I Am Elliott Smith

sad, beautiful, tragic

distance, timing, breakdown, fighting

silence, the train runs off its tracks

kiss me, try to fix it

could you just try to listen?

hang up, give up

and for the life of us, we can get back

peter parker x reader!!

(treacherous part 2)

PLOT - in which peter parker tries to talk to his rival after multiple drunk make out sessions the previous night.

WARNINGS - sexual references, no smut, make out scenes, allusions to sexual activity, weed, smoking, kiss and makeup attitude

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

“just talk to her, don’t be an arse” gwen smiled, swaying with the movement of the subway. the sun peeked through the windows as the train made its way out of a tunnel and closer to their destination.

“what exactly are you supposed to say to someone you made out with like, 3 times while drunk?? especially if you used to hate their guts”

“i don’t know, ‘sorry i hated you before, i just internalised my fetish for goth stoners as hatred- let’s make out some more’ or something-“ gwen joked, before being cut off by a frustrated peter.

“are you kidding me? she’s gonna spot us across the carriage any second now and i won’t have any idea what to say to her!”

y/n sat cross legged in her seat, reading some depressing book from the early 1900’s about some depressing characters, written by a depressed closeted gay man. she tucked a chunk of hair behind her ears before re-adjusting her headphones. “i bet she’s listening to fucking my chemical romance or korn or some shit,” peter chuckled as his eyebrows furrowed, gripping onto the hanging bars of the train carriage.

“nope, look on spotify,” gwen corrected. peter turned away from y/n to look over at gwen, his eyes drifting to the screen of her phone.

“it says she’s listening to… taylor swift?” she said, a confused expression painted on her face. peter jolted his head back in shock, overcome with anxiety. “aunt may loves taylor swift…” he murmured, the rustle of the train carriage pulling him away from gwen.

“let me see what song,” peter insisted as he gestured to see gwen’s phone. she passed it over to him, watching his face move as he read the title.

“sad, beautiful, tragic… i’m pretty sure that’s from red, right?” peter questioned. gwen shrugged her shoulders in response. “i don’t know. i’m more of a midnights and evermore type of girl” she replied. peter scrolled down to the lyrics of the song, his eyes widening and his lips pursing.

“gwen, i’m totally fucked”

y/n had slept on what had happened the previous night. spider-man saved her from getting robbed and gave her some very unhelpful advice. what the fuck would spider-man know anyways? he doesn’t get any bitches. y/n may have also ghosted peter, but who cares? y/n put her heart out on the table, for some reason expecting more from the person who constantly teased her everyday for 2 years. sure, she should’ve saw it coming, but she didn’t. which is why she was going to be as dramatic as possible.

this meant a new playlist. no more limp biskit; nobody cries to ‘break stuff’!! it was time to listen to the entire red album on repeat, along with ‘ultraviolence’ and elliott smith. y/n was fully ready to be a sad little bitch.

on monday morning, she scored a seat on the subways and started listening to her new playlist, putting on one particular taylor swift song on repeat while she read her sad little bitch book. she looked up for a split second to see peter and gwen talking.

‘oh, so he can make time to talk to gwen, but not the girl he snogged three times?’ y/n thought.

y/n turned up her volume and put away her book as she listened to the lyrics of the song. the train pulled up to the station within walking distance to her school and so she stood up. catching the eye of peter as she walked to the doors, she quickly averted her gaze and took a few steps back.

peter flinched at the sudden eye contact, turning his full body towards gwen. “gwen. do something” he anxiously muttered. gwen nodded, smiling innocently, before beginning to casually walk over to y/n.

“y/n! how’d that hangover treat you?” gwen asked, pulling in y/n for a comfortable hug. y/n smiled hesitantly and embraced the act of affection. “so, so badly,” she replied, thinking back to the incident that followed the day after the party.

“the hangover is the least of my troubles” she stated and she glanced over at peter, who was watching both of them. “oh, do you mean…” gwen asked as she gestured over to the lanky boy trailing behind them, walking onto the platform as the train doors opened.

“what? no! i was mugged,” y/n announced, arching her eyebrows. peter didn’t look surprised. y/n took note of this, feeling somewhat offended that he didn’t care.

“y/n! are you okay?? how did that happen?” gwen asked, completely and utterly shocked. peter walked over. “wait, yeah… are you okay y/n?” he asked, breaking out of his anxious state for one moment.

y/n sighed softly, rolling her eyes. “i’m fine, spider-man saved me and then gave me some very unhelpful advice.” she said as she pursed her lips, her eyes darting between gwen and peter. “he’s a total ride though- i hope he’s not like… 46 or something,” she continued. gwen chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand as her cheeks turned pink. “did you get to feel his abs?” she asked as the trio walked across queens to get to school.

“yeah, they were rock hard. i didn’t expect him to be so fit!” y/n exclaimed. peter tried to stifle his blush as they got closer to the school, blocking out their conversation.

as they entered the gates, gwen quickly walked towards her class, leaving the two alone.

“um, we have math-“

“i know, peter” y/n interrupted. her voice was cold and unemotional- a stark difference form her previous cheerful demeanour. this was the guy that she was squabbling with for years now… the guy that she also maybe had a few steamy dreams about as well. her preconceived notions about peter were contradicting with her fantasies and the realities of what happened over the weekend- causing her to spiral into a semi-depressed state of rage.

peter, on the other hand, knew exactly what he thought of y/n. he always thought that she was attractive, but a total arse. now, he found her being an arse super endearing. but that could have something to do with the fact that they made out 3 times and he almost touched her boobs.

the two walked in awkward silence to their math class, a strong tension in the air. they took their seats and sat painfully silently for an hour.

y/n tapped her pen on her notebook, not listening to a word the teacher was saying. ‘fuck it,’ she thought, ripping out a piece of paper.

she scribbled a few words down before passing it over to peter.

‘make up for ghosting me by skipping second period and hiding in the unisex bathrooms’

‘sure :)’

the unisex bathrooms were dimly lit, far away from the rest of campus. surrounded by unused classrooms. the unisex bathrooms were a prime hookup spot… but for y/n, it was her own personal hotbox.

she lit the end of her joint and put her lighter in her jacket pocket as she leaned against the bathroom wall. y/n took a drag as she stared at the wall. she took another short hit, before passing it to peter. he did the same, his legs crossed.

“so why didn’t you text me, dick face?” she started, crossing her arms. smoke escaped her lips as the talked, mesmerising peter.

“dick face?” peter repeated, stifling a grin as he shook his head.

“um… i guess i didn’t know what to say,” he replied, passing back the joint. y/n smiled awkwardly as she rolled her eyes. “classic parker…”

“well, do you know what to say now?” y/n asked, sliding down to the floor, head level with peter. he shrugged his shoulders. “kinda,” he muttered.

“are you gonna say it, mcslutty?”

“i don’t appreciate the name-calling, y/n.” he said irritably, his voice somewhat breathy.

“you ghosted me too, remember?” peter added, raising his eyebrows.

“yeah, but i was mugged!” she said defensively, opening her mouth in shock. “obviously i was too busy!”

peter laughed, covering his face. “fair point.”peter pursed his lips, looking down before taking another hit of the joint.

peter took a deep breath in, tapping the floor anxiously. “i really like you, y/n” peter averted his eyes. “i used the think i didn’t, but i was just lying to myself so i wouldn’t have to confront the fact that there’s actually nice stuff about you,” he’s smirked.

y/n chuckled. “what nice stuff?”

“your face, obviously. your musical skills, your rolling skills. you’re also really funny, and you’re so generous. you’re not nice to everyone, but you still help everyone- if that makes sense? but yeah… shit like that i guess,”

y/n smiled sincerely, slightly tilting her head to the side. “that’s pretty sweet, shithead”

it took them a whole 40 seconds before they started jamming their lips together, peter’s hands gripping y/n’s waist as she sat on top of his lap. her hands cupped his face gently, occasionally pulling a hand away and running it through his hair.

she pulled away for air, before continuing her attack on his lips, her hands trailing down his torso as she fiddled with his shirt. peter pulled away, looking up at her before her eyes drifting to her hands.

