#could be before or after the last Olympian

[slu7formen]

Girl first of all I want to say that I'm OBSESSED with your writing I love it.

Second of all I would like to make a request about Luke so hear me out.

Luke and reader were in a relationship before he betrayed camp and they were head over heals for each other and then he stole the bolt and when Percy discovers he's the thief the reader is there feeling betrayed and specially heartbroken even though Luke ask her to go with him but she doesn't accept it because she's so loyal to camp and her friends.

Time passed and even if she wants to hate Luke she loves him more than anything. And Luke loves her too so instead of asking Annabeth to escape with him he asks reader and she accepts.

I want to see everything in here fluff, angst, everything you think about.

I hope you like this request and make it real for me because I've been having this idea for over a week.

Okay but I feel so bad ‘cause I totally forgot I had this story FULLY WRITTEN and READY to be published (‘cause I LOVED it), I’m so sorry angel, made you wait a lot more than just a week 🥺, but thanks for reading my stories <3

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: luke´s a traitor, betrayal, use of yn, swearing, kinda angst (?, KISSING, lil book spoiler

₊˚⊹♡

The crackle and pop of the bonfire filled the air, a comforting contrast to the vibrant bursts of color exploding overhead. The annual fireworks display was in full swing, casting shadows on the faces of your friends huddled around the warm flames. It was a picture of peace, a moment of respite amidst the constant threat of monsters demigod drama.

You stole a glance at the empty space beside you. Luke, your boyfriend, had told you he'd just be back in a minute. A few minutes had turned into an eternity, but you chalked it up to his usual impulsiveness. He'd be back any minute, with his signature smile and an arm wrapped around you.

You knew it.

From the moment you met, you and Luke had been inseparable. You were his confidante, his anchor in the chaos of being a demigod and his messy life. He was your rock, always there to make you laugh, to understand the weight of your heritage in a way no one else could.

The warmth of the fire danced on your skin, but a shiver snaked down your spine. Something felt off. The chatter of your friends seemed muted, replaced by a dull ache in your chest. You couldn’t deny the way you noticed how Luke has been acting lately. So weird and distant towards you the last couple days. You loved him, fiercely and unconditionally. You'd been there for him through thick and thin, especially after his quest left a jagged scar across his cheek and a hollowness in his eyes.

But then he suddenly just, snapped.

A memory surfaced in you , sharp and unwelcome. It had been months ago, a conversation in the darkness of his cabin in a particular cold night. Luke, his eyes filled with a desperate fervor, had confessed his anger towards the gods, his belief that they were cruel and neglectful parents. He'd spoken of tricking the Olympians, joining forces with the Titans to fight for a better life for all demigods.

The anger in his voice, the glint of rebellion in his eyes, had scared you. The scar on his face, a reminder of his failed quest, seemed to burn brighter that night.

You understood his anger. The gods were far from perfect, their neglect and cruelty evident in countless demigod lives. He'd begged you to join him, his voice filled with a desperate hope. But you'd refused, your loyalty to Camp Half-Blood and your friends unwavering. You had spent hours talking him through it as you held his hand, reminding him of all the good the gods had done, no matter how flawed they might be. He'd looked lost at the time, seeking comfort in your touch. You'd thought you'd reached him, extinguished that spark of rebellion.

You really believed that conversation was long forgotten. But there was a reason why you remembered it.

Some movement at the edge of the woods caught your eye. But it wasn't the boy you were expecting. Percy, his face pale and etched with worry, practically stumbled into the fireplace, his chest heaving and his grip tight on Riptide.

A pang of concern shot through you. "Percy?" you called out, concern lacing your voice. You pushed yourself off the ground, walking towards him. "What happened? Where's Luke?"

Percy hesitated, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions. Shit, should he tell you? His silence was a hammer blow to your gut. You knew, with a chilling certainty, that something was terribly wrong.

"What?" you choked out, the question barely a whisper, expecting some kind of answer from the blonde boy, but nothing came from his trembling lips. The air felt dense, with a truth you desperately wanted to deny. You saw Luke getting into the woods with Percy, you saw it. And now, he was nowhere to be seen.

Then, it clicked. A cold, horrifying truth began to dawn on you.

He lied.

Without a word, you pushed Percy aside and started running, towards the woods. Your heart hammered against your ribs, like a trapped bird desperate to escape. You plunged into the darkness of the forest, the path you'd walked countless times with Luke now leading you into the unknown.

"Luke!" you screamed, your voice raw with anger and despair. You wove through the trees, the undergrowth tearing at your camp shirt, but you didn't care. You had to find him, to confront him, to understand why he'd chosen this path, if he chose it, why he'd lied to you.

But with each passing minute, hope crashed over you. The forest grew denser, the silence broken only by the rustle of leaves and the frantic beat of your own heart. There was no sign of Luke, no echo of his footsteps, no smell, no sense of his presence, only the chilling truth hanging heavy in the air.

He was gone.

He had left.

You sank to your knees, the weight of betrayal crushing you as the first tears you ever cried for Luke Castellan, started to fall. The man you loved, the person you'd trusted with your life, had chosen darkness over everything you held dear. He had chosen Kronos over you.

Grief, a cold and relentless serpent, coiled around your heart. And that feeling never seemed to leave.

The year that followed was a blur of sadness and a desperate attempt at normalcy. The silence from Luke was deafening. Not a single Iris-message, not a single sign of the one who once, was your boyfriend.

You knew you wouldn´t be able to return to Camp, at least not for now. Every corner held a ghost of Luke's smile, every sword clang a reminder of his battles and his betrayal. Your friends, the true ones, bless their hearts, tried everything to cheer you up from a distance, but their efforts felt like trying to pick up the pieces of a broken glass in the sea.

You opted to stay home that summer. But even there, away from the prying eyes and hushed whispers, escape from Luke's betrayal seemed impossible. Messages and news found you no matter where you hid. News of Luke leading a rogue army aboard a stolen cruise ship, rumors of him serving as Kronos's right hand while the Titan slumbered – it all reached your ears.

The nights were the worst. The darkness mirrored the hollowness within you. Tears would stain your pillow as you relived the events leading up to his betrayal. You once seemed to dream about seeing him again, and now you only screamed when you saw his face in your nightmares.

