the dark, inky pool of his pupil. “I’m making sure of it.”

( How did you go from casual conversation to this? )

“Is that on or off the record?” Your grin could be classified as shit-eating, mouth splitting too wide and eyes curving too crescent. Castellan sneers and pushes off the wall, jostling his tense shoulder with yours.

“So fucking annoying,” you hear him hissing as he walks away. You laugh in a huff, watching his wound-up back shrink in the distance.

What an asshole.

[ IMAGE: A snapshot of Percy Jackson from an up-down angle with the zoom set to 0.5x. The flash is on, washing his skin, hair, and eyes pale. The background is dark, save for a group of teens behind the curve of his cheek in ugly orange band uniforms and black slacks. ]

Liked by majmajmaj and 35 others

perciusjakcsn not even cooked WE R GRILLED 😨 📸 @.travstole

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majmajmaj ur gna be well done xtra crispy if u forget to count those fucking rests again,,, 😒

↳ perciusjakcsn PLZ HAVE MERCY SARGE ↳ majmajmaj DRUM MAJOR NOT DRUM SARGEANT PETER 🖕🖕🖕 ↳ perciusjakcsn JUSTICE 4 PERCY 😞💔

groovewood did u srsly just replace me as cameraman DUDE 😭

“Are we actually incapable—” The band continues to push each other around, the noise of nearly a hundred mouths in motion reaching an all-time high. “—of lining the fuck up?”

Charles’ wide, orange-fitted frame sidles up next to you, a megaphone in hand. You take the device in silent thanks, switching it on and cringing at the feedback.

You raise the megaphone to your mouth. “ATTENTION!”

It’s a mad dash into formation, teens in orange scrambling to their places. Someone yelps when a tuba swings in a wide arc above their head. A flutist trips over a saxophone. Drumline frantically assembles, sliding clumsily into harnesses and setting off more than two cymbal crashes.

“What a goddamn clown show.” Mr. D, absentee band director, walks up behind you and Charles, scowling at the mess. He takes a swig from the Coke can that’s practically glued to his hand before snatching the megaphone. “PETER JOHNSON, YOUR HARNESS IS LOOSE. LEE VASQUEZ, WRONG SECTION. COLE STALIN, IF I HEAR CARELESS WHISPER ONE MORE TIME, I WILL THROTTLE—”

From the crowd, Connor Stoll’s face twists in pseudo-confusion, hands coming up to pat at his ears and shrugging. A laugh ripples through the ranks.

Mr. D looks like he’s going to have a stroke with the way his expression pinches, sour. Mouth crumpled in on itself like the opening of a drawstring bag, eyes glaring narrow and beard bristling.

You take the megaphone back gingerly, dialing down the volume with a grimace. “Alright, first prelim game of the season, we’re against our one-sided rivals, Jupiter High.”

The band groans. Mr. D wanders off elsewhere.

“I’m not supposed to say this, but we are definitely losing. Even so, please do not boo if our team gets a touchdown. Don’t laugh if you hear something demeaning from the other team. And—clarinets—it is absolutely unacceptable to be bribed by Travis and burst into Squidward’s theme mid-play.”

Travis lets out a squawk of indignation, the shriek of it echoing around the side of the field. Charles holds out his hand for the megaphone, which you pass over.

He clears his throat. “Thank you, major. Uh—Jupiter is one hundred percent going to decimate us sports-wise, but we’re better than them in VAPA and test scores. Please don’t tarnish our reputation as regional champions, I don’t think I can survive that.”

Short and sweet, he sets down the device and gestures for the band to start marching around the track for warm-ups. You follow the path of the oval, feet tracing the white running lines, dust running over your shoe prints.

At the far side of the field is a giant inflatable centaur, the breakaway banner held between its feet. It’s a football thing for the players to run out at the beginning of the game. Except, you’re pretty sure that most schools do not run out under the legs of a stupidly expensive, balloon-ified mascot.

The football team is gathered behind the banner, hiding under the shadowed belly of the centaur. Some players are stretching, drinking water, closing their eyes. There are cheerleaders milling around, making small talk with glossy smiles.

Luke Castellan catches your eye over a girl’s shoulder. You recognize her, the slight of her build and the curl to her honeyed hair and most of all, the pep flags in her hands. Charles stiffens from beside you, back going rod-like, chest puffing out.

Silena Beauregard turns, waving cluelessly, innocently. Your fellow drum major nearly stumbles. You—and half the band—give Castellan an downturned thumb when she turns away. Someone from the trombones plays a limp womp-womp.

Castellan looks mortified, like he’s going to dig a hole for himself and die in it.