“what are you doing there?” he asked teasingly, his voice limited to a hoarse whisper.

she began to frantically kiss his neck, her hands still fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. “felt something hard. wondering if you’re ripped or just really horny.” she muttered breathily, one hand resting under his shirt as she caressed his torso, while the other hand gripped a bundle of his hair.

he looked as her curiously as she felt up his chest, watching her pull away with a look of shock and confusion. “peter? what the fuck?” she exclaimed, her hair messy and cheeks red.

“what? what’s wrong?” peter asked, panicked as his eyes drifted down to his pants, before meeting her eyes again. his face turned red, putting up his hands in surrender.

“hey, you were the one grinding against my-“

“no, you’re fully ripped!” she whispered, her eyes wide as her hand retracted from under his shirt. “jesus christ…” she muttered, lifting his shirt to take a peek.

peter burst out into a fit of dry laughter, tilting his head back and lightly hitting the wall of the bathroom stall.

“oh, yeah. that.” he said casually. y/n grumbled, standing up.

“right. i was not expecting that.” she huffed, her face completely red.

“anyways, i’m not fucking you in a hot-boxed bathroom stall at school. if you decide to stop being a little bitch and message me, maybe i’ll forgive you for ghosting me.” y/n proposed, leaning against the wall as she looked down at peter.

peter nodded, standing up. he opened the door, turning to face her. “yeah, i definitely won’t be ghosting you anytime soon. sorry about that, by the way.” he murmured.

“it’s fine. just as long as you send me a picture of your abs after school.” she demanded, her face completely serious as she looked peter up and down. peter nodded, his eyes wide.

she bit her lip, meeting his eyes once again. “seriously, they’re almost as good at spider-man’s.” she added, exiting the bathroom- leaving peter alone to deal with his thoughts.

this broke me and put me together

⋆· ༘* love, every summertime !

pairing ★ jock!luke castellan x drum major!reader

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

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

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

series masterlist

Luke might be high, or something.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, how scary.

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

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

“That’s rude.”

“Okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

♫ TV Girl ・ Taking What’s Not Yours

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

Liked by beckydwarf, luvvbeaus and 264 others

majmajmaj snr ditch be everyday post-grad

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beckydwarf had me thinkin we got school tmrw 😭

↳ majmajmaj u praying for september to come quick huh

lukestellans 🩵

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

Life on the road is scarce.

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

“Open up!”

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

“My dad hasn’t fixed the AC.”

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

“He’s a lazy ass.”

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

“The fuck, my name’s just Luke?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You get the idea.

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

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

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

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

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

Charles groans, “I hate both of you.”

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

“Right,” you cough, “sorry.”

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

TO: monza baby

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

FROM: monza baby

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

“Need another sample?”

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

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

Little shits.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yep.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

lukestellans posted a story ・ 3h

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

majmajmaj replied to your story:

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

luvvbeaus replied to your story:

AS IF UR NOT THE SAME. GOOFY AHH MF 💀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Brush your teeth first.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

♫ Djo ・ Roddy

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

Liked by anniebethc, luvvbeaus, and 127 others

majmajmaj anw who’s that guy in orange…?

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

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

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

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

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

FROM: monza baby

(9 mo) when r u loading up

TO: monza baby

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

FROM: monza baby

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

TO: monza baby

(8 mo) ots 5 here GO TO SLEEP

FROM: monza baby

(8 mo) damn not even a good night

TO: monza baby

(8 mo) its actually good morning but wtvr

[ video call from suzuka boy… ]

TO: monza baby

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

FROM: monza baby

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

TO: monza baby

(7 mo) LFG NEW YEARS KISS !!!

TO: monza baby

(7 mo) bad news 😞

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Almost midnight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

It passes in a haze.

We should count together.

‘Kay.

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

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

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

Happy New Year, Luke.

Where my kiss at?

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

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

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

( And many more. )

FROM: monza baby

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

TO: monza baby

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

FROM: monza baby

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

TO: monza baby

(6 mo) OH STOPPP IM BLUSHING

FROM: monza baby

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

TO: monza baby

(6 mo) WHO TOLD U THAT 😨

FROM: monza baby

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

TO: monza baby

(5 mo) HUH WHAT

FROM: monza baby

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

TO: monza baby

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

FROM: monza baby

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

FROM: monza baby

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

TO: monza baby

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

FROM: monza baby

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

TO: monza baby

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

FROM: monza baby

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

FROM: monza baby

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

TO: monza baby

(2 mo) I WAS ABT TO TEXT THAT HEY

FROM: monza baby

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

TO: monza baby

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a cold comfort.

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

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

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

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

( You. )

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

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

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

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

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

♫ Ariana Grande ・ Daydreamin’

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

Liked by majmajmaj, perciusjakcsn and 273 others

conmanstole so sick they got me pulling out ARIANA

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

↳ conmanstole IF U SNITCH I SWEAR

beckydwarf ariana is a queen wdym #CONNORSTOLLNOTMYDRUMMAJOR 🙄

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

perciusjakcsn ?? @.anniebethc

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

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

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

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

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

he’s so me but i’m insane

i love in seven's route when he's like "yeah plot twist im actually a depressed fuck who wants to die all the time. im fucked up and broken not the funny haha joke guy from the chat, so go hate me and be dissapointed >:(((((" like honey you just became 100000x more attractive. the LAYERS, the ANGST, the HURT/COMFORT POTENTIAL,,,,,,

Regulus being a bitch and Rosekiller being Rosekiller

masterlist ig

spiderman

peter parker:

-“treacherous”

marauders

regulus:

-“cardigan”

-“august”

the owl house

-music taste headcanons

FORWARDS BECKON REBOUND

luke castellan x reader

based on this request !!

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

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

WARNINGS - luke being annoying in a cute way

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the sun ⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊

ECLIPSE - PROLOGUE, PART ONE, PART TWO

luke castellan x child of dionysus reader

ABOUT - you come clean to luke over a bottle of wine as you stare at the sky.

A/N - part two!! this is written from the readers perspective this time :P might write the prologue sooner or later idk

WARNINGS - alcohol consumption, kissing, crying, swearing i think?? but idk i don’t remember

two hours later, and you and luke were staring at the lake as you sat together, the bottle of wine now half full.

the other few demigods that came along now were either swimming, or too drunk to stand, or talking amongst themselves.

you didn’t expect to be sitting with luke alone; nor did you expect the conversation to be so fun.

but then again, you didn’t care if the conversation was good or not. you wouldn’t even care if he was calling you names or simply ignoring you.

you had learnt that to love is to make sacrifices, and you had 4 years of first-hand experience.

the air was relaxed and easy, and the conversation was interesting. the fact that your rival was sitting right next to you, sharing a bottle of wine, felt surreal.

luke said something stupid and light hearted as you giggled quietly, taking another swig of the bottle. your breathing slowed down a bit as you turned to look at him.

“are you feeling tipsy yet, castellan?” you asked quietly, the moon hitting the side of your face in the most angelic way.

your hair was almost as bright as the starts at this point- your lips stained red due to the pigment of the wine and the irritation caused by drinking from the bottle.

“tipsy?” he scoffed, grabbing the bottle from you and taking a sip. “even if i am, no way am i admitting it to you.”

the warm breeze blew through your hair, the moon’s light bouncing right off of it and illuminating the area. he stared at you as you sat next to him, your eyes wide open as you stared out at the lake.

you looked magical.

“you really are beautiful.”

your head turned to face him, your lips slightly parting in shock at the abrupt compliment.

‘luke castellan said i was beautiful?!’

you felt your breath hitch, your cheeks turning red- but you couldn’t tell if that was from the alcohol or from his compliment.

“yeah, you’re tipsy,” you whispered playfully in an attempt to brush off the comment.

you sighed, ruffling your hand through his hair before taking the bottle from him.