The memory of his touch, the warmth of his smile, the nights you spent loving each other with the sheets tangling in your legs, all felt like cruel illusions now. Yet, a part of you, a stubborn, illogical part, still clung to the love you once shared.

And Gods, did you try to keep yourself as busy as possible. You threw yourself into your studies and little courses here and there, seeking solace in facts and logic. You even began working, a boring but well payed summer job. Yet, the pain lingered, a dull ache that refused to subside.

The more you tried to banish these visions, the more vivid they became. You missed him like a starving man craved a feast, a yearning that gnawed at your insides and threatened to consume you. Frustration gnawed at you. How could you still love someone who'd betrayed you so utterly? How could your heart still ache for a man who chose war over you? The questions echoed endlessly within you, a relentless chorus fueling your self-conscious.

How could you be so weak?

These consuming questions were your companions for a whole year. But as the second summer after Luke's betrayal rolled around, a shift occurred within you. The raw, agonizing pain began to dull, replaced by a quiet resolve.

Finally, you decided it was time to take back control again. Camp Half-Blood called, a familiar haven among the storm. You returned a changed person. The vibrant smile that once adorned your face was a ghost, replaced by a guarded expression that spoke about the pain you harbored in silence. The camp's familiar energy felt hollow, a constant reminder of the happiness you'd lost.

Training became your sole solace. You'd disappear into the arena for hours, your celestial bronze sword a blur as you cleaved through training dummies, each swing fueled by a potent cocktail of grief and anger.

Exhaustion became your closest companion too. You pushed yourself to the limits of your endurance, hoping to find oblivion at the bottom of an empty fuel tank. But sleep, when it finally came, offered no escape. You'd dream of him, leading his army of rogue demigods, his eyes filled with a fanatical zeal that chilled you to the bone. And in those dreams, you'd see yourself, standing beside him, not out of loyalty to his cause, but out of a desperate yearning for the boy you once loved, still love.

In the quiet moments, when your friends weren't around, the dam would break. You'd collapse onto your cool and empty bed, tears streaming down your face, a raw, primal sob escaping your lips. The memory of Luke was no joy anymore, it haunted you like a specter.

You hated yourself for the traitorous flicker in your heart, the desperate, illogical yearning for him. It wasn't the war that tempted you; it was him.

You hated how much you missed him.

The scent of rain clung to the humid night air and to you like a second skin as you zipped up your duffel bag. Another summer at Camp Half-Blood loomed, promising a bittersweet mix of nostalgia and pain, but more training. The worst was yet to come, so you needed to be ready.

New York City, with its cacophony of car horns and the anonymity of millions, had become your refuge these past few months. In Manhattan, the memories of Luke seemed to hold less power for some weird reason, their edges dulling with the passage of time. You'd spent the past months in this tiny apartment, the silence deafening compared to the constant hum of life at camp.

Just then, a sharp rap on the door shattered the silence of your apartment. It was past midnight, an unusual time for visitors.

Adrenaline surged through you. Months of living fully alone had honed your senses. You'd become acutely aware of the city's underbelly – the flickering shadows that could hide monsters thanks to the ever-present mist. You'd seen them stalking the streets, stalking you, their true forms hidden to them mortals, an unsettling feeling crawling up your spine whenever their paths crossed yours. They never attacked, but their chilling presence followed you like a phantom.

Grabbing your necklace, you asked, "Yes?"

Silence. You weren't taking any chances. Pulling down at the pendant once, the necklace morphed into your celestial bronze dagger.

You took a step, two. Could it really be a monster? Could it really be some creature trying to get to you, by knocking on the door? With a shaky breath, you cracked the door open just enough to peek through the gap, hiding the dagger behind your back.

The sight that greeted you stole the air from your lungs.

Standing on your doorstep, bathed in the harsh glow of the hallway light, was Luke. His dark hair was windswept, his face etched with a gauntness that hadn't been there before, but his eyes – those were the same eyes that had haunted your dreams for months. They held a desperate plea, a flicker of the boy you once loved struggling to break through the hardened shell of the man he'd become.

“Luke?”

The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words and a tangled web of emotions. Time seemed to warp in that hallway, a single moment stretched into an eternity. Luke looked different, yes. The carefree boy you knew had been replaced by a man hardened by experience, his features etched with lines that spoke of battles fought and burdens carried. But his eyes, those brown eyes that had once held a mischievous twinkle, now held a deeper sadness that mirrored your own.

"Hi" Luke finally said, his voice raspy.

You stood speechless, the dagger still clutched tightly in your hand. Years of longing warred with the fresh wounds of betrayal. You wanted to scream at him, to unleash the torrent of hurt and anger that suddenly washed over you. But something held you back, a flicker of curiosity, maybe.

"Um, can I come in?" he continued, his posture pleading despite his attempt at nonchalance.

Jesus. Was that all he had to say? After everything, after what he did, all he could muster was a request to enter your apartment? A tide of anger threatened to drown you. Did he not understand the gravity of what he'd done? Did he not realize the pain he'd caused? But you forced your thoughts down. You weren't a child anymore, throwing tantrums wouldn't solve anything.

"Are you armed?" you asked, your voice flat, devoid of any warmth.

Luke flinched at your question, a flicker of pain crossing his features. "You think I wanna hurt you?" he countered, his tone defensive.

"Last time I saw you," you spat back, your voice laced with bitterness, "was three years ago, and I know your little monsters are keeping an eye on me. The first thing I'm supposed to think about is whether you want to hurt me or not."

He sighed, a long, weary exhale. Unzipping his jacket, he turned slowly, patting down his pockets before turning back to you. His eyes, once alive with mischief and love, were now filled with a desperate sincerity. "See? No weapons. Just me."

You studied him, a battle raging within you. One part of you wanted to slam the door, to let him know that he wasn't welcome. Yet, another part, a smaller, more vulnerable part, couldn't help but cling to the flicker of hope that flickered amongst the ashes of your love.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you stepped aside, allowing a sliver of space for him to enter. "Fine" you said, your voice devoid of warmth. "But you better have a good reason to come here"

Luke hesitated for a beat before stepping inside. He closed the door softly behind him, the sound echoing through the tense silence. He stood there awkwardly with his hands in his pockets, his eyes scanning the room, landing finally on the packed bags besides the tv.

