MASTERLIST

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NEWSIES

PANIC

PERCY JACKSON

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masterlist

levii's jeans | art donaldson x reader

warnings: SMUT 18+, cursing, mention of death, other than that pure fluff! this is an au!!

listen while you read! cowboy carter masterlist

The front door creaked open with a heavy groan, hinges warped just enough by time and South Carolina summers. It was nearly seven, the sun starting to melt behind the hills, and the smell of baked peaches and browned butter still clung to the air. You didn’t turn around at first—you knew that sound, knew the lazy thud of boots on hardwood, the way it was always followed by a deeper, familiar exhale.

"Hey, pretty girl."

That voice. Rough with exhaustion, low with affection. You grinned into the sink as you rinsed the last plate, suds clinging to your wrist.

"Hey, sexy," you shot back, glancing over your shoulder.

There he was—sweaty, sun-kissed, a walking southern daydream. Art Donaldson leaned in the doorway like he hadn’t just spent nine hours mending the southern pasture fence. Shirt half-buttoned, jeans hanging low on his hips, hair matted down by his cowboy hat. Lord, he looked good. And he knew it.

He set his gloves on the table, walked over slow, like he had all the time in the world. You felt his eyes sweep over you, the soft hum of appreciation under his breath.

"What’s that smell?" he asked, nudging your shoulder with his nose, his hands already at your waist.

"Peach cobbler. Still warm," you murmured, leaning back into him. "And don’t try to distract me with your hands in my back pocket again, Mr. Donaldson."

He chuckled against your neck, voice all gravel and syrup. "Can’t help it. These jeans were made for my hands."

You elbowed him playfully, but he just held you tighter, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Outside, the kids yelled something about the sprinkler, laughter echoing off the barn walls. Inside, it was just you, him, and the scent of something sweet.

You glanced toward the window. "We should call 'em in before they track mud everywhere."

"They’ll come in when they smell supper," Art murmured, spinning you gently to face him. His hands found your waist again, pulling you close with a soft insistence that made your breath catch. "Right now, I’m busy."

"Oh, you’re busy, huh?" you teased, letting your arms drape around his neck.

He didn’t answer with words. Just slid his hands into the back pockets of your jeans, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you slow, deliberate—like the whole day had been leading to this moment. The kind of kiss that made you forget the dishes, the sprinkler, the porch light you’d meant to fix.

And then—

"Ew! Moooom, Daaaad!"

You broke apart with a laugh, forehead pressed to Art’s as the kids barreled in, barefoot and soaking wet, each dragging a towel behind them.

"Told you they’d come in," Art grinned, pressing one last quick kiss to your cheek.

"Go wash up! Supper’s ready," you called, still flushed and smiling.

As they darted down the hall, Art leaned in close one more time, whispering, "I'll get you later. Trust me."

You swatted him with a dish towel. He just winked, sauntering off to set the table like the smug, lovesick cowboy he was.

It still feels like a dream, some days. That this is your life now—boots by the door, cobbler in the oven, laughter echoing through the halls of the house Art had once only known through childhood summers. Every July, without fail, Granny Donaldson would bring him here. She’d plop him in the porch rocker with a popsicle or sweet tea, let him chase fireflies until he collapsed into her lap—half-asleep, sticky with sunshine, a gap-toothed grin still ghosting his face.

She’d been the kind of woman who ran the ranch with a firm hand and a warm heart. She smelled like lemon balm and old books. She called him her golden boy and taught him how to ride, how to tend tomatoes, how to tell the weather by the sky. When she passed—just after he turned pro—Art hadn’t cried. Not at first. But when the letter came saying the ranch was his now, he spent three hours alone in a locker room, staring at the tile floor until it blurred.

It was only natural for him to end up here when he finally retired. Tennis had taken so much—his shoulder, his fire, his sense of peace. And he gave it willingly, until there was nothing left but a name in a bracket and a body that ached in the mornings. But it had also brought him the two greatest things in his life: Tashi, his old coach and lifelong friend (now very happily with Patrick, which still made Art smirk), and you—his wife, the only person who made him feel like more than what he’d won.

The ranch isn’t just a home. It was a return to softness. To something earned, not chased. And every day that begins and ends with you? That’s the real trophy.

Dinner is a little chaotic—just the way you like it. Art’s already got one kid slung under his arm like a sack of potatoes, spinning them in slow circles while they shriek with laughter. The other clings to his leg dramatically, demanding equal attention, and he obliges with a tickle attack that ends in a pile of giggles on the kitchen floor. The kids bounce around the table, hair still damp from the sprinkler, cheeks flushed from sun rays and childhood. Eventually, he wrangles them both into chairs, brushing flour off one forehead and plucking a wild dandelion from the other’s curls. He sets the plates down with a mock flourish, tossing you a wink when the cobbler gets an audible gasp from your youngest.

You scoop mashed potatoes with one hand and tap a napkin under your daughter’s chin with the other. Across from you, Art is dramatically cutting the kids’ chicken into cartoonishly small bites, complete with sound effects and mock chef commentary that makes both children giggle so hard they almost forget to eat. Art slips into the seat across from you, that easy smile on his face as he passes the butter for the rolls like it’s the most important task he'll ever do.

"Daddy, why do your arms look like tree trunks?" your son blurts, halfway through his cornbread.

Art raises an eyebrow, flexes—just a little—and leans in. "Because I wrestled an alligator for that fence today."

The kids shriek with laughter. You roll your eyes. "He fixed a post and scared off a chicken. Don’t let him fool you."

Art shrugs, smug. "Still counts."

The table rocks with warmth—forks clinking, stories swapping, feet nudging under the table. You catch Art watching you more than once, chin resting in his hand, his gaze soft and full of something weighty. Something content.

He doesn’t say it out loud, but you know what he’s thinking.

This. Right here.

This is the life he never knew how much he needed.

"Who wants some vanilla bean with their cobbler?" you ask, already reaching for the ice cream scooper.

Two voices chorus, "Me! Me! Me!" as the kids bounce in their seats, bowls clutched in eager little hands.

A few minutes later, they’re curled up on the porch swing and an old quilt, cobbler bowls in their laps, bare feet swinging just above the floorboards. Fireflies flicker at the edges of the yard, and the sky is fading lavender, dusk giving way to the velvet hush of night.

You and Art settle into the rocking chairs side by side, plates balanced on your thighs, each holding a generous scoop of cobbler crowned with slowly melting vanilla. The whiskey glasses clink softly between you, golden liquid catching the last threads of light.

Art exhales, low and content, boots crossed at the ankles as his chair creaks back. He leans just enough to nudge your shoulder.

"You really outdid yourself with that crust," he says, voice warm and a little raspy.

You hum, licking cobbler from your spoon. "You say that every time."

"Because it’s true every time."

The breeze slips through the screens, carrying the scent of honeysuckle and cooling earth. One of the kids lets out a sleepy giggle. You glance over to see your daughter bump her brother with her elbow, both of them sticky and happy.