“shut up,” luke scoffed, looking away from you in embarrassment.

you laughed dryly, leaning your back against the grass and staring up at the stars.

“no, i wont shut up,” you argued, a big smile on your face.

“castellan said i was beautiful!” you exclaimed breathily, giggling quietly as you kicked your feet against the grass.

the corner of his lips twitched into a smirk for a moment. “i really hate you, you know that?” he laughed, taking another swig.

“besides, no one will believe you,” he teased, nudging you playfully.

you shook your head, pressing an index finger against your lip as you made a ‘shh’ sound.

“i’m not going to tell anyone. your words are gonna be my little secret,” you whispered, looking up at him as he continued drinking from the wine bottle.

even under the moonlight, he still shone like the sun.

‘i guess that’s why luke and i clashed. he was the sun, and i was the moon.’

“you’re going to drive me insane,” luke mumbled, passing you the bottle of wine.

was he blushing? his cheeks were certainly more red than before, and he couldn’t maintain eye contact with you anymore.

you retracted your finger from your lips, letting out a dry chuckle.

you sat back up, grasping the bottle of wine and taking a large swig.

“yeah, what do you expect? my dads the god of insanity, castellan,” you retorted playfully, a smug smile plastered across your face.

you were the moon and he was the sun- it was a simple yet poetic description of their long, complicated rivalry. maybe if you were a bit more sober, you could come up with a less stereotypical comparison. but you were not sober, so the moon and sun it was.

you were his rival, but it was starting to feel like something more. the banter between you two was becoming more romantic, the tension more evident. or maybe it was all just in your head.

luke chuckled as you took another big swig from the bottle of wine, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

it felt like everything you wanted for the past 4 years was finally happening.

you put down the bottle, looking out at the reflection of the moon twinkling on the lake as you took a deep breath in.

“do you ever see something and think ‘oh, that’s me’?” you asked, suddenly turning around to look at him.

luke was caught off guard by your sudden question, pursing his lips as he turned to look at you.

his brows faintly rose as he watched the moonlight gleam off of your eyes, hair, and lips. “what do you mean?” he asked softly. luke’s eyes darted to yours briefly, only to go back to looking at the moonlight as it hit the lake.

you looked back over at the moon, feeling a strange sense of comfort overcome your being.

“it’s like… i’m the moon. i am her,” you said.

“but i’m also the arctic fox, and the glow in the dark star stickers castor stuck on the roof of the dionysus cabin, and the tulips and the lily of the valley and- it’s like…” you mumbled, pressing your fingers against your lips as you let yourself get lost in thought.

“like i’m made of all these little things i see and feel close to.”

luke’s eyes burnt into yours as you spoke, taking in ever word you uttered. you would’ve forgotten he was even there if it weren’t for the sound of him breathing.

“and what am I?” he finally spoke, his voice soft as he leaned forward to look more closely at you. the moonlight casted a glow on your face as the breeze blew your hair away from your eyes. it felt so natural to be here with him, in the dark, with the moon.

you smiled at him coyly, your cheeks red and your vision a little warped from the alcohol. you took another swig, thinking over his question.

you passed him the bottle, your fingers grazing against his momentarily as you stared at his face intently.

“you’re the dandelions. you’re the orange slices, the quiet dog sitting by the window,” i said quietly, taking in his features.

“you’re the sun.”

he paused. it looked like he had just been punched in the gut, overwhelmed by the sudden sentiment.

luke looked away suddenly, blinking quickly as his jaw clenched tight. he took one deep breath, and turned to look at you again.

“that’s bullshit, and you know it,” he snorted. it seemed like the alcohol had made him a little too confident. you furrowed you brows in response, crossing his arms as you waited for an explanation.

how could he not look in the mirror and be blinded by the sight of himself?

“look at me. i’m no sun. i’ve got all these scars and bruises all over me, i’m too destructive.”

he rolled his eyes, looking down at the grass defeatedly.

you shrugged your shoulders, taking another swig of the bottle.

“yeah, but you’re the sun,” you repeat blankly, a soft smile still on your face.

“you’re the sun; scars and all. too hot too touch, too bright to ignore.”

luke froze at your words.

he shifted uncomfortably as he felt his hands shake. your eyes took in his stressed appearance, feeling a little embarrassed at your sudden outburst of praise.

luke was embarrassed by how much his body was betraying him. for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to say whatever witty response would get under your skin. he was completely at a loss for words- and you could tell.

but either way, you decided to play nice.

you paused, staying completely silent. suddenly, you started giggling, shaking your head awkwardly in an effort to make him feel less uncomfortable.

“sorry about that. i just realised how stupid that sounded,” you chuckled, looking back over at the moon.

luke looked a mess. his cheeks burned red, and his heart pounded faster and faster.

“shut up,” he growled. “you’re going to make me act weird.”

you turned your head away from the moon to look back over at him, your eyes narrowing in confusion.

“huh?” you furrowed your brows, taking the last sip from the bottle.

“you already act weird,” you teased, gently pushing his shoulder playfully.

you playful push and the feel of you touching him suddenly made any rational thoughts of his go completely out the window.

“okay, but this is different,” he grumbled, leaning his back against the cold earth and closing his eyes, his breath even and steady. “you’re making this weird.”

you pouted, laying down on the ground next to him. your head was inches away from his, your hair grazing his face as it messily fell over the grass.

his face turned towards yours as you stared up at the stars, thinking over his statement.

“how?” you asked, your speech a little slurred.

“just…” he sighed, looking up at the sky. “it’s not that complicated. i’m your rival. we’re not meant to be…like this.”

luke paused, looking back over at you for a second. he thought you looked so pretty with the moonlight casting beams of light on your face. he could’ve looked at you like this for hours.

you rolled your eyes, staring up at the sky.

“are we even rivals anymore?” you asked, resting your hands on top of your tummy.

“i mean, we used to be when we we like… 15. but we’re 18 now, and things are definitely different. less hostile,” you said, breathing quietly.

“fine, we’re not as vicious as we used to be. but it’s still a rivalry. you’re too competitive.”

you stayed quiet, processing his words.

he was right. you were too competitive.

that’s why it would never work between you and him- but it was also why it did work.

your stubbornness and his attitude fuelled the ongoing rivalry between you two for years, the only thing that ever weakened the conflict was time.

time wore you two down as you matured, replacing foul insults with witty comebacks and substituting sarcastic compliments with genuine praise.

but it was still a rivalry.

he leaned towards you suddenly, opting to change the subject with a teasing comment. he lightly tapped your forehead. “you’re drunk.”

you giggled, rolling your eyes as you playfully pushed his hand away.

“no, you’re drunk- look!” you abruptly cut yourself off, gasping at the sky.

“it’s the little dipper,” you exclaimed breathily.

it had been years since you had seen the constellation; considering camp half-blood was only protected from new yorks monsters, and not new york’s light pollution.

luke glanced up at the sky, blinking as he saw the constellation.

“yeah,” he grinned as he looked back down at you. “i’m just surprised you can tell in this state of mind.”

luke chuckled as he looked into your eyes. they had a dull shine to them- they looked tired. his lips twitched into a playful smirk as you shrugged your shoulders.

you smiled softly as you turned your head to look at him- a few stray pieces of grass in your hair.

“maybe it’s ’cause when i drink i get all observant and shit,” you said simply.

your eyes darted over to scar on the right side of his face. it had been there for years, but you never seemed to get tired of looking at it.

it was like a river- or a permanent teardrop stain. and it was gorgeous.

luke watched you with a smug grin as you stared at his scar, noticing how much you seemed to adore the sight.

“yeah,” he smirked. “you get so observant that you start talking about me being like the sun.”

you rolled your eyes, letting out a dry breath as you looked into his eyes.