"You're heading back to camp?" he asked.

You flipped the dagger in your hand, and the celestial bronze morphed back into the golden necklace. "What do you want?" you repeated, your voice still sharp, a shield against the emotions swirling within you.

Luke stood awkwardly in the doorway, the once carefree boy replaced by a man burdened by the weight of his choices. His leather jacket seemed to hang heavy on his broad shoulders.

"I…" he started, then stopped, seemingly unsure how to proceed. He cleared his throat, the sound scratchy and unfamiliar. "You look different" he finally managed, the words tumbling out awkwardly.

You scoffed, a humorless sound that surprised even you.

"Look, yn" he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper, "I wanna talk, okay? I know what I did was wrong. I know I hurt you."

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "You could say that again."

His fingers twitched at your bitterness, but pressed on. "I came here because..." He hesitated again, seemingly wrestling with an inner turmoil. "Because I-"

Frustration bubbled up within you. This cryptic approach, this lack of honesty, it was infuriating. "Because you what, Luke?" you demanded, your voice laced with a sharp edge. "Because you decided to grace me with your presence after leading a rebellion against the gods? Or maybe because you just wanted to see if I'm still waiting for you?"

You watched his face harden, the vulnerability replaced by a familiar defiance.

"Don't twist this" he snapped, his voice firm. "I came here because..." He took a deep breath, his eyes locking with yours. "Because I miss you, yn. I miss us."

The air crackled with a tension so thick you could almost taste it.

You took a slow step towards him, then another. He took notes of yourself as you did. The way you had grown internally was so intense that he could sense it everywhere. He might have betrayed you, but that only helped you get on your feet stronger, grow stronger. Become the warrior he always knew you were.

Then, in a move as instinctive as it was fierce, your hand lashed out. The slap connected with a stinging crack, the sound echoing through the apartment like a thunderclap. Luke's head snapped to the side, a crimson handprint blooming on his cheek. Shame flickered in his eyes as he scoffed, quickly replaced by a dull acceptance.

He deserved it, that much was clear.

"How dare you?” you spat, your voice shaking with barely controlled fury, "How fucking dare you come back here after what you've done? After leading a rebellion against the gods, after putting everyone we care about at risk? After betraying me?"

Luke took a shaky breath, running a hand over the burning mark on his face. "I'm sorry” he said, his voice low and ragged. "I'm so sorry. I know I hurt you, and I know a simple apology won't erase the pain or fix things. But you have to believe me, I never meant for things to get this bad"

He stepped towards you, his hands outstretched in a placating gesture, but you flinched back, the space between you a tangible barrier. "Don't touch me" you warned, your voice laced with ice.

He lowered his hands, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I know you hate me for what I´ve done. For joining Kronos, I-“

"You think this is all about Kronos?" you cut him off, your voice shaking with barely contained fury. "You think the reason my heart has been broken these past years is because you joined a fucking Titan?"

Luke remained silent, the weight of your words pressing down on him like a collapsing mountain. He knew better.

"This is about what you did to me, Luke" you choked out, tears welling in your eyes. "I was with you, all the time. I was your girlfriend! And you betrayed me. You left me alone” your voice broke so hard that you had to take a second to swallow the big gulp that was forming in your throat. “Everyone at camp looked at me after what you did," you choked out. "They either felt sorry for me, or they insulted me, saying that I was still loyal to you, that I was a traitor."

You closed your eyes for a moment, the pain etched on your face a stark reminder of the devastation he'd wrought. "You were the most important person in my life" you cried, your voice raw and vulnerable. "But you? You let Kronos fill your head with empty promises, and just like that, you forgot about us."

The truth felt like a bitter pill to swallow. He opened his mouth to speak.

"I asked you to come with me" he finally whispered, his voice thick with regret. "I gave you the chance to leave with me."

"And even after I said no," you countered, your voice trembling like the finger that was now pointing at his chest, "you still left. You threw me away like shit. And do you know what the worst part is?" Tears streamed down your face, tracing a path through the dust of old heartache. "That as much as I try, I can't seem to hate you."

A sob escaped your lips, shattering the fragile dam you'd built around your emotions. "I still love you, Luke" you confessed. "Even though it's a love that fills me with pain, it's still there. I hate myself because I dream about you, about the way things used to be. But when I don't, I feel like a piece of me is missing."

You looked up at him, your eyes brimming with tears and a raw vulnerability that left Luke speechless.

What had he done?

"I hate myself because I can't help but pray for your safety, even though you never seemed to care about mine. I hate myself because even after everything, I still love you, Luke."

Your heart felt like a shattered kaleidoscope, a million shards of love, anger, and pain reflecting back at you in a distorted reality. You walked and sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands as sobs racked your body.

Luke, his heart heavy with a remorse sharper than any weapon, watched you crumble. The carefree girl he fell in love with was gone, replaced by a woman etched with the scars of his own actions. Hesitantly, he reached out, placing a hand on your back as he sat down next to you, a gesture of comfort that felt more like a branding iron on his guilt.

"yn” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "I still love you too."

You didn't respond, the sobs coming in ragged gasps as your body struggled to contain the storm within.

"I know I left you" he continued, his voice cracking slightly. "And you didn't deserve it. But… I was so lost, so angry. Kronos promised me power, a solution to all the problems I saw. He convinced me that Olympus was corrupt, that the gods didn't care about half-bloods like us. And when you said no, he-, he told me leaving you behind, said that it would be easier for everyone…"

His voice trailed off. Easier for who? Easier for him, perhaps, to sever the ties that bound him, to plunge headfirst into a rebellion fueled by manipulated ideals.

"But it wasn't" he choked out, a tear escaping his eye, carving a glistening path down his cheek. "Every day, every step I took… it was a constant reminder of what I'd lost. The guilt was eating me alive, yn, you have to believe me”. His hands desperately reached for yours, trying to get your fingers to intertwine by placing his over yours.

Tears welled up in his own eyes. "I regret everything. I mean it. I don't want to do this anymore."