Art watches them too, then looks back at you. That same look from dinner—like everything in the world could stop, and he’d still be right here.

And for a moment, you let it all be quiet.

Just the chairs rocking. Just the cobbler cooling. Just the love lingering in the air like smoke and the essence of promise.

Eventually, the kids are carried off to bed—sleepy and syrup-smeared, full of stories and sun. You wipe the last of the cobbler from your son’s chin and braid your daughter’s damp curls as she yawns in your lap. Art reads the bedtime book tonight, his voice deep and slow as the kids cuddle into your sides. You sing their goodnight song softly—one passed down from your own mother—and tuck in blankets with whispered kisses to soft foreheads. When your son insists on 'just one more hug,' you oblige, pulling him in tight, while Art straightens the stuffed animals along the windowsill.

You close the door with the practiced hush of parents who’ve done this a hundred times and hope to do it a hundred more.

Back in the kitchen, it’s just the two of you again. The plates are stacked in the sink, the cobbler dish nearly empty, the last of the whiskey poured. You stand at the counter, sleeves pushed up, warm water running. Art takes the towel without asking, drying beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"Thinking about calling Mr. Sutter next week," he says. "That north field’s about ready for leasing. We could run that hay crop deal we talked about."

You nod, handing over a plate. "Might be time to start writing out some numbers. You want me to look over it tomorrow?"

He hums his approval. "You always catch what I miss."

You glance sideways, smile tugging at your mouth. "Damn right I do."

He laughs—low and boyish—and sets the last plate down with a thunk. His hand grazes your lower back, slow and lingering. You don’t have to look to know what’s coming next.

"You think the kids are really asleep?"

"I think they’re out cold," you murmur, turning to face him.

He steps closer, hands skimming your hips, eyes dipped in amber and mischief.

"Then c’mere, pretty girl. Been thinking about you all day."

And when he kisses you this time—without an audience, without the interruption of sticky hands or squealing laughter—it’s deep and unhurried. Like every quiet thing you’ve built together. Like the kind of love that grows slow and steady and pulls you under just the same.

He backs you up against the counter, mouth still on yours, one hand slipping beneath your shirt, the other tugging you close. You hum into him, fingers curling into the fabric of his tee, and let yourself be kissed like that. Warm. Wanting. Home.

Eventually, you're tugging him down the hallway by the collar of his shirt, both of you muffling laughter like teenagers about to get caught. The bedroom is dark except for the moonlight pouring in through the sheer curtains, and the air smells faintly of cedar and sun-warmed linen.

Art closes the door behind him, and when he turns, his eyes are hungry in that soft, familiar way. Not greedy—just full of you.

"Think I should get you out of those jeans," he murmurs, brushing a thumb under the hem of your shirt. "You know, before I do somethin’ irresponsible."

"Pretty sure we passed 'responsible' an hour ago," you grin, already reaching for his belt. He laughs, kisses your cheek, your jaw, your collarbone.

Clothes come off between kisses, tossed somewhere near the foot of the bed. The mattress dips beneath you both, and he settles between your legs like it’s the only place he’s ever meant to be.

It’s fun, and messy, and filled with the kind of intimacy that only grows from years of loving someone deeply and daily. He makes you laugh when he nearly knocks his knee on the nightstand, and you whisper a soft “bless your heart” into his neck as he groans dramatically.

His hands roam slow—callused palms skating down your sides, thumbs brushing over your hips like a prayer. Your back arches under him as he kisses down your stomach, his name a breathy sigh against the pillow.

"Want me to take care of you?" he asks, voice low and velvet-smooth.

You nod, dizzy and already undone. "Always."

He does—patiently at first, tongue tracing soft, devastating circles that have your thighs tightening around his shoulders. His fingers find their rhythm next, slow and purposeful, curling just right until you’re gasping his name like a benediction. You fist the sheets, hips rising to meet every glide, every press, every flick of his tongue that turns you molten. He doesn’t stop until you’re trembling, crying out with your head thrown back and your voice wrecked with gratitude.

You’re still breathless when he crawls back up beside you, and you drag the back of your hand across your damp forehead, grinning like a fool. You press a kiss to his jaw and murmur, "I would’ve suggested we move down here a lot earlier if I’d known you were so passionate about cowgirls."

Art blinks, then grins, teeth catching the light. "Oh, you know exactly how I feel about cowgirl."

And before you can laugh again, he flips you with practiced ease, hands already trailing down your sides. His mouth finds your neck as you settle into his lap, and you’re both breathless with laughter and heat all over again.

You brace your hands on his chest, rocking your hips just enough to tease him as you sink down, slow and steady, watching his eyes flutter shut and his jaw clench. He leans up to press a line of kisses along your collarbone, then latches onto your chest with a low groan, tongue swirling, teeth scraping just enough to make your breath hitch. He murmurs something hot against your skin—“so damn soft”—before sucking again, then pulls back just long enough to say, “drives me crazy when you ride me like this.” His hands guide your rhythm while his mouth keeps alternating—suck, praise, kiss, filth. He worships every inch he can reach—your breasts, your sternum, the space just below your throat—like he can’t decide which part of you he needs most. Each word falls between kisses, between gasps, until your name is all he can say, all he can taste.

"Jesus," he breathes, hands gripping your hips like he’s hanging on for dear life.

You start to pace yourself now, slow and deliberate, grinding your hips in lazy circles that make his grip tighten and his mouth fall open. He leans in again between bounces, mouth latching onto your breast mid-movement, sucking you in deep before pulling back with a pop and whispering something filthy right against your skin—only to repeat the cycle all over again. Praise, suction, gasped-out adoration. One moment his mouth is dragging over your nipple with aching focus, the next it’s murmuring "you’re unreal, baby, fuck, just like that" into the curve of your chest. Every time you rise and fall, he meets you halfway, a soft grunt escaping him each time you take him deeper.

He’s a mess beneath you, flushed and panting, eyes locked on where your bodies meet. His mouth is far from quiet—he keeps talking, filthy and sweet in the same breath. Telling you how good you feel, how perfect you look like this, riding him like you were made for it. Every time you grind down, he gasps, eyes flickering up to yours with raw need.

"You’re gonna kill me," he groans, voice wrecked.

You lean forward, hands on either side of his head, and whisper, "What a way to go."

He laughs, breathless, but it catches midway when you clench around him. "Just like that, baby," he groans, hands guiding your hips into a deeper grind. "You’re so fuckin’ beautiful—look at you. You’re gonna ruin me." And when you lean down, pressing your mouth to his, he doesn’t stop. Even between kisses, he’s murmuring praise, coaxing your name, losing himself in the heat and rhythm of you. You ride him harder now, bouncing and grinding, letting your name fall from his lips like a prayer.

You feel it building in him before you’re even close—his hips stuttering, his head falling back into the pillow, a low moan breaking in his throat. You watch the tension coil in his body, watch the way he tries to hold off, tries to wait for you.

But you know him. You know that look.

"Let go," you whisper, hips rolling just right, your hand splayed over his chest. "I want to feel you."