“you’re not like the sun, you are the sun.”

you slowly reached your hand out to touch his scar, your thumb tracing over the shape as your lips slightly parted.

you definitely would’ve never done something like this sober.

he didn’t fight against the warm gesture, his cheeks turning red as his brown eyes widened at the sensation. your touch was soft, and his skin was so smooth.

maybe he loved you back? maybe all that sacrifice and competition wasn’t for nothing?

the desire to come clean was suffocating you. you needed to say it- he needed to know.

you cupped his face in your hands, the alcohol putting you in a trance.

‘sober me is gonna really regret inviting luke to drink with her.’

you continued rubbing your thumb over his scar, looking into his eyes.

“luke,” you whispered, getting lost in his features as you laid still on the grass.

“i’ve loved you since we were 15.”

he was dumbfounded by her sudden confession. your heart continued pounding so loudly that you could no longer hear the quiet sound of his own heartbeat.

“… you don’t have to say anything,” you said softly, continuing to stare into his eyes.

“but i just wanted you to know.”

you slowly retracted your hand from his cheek, turning over to lay on your back again and stare at the stars.

luke stared at you blankly, his lips parted in shock as he realised what you said.

the silence was killing you, forcing you to come to terms with the reality of the situation.

he was quiet for a reason, wasn’t he?

“you don’t love me,” he said softly. “you’re drunk.”

you shook your head, your eyes fluttering closed as a soft smile emerged from your features.

“no, i do love you,” you whispered, reaffirming the drunken confession.

his hands gripped his arms tightly, trying not to let you see how much your words were shaking him up.

“if you love me so much, then why do you constantly challenge and compete with me?”

you shrugged your shoulders at his question, opening your eyes and looking back over at him.

“it’s the only was i can get your attention, i guess.”

you and luke had always competed with each other- it was no wonder the competitiveness evolved into a rivalry. you just wanted his attention, and he wanted yours. you both wanted to so desperately be seen by the other, and neither of you would admit it.

a deep sigh left his lips as he thought, closing his eyes to try and make sense of things.

“well, you’ve got my attention now,” he murmured.

you laughed dryly at his comment.

“yeah. i do,” you sighed, your chest rising and falling with each slow breath you took.

‘he doesn’t love you, idiot! why’d you have to say that? now he’s not gonna give you any attention, because it’s gonna be awkward!’

“anyways,” you mumbled, looking back up at the sky. he pursed his lips as he watched you, furrowing his brows at the sight of his rival all defeated and wistful.

“why won’t you look at me?” luke’s voice was soft, pleading; begging you to see him.

you sighed, continuing to stare up at the sky defiantly.

“i already know what you look like. spent so long staring at your face, i don’t need to look at you,” you explained breathily, letting your head sink further back against the grass.

“… and i don’t think i want to see how you look right now. i’d like to imagine you all happy instead.”

his eyes widened and his jaw unclenched at her words. you were content with staring at the stars, not even acknowledging what he said.

“please, look at me. look at me when you speak to me.”

his words were firm, but emphatic enough to cause you to give in.

you rolled your eyes, letting out a quiet sigh before turning to face him.

“i’m looking.”

luke stared into your eyes, his body frozen as he watched your breath rise and fall. it seemed like he had no clue what to say.

you sighed, your eyes gazing over at his features.

seconds passed that felt like hours, your thoughts racing as you lost yourself in his pretty eyes.

‘you’ve fucked it. it’s ruined. it’s done!’

‘gods, i’m never drinking again. sorry dad.’

you suddenly closed your eyes, letting your hands cover your face as you turned on your side- bringing your legs up to your chest as you let your hair protect yourself from everything that was going on.

you suddenly let out a quiet sniffle, muffled by the way you were hiding yourself in your limbs.

luke’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion at the sight, his thoughts blanking as he heard you… crying?

he had never seen you cry before, unless you were acting with the apollo kids, or trying to garner sympathy, or foolishly trying to make your dad feel bad for yelling at you for sneaking out.

your palms became a little wet as you cried softly, trying your best to fight back against your emotions.

“sorry, i don’t know why i’m crying,” you whispered.

“i don’t know what i expected either.”

you quickly wiped away your tears, looking back up at him. “pretend i didn’t say anything,” you said quietly, your voice hoarse.

you heard luke sit up and scoot over to you. suddenly, you felt him gently wipe his fingers under your eyes.

“your eyes are a little red,” he murmured, letting his fingers trail down your cheeks.

you groaned in response, your cheeks turning red as he wiped away your tears.

“obviously,” you sighed, choking back more tears as you closed your eyes again.

your nose was red and damp, your eyes bloodshot. your breaths were short and sharp as you continued fighting your feelings. but it was a loosing battle.

luke let his fingers trail your jaw, then your neck. this only caused your to cry harder, the feeling of his fingers against your skin only reminding you of what you do desperately want but can’t have.

“luke…” you whimpered, opening your eyes to look back up at him.

“shh…calm down,” he said softly, his fingers beginning to trail her lips. luke’s breathing became erratic as he leaned in, closing his eyes and grazing his lips against yours.

he suddenly pressed his lips forcefully against yours, his arms wrapped around you as he held you close against his chest. your back lifted off the grass, willingly leaning your chest against his as you kissed him back.

you could hear the sound of his breath picking up as he deepened the kiss.

you brought your hand up to cradle the back of his neck, holding a handful of his hair between your fingers.

your fingers twisted into your hair, his mouth becoming more demanding with love and need and longing, and everything else he’d felt towards you.

your other hand reached up to caress his scar, running your thumb over the permanent imperfection.

but it wasn’t imperfect; it was beautiful.

your breathing slowed down as your tears became silent, your body melting into his as the kiss continued.

he slowly dragged his lips away from yours, kissing the side of your neck as he held his hands against your back to keep your torso upright.

you sniffled as he kissed your neck, your arm wrapping around him as you held him close.

he finally pulled away, taking a deep breath and looking at your flushed features. you were still holding onto him tightly, your arm wrapped around his shoulders.

your eyes were still closed as a tear slid down your cheeks. luke wiped it away gently, causing you to slowly open your eyes again.

“luke,” you whispered, your eyes silently pleading with him as your pupils dilated.

“please, luke. i need to hear you say it.”

luke paused, letting the request linger in the air for a bit. his breath hitched as he looked into your red and wet eyes, his thumb gently tracing your cheek.

"say what?" he whispered, their eyes locked as they sat there in the grass. he was shaking, and you could tell.

“tell me you love me too. even if it’s a lie,” you whispered, gently running your hand through his hair as you looked into his eyes.

his lips touched yours again, quickly kissing you before slowly pulling away.

“I need you. I will always need you,” luke said- but it wasn’t what you wanted to hear.

your breath hitched, your eyes threatening to cause a flood.

“… but do you *love* me?” you asked, your lips slightly parted as you searched for any sign of affection or love within his deep brown eyes.

his breath came out of his lungs harshly as his eyes widened. he stayed silent for a moment as he looked at you.

“yes,” he whispered. “i do.”

“say it,” you demanded, sniffling as you rested your forehead against his.

“say it. say it, please,” you begged him, your hands clinging to his shirt in a desperate attempt to convince him to love you back. “say that you love me- all of it.”

he smiled softly before leaning in towards you, the action of you pulling on hos shirt revealing his collarbones.

“i love you. i love you, i love you, i love you.”

luke’s hands gently gripped your waist as he spoke, his eyes locked with yours.

you turned red, your breathy shaky as you pulled him in for an urgent kiss. you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him even closer than before.

‘jesus christ, if my dad saw me now…’

actually, he might be proud. dionysus is the god of wine, insanity and fertility first and foremost. and hes my dad more than he is the camp director.

luke kissed you back, pressing his body against yours and letting his hands slide to grasp onto your hips.

you ran your hand through his hair, your fingers racing circles into his neck as you kissed him frantically.

your lips were probably swollen at this point, and you didn’t mind paying the consequences for having luke be so close to you.

luke’s hands glided up your body, his fingers grazing over your skin. his hand went to hold your back, pulling you even tighter against him.

he kissed you harder, more intensely, his mouth devouring yours.

you could hear his breath hitch with every kiss.

you moaned softly into the mouth, your limbs tangling as you searched for more. more of the feeling of his body against yours, more of the warmth of his hands against your skin. more, more, more.

you continued kissing him for what felt like hours, before slowly pulling away- now a panting mess with red cheeks and swollen lips. you stared into his eyes, your lips slightly parted in shock.

and he did that to you. he stared down at your lips, almost as if he felt proud of what he had done.

your swollen and red lips were like a trophy. you had won- he loves you.

luke licked his lips, savouring the taste of you before speaking. “gods, your lips are red,” he said, kissing your cheeks.

you laughed nervously, overly flustered by how softly he was kissing your cheeks.