( If so, good riddance. )

[ VIDEO: A shaky clip from the lit-up bleachers at Zeus City High School’s football field. The camera pans over the heads of the seated marching band, a sea of half-asleep teens in orange, instruments drooping with the nodding of their heads.

The spectators groan, the commentator remarking that Sherman Yang has missed yet another throw. Someone from the rival side hollers loudly—Zeus City? More like Zeus Shitty!—to which their lavender-hued cheerleaders titter, sending a ripple of amusement echoing through the opposite bleachers swathed in purple.

A majority of the ZCHS marching band cackle and jeer. The camera zooms in on the two drum majors standing upfront. You’re shaking your head and thumbing the space between your brows. Charles Beckendorf wears the face of saddened disappointment. ]

Liked by beckydwarf, majmajmaj, and 138 others

travstole 😬😬

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majmajmaj reporting this to d, no phones on the field tf??

↳ travstole snitch much?? ↳ majmajmaj what was it? ah, ‘die graecus scum’ - JHS octavian, most definitely

conmanstole poor becky d,,,

↳ perciusjakcsn ‘poor becky d’ as if ur not the reason y he has premature wrinkles 🫵🤨

The classroom is cold-hued, almost sterile under the cheap incandescent lights. Everything is blueish, backlit by the evening as it rolls over the horizon. You sigh when the ligaments in your neck rub just right to pop the bubbles between your bones. The door creaks, a tall figure, sticky with shadows, stepping in right before you try to move on to cracking you knuckles.

You almost don’t recognize him in that soft-looking sweater, a pair of black frames propped over the bridge of his nose. Castellan settles into the chair at the opposite ledge of the desk, the legs straining against the floor in an ear-itching scrape when he scoots closer.

“Hey there,” he says, borderline breathless, to which you give him a narrow look. He gives you a quick grin in return as he fumbles with his laptop; you catch a deep etch to his smile lines at the corners of his mouth before they disappear. “So, I’m just going to ask you a few questions about stuff like band, Heralds, school life.”

“This feels like an interrogation,” you tell him, unimpressed, “instead of something for yearbook. Are you sure you aren’t trying to get me arrested? If so, I have the right to remain silent.”

“No, just yearbook. Purely professional.” The other boy laughs, the sound of it rattling behind his ribs. It sends something spiraling down your stomach, like a marble run made with your intestines. “About last week, in the hallway—I know it’s not an excuse, but I was going through some stuff. So, sorry about that.”

He slides his phone between the two of you, the glossy screen emblazoned with a red button waiting to be pressed. Castellan sweeps out his hand in offering, palm-up.

You click the button, the first waves of sound appearing on the pixels in zig-zags.

“What is your name and the extracurriculars you partake in?” Castellan asks, even though he should know, because you’ve gone to the same school for years. You tell him, and he tests it in his mouth, feeling the weight of it around his tongue like it’s the first time he’s heard of it. The marble run of your insides starts to roll faster. “Cool. I’m Luke—football, volleyball, and obviously yearbook.”

“I know.”

It falls quiet for a moment, the snick of keys pressed into their beds being the only thing filling the silence. “Okay,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “How’s it like being a Heralder? Any notable experiences?”

You keep your answers short and sweet, easy for damage control. “It’s basically a free period. We print every three weeks, so I have plenty of time to write and format the spreads.”

“And off the record?” he asks, a small grin sewn over his face. You think you have an idea of what he’s trying to do.

“It’s peachy.”

He tuts, a snick of the tongue. The laptop he’s typing on is drenched in cold light too, the screen reflecting onto the lenses of his glasses, something blue-gray in the glassiness of them. “And what about band? I remember you wrote something about VAPA kids having a hard time with balancing their schedules.”

“I didn’t write that,” you remind him, a near snap to your words. “It was a quote from Miranda Gardener.”

“But you agreed with her,” Castellan counters. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have put it in your article.”

Conceding, “Fine. The actual band period start at seven-thirty during zero—we use that time to practice songs—and after school, we all head out to the field for drills from five to nine.”

“How do you have time to do homework?”

“I said Heralds was a free period, didn’t I?”

He laughs, the sound of it a little hollow with the way he’s fully concentrated on his laptop. “You did. Okay, moving on—favorite school snack?”

“Cup noodles from the teacher’s room.”

Castellan makes a confused face. “Uh, favorite class?”

“Obviously band.”

“Worst class?”

You think about it for a moment. “Stats.”

He smiles in agreement, eyes going crescent. “First choice of college?”

“Anything but an Ivy.”

Castellan shakes his head, chuckling.