And he does—with a strangled groan and a shudder that rocks through him, his hands seizing at your hips as he spills into you, mouth parted in awe.

You don’t stop. You keep going, slower now, chasing the rhythm that still curls in your belly. He’s still hard enough to keep going, to keep thrusting up into you with trembling effort, trying to give you what you need.

You grind against him, one hand slipping between your legs, and he watches—absolutely wrecked—as you take yourself over the edge. The sound you make is soft but guttural, head thrown back, muscles tightening around him until he gasps again from the overstimulation.

You finally sink down against him, chests sticky, breath tangled. He wraps his arms around you, and neither of you says a word for a long, perfect moment.

You collapse onto his chest, hearts racing in sync, bodies flushed and sated.

For a while, it’s just the sound of your breathing, the slow stroke of his hand across your back, the cool brush of the sheets as you both shift into something softer. You press your cheek against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart under your skin.

He finally breaks the silence with a low murmur. "You’re unbelievable."

You grin against his collarbone. "Takes one to know one."

He kisses your hair. "We should do this more often."

"What, have incredible sex while the kids are asleep and the house is clean? Groundbreaking."

He chuckles, deep and warm. "Okay, yeah—but also just... this. You and me. Like this."

You lift your head, meet his eyes in the dark. "You know we’ve got it good, right? Like really good."

His expression softens. "I know. I think about it every day."

You lay there a while longer, curled into each other, letting the silence stretch. Not empty—never empty. Just full of peace.

Eventually, he shifts to reach for the blanket, tugging it over both of you with a satisfied sigh. You nestle closer, nose brushing his shoulder.

After a few quiet beats, you murmur, "I know you miss her."

Art doesn’t answer right away. His hand is still moving gently across your spine, slow and thoughtful.

"Every day," he finally says. "She’d love this. The kids. The way you bake like it’s a sacred ritual. The porch. The damn cows. All of it."

You tilt your head to look up at him. "She’d be proud of you, you know. You turned this place into something really beautiful."

He nods once, eyes a little glassy but steady. "I hope so. Sometimes I think I hear her voice out by the tomatoes. Or smell her tea on the breeze. I don’t know if it’s real or just memory playing tricks. But it’s comforting either way."

You press a kiss to his chest. "It’s real enough."

He breathes out, a quiet laugh. "She always said I needed to slow down. I guess she got her wish."

"Yeah," you whisper, closing your eyes again. "And look at everything you made when you finally did.

Art’s quiet for a second, then grins. You feel it more than see it—the slow curve of his mouth against your temple.

"How about we make some more?" he whispers, pulling you gently by the hips, shifting beneath you just enough to suggest exactly what he means.

You laugh softly, lips brushing his as you murmur, "You’re insatiable."

"You love me."

"Unfortunately," you whisper back, already kissing him again.

The covers shift. A soft rustle, a giggle, a breath caught between lips. His hands are already moving again—lazy, warm, familiar—and your laughter is muffled against his mouth as he flips you over for the second time that night. The rhythm starts up again, slow and teasing, and somewhere beneath the hush of crickets and the creak of the headboard, one of you says something ridiculous that makes the other laugh so hard you both nearly lose the moment.

But not quite.

Because even in the dark, even between gasps and jokes and tangled sheets, it’s all still love. All still home.

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tagging: @kimmyneutron @babyspiderling @queensunshinee @hanneh69 @jamespotteraliveversion @glennussy @awaywithtime @artstennisracket @blastzachilles @jordiemeow @soulxinxthexsky @voidsuites @elsieblogs @deeninadream @nozhdyved @asheepinfrance

279 notes View Post

amoreva

1 year ago

Hellooo helloo!! Could I have a request please for Luke Castellan x reader where idk just something really angst where she joins him betraying her own half brother Percy (yess she’s a Poseidon kid) but it’s just that their love is too precious for the world 🥺🥺

Thank youu so muchhhh mwahhh 💖🌷🎀

TOO LATE

Hellooo Helloo!! Could I Have A Request Please For Luke Castellan X Reader Where Idk Just Something Really

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pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: love triumphs when your dad claims your half-brother and you.

warnings: not proofread, tlt spoilers, angst, frustration, revolves on reader’s emotions rather than the relationship

a/n: I feel like i twisted this request wrong. lmk how you like it, but i thought it’d be nice to have the reader’s emotions be the focus instead of the relationship.

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Wherever Clyde goes, Bonnie follows.

You’ve found yourself to be a permanent resident of Hermes Cabin. Another year goes by which meant another year of being unclaimed. Multitude of wishes and prayers are wasted: at this point those wishes, offerings and prayers look like pathetic begging.

You’ll forever be an unclaimed camper.

And you’ve accepted that. If you had been claimed, then you wouldn’t get the privilege of Travis and Connor stealing ice cream when you cover them or the privilege of Chris coming to you about his girl problems or the privilege of sharing a bunk with Luke Castellan.

What Chiron and Mr. D don’t know won’t hurt them.

It is a nice turnout because while you share a bed with the love of your life, another kid doesn’t have to sleep on the crowded floor.

Besides the fact you weren’t claimed, everything at camp was great. You didn’t feel alone or isolated anymore. You felt at home at Camp. You had a wonderful boyfriend and even greater friends (as corny as it sounds).

Until, Percy Jackson arrived at camp. Now, don’t twist this in the wrong way—Percy is just the sweetest kid and you were sympathetic to him losing him mom.

It was during Capture the Flag when you realized everything you knew was gone. You couldn’t resent Percy for that. Only your dad.

Luke triumphantly held the red team’s flag as the blue team retreated to the lake’s beach. Celebration paired with cheers and hollers. A proud smile as one of the campers hooked their arm around your shoulder, screaming your ear off.

Some of the campers were making a list of demands that the Red Team had to accommodate to when Percy’s shouting interrupted all of that.

You took off your helmet to see Percy in the lake. The culprit, Annabeth. Athena’s daughter was always two steps ahead of everyone, in Luke’s words. She seems to know something everyone else didn’t.

Luke looked distraught and shocked when it happened. A glowing trident hovering over Percy’s head. An outward statement claiming he is Poseidon’s son.

Yet, that same glowing trident was above your head. You felt your throat close up. So long…so long and now your dad claims you when Percy arrives.

It was common knowledge that Hades, Zeus and Poseidon made a pact to not father any more half-bloods due to destruction and war and whatever. But, what now? Poseidon claimed his son and daughter. For what? To boast? To showboat?

Questions kept ringing in your head. The life you knew gone. No more ice cream from Travis and Connor. No more information of Chris’ recent crushes. No more…sharing a bunk with your boyfriend.

“Poseidon.” Chiron trotted over to Percy. He gave you a smile. You were claimed! It’s what you always hoped and dreamed for. You should be ecstatic. Right? “Earthshaker, Stormbringer, your godly parent.”

It was inevitable. You weren’t destined to destroy or aid the world because you weren’t sixteen anymore. You doubt you were destined for anything.