“shut up, so are yours,” you retorted, wiping your mouth- but the red was imprinted upon your lips and it most definitely was not coming off anytime soon.

luke couldn’t help but find himself laughing at your mannerisms. the way you nervously wiped your lips as if the redness would come off with a single swipe of your fingers.

you sat in silence for a moment, simply staring into his eyes with a bashful smile. you had him. he had you.

and he was so bright.

even when sitting under the dark night sky, the sun was shining- burning your skin. and you were basking in it.

you’d let yourself get their degree burns if it meant you got to feel the sun against your skin.

please please please please THEYRE SOOOO CLOSE THEYRE SOOOOO CLOSE IM GONNA CRY

⋆· ༘* you belong with me !

pairing ★ jock!luke castellan x drum major!reader

synopsis ★ the one where you come back from winter break and start operation cupid. meanwhile, charles and silena meddle in your affairs on their own mission. (3.9k)

content ★ no pronouns used for reader, lowk photography/carnival date weewoo, bad matchmaking shenanigans, will they wont they, best viewed mobile obv

notes ★ ngl this went in a slightly skewed direction than what i put in the synop, subtext reading may be needed to figure out what charles and silena r doing to meddle.

series masterlist

operation: cupid aka super evil plan >:)

NO ↓ ← yes ← ABSOLUTELY NOT

— blind date

— CARNIVAL @ ANTHOS FEST ^^ ok thats good

— get hmart napa 4 mom NOT A GROCERY LIST!!!

— fake dating? OPINION REJECTED

— SAYING TO GO SMWHERE AND THEN DITCHING THEM TOGETHER ^^ is this a romcom or smth??

You shift your shoulder to let your phone press closer to your ear, cringing at the uncomfortable warmth from the screen.

“So the festival’s a go,” you say, loud enough to be heard over the dishes. “All VAPA will be there early for the parade. Make sure you get to Hesperides Park at noon and meet at the big apple tree.”

“There are, like, fifteen apple trees in the park,” Luke says, voice bouncing around the tinny speakers of your phone. “Besides, the festival’s in February. We have weeks.”

“We’ve started practicing already,” you tell him, adjusting your shoulder again. “There’s a run through on the track next Tuesday, if you need some shots for yearbook.”

Luke hums and you hear him shift around over the phone, the noise captured between satellites. “Okay, I’ll be there. What are you doing right now?”

A plate clinks into the prongs of the drying rack, water running rivulets down your arm. You cringe when the soapy streams reach and soak into the edges of your rolled-up sleeves.

“Finishing the dishes,” you tell him after a moment.

You think Luke bites back a grunt, moving around again. There’s background noise with him, soft and faint. You think you can hear music, too.

“I’m getting napa cabbages for my mom. She’s been practicing kimchi,” he tells you, and then you hear the whine of a grocery fridge. “Do you like Asian soft drinks, by the way? Got a coupon.”

You consider it, turning off the sink and drying your hands. They feel all crunchy now, skin tight over your bones with the winter’s absence of moisture. You really need to remember to put on some lotion.

“Nothing too sweet, maybe fruity. I’ll pay you back if you buy Pocky.” You exit the kitchen, fuzzy slippers padding on the floorboards. You hear a staticky thud, and the whirring from the fridge stops.

Luke sighs, the sound nestled pleasantly in your eardrums. You flop onto your bed, listening to the not-silence. He talks faintly, words far-off and lost in the background, whirs and beeps and plastic crinkling.

He speaks finally, “I didn’t know how much you wanted…so. You owe me ten.”

You scoff, sardonic and not at all serious. “Fuck you, man.”

His world on the other side goes quiet for a heartbeat.

“Well,” he says, breaking the pause, “I’ll see you on Monday with the goods.”

“You sound like a dealer.”

“Yea, a dealer in love.” He sneers out the last word, a smile sewn into his voice.

You groan and hover your thumb over the hang-up button. “Cringe, go back to watching your Grand Prix or whatever.”

“Hey, pre-season testing hasn’t even started.”

“Whatever,” you grumble, sliding a palm down your face. “I’m hanging up.”

Not even five seconds after you press the red button, he calls you again. You swipe to accept begrudgingly, and then Luke’s voice cracks back into existence.

“You forgot to say goodbye. That’s bad manners, you know.”

“Good-fucking-bye, Castellan.”

He laughs, the sound of it swirling in your stomach strangely. “Thank you, major. See you Monday.”

You toss your phone to the foot of your bed when the line cuts and tangle your legs in the blankets, mortified at the heat curling around your neck.

♫ TV Girl ・Taking What’s Not Yours

[ IMAGE: a photo of you in your band uniform, baton in hand and a silver whistle looped around your neck. The jacket is orange with a pale yellow lining, gold buttons glimmering, and you wear a pair of black, straight-legged slacks. Your face is half eclipsed by the shadow of your cap. The photo may have been taken with an old digital camera, giving it a washed-out, nostalgic look. ]

Liked by luvvbeaus and 345 others

lukestellans sweepstakes at anthos fest, congrats @.majmajmaj

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majmajmaj dont tag theyre gna find me

↳ travstole fratrnisng w the enemy ICKK 🫵🤮 ↳ anniebethc That’s not the right spelling for ‘fraternizing’. You should enable auto-correct on your device settings.

The weather under the fruit trees is better than out in the street. You’ve shed your itchy uniform jacket, opting to just wear the loose, white under-tee to cope with the temperature. At least the metal of your camera keeps your hands cool, and the dry breeze that filters through the verdant boughs sends soothing, dappled shadows stretching across the grass.

It’s hot, and unbearably so. Marching down Zeus City Boulevard from the high school to city hall was hell; it’s only late winter, almost early spring, and the temperature is already in the high seventies. You can only dread the heat come summertime.

“If you told me it was this tree,” and Luke’s coming around the trunk, camera strap strung over his torso and glasses hanging from his shirt collar, “I could’ve gotten here sooner.”

Castellan pats the bark, disregarding the sign that reads DO NOT TOUCH welded to the small fence that encircles the roots. You try not to look at his arm, lean and veined, the pale stretch of skin under his bicep growing larger as the sleeve of his airy polo rides up.

You clear your throat, fiddling with the settings of your own camera. Around you, children shriek and dash in the alleys between the carnival game stalls.

“This is the apple tree, everyone knows that.”

“I told you,” Castellan says, rolling his eyes, “that there are a ton of them here.”

You snap a quick shot of some teens sharing a big, pink cloud of cotton candy. They’re smiling wide, wrinkles of joy arrowing around their mouths. It would have been a nice picture if not for the overexposure—you kiss your teeth and delete it.

“Sorry, was I supposed to say the biggest apple tree planted by Mayor Hera’s great-grandmother, coincidentally also named Hera, in the park next to city hall?”

He shrugs, making a face of agreement. “It would’ve helped. You also could’ve mentioned that it was the golden apple tree and not one of the red apple trees.”

You snag a fallen fruit off the grass, turning it in your hands. “Does this look lustrously golden to you?”

“Fine, the yellow apple tree.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, slipping it into your camera bag. You can already feel the imminent sweat stain forming under where the thick strap rests on your shoulder, and hope that Castellan won’t take notice

“You aren’t supposed to take the fallen apples, you know.”

You look at him, brows raised innocuously. “Who took what?”