You finally lifted your head, your eyes red-rimmed and brimming with unshed tears. Luke looked different to you now, the bravado and arrogance gone, replaced by a vulnerability that mirrored your own.

"Don't want to do what?" you asked, your voice hoarse.

"This” he gestured vaguely to himself, but you didn’t quite catch it. "Following Kronos. Helping him rise to power. It's wrong. I can see that now."

“Little late to that, isn’t it?” you blurted out.

He took a deep breath, his expression resolute. "yn, there's a reason I came to you. A reason I risked Kronos' trust in me." He paused, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Kronos wants me to become his host."

And the world seemed to suddenly stop. You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. Your mind raced, trying to process what he had just said. Luke, your Luke, becoming a vessel for the monstrous Titan?

"What?" you croaked, fear coating your voice like frost. Your eyes darted around, searching for a way out, a solution, anything. But Luke wouldn't meet your gaze, his jaw clenched tight, a storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface. "No. No, he can't. It's not possible."

The thought of him, Luke, being consumed by Kronos, twisted your insides into knots.

Luke, however, seemed to gather his resolve. "Yes, it is" he said, his voice low and strained. "There are things you don't know, yn. Things I've done."

A cold dread gripped your stomach, a physical manifestation of the terror that clawed at your insides. Your mind raced, desperate for answers. "Then tell me" you only managed to say. "Luke, what have you done?"

He hesitated, looking around as if afraid someone might be listening. "There's no time now" he finally said, his voice tight with urgency. "But I promise I will explain everything. That's not why I'm here."

Taking a deep breath, he dared to reach out, his hand gently grasping yours, finally. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through you, a stark contrast to the chilling fear that gripped you.

He called your name, his voice softening. "Come with me" he said.

You only feel capable of frowning your brows in confusion. "Go where?" you asked, your voice wary.

"Anywhere" he said, like a plea. "Let's run away, together. It can be just you and me again"

He leaned closer, the air around him crackling with a tension that mirrored the storm within you. As his forehead rested against yours, a jolt of electricity shot through you. It was a familiar warmth, a spark that had ignited countless stolen kisses and whispered secrets back when your world wasn't teetering on the brink of war. His other hand cupped your cheek, the touch a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside you. His hand, usually warm and comforting, felt cool against your burning skin, a physical reminder of the distance that had grown between you. Yet, despite the chill, a wave of longing washed over you, a yearning for the simple comfort of his touch.

But reason tugged at you, a voice of caution in the midst of the storm. "But Luke," you stammered, pulling away slightly, "If you escape, Kronos will come for you. He'll come for us, and-,"

"I don't care" he interrupted, his voice resolute, yet laced with a tremor that betrayed his bravado. It was as if he was on the precipice, teetering between defiance and the vulnerability of a man on the verge of breaking. "I'll fight everything that comes for us. And if the war happens... I'll fight. I'll fight for everyone, I’ll fight for you. I'm not losing you again, yn."

His words resonated deep within you, a desperate echo of the love you still harbored for him, a love you thought you'd buried beneath layers of anger and sadness. You saw the fear in his eyes, a fear that you sadly shared, but beneath it, a flicker of something else – a raw, desperate hope. And as you looked at him, a wave of relief washed over you.

The relief of knowing he wasn't entirely lost, that a part of the Luke you loved still existed.

"I love you" he confessed again, his voice trembling.

Looking into his eyes, a storm of emotions swirling within them, the truth resonated with you. "I love you too" you whispered, the words tumbling from your lips like a long-awaited confession.

The world did indeed, stop. The rain, a relentless symphony against the window pane, faded into a distant murmur. The thunders became a muffled echo. In that moment, the only reality was the space between you and Luke, charged with the unspoken electricity of your confessions.

He leaned in further, a hesitant question in his eyes. A flicker of fear danced in their depths, a scared boy seeking forgiveness beneath the warrior's facade. You watched him, a bittersweet ache blooming in your chest.

With a sigh that trembled on your lips, you closed the distance. Your lips met in a hesitant touch, a tentative exploration of a forgotten familiarity. Three years of longing, of unspoken words and simmering emotions, poured into that kiss. It was sweeter than you'd dared to imagine, a warmth that spread from your lips and drizzled down your chest.

Unlike the passionate encounters of your past, this felt different; like kissing him for the first time. Luke's lips moved against yours with a reverence that sent shivers down your spine. He held back, his desperate desire tempered with a respect that surprised you. You knew him.

But then, you yielded. Your lips parted, a silent invitation, and his tongue met yours in a dance as old as time. A full, heavy and angry thunderclap erupted outside, a jarring contrast to the intimacy unfolding on the couch. But you paid it no mind, lost in the whirlpool of rediscovered affection.

Your arms encircled his neck, a desperate hold. He, in turn, cupped your waist, his touch lingering on the curve of your hip as he gently lowered you onto the soft cushion. His body hovered above yours. His lips, however, remained glued to yours, a relentless exploration that spoke of a love both fierce and fragile.

The kiss deepened, a slow burn that threatened to consume you both. You felt the familiar rhythm of his heart against yours, a counterpoint to the frantic beat of your own. It was a melody of second chances, of unspoken apologies and nascent hope.

His hand trailed down your back, teasingly brushing under your shirt, sending shivers dancing across your skin. You arched into his touch, a wordless plea for more. But just then, he pulled away, his breath ragged, his eyes a storm of conflicting emotions.

His voice, a husky murmur against your skin, sent shivers down your spine. "I missed this so much," he whispered, his lips trailing down the delicate column of your neck and the dip of your collarbone. His warm breath mingled with your own, a heady mix of emotions swirling around you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, the familiar texture a stark reminder of the past you both desperately clung to. He reached for your pulse, slowly sucking in before letting it pop.

"I wanted to feel you every night" he confessed. "Every night, I dreamt of you." His words were a stark contrast to the cold, distant Luke you saw in your dreams, the only vivid memory you’ve had of him the past years.

"Luke" you whispered, your voice barely audible as you tried to speak.

He didn't stop. His hand drifted down your torso, his fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your lower tummy. Every touch felt like a brand, a searing reminder of what you had lost and the uncertainty that lay ahead.