Was this some fucked up way of your pops telling you he still cares? He still sees you? That he’s there for you?

It took him so many fucking years to claim you as his.

And the fact he did it when his son arrived at Camp Half-Blood. Did he want a boy to be the prophetic savior of the world?

Oh, so he wants to say he’s been there for you this whole time? Luke has been there. Cabin Eleven has been there, not your deadbeat pops. It wasn’t a surprise you joined Kronos so quickly.

You knew Luke was succumbing to the nightmares that plagued him every night. The voice in his head to revive the Titan. Now, you didn’t have anything against the other gods or Percy. It really was just some ol’ rebelling against your dear old dad.

Percy was tense staying still. The scorpion on his knee. He looked at it wearily. Luke was explaining his reasoning for betraying Camp. You couldn’t blame him. After so many years of neglect and the spirals his mother went through, you felt he had every right to be angry. As did you.

“The gods are my enemy, Percy. Poseidon made a mistake—he made a mistake by neglecting your sister.” Luke pointed Backbiter at the boy.

“Luke…” You placed a hand on his shoulder. His tense shoulders seemingly relaxed.

He let his arm fall to his side. He looked over his shoulder at you. A mix of a soft and intense gaze. Luke only wanted to defend your dignity, your honor, your glory. He thought it was unforgivable that Poseidon would claim you that day of all the days you prayed and wished and begged.

He’s seen how desperate you’ve gotten. How many tears shed. How many times he’s had to comfort you because you don’t feel like you belonged. Kronos would provide a New World. A new Golden Age where you didn’t have to suffer with a shitty father anymore.

Your palm held his scarred cheek. He met your lips in a soft kiss. Everything would be okay if you were with one another. Love is a very powerful thing to wield after all.

“I’m sorry, Percy.” You apologized, looking over at your half-brother. The pit scorpion on the back of his hand. “It’s…it’s nothing against you.”

You attempted to find the words to explain your situation. Luke’s calloused hand held yours gently. It was time to go. To flee from Camp.

“It’s our father that I hate, not you. You—you have to understand.” You hastily explained. “He left me neglected for year. I was content staying at Hermes Cabin and—he decided to claim me when I finally had a place here.”

“The world will remember us, Percy. Olympus will remember not to fuck with us—our dads will remember not to neglect any other half-blood.” Luke stated and twisted Backbiter in his hand. A determined glint in his eyes. Kronos’ calling him away to revive him already.

“Goodbye, Percy. This is the new Golden Age. You won’t be apart of it.” Luke slashed an arc with Backbiter, creating a rip through time and space to travel. The scorpion lunged.

You hesitated a moment, seeing your half-brother in agony. Luke told him sixty seconds. He’ll make it. He’s Percy Jackson after all.

You couldn’t delay your departure any longer. Luke needed someone by his side. To keep his sanity with Kronos calling out to him so often.

Wherever Clyde goes, Bonnie follows.

You departed from Camp, not knowing that would be the last time you see your beloved home.

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Tags

luke castellan percy jackon and the olympians luke castellan x reader pjo series percy series luke castellan imagine luke castellan pjo

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amoreva

1 month ago

it’s…taken me…way longer to type this than I should, atp gonna use text to speech.

I got my nails done for an event and I underestimated how hard it would be to type with acrylics, bare with me about writing ch 5 of FFY 🙏🙏🙏

Tags

・°°・。vida yaps!! feigning for ya acrylic nails suck for typing type to brew ch 5

3 notes View Post

amoreva

1 year ago

Hiii can u do a Luke or Clarisse (either one) x child of Dionysus! Reader and like they sneak off to make out or SMT AND DIONYSUS catches them AND GIVES THEM THE TALK and it’s funny and embarrassing for them

(Thank you if you do make this!!)

THE TALK

Hiii Can U Do A Luke Or Clarisse (either One) X Child Of Dionysus! Reader And Like They Sneak Off To

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pairing: luke castellan x daughter of dionysus!reader

summary: your father gives you the talk, after he catches luke and you sneaking around

warnings: innuendo?, making out, dionysus dramatics

a/n: let’s pretend ep 8 of pjo didn’t happen. ngl brainrotting to luke and swan lake op 20 act 1

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Dionysus paced around in front of the two of you. His Hawaiian shirt catching wind. Luke was trying (and failing) to hide the grin. It was quite amusing to see a God worry about something like this.

Dionysus was muttering something to himself. You caught wind of your father talking about “Chiron” and “the talk” and he was so confused on where to start.

You grimaced just knowing this wouldn’t end well. “Dad, please…” You helplessly plead not to even start this conversation.

“No, no! I must.” Dionysus spoke and put his hands up in discontent. He leaned against his little desk in the Big House.

“Do you know how betrayed I feel!?”

Luke smiled as he helped you down the steps of Cabin 12. A stupid lovey-dovey grin on both of your faces as you interlaced hands and ran across camp. It was as if you were normal mortal teenagers rather than half-bloods.

You trek through the forest used for the Capture the Flag, running along the river which lead to the lake. Every so often, Luke stopped to steal a kiss from you. You two had not seen each other all day because of counselor duties.

“Luke—!” You giggled after he stole yet another kiss.

“You’ve deprived me of affection, love.” Luke joked and held your hands. He walked backwards into a clearing. You reached the lake. It was usually used for canoeing, swimming and Capture the Flag (as well as romantic rendezvous). “How was I supposed to sleep without seeing you?”

Luke took of the jacket he was wearing so you could sit without getting sand on your pajamas. The waves of the lake seeped into the sand by your feet. Luke and you sharing portions of his jacket so you both won’t get dirty.

“I did retire to my cabin without giving you a good night kiss.” You joked your hand came to rest on Luke’s cheek.

“What a terrible girlfriend.” Luke hummed and lips in to kiss your lips. You breathed through your nose. Fireworks exploded in your stomach as you and Luke kissed, pushing each back ever so slightly, but not letting go.

Your other hand went to cup his face fully. Sweet nothings heard here and there as he pulled back for air just to dive back in.

You can’t help but lose yourself in him.

It’s always him.

You can’t help it. When he looks like that, treats you like this and has a reputation of that— you can’ help it.

“Luke…”

“Mm…”

“Hi!” Mr. D shined a flashlight on both of you. His hand on his hip. Luke and you break apart and block the shiny light from your eyes. “So…you both get bathroom duty for…three months—”

Before Mr. D could even dish out punishment, he gasps. He gasps so dramatically you think he sucked all the oxygen from the world.

“I know.” Your dad stated firmly. His flare for dramatics makes you want to roll your eyes. “I know that is not my daughter kissing a boy.”

“Betrayed?”

You exclaim. Your face contorting into disbelief and surprise. You leg stopped bouncing as you stare at your father.

“Yes. Betrayed that my own—” Dionysus feigns his tears. A hand over his heart as if he is going to a parental crisis. “My own daughter!” His voice shaky.

“With all due respect Mr. D—” Luke spoke up.