Before he can chide you again, Charles steps up to your side, wearing the same black slacks and white under-tee. Castellan doesn’t seem fazed, unfolding the arms of his thin-framed glasses and pushing them up his nose.

Your bandmate stiffens when Silena skips over, still in pep uniform, her manicured fingers wrapping around Castellan’s shoulder. It’s the first time you've looked at Silena closely, all shiny black hair and round face—she’s more cherubic now that she’s right there in front of you, full-bodied and not as slight as you’d previously thought she was.

She waves at you, cute nails glimmering pale pink in the dappled shade.

“Hi,” she’s smiling, a little giddy, honeyed kick to her voice, “I’m Silena. Luke told me a lot about you.”

( Now you kind of get why Charles and half the guys and girls at school have a crush on her. )

You try to play it cool. “Really? I didn’t know he talked about me.”

She nods, and her dark hair sways mesmerizing with the movement. Castellan looks away, embarrassment creeping up his neck. You elbow Charles in the ribs when he stays silent for too long.

He speaks, although the words are punched-out and tremoring. “I’m Charles Beckendorf.”

Silena smiles politely, lips pink and glossy, eyes a bit too wide. “I know.”

Charles is a big, tall guy. Most people who don’t know better would think he did football and go about their lives not knowing that he used to be four feet zero and played piccolo since sixth grade.

So when the cheerleader of his dreams smiles at him, you can quite literally feel his body temperature rise, the skin of your arm prickling even though he’s standing half a foot away.

“I think,” Castellan pipes up, strained, his eye twitching, “I actually have to go take some pictures for yearbook.”

He’s really fucking bad at this matchmaking shit.

“Yea—” and your voice comes out in a near squeak too “—uh, Charles, you can go with Silena. I need stuff for Heralds too.”

Okay, you’re just as bad as Castellan.

Charles shifts, confused. “You sure? We could just all go together and hang out while you do your thing.”

You and Castellan—and Silena too?—nearly shout in protest. The cheerleader laughs it off and stiffly walks over to Charles, taking his wrist gently and tiptoeing to whisper to him. The rate at which the air around your fellow drum major heats up could be considered exponential.

Charles chuckles awkwardly and steps back, wrapping his hand around Silena’s in return. “Yea, right. We’ll meet back at sunset?”

“Sure,” Castellan says, putting up a hand, arm too stiff to wave. “See you.”

Silena skips away with Charles behind her. You breathe a sigh of relief in unison and drop down onto the grass, legs splaying over the green blades.

Castellan joins you on the ground, pinching his shirt and flapping it in an attempt to cool off.

“That was fucking painful.”

“No shit, major.”

You huff, prickles creeping up your neck. The shade barely does anything against the heat now, a stiff breeze blowing hot air through the fibers of your loose shirt. Castellan looks as worse for wear as you do, nose crinkled and hair gone wild.

A puff of air makes its way out of his lips. “So what now?”

You groan and stagger up, standing on weak legs. “We should follow them just in case.”

Castellan squints up at you, dappled shadows burnishing his face, curls bouncing leisurely in the wind. He groans and holds up his hand, jello-limbed and sloth-like. You take him by the wrist and heave until he’s standing.

“The first thing Charles does when he gets set loose in a carnival,” you tell Castellan—he’s chasing your steps doggedly, blushed from the heat, “is buy cotton candy.”

“So what do you do?” he asks, a hand shielding his eyes from the unforgiving sunlight.

“I’m gonna pay the stall operator to make an extra large one so they can share.”

“No, I mean what do you normally do at a carnival?”

You slow down momentarily, nearly tripping over yourself. “Uh…I kinda skip the festival most years. It’s too hot most of the time.”

“Oh,” he says, a little dumb with the way his mouth hangs open by a smidge. “I normally get tickets for the games first.”

“Cool,” you tell him absently, searching for the volunteer-run food stalls, “we can try that next year.”

He’s weirdly silent, the blunt of the sudden quiet unnerving you.

( You do not realize your mistake until after the festival ends. )

Percy and Annabeth are operating the cotton candy stall, perspiration beading at their hairlines and ridiculous aprons hung over their white tees. It seems that everyone in band decided to forgo the ugly-ass jacket, and for good reason.

You sneak around the back, Castellan not far off, pulling two five dollar bills from your pocket.

Hissing, “Percy, Annabeth.”

The girl turns, braids swinging in the air. They nearly hit Percy across the eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Annabeth asks in a high-pitched whisper. She does a double-take at Castellan. “What are you doing here?”

Percy looks over Annabeth’s shoulder curiously. “Is that money for me?”

“No time to explain—if Silena and Charles order two cotton candies, I need you to lie and just give them a super huge one, okay?”

A grin splits Percy’s face wide, eyes gleaming devilishly. You think that the time the Stolls spend bothering him is starting to influence his behavior.

“Is this what I think it is?” he asks, fixating on the bill, completely ignoring the customers waiting for their sweets. “Charles getting the girl of his dreams?”

You groan and hold out the money vehemently. “Just take the fucking bribe and act normal!”

The speed at which Percy snatches the two fives could be considered non-human. Yea, the Stolls are definitely rubbing off on him, but he splits the bills, gives half to Annabeth; she often says that she doesn’t care about money, but her eyes sparkle nonetheless.

Huh, interesting.

Castellan pulls you away to hide behind a thick tree trunk. You hold your camera up to your eyes, zooming in on the couple as they converse with Annabeth at the register. Her customer-service smile is strained, eyes wide, a little nervous.

You were right—Charles and Silena hand over their money separately.

Percy gives them a huge cloud of wispy pink sugar—it’s nearly thrice the size of his own head and—makes some lame excuse, probably that they ran out of cotton candy sticks because he’s literally hiding the paper cones behind his back.

Silena asks Charles something and he gives her a nod of agreement. She holds the candy between them—they’re walking shoulder to shoulder now, Charles picking off small clumps and Silena almost skipping with how peppy her steps are.

Mission one accomplished.

You tail them for some time, occasionally snapping pictures of kids playing rigged games and couples holding hands. When you hold up your camera, Castellan does too, and you stand back to back sometimes, taking in every angle of the carnival.

“Wait,” Castellan speaks, putting a hand on your shoulder and pointing the other towards your friends, “they’re walking out of the park.”

You frown. “It’s not even sunset yet.”

He hums—right next to your ear. “I think she’s taking him to that boba shop she likes. It’s close by.”

“So that’s good, right?”

“Yea.”

“So mission accomplished, I can go home?”

Castellan chuckles, sliding his hand cautiously from your shoulder to your wrist. His touch is light, barely a feather’s weight.

“Nuh-uh,” he grins, shit-eating. “We’re playing the games.”

You protest but don’t make any move to break away, “They’re rigged, dumbass. It’s a waste of money.”

“We need to pass the time somehow. Remember we’re meeting back at sunset to watch the fireworks?”

“Ah, fuck you.”

He leads you all the way to the ticket booths, fingers sending tingles burning up your arm when he secures a wristband around your wrist. Castellan tugs you along by the wristband thereafter, flitting between rubber duck and ping pong ball and dart games.

He wins some, loses some. You win none and lose a lot. It’s mainly him catching prizes, and you have to cross the street to get a bag at a nearby grocery store to hold all the cheap stuffed animals.

You pass by the boba shop, brightly lit and colorful, and Charles waves at you from inside. Silena makes an enthusiastic heart with her hands and Castellan blushes, looping his fingers under your wristband and darting away.