"It was a mistake" he said, his voice thick with regret. "A big, fucking mistake. Leaving you, betraying you-, it was the biggest mistake of my life. My life doesn't make any sense without you."

With a strangled sound, Luke deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a desperation that mirrored your own. You clung to him, a drowning sailor grasping at a lifeline. The scent of leather that clung to him was intoxicating, a familiar anchor in this storm of emotions.

"Luke" you managed to gasp between kisses, a flicker of reason breaking through the haze of desire. You needed more than just words, needed a binding promise, something concrete to hold onto if you were to take this leap of faith.

He stared at you, his eyes a storm of emotions – desire, confusion, and a flicker of something that might have been annoyance. But before he could respond, you pressed on.

"Swear on it, Luke" you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "Swear on the River Styx” you repeat. Luke’s eyes dart back and forth, from your lips, to your eyes, to filling up with confusion. “I’m not-,” you cut yourself off as you feel your eyes filling with tears again. You bit your tongue before speaking, “I’m not letting you hurt me like this again"

You knew it was selfish, a desperate attempt to safeguard your heart. But Luke was here, finally, after all this time. You craved the warmth of his touch, the comfort of his presence. The thought of letting him go again, of enduring another betrayal, was unbearable. Yet, a part of you, still scarred from the past, craved a guarantee, an oath sworn on the most powerful river in the Underworld. It was dangerous, yes, but did you care?

Did he care?

Luke's expression hardened. The River Styx, held a weight that couldn't be ignored. The river he already bathed himself in. It was a binding vow, a promise etched in the very fabric of existence.

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours for a flicker of doubt, a hint of manipulation. But all he saw was the vulnerability, the fear – a vulnerability born from the scars he himself had inflicted.

"I swear on the River Styx" he said, his voice low and solemn, each word heavy with the weight of the oath. "I swear I won’t ever leave you. I swear I love you. I swear I'll fight for you, for us, with every breath in my lungs."

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[cabin9sblog]

Shane: What’s up?

Chiron: Oh nothing, just thought I'd come see what-

Chiron: …this room used to have four walls.

Harley, to his siblings: I told you he’d notice!

#could be before or after the last Olympian #camp half blood #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #cabin 9 #hephaestus #cabin nine #leo valdez #nyssa barrera #jake mason #harley cabin 9 #harley chb #shane pjo #chb update #chiron #bunker 9

[purpleshadow-star]

I wonder why Chris Rodriguez joined Luke in the first place. Was he jaded against the gods like Luke was? Was he following his older brother's example? And then I wonder how he coped after the Labyrinth. How did it feel to know he was basically sent on a desperate suicide mission with almost no chance of success? How did it feel to know that the camp he turned his back on, the children of the gods he had renounced, one of the very gods he had been working to destroy, ended up saving him? What was going through his mind when he came back from his madness at Camp Half-Blood thanks to one of the very gods Luke and Kronos insisted didn't care about him? Is that why he chose to stay? Did he realize Luke was wrong about Camp Half-Blood and about at least some of the gods when they welcomed him back with open arms? Did he see Dionysus save him and realize that the gods are capable of caring when it matters? Did he realize that there was a chance for the gods to be better? Did he realize there was another way to get what they wanted without war and death and deals with monsters and Titans? Is that why Chris Rodriguez chose to stay at Camp Half-Blood rather than return to the Titan army?

#when you think about it chris rodriguez is such an interesting character #he has so much potential as an ex member of the titan army #i kinda wish that was explored more. maybe percy could have had a convo with him about his thoughts before vs after the labyrinth #rick has so many interesting background characters it's so insane #rick riordan #riordanverse #chris rodriguez #percy jackon and the olympians #the battle of the labyrinth #the last olympian #pjo hoo toa #pjo #tbh id also love to know more about chris and clarisse's relationship #cause clarisse clearly cared about chris before he left camp judging by how she took care of him while he was mad after the labyrinth #did they talk about him leaving? did they discuss his decision to join the titan army? and how did they move forward from that? #so interesting #so many questions #so much potential

[breadbrobin]

call it what you want

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of aphrodite reader]

summary: he fell first, you fell harder, and all at once.

warning: tooth-rotting fluff. literally i think that’s it it’s just sickeningly cute

word count: 2.1k

(the luke brainrot is so real i wrote this at like 4am last night plsss)

——————————————

luke castellan thought you could have hung the stars in the sky. he wouldn’t know any different, nor would he care to find out. in his mind, you were perfect. the most perfect, in fact.

there was one person that no one could hate at camp, and that was you. a friend to all who’d have you, a sister to those who needed you, and whatever you were to luke.

not even you understood the nature of your relationship with him.

years of friendship slowly became changed, twisted, slightly more than you’d bargained for. it was a happy change. realising you were in love with luke castellan was an ever-continuous process—a little one day, a little more another. but for luke… gods, realising he was in love with you came as easy as breathing. every smile on your lips, every laugh, every surreptitious look across rooms set his heart aflame. fluttering, dancing, swirling.

it wasn’t like you didn’t love him. you did. you surely did. but time hadn’t been kind to your heart and children of aphrodite have never been truly lucky in love. helping others achieve their loves was more common. more often than not, you and your siblings were happy with just that.

“anyone you got your eye on?” you asked one day as you sat with luke on the dock. your bare feet dangled into the water, toes just touching the cool surface.

“maybe. maybe not. when are you leaving?” he avoided the question, gazing out at the water and squinting in the glare of the sun.

“two weeks. i’m staying for my birthday this year.” you looked over at him. “you can tell me who it is, you know? i won’t laugh, i promise.”

he shot you an exasperated look. “what makes you think there is someone, princess?”

you lean over and nudge his arm teasingly, missing the blush on his face. “you’ve been distracted lately. quiet. you smile more though, and i’ve seen you blushing. who is it?”