You wait for a minute, watching his screen go by through the surface of his glasses. Castellan’s eyelashes aren’t long, but they’re thick and heavy. His eyes are a mid-toned brown, just darker than hazel. Like fresh-turned dirt. Or milk chocolate brownies. Or—

He hasn’t asked anything in a while. You cough awkwardly. “Am I free to go?”

Castellan looks like there are words fighting on his tongue, fingers carding through his messy curls. His lips are blushed, almost a bruise with the way they’re so damn red. You think about Charles. And then Silena. How Castellan had walked into the classroom breathless.

You know that you shouldn’t assume, but you’re going to assume.

“Never mind, don’t answer that.” You make a show of checking your phone, retinas seared with the sudden brightness of the screen. “Mr. D needs me on the field. Connor might be starting another riot with the saxes.”

“Yea,” he says tightly, “go ahead.”

TO: becky d

(19:35) so. (19:35) not 100 percent sure but i think silena and castellan (19:36) yk what ill ask her during p1 tmrw

FROM: becky d

(21:58) NO?? (22:10) SARGE PLS TURN OFF DND 🙏 (22:11) not even cooked im deep fried 😭

TO: becky d

(08:45) so funny story i was on dnd until p1 and (08:46) LMAOO DID U REALLY JST CALL ME SARGE CHARLES 😐 (08:46) but srsly why didnt you yell at me during 0 we coulda avoided this,,,, (08:47) btw i didnt ask her she was talking to drew tanaka abt some other guy that def wasnt luke 👍

FROM: perciusjakcsn

(11:38) hey sarge do u know how to find annabeth (11:39) i need her to explain the crab cycle. preferably before p5

TO: perciusjaksn

(12:34) * Major, not Sarge (12:34) ** Krebs cycle (12:35) This is Annabeth. To paraphrase Khan Academy, the Krebs cycle describes a chain of reactions in the mitochondria to produce energy in living cells through cellular respiration. I won’t go through the details because the reactants and products are not on the test, and neither is the order in which the reactions proceed. If you have any more questions, my username is ‘anniebethc’.

Annabeth stabs her spork into her bag of salad, the flimsy plastic warping and crinkling as she draws out another mouthful of lettuce.

“So,” you start, idly twirling your own spork as you read the message she sent through your phone, “giving hints about the test? That could be considered cheating.”

Her cheek dips, held captive between her teeth. “It’s nothing.”

You give her a suspicious look. “And when Connor asked you about glucose and you told him to fuck off, that was also nothing?”

The girl’s look is withering as she chews her lunch slowly. You hold up your hands in surrender, letting go of the topic.

Annabeth’s gaze catches something behind you. You follow the line of her sight, tracing it along the lunch shelter and landing on Castellan. He’s got a laugh tremoring in his shoulders, grinning at something a girl—Silena again—is telling him. You whip your head back to see Annabeth’s eyes go fuzzy and sparkling.

“What?” she asks, noticing your twisted face.

“Nothing,” you huff. “But, uh—Percy’s a good guy.”

The girl squints, bewildered. “What—I don’t like Luke. We’re neighbors, so it’s weird.”

Neighbors?

“We’re halfway through the semester and you’re telling me now that Public Enemy Number One lives next to you?”

“He’s only Public Enemy Number One to band.”

Emphatically, “Which you are a flutist of?”

A lunch tray clatters onto your table, Travis sliding onto the bench and joined by Charles. The Stoll boy cracks his wrists, the pop of air loud even over the chatter of the shelter.

Charles peels open his school lunch, cringing at the clumpy mac salad sitting in the bowl. He looks over at your food, eyes tracing the outline of the plastic cup and watching the steam escape over the lip.

“Where the hell did you get instant noodles from?” blurts Travis. You tap a half-empty thermos in the pocket of your backpack.

“Ask Clarisse nicely and her dad’ll get it from the teacher’s lounge.”

Travis gives you a narrow look. It would’ve been almost threatening if his eyes weren’t occasionally glancing at your noodles.

“How nicely?”

“Six dollars.”

The old Stoll turns to Charles, irises sparkling, wide, expectant—a poor attempt to make puppy eyes at your fellow drum major. Charles sighs, fingers digging through his backpack to return with a twenty.

“Ah,” he warns right as Travis reaches for the money. “Two noodles, one for each of us. And then you’ll go to the vending machine for chips and a soda. No more, no less.”

Travis nods eagerly, snatching the bill and running off. You watch his back as he leaves; he nearly topples Luke Castellan in his excited haste.

“You know that’s a scam, right?” Annabeth's voice brings you back to the present. She’s got her brows quirked as Charles shuts the lid to his mac salad.

“It’s better than this.” He holds up a bag of damp baby carrots and cringes. It is at this moment that you know what your next article will be about.