♫ Sonic Youth ・Sunday

[ IMAGE: Two pairs of beaten sneakers facing each other on a well-tended stretch of grass. Luke’s scuffed Air Forces are easily recognizable with a small Spiderman doodle at the toe. His middle and index fingers extend in a peace sign at the top of the frame, meeting the points of yours at the bottom in a diamond shape. ]

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majmajmaj sunday comes n sunday goes

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perciusjakcsn CHAT R U SEEING THIS 🫢

↳ naka.ethan git saw them holdin hands n walking round the fest 🤢 ↳ conmanstole sm1 ask annie if we can disown a drum major or smth

travstole sarge connor says he was joking n to pls unblock him 🙏

FROM: becky d

(18:32) so silenas kinda tired (18:32) gna walk her home

TO: becky d

(18:34) oh? 😏 (18:34) wait no ur gna miss the fireworks (19:00) BECKY ANSWER ME WHAT ABT THE FIREWORKS (19:01) fake friend bc now m stuck w castellan until fireworks 😭

FROM: becky d

(19:45) yk u dont hafta stay right… (19:45) cant even take good pics in the dark w out lookin goofy in flash

Charles had texted you halfway through sunset, the sky beginning to pinken along with broad, orange brushstrokes of sunlight—yet you still hang around between the apple trees and the carnival stalls. It’s well into the night, temperature dropping steeply, and the once stiff breeze has you suppressing a shudder.

Castellan must be feeling the change too, because he stands so impossibly close that each time the space between you two decreases by some increment, sparks begin to unspools from your nerves and smart along your skin.

“Fireworks in a few,” remarks Castellan, pocketing his phone. “D’you know Phaestus does them?”

You pick absently at the skin beside your nail. “Like the woodworking teacher?”

“Yea.”

“Cool.” It’s stilted, stiff and brittle. Now that you know for sure that Charles has left you for the wolves, you don’t see much reason in staying longer. The only problem is getting out without feeling guilty for ditching Castellan—not that you’d feel bad for him. “I dunno if I can stay, though.”

The boy furrows his brow, a little line forming on his forehead. “Why not? It’s barely eight.”

How do you tell Castellan that you want to be far, far away from him? That at the same time, you want to press yourself into and through his skin and twine around his bones?

“Uh…I need to finish my apps.”

“College apps got submitted like, a month ago.”

Fuck, shit, fuck again. You desperately need to take a masterclass in lying your way out of situations. Castellan slides his warm fingers under your flimsy wristband, tugs on it lightly.

It barely makes a mark in your skin despite the fact that he’s been pulling on it for practically half the day. The cheap material scrapes against your wrist when he tugs it again, something skating too quick to place up your spine.

He smiles, small with undisguised encouragement. “Let’s try the Ferris wheel.”

“No way.”

Castellan laughs and wraps his fingers gently around your wrist, thumb pressed to your pulse point. “Look, we haven’t gone on any rides, and honestly, the Ferris wheel’s a lot better than that.”

He tilts his head towards the Kamikaze ride: two hammer-shaped structures swinging around in 360 degree arcs like a pendulum. You can hear someone wailing faintly, cries fading in and out in time with each rotation. You aren’t too sure, but it sounds vaguely like that one sophomore trombone kid…Grover Underwood?

( At least, that’s what you think his name is. It’s hard to keep track of who’s who when the Stolls’ stupid and distracting antics preoccupy a majority of your attention during practice. )

You rub the strap of your camera between your thumb and index finger, weighing your options.

“Fine.”

Castellan cheers, pumping his fist and pulling you towards the empty line. People begin to race to the queue as the time for fireworks begins to near, but you and Castellan beat them all to it.

He slides onto the bench and you take the one opposite of him, placing the bag of cheap stuffed animals next to you. You take one—a squishy black cat—and squeeze it, watching the plush expand between your fingers.

Castellan’s got an angry-looking dog in his lap, playing with its soft polyester ears. You see him backlit by artificial light, all carnival colors and little house windows. From a distance, a rocket gets set off, a faint boom echoing sputters of red.

Without thinking, you raise your camera up and snap a picture of the firework’s colors splattering over his frame. A snap of the shutter and then you find he’s looking right at you, eyes gleaming, face softened by the night.

You’re then distracted by a flurry of pops, a bright, phosphorescent shower sparkling on the horizon. Your head feels hazy, cloudy, too stuffed with sugar like a half-developed photograph of what’s happened today.

A shutter, a snap. Castellan holding his camera up to his eyes. You both lean together, foreheads magnetic, pulling up the pictures you just took. The fireworks continue to sound off, faint and forgotten.

In his photo of you: your shoulders are relaxed, lips in a shallow part. The black cat plush is squished under your forearm, camera half-held by your loose fingers and all-hanging from the strap looped over your neck. Everything’s backlit blue and green and white like an aquarium, sea foam threaded in the phosphorescent fireworks.

In your photo of him: he’s painted a pale red, carnival lights splashing anywhere else they can. You can’t even tell what the color of his shirt really is like this. Castellan’s hair has the image of it being freshly mussed, like he’s been running his hands through it. The angry dog lays lopsided in his grip, expression warped under his fingers.

You’re about to open your dry, dry mouth when the wheel comes to a stop and a worker yanks open the door roughly. You hurry out with Castellan not far behind.

“I gotta go,” you say, jutting your thumb towards the end of the street. You’re really telling the truth this time; it’s nearly nine and you have a stats test on Monday. Or, tomorrow. You can’t really think straight when Castellan’s right next to you.

He touches your shoulder, fingers careful. “Send me that picture, ‘kay? See you tomorrow in math.”

Castellan’s hand peels away when he begins to step backward slowly, waiting for you to say something before he leaves. You wet your lips quickly, molars teething at the inside of your cheek.

“Yea, I’ll see you. Good luck on the test.”

His lips quirk, smile lines arrowing in his skin. He waves, and you wave back. Like two ships passing in the night.

[ IMAGE: a blurry, unprofessional, iPhone camera photo angled towards the sky and extra-zoomed in on two unidentifiable teens sitting on opposite sides of a Ferris wheel car. Their outlines are lit in neon carnival lights and soft fireworks, heads bent together. ]

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perciusjakcsn why r the rides diabolical af 😭

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tankadreww waittt whos in the ferris 😮

groovewood FUCK kamikaze all my homies HATE kamikaze i almost saw god three times

↳ anniebethc Can confirm, the Kamikaze was terrible.

majmajmaj werent the fireworks past ur bedtime percival,,,

↳ perciusjakcsn NO AND FYI ITS PERSEUS JUST LIKE HOW UR MAJOR NOT SERGEANT ↳ majmajmaj THEN WHY DONT U CALL ME MAJOR U FUCKING DUMBASS

p.s. ★ nearly finished w this, we have two more chapters left!! might take a small break next week until finals season and journalism summer work is done obliterating me

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

luke tags (closed); @melllinaa @amortencjja @arsonnaire @m00ng4z3r @saltair-and-palemoonlight @witch-lemon @ahh-chickens @spiderbeam @jennapancake @traumatrios @omg--bluexx @dangelnleif @apolloscastellan @hiraethavis @lukecastellandefender @bookshelfminstrel @cherr-y-eji @solangelotus @liviessun @thaliagracesgf @ddarling-ddearest-ddead

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

FUCK THIS IS SO GOOODDDD

☆ I WANNA BE YOUR MAN

“his band is playing tonight, at seven,” annabeth reminds you, with the knowing air of someone far wiser, and far older, “you should go.” (1.7k)

contains: loser older brother luke castellan x fem! reader. mortal au. pt 2 of parent trap but can be read standalone ish. guest appearances! rock / metal music references.

kashaf’s note: i think i can call myself a melomaniac now

LUKE CASTELLAN HAS always occupied that in-between space, the no-man’s-land between something and nothing — his indecipherable gaze as his cold, black, and blued knuckles grazed your cheek when he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear swims around your mind endlessly. despite how each thought, each expression, each breath is as familiar to you as your own, you have never quite known where you stand with him, regardless of how quickly he seemed to inhabit a piece of your soul.

the familiar weight of the mixtape that luke made you feels unusually burdensome in your hands, mirroring the heft of the songs on it that you have painstakingly committed to memory, each sleepless night’s offerings of tossing and turning becoming a reoccurring ritual. 

you had popped the tape in your walkman immediately after luke had handed it to you, incognizant of the way his eyes softened as you concentrated on the music, trying to identify the first song. 

“this is that band you like — l.a. guns, right?”