“maybe i’m sick. what if i’m dying, y/n? then what? you’re assuming i’m in love when i’m actually dying?”

you raised your hands mockingly. “hey, you’re the one who mentioned love, pal. not me. ask yourself about that one.”

he rolled his eyes and elbowed you gently with a soft smile. his smiles were always soft, you realised. gentle and kind—two words you’d use to describe luke castellan any chance you got. you looked at him in the sunlight. and pretty, you thought. gentle, kind and pretty.

late nights were always for thinking.

you’d had trouble sleeping since you were a kid. not just the typical demigod issues with nightmares, but difficulty falling asleep in the first place. when those times struck, and the late hours before midnight slipped by, your thoughts wandered.

as always, your thoughts circled a few items; your family, your friends, then, always, luke.

he was separate to your friends, always had been. you didn’t really know why.

gentle, kind and pretty, you recalled. it had been a few days since the lake and you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about who he was in love with. was there some person out there at camp who held his heart, truly and deeply? why did your chest ache? were you having a heart attack?

you pressed your fingers to your pulse point in concern, then pulled them away after a few seconds. you were fine. why did you feel like that?

no one ever said children of aphrodite weren’t oblivious to their own feelings.

time ticked by into the small hours of the morning, and still you couldn’t find sleep.

you rolled out of bed and stepped into your slippers, pulling a fluffy robe around your body and stepping out into the warm night. the air was still and calm, a juxtaposition to your whirling mind as you crossed the camp, stepping down paths and stepping over tree roots in a manner you’d memorised from countless treks on similar nights.

the hermes cabin was always warmer than your own, but tonight the heat was almost stifling. you could feel the heat heavy in the air as you breathed, and sweat beaded on your lip as you crossed the cabin silently to luke’s bed.

he was sleeping half sitting up, a colouring book and set of pencils splayed out on his lap. it was one you’d bought him for his birthday years ago. you had no idea he even used it.

quietly, you packed away the pencils and put them and the book on the side table. as you did, luke’s eyes cracked open. he frowned.

“y/n? are you okay?” he rubbed his eyes, sitting up straight and stretching his neck.

“can’t sleep,” you whispered.

he nodded and pushed his sheets off. he pulled a sweatshirt on and led you out of the cabin.

this was normal for you both. if one couldn’t sleep, you’d find the other and keep each other company until you felt you could rest. it was always nice knowing someone was there to talk to, or even just sit with. there was never resentment, never irritation from the other person. you would always come find each other. finding each other was like second nature to the two of you. you swore you could find luke in any situation, with your eyes closed, all your senses blotted out, by instinct and connection alone. you could find luke castellan without even a second thought.

you sat on the porch of the cabin with your legs hanging over the edge. luke’s legs were crossed.

“what are we doing for your birthday?” he asked finally.

you shrugged. “nothing, probably. maybe i’ll get some cake. i don’t know.”

“you didn’t do anything last year,” he protested. “you need to this year. it’s the big 18.”

“we didn’t do much for your eighteenth.”

he shrugged. “we did more than nothing, though, pretty girl. come on, we have to do something.”

you shook your head. “you wanna do something, you can plan it, pretty boy. i don’t mind.”

he sighed dramatically, leaning back and lying down on the rough wood. “fine. i will.”

you laughed quietly and lay back next to him, staring up at the wooden overhang above you.

you could feel his body heat against your arm as it lay between you. he was like a furnace, honestly, always radiating heat. it was nice in winter, but oftentimes stifling in summer. this was not one of those times. instead, you revelled in the closeness between you and almost—selfishly, confusingly—wished you were closer. maybe even close enough to touch.

your birthday was a quiet affair. your siblings wished you happy birthday and gave you a handful of small gifts, mostly beauty products and clothes that would fit you perfectly, even a cute bikini you put on under your clothes, and then you all went on with your day.

it was nice, honestly, getting well wishes but little attention. you needed no celebration or pizzazz, just friends, smiles and the occasional hug.

arms wrapped around your waist from behind. you yelped in shock and turned around, finding yourself face to face with luke. he had a bright smile on his face and a smudge of glitter on his cheek.

you reached up and ran your finger over it, trying gently to remove some to no avail. “you have glitter.”

“i have glitter everywhere. i guess that’s what you get for asking one of my siblings for wrapped paper.” he removed his arms from your waist to reveal a poorly wrapped gift in purple glittery paper.

you laughed, taking it. “i’m surprised you haven’t got more of it on you.”

“oh, believe me, princess, i do.” he cringed, stepping back slightly. “happy birthday.”

you smiled up at him and opened the present, ignoring the glitter sticking to your hands and the warmth in your chest and cheeks.

he thought you looked like the sun had come down to earth.

it was a colouring book and a set of pencils. you smiled widely and flipped through the pages, revealing beautiful art. “you remembered i wanted one?”

“yeah, mostly because you kept stealing mine to colour in,” he teased. “but of course i did.”

you reached out and hugged him. “thank you, luke!”

“come on,” he pulled back and took your hand. “present isn’t done yet.”

“what have you planned?” you groaned half-heartedly as he pulled you through camp, jogging slightly to keep up with his long strides.

“don’t sound so scared, princess, it’s a good thing. i promise.”

you just sighed with a smile and let him lead you to the dock.

there was a small basket at the end of it.

you gasped excitedly. “luke, you…”

“happy birthday, y/n.” he sat down and pulled you gently down to sit next to him. he opened the the picnic basket and handed you a sandwich and a mini juice box with a bashful grin. “i would’ve sprung for coke but mr d. has a monopoly on the stuff around here.”

you laughed slightly and began eating, sitting cross-legged and looking out at the lake. the sun beat down on your back and your entire body felt warm. you suddenly weren’t sure how much of that warmth was from the sun, and how much of it was from love.

love.

whoa.

you froze with your juice box halfway to your lips.

luke looked over at you. “you okay?”

you nodded slowly, eyes wide, and set down your juice and sandwich. “i wanna swim.”

he frowned. “okay? now?”

you nodded and stood up. you were wearing your new bikini anyway, so you just pulled your shirt over your head and dropped your shorts next to it. “you coming?”

his eyes were slightly wide, but he nodded and stood up, setting his food down too and removing his over clothes.

you sat down on the dock and slid into the water. it was cold, but more refreshing than shocking. you swam out a few paces as luke jumped in directly, the splash hitting you.