“I’m not talking to you!” Dionysus exclaimed and crouched to his knees in front of you.

He turns on the fake waterworks. “You’re growing up! Which means…you’ll be discovering things that make you—”

Luke and you cringe. “Dad!” You cried out, disgusted with what he was trying to imply. Mr. D’s act drops. He stood up and leaned on his table. “Look, you two are young and Chiron was telling me to man up and have like a sex talk—”

“Dad!” You stood up, grabbing Luke’s hand. You storm out of there, listening to your father yell phrases like “be safe when you’re with him!” or “That’s four–no five months on bathroom duty!”

You face was as red as the strawberries growing in the field. Luke laughed quietly at your embarrassment, though he himself was embarrassed.

“Hey. You heard your father. Be safe with me.” Luke teased and grabbed your waist. He turned you around to face him.

“Luke—please, that was already embarrassing enough.” You spoke flustered.

“So…” Luke dragged out with a small smile. He leaned in towards your face, lips centimeter away from yours. “Next time. We won’t get caught. Can’t suffer another talk again, can we?”

Luke pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

Tags

percy jackson luke castellan percy pjo percy jackon and the olympians luke castellan x reader pjo series luke castellan imagine luke castellan fluff

1K notes View Post

amoreva

1 year ago

Cupids in Converses

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: Valentine's was rolling up. You and Luke played Cupid on Percy and Annabeth. But what if playing matchmakers gave both you guys and your unspoken feelings the nudge that you guys have always needed? (Fluff, friends to lovers, happy ending)

Warning: sort of cliché, but it's Valentines so.

Note: Valentines got me in the mood of writing something rom-com-ish. Let's just assume Luke wears red converses that looks like Maia in the show. Also, I've been incredibly busy so I kinda rushed through this one to post it on time for Valentines.

Word count: 4.1k (whoops)

February has always filled the air with some sort of sugary chemical. Everything seemed sweeter like a pink filter had been put over the world. Some may dislike the upcoming February holiday, but it was perhaps one of your favorite times of the year.

Why? You were somehow blessed with the skills of getting people together and nudging them just enough to cross the line they needed to. So far, you have managed to help six couples get together. With Valentine’s right around the corner, the urge to play cupid grew to the point it was itching your hands.

“Well, compared to the Chimera on Monday, Medusa on Sunday, could have been a lot worse,” Percy was quickly interrupted by Annabeth.

“Medusa was Saturday.”

“I thought Sunday?”

“No monsters on Sunday. Monday, you died in a river.” You squint your eyes at the conversation that Percy and Annabeth were having. The familiar bells rang in your head; you could practically hear them roaring at you.

“Right, so Medusa on Saturday…”

“Woah, guys, what’s this?” Luke interrupted. “When did you turn into an old married couple?” Percy and Annabeth both grew slightly flustered at the Hermes counselor’s words. Muttering a few things here and there, the two kids quickly excused themselves and walked off from you and Luke just to avoid the topic in general. You slowly turned towards Luke and peered up at him.

“Surely…” you spoke cryptically.

“Surely what?”

“Them!” you gestured to the direction that Percy and Annabeth had headed off to. You kicked a small rock with your Converse and watched it tumble away. “Surely we can give a little nudge?” you trailed off, bumping into Luke’s shoulder.

“You’re not seriously gonna play Cupid on them, right?”

“No, I’m not…because we are,” Luke let out a loud breath, hands on his hips as he peered down at you. However, you could see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Sweet girl, I adore you, but why not let things run their course?” you hope he did not see the physical reaction over that nickname because, internally, your heart skipped a beat.

“Oh? And you’re telling me those six couples from before would have gotten together without me? You know I’m right about this kind of stuff. I can usually sense it. Besides, it’ll be fun, I promise.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Uhm…you get to spend time with me?” you decided to answer, grinning up at Luke when he gave you a feigned unimpressed look. “Please, besides, you and Percy are close, so it would help a lot. I already have a plan and I need your help for it.”

One look into your eyes, and Luke knew he was doomed. For some reason, you just can make him do anything you ask. Luke could feel the hands on his hips slowly slipping as he looked into your eyes.

“Fine.”

Stage 1: Get Percy to realize his feelings cause he’s blind as hell

It was midnight and everybody else was asleep except for you and Luke. The two of you were in the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as possible.

The two of you were making some fortune cookies for your plan. However, there was a tiny twist to the treat you two were making. You had personally printed out a couple of prompts that you wrote yourself in hopes they would nudge Percy into realizing his feelings.

“Really?’“Romance is in the air. What you’re looking for is right in front of you’?” Luke read out the small piece of paper that you printed. You pulled the cookies out of the oven when they were ready.

“It’s cliche and sort of obvious, but hey! It’ll work because it’s Percy I’m working with,” you quickly pulled the paper out of his hand to put it in the fortune cookie before folding it into shape and letting it cool down.

“Mhm. He’s gonna realize you’re trying to play cupid.”

“Are we talking about the same person? I doubt Percy would realize. Annabeth would, hence why I’m not trying this on her.”

Luke helped you out with a couple of other spare fortune cookies that you two intended to keep for yourselves.

“Alright, finally done,” you muttered, washing your hands. However, you were caught off guard when Luke dipped his hand in the bag of flour on the counter and smeared some on your cheek. Your mouth hung slightly at this, and you looked up at him challengingly. You wiped your hands with a hand towel, “Oh? Is that how we’re playing it?”

“...No…” Luke sheepishly replied, a grin growing on his face when he saw the look of mischief creeping on your face.

“Game on, Castellan,” with that, you dipped both of your hands in flour and chased after the tall boy, who was sprinting around the counter. You caught up with Luke and compromised by smearing flour onto the back of his shirt first. At your attack, he turned around and smeared some more across your face from your other cheek to the top of your nose. You immediately did it back to him.

“Ok, ok, I surrender,” he coughed in between quiet waves of laughter after you smeared some from his cheek down his neck, marking your last attack.

For a moment, Luke and you stood in silence, but when you two let the state of one another sink in, laughs echoed throughout the room again. Luke was able to stop his laughter first, though he was still wearing a wide grin. He washed the flour off his face and dried it with kitchen tissues as you muttered: “Oh, I wish I had a camera. I could practically blackmail you with that photo.”

“I have no doubt you would have never let me live that down,” while replying, Luke also approached you and started wiping the flour off your nose before moving to your cheeks. Your laughter slowly faded as your cheeks heated at the feeling of his hand on your skin. He was looking at you so tentatively. Callous hands - a reflection of his remarkable title as best swordsman - delicately holding your face as if you were the rarest diamond to exist.

Something about this moment felt so domestic. Luke allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy that this is how it would feel like to be with you and share cute moments like these together. Luke unbeknownstly let out a breath he didn’t know he was keeping in as he made eye contact with you.

However, the moment was interrupted by another camper who yelped upon seeing you two in the kitchen. The presence of another person caused you two to spring apart. “I’m so sorry, I’ll leave,” the camper muttered, clearly abandoning their plan of stealing food and sweets in the middle of the night. Luke coughed to break the silence.