[ IMAGE: Luke Castellan posing in semi-formal dress, standing in a dark classroom. The photo looks like it’s been taken on a digital camera, nostalgic and slightly grainy, bright spots blooming at the center. He’s got a fitted white button up and a pair of neat, pressed slacks on. His tie is black, rumpled, the knot loosened around his neck. Over his shoulders is a slouchy pastel orange cardigan with the equestrian mascot of ZCHS sewn into the breast.

His head is turned, showing his sharp side profile. Luke’s face is pensive, one hand in his pocket and the other at rest, fingers laid over his thigh. There are a pair of computer glasses sliding dangerously down his nose. ]

Liked by anniebethc and 345 others

lukestellans ‘cause we never go out of style

📸 @.luvvbeaus

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luvvbeaus 🔥🔥🔥

↳ tankadreww men who listen to tay >> ↳ conmanstole @.majmajmaj aint no way ppl actually find him hot 🤣🤣

anniebethc You knotted your tie backwards, Luke.

↳ lukestellans ask ur dad to help me pls 🙏

You don’t get to write your article about how shitty the school lunch is. Instead, you get assigned to the homecoming game, scribbling out lede after mediocre lede onto the reporter’s notebook balanced in your palm, the paper of which scrubs uncomfortably against your gloves.

“This is probably the highest score I’ve seen on that board,” comments Charles, fiddling with the seam of his uniform. “Another touchdown and we’d actually win our first game in ten years.”

“There are six seconds left,” you say, glancing at the clock. You’re starting to sound like Annabeth when you say, “It’s pretty close too. The likelihood of an actual win is so low that—”

The rest of your words are swallowed by the commentator.

AND THAT’S LUKE CASTELLAN RUNNING INTO THE END ZONE, HE CATCHES THE BALL—TOUCHDOWN FOR ZEUS CITY!

You jump at the roar that engulfs your side of the bleachers, parents and students and alumni rising in a tidal wave of celebration.

The cheerleaders jump and scream, pep flags dancing in the air, pompoms glittering. People are hugging, cheering. You even see a grandma shed tears and kiss a toddler on the cheek.

“What the fuck.” Nevertheless, you’re compelled to turn and face the music, raising your hands and signaling for your bandmates to play the fight song.

Luke Castellan runs a victory lap, zipping around the field in his ugly, bright orange jersey, arms thrust skyward in celebration. You think that the big, taunting 11 painted on his back will haunt you for the rest of your days.

His pace peters out by the time he reaches the stands, giving sweaty, full-bodied hugs to whoever’s closest to him in his conquest. You frown when he strolls along the stands, helmet pulled off and hanging from his fingers.

He’s all damp, curls plastered to his forehead and sweat beading over his brow. His breaths come out as icy puffs in the mid-October air, an exhausted blush blooming red over his cheeks, eyes glassed over, lips bruised and chest straining for air.

Castellan points at nothing in particular, angling his finger at the bleachers with a winning smile. A number of girls giggle—even color guard—and many pull out their phones to snap pictures of him.

He’s looking straight through you, though. Like he has something vengeful to prove. The floodlights are blinding, a glimmering sheen painted over the player.

You frown, brows drawing together furious, mouth pinched. Castellan sneers back and turns away.

And then, your journalism advisor comes up to Castellan with a dark-haired woman. The teen hugs the woman but ignores the man, bitter.

Frankly, you’ve never been able to put your finger on it until now, why Mr. Hermes had seemed so familiar to you. Now you can see it.

Luke Castellan looks very much like his mother, same eyes and lips. Bony shoulders, full face, straight and dark brows. He’s got the same arrow-like nose as Hermes, however, the same inky black hair.

He turns for one last look at the emptying stands. Behind you, your bandmates begin to pack up, carrying their instruments down the bleachers.

You’re the one offering a sneer now, though you doubt he can see it from this far. Luke tilts his head with a furtive smile and you lose sight of him when he ducks out into the parking lot.

You look down at your reporter’s notebook, the scratched-out ledes and the Heralds logo printed at the top.

You’re fucked.

p.s. ★ i moved around some canon ages to better fit the story if ur wondering why luke is 17/18 while percabeth r like 13/14,,,, also—the inclusion of articles and social media was inspired by phanatics’ big reputations on ao3, aka one of my fav slash fics (pls note that there r some spicy scenes tho)!!

sharing is caring, so pls rb and also lmk ur thoughts ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ᡣ𐭩

luke tags (open); @melllinaa @amortencjja @niktwazny303 @arsonnaire @ma1dita @m00ng4z3r @saltair-and-palemoonlight @witch-lemon

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