“you’re a regular sherlock,” luke had said, smiling and sarcastic, twisting his silver rings.

“shut up, no i know this song,” you say, tilting your head and snapping your fingers. “its — um — i wanna be yours? nono, don’t make that face at me, asshole, hold on… i wanna be your man?”

hues of pink crept up his cheeks, and you basked in the warmth of his answering crooked grin, the feeling wrapping around you like the caress of a summer night. 

you uselessly stirred the spoon in your now stone-cold cup of chai, leaning across the kitchen table with your head propped up in your other hand. the phone taunts you from its corner on the counter, sitting just by the clear jar of blue cookies, its black hue a beacon among the sea of greens (the cabinets, the tiles — you liked to tell sally that she should try her hand at interior design one of these days) — as of late, the jacksons’ kitchen has become somewhat of a refuge for you. 

you set a steaming china cup down in front of him, listening to the sounds of percy, annabeth, and grover in the living room, pulling out the chair in front of him with a slight creak on the slightly worn wooden floors, and watching him as he taps his fingers along to bob marley’s soft crooning, “little darlin’, stir it up”, lost in his own world.  

“luke,” you say, breaking him out of his revelry.

luke sits up straight, meeting your amused gaze, “yeah?” he asks, reaching for his chai, and mumbling a quiet thanks as he sips it.

“you look kinda stupid when you think,” you say, watching him blink before taking the bait, and hiding your smile of satisfaction behind your cup.

“y’know, this is why you have a black hole for a heart,” he says, grinning crookedly, filling you with an indescribable longing to reach out and trace his grin. 

“what?” you laugh, “what does that even mean?”

“just that you’re mean,” luke says, and the afternoon sun chooses that specific moment to encompass him in its glow, like a kiss from apollo. “and that you’re emo.”

“you literally say this every time, oh my god, i’m not mean or emo.”

“because i’m literally right?”

“you like him,” annabeth says, sympathetically, standing in the doorway, arms folded across her chest, her braids resting across her shoulders, glancing from your untouched cup to your face, an expression of pity gracing her features. her presence caught you so off guard that you don’t even question where percy ran off to, who was usually attached to annabeth like a conjoined twin. 

“i know,” you say, shivering slightly, the revelation feeling strangely empty, although you suppose the same part of your soul that recognized him had always known, a small inkling reappearing with every argument, and every nudge. 

“he likes you,” annabeth adds matter-of-factly, interrupting your stream of consciousness. 

“i know,” you repeat, picking at the lint on your sweater, and while this revelation is supposed to be shocking, it is also hollow, as you suppose your soul also knew this with every hushed conversation in the dead of night, and the slips of silence that only spoke volumes around him.

“his band is playing tonight, at seven,” annabeth reminds you, with the knowing air of someone far wiser, and far older, “you should go.” she turned and stalked back toward the living room.

you sat still for a minute or so, before sighing and putting luke’s mixtape (even in your misery, he is somehow always there) in your walkman, putting your headphones on as axl rose trilled, ‘i said, baby you been lookin' real good’ in his voice that took a while to get used to — something luke gave you a heads up on.

you sighed, conceding to annabeth’s attempts to rewrite whatever fate had pushed the two of you apart, from the hours-long phone calls that dwindled into short, clipped conversations, you can’t necessarily blame annabeth for trying to fashion a phoenix from the ashes of your friendship. 

you stood up, grabbed your jacket off the back of the chair you were sitting upon, and walked into the living room, pausing for a few minutes to watch the scooby doo episode on the screen along with percy, grover, and annabeth, who were currently sprawled across the softly carpeted floor, arguing over monopoly.

“you’re literally cheating,” percy was saying.

“i’m the banker, i’m supposed to be innocent,” annabeth argued back.

“percy, i saw you steal a couple dollars behind annabeth’s back,” grover added, rolling the dice.

“guys,” you said, interrupting their three-way argument, “put on your jackets and shoes, we’re going to the fair in five minutes.”

you ignored the way the troublesome trio exchanged glances, walking through the hallway covered in framed photos of percy and sally, going to wait by the door for them.

“so,” percy says, all-too-innocently, “why the sudden change of plans?” once the four of you are a couple of blocks away from his apartment.

“no reason, just wanted to see what was so hot about the fair,” you say, digging your hands in the pockets of your jacket. once more, you ignore the glances the trio exchange. 

“so it doesn’t have anything to do with a certain curly-haired individual that we’re currently seeing less and less of?”

you keep walking, trying to feign ignorance, although the question was so pointed even you were concerned with percy’s audacity, “what’re you talking about?”

“oh, nothing,” percy smiles. “just the way —”

“— the two of you —”

“— were inseparable —”

“— for a disgustingly long time —”

“— and now you’re not —”

“— but we’re going to the fair because —”

“— his band is playing —”

“— and you’re going to try and fix —”

“— your troubles in paradise.”

you blinked slowly, as the three of them did jazz hands, matching shit-eating grins on all of their faces, “how long did it take for you guys to rehearse that?”

“a week, give or take,” grover says, and annabeth shoots him a glare.

“not the point, the point is, we support you.”

“gee, thanks, all i really needed was the support of three twelve-year-olds.”

“three twelve-year-olds that know you’re stupidly in love with luke castellan,” percy points out.

“okay, y’know what…” you trail off, frowning.

annabeth nudged percy, “not the point here, again.”

“fine, fine, fine,” you huff, as the four of you approach the brightly illuminated fair, looking for the ticket-selling booth, “i’ll buy you guys tickets so you can go hang out on the rides and i’ll go to the concert.”

the three of them nodded happily, making a beeline for the cotton candy stand a few feet away. you shook your head before pushing through the bustling crowd to look for the concert stage. when you finally do find it, after three excuse me’s and four sorry’s, the concert is already in full swing, with what looks like a mini moshpit already forming somewhere near the center.

once you’ve pushed your way to the absolute front, the darkening night sky serving as a backdrop, the harsh lights illuminate all five individuals on the stage, with a gorgeous girl with shaggily-cut hair and a raspy voice singing as lead (thalia? you think you remember luke telling you on the phone late at night once). however, your gaze almost immediately fixed on luke, who was playing a riff on his electric guitar, looking as hot as ever, his crooked grin on full display.

the band is covering l.a. guns’ ‘i wanna be your man’ at the moment, and you’re suddenly very grateful to annabeth for her unsubtle nudges, because you would’ve missed out on this sight of luke castellan, the view of his muscled arms bulging out of his band tee is permanently seared into your memory.

you’re almost sad when the show is over though, finally realizing why luke liked concerts so much, from the crowd surfing to the drumstick tricks during solos (beckendorf, you think the drummer’s name was — luke had mentioned him before) to the lead’s insane vocals, to the girl with long curly hair that stood next to you for most of the concert (probably the band’s most enthusiastic fan), you savored every minute of it. however, you’re glad for the chance to corner luke afterwards, climbing onto the stage as the crowd begins to disperse in waves, and realizing the curly-haired girl was already among the band members packing up their instruments, helping the curly-haired bassist pack his things. 

luke barely looks up at your sudden arrival. “what’re you doing here?” he asks, packing away his guitar.

“i’m here to see you,” you say, trying to drive the hint home.

“i told you that you didn’t have to come see the band if you were busy,” luke says, uncomprehendingly, making eye-contact with you. 

“i like you,” you say insistently.

“c’mon, let’s not kid ourselves right now, you said we’re friends so you don’t have to try to make me feel better,” luke says, shrugging and looking away from your face, rubbing the back of his neck.

“i listen to your dumb mixtape every night, luke castellan. does a person who’s not into you do that?”

there is something so raw about the way he looks right now, with his expression stilling as his cheeks are colored in swathes of red. 

smiling at his dumbstruck expression, you surged forward to kiss him, ignoring all the wolf whistles and “get some, castellan” enveloping the two of you, tangling your fingers into his hair, his hands coming to rest upon your hips.

© sayoneee on tumblr. do not repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

*chanting* BAND AU BAND AU!!