“So what’s the plan after giving it to Percy?” Luke asked, looking down at the fortune cookies before picking one up and munching on it.

“Hopefully, he’ll finally realize his feelings, and when he does…Percy will come to you, for sure.”

Stage 2: Romantic gesture

You were right, Percy came to Luke for dating advice. As you planned, Luke suggested that Percy make a flower crown for Annabeth. Hence, here the Hermes counselor was - with Percy as he picked out flowers for Annabeth.

"I'm gonna need you to guide me on this 'cause I've never made flower crowns before," Percy muttered as he picked out California Poppins, Annabeth's favorite. Luke grinned at this. He found it interesting how the young boy already knew. "Maybe you could make one for someone special too?" Percy said, his voice somewhat unsure.

At the young boy's words, Luke froze. The first person that seemed to pop into his mind when Percy said that was you.

"I mean, might as well, right? It's for Valentine's. Maybe you could give it to someone who means a lot to you and makes you happy?" Percy spoke, though there was something instigative about his tone.

Happy. The word bounced in between the walls of Luke's mind. Once again, the first thing that flashed in his head was you. Then, a surge of images came running from memories of you two. He almost could not remember happiness before you. A warm feeling embedded in his chest as he pictured your smile. Just seeing you happy seemed to do it for him, like you could spread happiness to him by just looking at him. You were like the first glimmer of daylight after a cold night. He subconsciously smiled at that thought.

You have always made him feel loved, even though he knew you were probably doing it platonically. However, he would gladly take any form of love that he could receive from you. Every day, waking up and knowing he had you in his life was good enough for him. Maybe he should try giving you more hints. Maybe you'll finally see it. Perhaps Percy was right with the flower crown idea.

“Uhm, sure,” with that, Luke decided to take some of your favorite flowers into his hand and went to a nearby table, where he started guiding Percy on how to make a flower crown. However, ever so often, his mind would trail to its own thoughts whenever he focused on making this flower crown for you.

Percy watched Luke as the older boy started intensely working on his own flower crown, crafting it with so much care as if it was an artwork intended for a national museum. If Percy didn’t know better, he would think Luke was a perfectionist.

Meanwhile, you were sitting with Annabeth near the ocean where she had previously pushed Percy into the waters, leading to Poseidon claiming him. You asked, “Any plans for Valentine’s Day?”

“No, you?”

“Nope.”

“Oh?” she replied, though you tilted your head at the tone of her voice. “I’m just surprised,” Annabeth explained as she looked out at the ocean instead of at you. “I mean…I thought you and Luke…”

“Huh?—”

“Well, I mean, you two are together all the time, and there seems to be something going on —”

“What do you mea—”

“It always seems like you two would gravitate to one another. I just assumed you two were together already—”

“We’re…just friends,” you settled on saying, though you could hear your heart beating loudly, seemingly echoing near your chest and neck. Of course, you knew you had feelings for Luke. However, you have always ruled it as a silly little crush.

“...You sure? You sound really unsure,” Annabeth challenged, making you sigh.

“I mean, he’s really sweet, and nice…”

“Uh-huh”

“And he makes me laugh all the time…”

“That’s good,” Annabeth’s words echoed as you sunk into silence and started reflecting on who Luke was to you. He has always made you feel cared for. Out of everybody at camp, perhaps he was the one you were most comfortable with, never having to be afraid of being yourself. Almost all of your favorite memories at camp included him in them.

You remember the night you told him about your minor fear of the darkness and how he promised to always protect you in it. In a way, since then, he has become your light. You always felt lit up when he made his way to you. Your eyes are always drawn to him like a moth to its flame. Then, it finally dawned on you how serious your feelings were. You realized how most of the time you seemed to be mindless about the existence of your heart until Luke was around because it was only then that your heart would tug or race to run you breathless. You gulped as your eyes darted around slightly.

“I mean…maybe…” you started but snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Luke’s voice. And there it was again, the silly familiar tug your heart was doing just from his voice. “Hey…” you greeted Luke and Percy before noticing Percy with a flower crown in his hand.

“Annabeth, can I speak to you privately?” Annabeth stood up and gestured for Percy to lead the way, presumably somewhere, so the young boy could give her the flower crown and ask her out on Valentine’s Day. You remained seated, still pondering at your feelings and wondering when they had exponentially grown that much.

“I actually have something for you as well,” you finally looked up at Luke when he said this. You noticed he had his hands behind his back. Something about the way he looked now seemed so shy and timid, which was unlike the outgoing and confident boy you always knew.

Your mouth fell agape when he pulled out a flower crown made of your favorite flower. “Luke…” you said his name and stood up when you saw the item.

However, because your eyes were on his gift, you didn’t notice the way Luke’s breath hitched at the sound of your voice calling out his name. He never thought it was anything special until November two years ago when you said his name while laughing at one of his jokes by the campfire. It was probably a moment you did not remember, but ever since then, he felt so sure that he was named so because the name sounded like it was born just for the sole purpose of being sounded from your lips.

“I made this for you,” he muttered, though it sounded almost like a whisper. His eyes shifted to both of your Converses instead of at you. Something about this made him so nervous as if he was handing you his heart instead of a simple gift. He almost scowled at himself for acting like a boy in kindergarten, confessing to his crush.

If only Luke was looking at you because you were looking at him and the item in awe. Your cheeks flushed from his gesture. Though, you were somewhat glad he was not looking at you because you were sure one look at you right now would tell Luke exactly everything about your feelings. You were a blushing mess. “Luke, thank you so much. This is beautiful. I can’t believe you made one for me.”

You touched Luke’s hand that was holding the crown, and he almost grew an even deeper shade of red. “Put it on my head,” you instructed, and he obliged just like everything else you would ask. He was sure he must have caught a sickness or something for wanting to follow you this blindly. But you were perhaps the only one with the power to get him to do absolutely anything. Just as the crown touched your hair, you peered up at him, and the sight alone made Luke swallow nervously.

You looked breathtaking.

And he meant this literally because Luke felt like he stopped breathing for a second. He could not look away. That was until you wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him. His arms wrapped around your neck almost immediately to return the hug as if they existed to only hold you.

However, unlike the hundreds of hugs before, this one felt different. It was as if something had shifted and was bound to unfold.

Final Stage: Valentine’s Day

Annabeth had said yes.

You were ecstatic to learn that the young girl had agreed to go on a Valentine’s date with Percy. Even though you didn’t want to intrude, you and Luke decided to just have a peep to see what Percy had planned. You were not planning to stay long. It was just a sort of reward or a way to see your plan grow into fruition. You smiled when you spot the cute picnic date near the shore.

“See, I told you the plan was going to work,” you muttered as you tiptoed up in your converses to peer at the kids through the tall bushes nearby. You almost lost balance and step onto Luke's shoes that were similar to yours, except his was red.