“luke!” you gasped as he surfaced.

he just laughed. “sorry, princess. you’re in the water anyway.”

you pouted at him, but couldn’t stay mad, instead, you watched him as he floated a few feet from you.

he looked confused. “are you okay? was it the sandwich?”

you shook your head. “the sandwich was fine. i’m just…” you pursed your lips and swam slightly closer. “was it me?”

he frowned even deeper. “was what you?”

“when i asked you the other day, you said you were in love with someone. was it me?”

you felt a little bad for putting him on the spot as he looked away, abashed, but when he looked back at you, eyes strong and jaw set, and said, “yes,” you didn’t regret a thing.

“why?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

“why not?” he shrugged. “why does the sun shine? why does the wind blow? just because that’s the way things are. and i guess… yeah, me being in love with you is the way it is.”

you were silent for a moment, a small smile on your face. “well, that’s good then. i’m not sure how long this has actually been a thing, luke castellan, but i guess that me being in love with you is also… just the way it is.”

he swam slightly closer, a smile breaking across his face. gentle, kind, pretty. “yeah?”

“yeah, pretty boy. now kiss me. it’s my birthday, after all.”

“yes ma’am,” he grinned. one of his hands slid around your waist, warm as ever in the cold water, and he pulled you closer to him. he savoured the moment for a beat, just studying your face, memorising the look in your eyes, the sun on your skin and the soft smile on your lips. then he pressed his lips to yours.

you finally understood what people meant when they said ‘fireworks’. they were right. kissing luke was like playing with fire or dancing in the rain, or watching christmas lights twinkle. it was exhilarating, sweet and safe all at the same time; pure and honest love. and he was one damn good kisser.

when he pulled away you were out of breath, treading water still. you swam backwards, pulling him with you by the hand on the back of his neck until you were in the cool shade of the dock, using it to keep you afloat. it was much colder under there, but at least now you had him to keep you warm.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #pjo #charlie bushnell #luke castellan x you

[confessedlyfannish]

Writing Prompt #12

Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.

Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.

Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.

While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.

These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".

There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—

"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.

But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.

He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.

"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.

"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.

"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.

He doesn't look away from the man.

"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."

"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.

The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.

The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"

Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."

"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."

He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.

"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.

"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.

"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."

"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.

"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."

"Him."

"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."

"Why me?"

"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."

This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.

"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"

"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."

Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."

"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."

"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."

"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."

"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."

"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.

"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.

"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."

"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."

"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."

Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.

Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.

"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."

The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.

"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.

"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."

"I have more than one."

"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."

"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"

There is a pause.

"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."

"Resolve what?"

"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."

"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."

Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."

The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."

"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."

"They will have already muzzled him."

Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.

"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."

"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—

Clack!

"sluuuuurp!"

"Master Timothy, honestly!"

"Sorry Alfred!"

#i feel like I'm going to reread this and want to add other stuff #but I also just want to post it and get it out there #fun fact i scribbled a bunch of lines down at 2am bc i didn't want to forget them #im bad at multiple drafts #my writing #dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #batman #i live to make everybody dramatic #but also i subscribe to a world where clockwork doesn't know how NOT to be dramatic #lol he's a ghost from all of time he doesn't know how to speak to humans and tailor it to the century let alone the decade #and his favorite little girl who calls him clocky loves how he speaks so #he doesn't need to change for nobody #nor feels inclined to #also I feel like as god he's way more inclined to threaten to get what he wants than like...be vulnerable #jazz: let's unpack that #clockwork: we never do #jazz: are you saying that because it's true or because that's what you want to be true? #clockwork: ... #also I cannot take credit for BITCH I MIGHTWING #wish i could #that is cash money right there #shoutout to 11thsense

[percyluvr]

percy jackson x aphrodite cabin counselor!reader summary: valentine's day at chb brings you and your best friend closer than ever wc: 1.4k

Today was your favorite day at Camp Half-Blood, Valentine's Day. Maybe it was cliché considering you were an Aphrodite kid, but there was just something about Valentine's Day that was addicting to you. Maybe it was the weeks leading up to it that you played matchmaker even more than you normally did as counselor of the Aphrodite cabin, or maybe it was the cute and overpriced chocolate that the Stoll brothers smuggled into camp for the annual Valentine's party.

However, one thing was for sure: it was not because you had a valentine or were in love. Well, you were in love but still had no valentine which came as a huge surprise to all of your siblings, but even more so your friends at camp. 

Since you were 14 and made cabin counselor, you always had a date to your own Valentine's party. This year was different though, you'd realized your crush on your best friend at the Christmas party and knew then that you couldn't break another person's heart by taking them as your date to the Valentine's party and then dumping them the next day. After you completed the 'rite of passage' as an Aphrodite kid, you decided that you didn't have it in you to break anyone else's heart, so whoever you dated next had to be it for you. 

Today you'd woken up nearly on cloud nine. You'd gone about your routine as normal and then got to work assigning tasks for your siblings to set up the party. While everyone at Camp Half-Blood was invited to the party, you still liked to make invites, because really, why have a party if you can't make cute pink invites for everyone?

Usually, parties like this for 'minor' holidays wouldn't be allowed at Camp Half-Blood, but Mr. D and Chiron, mostly Chiron, made an exception because of how much it meant to the Aphrodite cabin. Mr. D only let you host it because you somehow convinced the Olympians to let his wife come down to accompany him to the party. 

Now, after assigning your siblings to their task, handing out invites, and making sure the party was ready, you were sitting at your vanity, redoing your makeup and hair, while your best friend, Percy, laid on your bed and juggled your stuffed animals, which you usually would have found weird or annoying, but now you couldn't help but notice just how beautiful he was. His black hair always sat messily atop his head, nearly never fully dry because he couldn't keep himself from jumping into the water whenever he felt like it. Before last year, you would've fixed his hair and chastised him for jumping into the lake because it made his hair all weird, but you just admired it now. 

Not wanting to get caught staring, you turned back to your mirror, not noticing the way Percy stared at you with hearts in his eyes in the back.

"You look so cute," he said mindlessly, his brain immediately yelling at his mouth for always saying things he meant to keep to himself.

"What'd you say?" You ask, mad at yourself for not hearing him and hanging onto his every word.

Percy had never felt relief like that in his life.