The boy quickly steadied you with his hand on your waist. You muttered a quick thank you before turning back to the kids, trying to ignore the blush that was slowly decorating your cheeks. But you were quickly caught off guard at the sight of Percy and Annabeth pushing a small boat off the shore and hopping on it.

“Uhm…that is not what I expected. Where are they going?” Luke looked over your shoulder when you said that. Your eyes fluttered at his warm breath hitting your neck.

However, you noticed the two kids looking like they were in trouble and panicking as they quickly started rowing away. You turned your head towards Luke, forgetting he was very close to you. Your voice faltered as you were about to utter your next sentence. Noticing this, Luke turned to you, only causing the two of you to come face to face with little distance in between. You gulped and forced yourself not to glance down at his lips, “Do you think they’re okay? Should we follow them? I mean…what if they’re in trouble?”

Seeing the worried look on your face, Luke frowned. He deeply disliked anything that caused that kind of expression on your face. Hence, he decided to go over to the second boat there and started pushing it towards the water. “Come on,” you hopped onto the small boat with him and started rowing after Percy and Annabeth, hoping to help them from whatever trouble they were seeming to have.

After a few minutes of rowing behind them, you saw Percy and Annabeth rowing into a small tunnel. Luke and you quickly followed in, rowing your boat, only to be engulfed by darkness upon entering the tunnel.

The wind blew much harder in there, causing goosebumps on your arm as your hand gripped your oar tightly. To make matters worse, it was your most hated type of darkness - utter pitch black. Even with your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could see nothing, not even Luke.

You were fine with darkness in familiar places like your cabin, where you knew at least there were other campers around and you were safe. You were also mostly fine with darkness where you could see as your eyes adjusted to it. But here, you were in a tunnel you’ve never been in, where there were possibly monsters that could attack you at any moment.

You were slightly startled by the hand that softly touched yours that, unbeknownst to you, was crushing the wooden oar. You immediately recognize it was Luke’s hand from the warmth and familiar touch. He soothingly ran his thumb across your hand. His actions were proven effective at calming you down when you could feel your grip loosen around the tool.

“Breathe, sweet girl,” his words somehow made you release the breath you were subconsciously holding.

A few seconds later, the lights were turned on. You were met with one of the most beautiful sights you’ve ever seen. Lights were decorating the path throughout the tunnel. There were also plants and trees with extended branches and leaves that softly brushed past the boat Luke and you were on.

Suddenly, you both heard a tune start playing quietly in the background, almost quiet enough to make you two think you were imagining it:

“There you see her, sitting there across the way.

She don’t got a lot to say, but there’s something about her”

His thumb hasn’t stopped rubbing over your knuckles even though the darkness was no longer casting over the both of you. His eyes were absorbing how you looked at that moment, embracing it. You were absolutely stunning and he was hopelessly infatuated with you.

“And you don’t know why, but you’re dying to try

You wanna kiss the girl.”

The lyrics made Luke subconsciously lick his lips as he pictured himself kissing you. Gods, he wondered if his heart would even survive doing so and whether anything would ever surpass getting to kiss you. Your eyes flickered to Luke's lips, and he noticed it. He also noticed how your cheeks flushed as you gulped at his actions.

“Luke.”

“Y/N,” you almost melted at the way Luke was saying your name as if it was an honor or privilege to do so. The tone he used was sweeter than any dessert you have ever had. Gods, it was as if your name was a sacred passage he lived by.

“Yes, you want her

Look at her, you know you do”

Indeed he was looking at you, and it felt almost like he was spellbound because he could not take his eyes off you. Right then, you could see it all - he was utterly smitten. He was giving you a soft smile. The lights decorating the tunnel shimmered in his eyes, illuminating just enough to display his pupils and how they almost completely overtook the usual dark brown color that you love. Before you knew it, he was leaning closer to you on the small boat and you mirrored his action.

“Possible she wants you too, there is one way to ask her…”

Just when Luke was inches from your face, he stopped. His eyes longingly stare at your lips like a long-awaited dream that was within his grasp but not quite within his grip yet. You noticed how he took a deep breath as if mustering all the drops of courage he had. His eyes fluttered shut for a second before he opened them again.

“Can I?” he uttered only two words, but somehow, his voice conveyed enough the yearning coursing through every inch of his body. Luke gulped as he restrained himself from closing the distance and waited for your consent.

You nodded wordlessly.

“It don’t take a word, not a single word

Go on and kiss the girl.”

Almost instantly, he caressed both sides of your face and sealed the deal.

All the glory Luke has gained throughout the years seemed trivial compared to kissing you. It almost convinced him that everything he had gone through to get here today was worth it. He hummed against your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. Kissing you felt like the best gift he had ever gotten in his entire life. Luke knew he was forever screwed from the way it felt. He could not fathom the idea of his lips ever touching anyone else’s. Maybe they were made for you, but his heart and mind do not seem to oppose that idea.

You slowly slid your arms down, allowing your hands to caress his jawline and the sides of his face. However, your hands slightly jolted at the pace of his heartbeat along the side of his neck. It was as if his heart was trying to break out of his body. Your own heart started replicating the same rhythm. It had you flustered that you had such an effect on him.

Luke broke away from the kiss breathlessly. For a second, he hated the idea of needing air to live because if he could, he would not have stopped showing you how much his lips belonged to you. His forehead leaned against yours while his hands rested on your hips. He looked at you endearingly as if he could not fathom that he just got to kiss you. You smiled at the sight of him.

“I know I’m a tad bit late, but will you be my Valentine?” he sweetly asked.

“Of course, Luke.” Luke grinned at your answer. He drew you in for another kiss as giggles escaped your lips and echoed through the tunnel that now marked an important memory for the two of you.

You truly must be Cupid because your plan not only worked for Percy and Annabeth, but somehow also indirectly gave Luke and you the nudge you both needed.

14th February marked the day when two Cupids wearing Converses got their happy ending.

Bonus:

“I told you that would work,” Annabeth whispered to Percy as the two hopped back onto their boat with a speaker in hand, rowing away hastily to be out of sight from the older couple.

Little did you know, Annabeth had orchestrated the whole thing, including the conversation between her and Percy about their mission in front of Luke and you. Annabeth’s plan of getting Luke and you together through playing cupid together had seemingly worked just like she had planned.

Who said you were the only cupid at Camp Half-Blood?

----------------------

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2K notes View Post

amoreva

1 year ago

KISS THE GIRL

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: two times luke knows he’s in love with you + one time he can’t hold it in anymore

warnings: pre tlt luke, ooc luke

a/n: percy jackson 🔛🔝 (request some fics for the characters), i think i ended this terribly, but i’ll fix it later at some point!

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

I. SCAR

“You are an idiot.”

That’s the first thing Luke hears when he wakes up in the Camp’s infirmary. He feels groggy, sluggish and slow and barely registered that you were in the room.

He faintly tasted his mother’s cooking. A small comfort for the consequences of failing his quest. His heart is filled with embarrassment and pity and dejection.

You snapped your fingers by his ears. “I know you’re awake. You hear me? You are an idiot!”

“If you’re here to make fun of me failing my quest, go away.” Luke groaned and turned on his side, despite the pain flaring in his abdomen.

"Luke." You said in a much softer tone. You were concerned about his injuries since he returned from the quest. "You know I wouldn't do that, not with something this serious.”

You helped him sit up in the infirmary bed and cup his cheek. He felt a gauze patch rather then your warm palm on his right cheek. “I’m saying you’re an idiot for not letting me come with you!”

“You can’t do everything by yourself.”

Love is fickle and strange thing. Luke and you promised that if either of you went on a quest, you’d bring each other. Yet, Luke couldn’t keep his promise.

He couldn’t see his girl—best friend, his best friend get hurt because of a stupid promise. He wouldn’t forgive himself if you went out he quest and got injured in some way, shape or form.

Even if you hadn’t gotten hurt, he might’ve— he would’ve gotten worse injuries from being distracted by your beauty. He could never tear his eyes from you whenever you entered the room.

In hindsight, it was a really bad way to go about things.

“I’m fine, aren’t I?” Luke responded and couldn’t hold himself back. He interlaced his fingers with yours, knowing you were still pissed when he didn’t choose you or anyone, for that matter, to join him on his quest to retrieve a Golden Apple from the Garden of Hesperides.

He resented his father and the gods for not caring for his wellbeing during the quest.

“Yes, but—” You protested.

At least you cared for his wellbeing. You caring about him was better than any god or goddess on Olympus.

His eyes softened. His mind screaming the words he was too scared to say to you out loud. “I love you.” He loved you for caring about his wellbeing. His safety.

“Yes, but nothing.” Luke retaliated and squeezed your hand to assure you. “I’m okay, I’m alive and have some cool ass scars now.”

Luke grinned as he was able to produce a laugh from you. Your laugh was like music to his ears. His own ambrosia in human form.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes playfully.

“Never.”

II. SPARRING

“Again.” Luke demanded as he pointed the celestial bronze sword at your throat. The sun beating down on the two of you as you trained. A past time as the days got boring.

“Fuck off.” You scoffed and laid back in the grass that laid beneath the pair’s feet. The grass tickling your arms and legs.

“C’mon! Up and at it. The momentum will wear off.” Luke helplessly convinced you to try and spar him again.

“Oh no, what ever will we do?” Sarcasm bled through your tone. You pushed yourself to sit up and leaned against the rack contained to celestial bronze swords.

Luke shook his head and grinned. He pushed back his chocolate curls to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He joined you on the grassy floor.

“Five minute break then.” Luke nodded.

“Ten minutes.” You negotiated and looked over at Luke. His scar was healing nicely, no infections—just a clean cut from his eye to his jaw. “You can’t expect to be up and at it after training with the greatest swordsman for an hour straight.”

Maybe it was the heat or maybe it was from the training. Luke’s cheeks became pink. He knew his siblings and other demigods talked about him being the “greatest swordsman”, but hearing it from you was different.

“You think I’m the greatest swordsman?” Luke said with a teasing grin.

“Not after I’m done with you.”

“Say that to the many times you hit the floor.”

“I was going easy on you!”

Luke and you burst out in laughter at your banter, unable to keep a serious conversation. He thought your laughter could brighten up the Underworld. Hades would even agree.

Again, those three words would cross his mind. “I love you.” He loved bantering with you back and forth. How dare he try to ruin the moment with his romantic phrases.

“C’mon!” You huffed and pushed yourself to stand up. You were obliviously to the admiration in his eyes. The celestial bronze sword gripped loosely in your hand.

“What happened to the ten minutes?” Luke titled his head up only slightly to look at you. A stupid grin on his face. He stood up to get in position

“I can train when I damn want too.”

“Don’t start complaining about being tired then.”

He never tore his eyes away from yours as you thrusted the blade at his torso.

III. STARS

Luke had no idea where the line between lover and friendship was crossed. He had absolutely no idea when he started to see you more as a crush rather than his best friend.

Though he did notice his stomach started to twist and turn every time he saw you. He noticed his heart raced a little faster every time he heard your laugh.

Luke found himself gravitating towards you during dinner, training, capture the flag—like a moth to burning flame. Would he find himself getting burned for pursuing you?

“Hey.”

Luke spoke as the wooden dock creaked beneath his feet. You were sitting on the edge of the dock. The night sky lit up with tiny bright lights. You gave him a smile (one that could melt his heart) and patted the space next to you.

“You doing okay?” Luke asked and sat next to you. His leg touching yours. The lake rippled. The moonlight shining down on it.

“I just—needed a break.” You reassure Luke. “From gods, goddesses, prophecies, quests…all of it.”

The chirps and cheeps of the birds and animals filled the silence. A background noise. Luke felt your head lean against his shoulder. His heart beat quicker. He hesitantly wrapped his arm around your shoulder. Comfort, he convinced himself.

“You can’t really escape being a half-blood.” Luke consulted and rubbed his hand up and down your arm. You hummed in agreement.

You were quite glad Luke joined you. These nights on the dock, after dinner, were getting lonely. The silence is comfortable save for the wildlife in the forest.

Faintly, ever so faintly, you heard Luke speak three words. Three words you would never hear from him.

“I love you…”

Gods.

He didn’t even realize it. His lips were making the consonants and vowel sounds. Luke didn’t know until you picked up your head from his shoulder. Your eyes wide with shock and what he had hoped was…relief.

“What…?” You mumbled.

Did he just ruin his friendship with you? Did he just lose his best friend because he said his thoughts out loud? Luke thought he had better control over that.

“What?” He responded and let his arm fall from your shoulders.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“Luke.”

His breath hitched. He felt lovesick. Like Aphrodite personally made his body malfunction during this moment. “I…”

“I love you…” Luke avoided your gaze like he was ashamed to have a crush on you.

How did you feel? Would you reject him in a heart beat? Would you ridicule him? Thoughts swam his mind.

Before he could get too into his head, he felt a soft pair of lips pressed against his. Your eyes closed and he willed himself to close his eyes as well. Melting, melting into your touch, your lips.

When you pulled away, his eyes opened. He was graced with the sight of you in the moonlight. “What?” He spoke breathlessly.

“What?” You responded slightly confused and scared you made the moment uncomfortable.

“You…” Luke paused and closed his mouth as he tried to formulate the words. To form a coherent thought. He just…he wanted that to never end. He finally got what he yearned for (and he wasn’t rejected?). He got you.

“Is this real?” Luke asked and you laughed. His stomach churned with butterflies.

“Yes!” You answered and interlaced your fingers with his.

“May I?”

“You’d be a pretty bad demigod if you didn’t.”

And once again, Luke got the kiss the girl. He got the kiss the girl he been pining over for gods know how long.

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

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luke castellan percy jackon and the olympians luke castellan x reader pjo series luke castellan imagine luke castellan pjo luke castellan fluff

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amoreva

1 year ago

babe wake up unseen newsies pics just dropped