"Nothing, I just said you look like a fruit," he said, mentally facepalming. "You look like a fruit," what the hell is my problem?

"That doesn't even make sense, but okay," you say, rolling your eyes. 

"Sure it does, if your mind is as awesome as mine."

If your eyes could roll to the back of your head and stay there, yours might as well have already because of how many times you roll your eyes around this boy, but never out of real annoyance. How can someone who would typically be so annoying with his stupid jokes be so cute.

"No," you say to yourself. If I keep thinking like this, I'm just going to mess up our friendship.

Little did you know, the boy you were thinking about was thinking about you in the exact same way.

"Hey, when are you going to be done? The party is in like 10 minutes."

"Yes, Percy, I know, it's not like I'm hosting the party or anything," you say, feigning annoyance. "You can go on your own if I'm taking up too much of your 'precious time', y'know," you say, hoping but deep down knowing that he wouldn't go without you.

"Oh come on, you know damn well I would never go to a party without you, especially a party you're hosting, we're best friends," he says, immediately regretting the last words he said as soon as he heard himself say them.

Friends. That's all you are to him.

"Right, what am I thinking?" He hears you 'laugh', and if Percy Jackson knows anything about anything, he knows that is not a real laugh, but he doesn't know what to say to make it better. 

"Well, I'm done now, I just need to put on my dress, just stay here," you state, sauntering off into the walk in closet. You choose your cutest red dress to pair with your darling white cowboy boots, but can't manage to tie the straps into bows yourself, so you decide to ask Percy for help.

"Hey, can you come in here? I need your help tying this!"

Percy blushes, but walks in nonetheless, and is immediately astonished at the amount of clothes in just your closet alone.

The sight of your bare shoulder and small manicured hands holding up your dress was enough for him to combust on the spot, but he held himself together. 

The sight of the dark red tint on his cheeks brought a cheeky smile to your face, knowing that your plan was set in motion.

His fingers shakily grabbed the ribbons on the dress and tied a bow on each shoulder, but not without him accidentally touching your shoulders with the pads of his fingers. 

His touch could've lit you on fire, even though he was a son of Poseidon, not Hephaestus. Even the tiniest touch was absolutely intoxicating.

You turned around and grabbed Percy's hand. If touching your shoulders was just the first step of becoming addicted to you, he was fully ready to do anything for you now.

It's not like you two never touched each other, but it was never quite like this. Not when you both had a sneaky feeling that the other felt the same way that you did.

Even when you got to the party, you stayed near each other. When you went up to the front of the party and went over your yearly Valentine’s spiel, he was at your side. When you went to get some of the definitely not spiked punch, he was at your side. 

When the slow dance songs came on, he gently grabbed and moved your hand from his to his shoulder.

The way you looked into each other's eyes could in itself be a public display of affection. The pure love in your eyes for each other shut all of your admirers down without you even having to say anything. Your faces slowly got closer to each other, still staring into each other's eyes.

"Are we about to kiss right now?" he asked, mostly as a joke, but a small part of him still had hope.

What he didn't expect was for you to softly, with your honey-like voice, "I don't know about you, but I definitely hope so."

With your consent, he felt like his lifelong wish was coming true, and he immediately pushed his slightly chapped lips onto yours. 

The feeling of finally getting to kiss each other was like the best thing in the world but 500x better. He tasted vaguely like a weird but good combination of saltwater and cookies. 

The longer you kissed, the more passionate it got, and this was definitely pda now. His sharp teeth gently bit down on your bottom lip, causing your mouth to open, allowing his tongue in. You'd never felt something so perfect in your life.

When the two of you finally split, it felt like when you were a little kid and your parents took away your toys.

"Not sure about you, sugar, but that was singlehandedly the best kiss I've had in my life," he said with a smile.

a/n: book!percy my beloved also happy valentine's day to everyone reading this! <3

#pjo #pjo series #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #pjo x you #percy jackson fic #book percy jackson #percy jackson x you

[ma1dita]

solipsism

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

words: 5.1k

summary: (post-TLT) drink responsibly… trouble doesn’t; you punch luke in this lol (novelization spoilers? kinda canon-compliant)

The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. Luke visits you four times during college, in a timeline opposite to yours (doctor x river song-coded) (lore expansion & explanation here) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: i hurt myself with this one. anyways its canon (to me) that we’re roommates now !!!! more to come like i promised even during my birthday break ! scream at me in the comments and feel free to reblog :)

(post 3/6, edited/betad @hotchfiles )

—

solipsism (the idea that only one’s mind is sure to exist)

You didn’t mean to send a prayer out into the world so strong that it would will an apparition of an Olympian, but burning cookies seems to be your specialty. Arguably, they weren’t the good kind, just the ones you grab in the freezer aisle of Walmart, and still, somehow they set your fire alarm off. Opening a window and waving through the smoke— Hestia, goddess of the hearth and home was standing next to the rickety dining table you bought off Facebook marketplace. 

“Holy shit, you scared me!” 

There’s mirth in her eyes at your reaction, though for all you know it could be annoyance—it’s not often that an immortal could be badgered enough to reveal themselves for an accident like this one.

“Dionysus was right. You’re too much like him for your own good,” she grins, taking a seat at the table like she’s an old friend. There’s a warmth to her unlike anyone you’ve met before—fire crackling in her eyes and an aura of serenity swaddling the air that you’ve never felt before in your student accomodations.

“I’m sorry I just… with all due respect, what’s going on?”

You go to toss the hot tray of cookies in the trash bin, before hesitating and putting them on your nicest plate. A gentle shove slides them over the table to the goddess, and she takes a crunch out of one happily.

“You were praying,” she states, like its common knowledge, “so strongly, in fact, I thought I’d make a visit to one of my most loyal devotees. Though in this case, you’re the object of his devotion, yes?”

Your hands are clasped across your lap and a familiar feeling spreads through you, then she jerks her hand up and points, “There. You’re doing it again. Y’know, it’s about time you start reciprocating the effort. Hermes’ son prays for you with intention.” You were thinking about Luke before she appeared—and hope glimmered like a tiny open flame. It’s still there, in the slow beating of your heart.

“He’s waging war with the gods. I don’t think he prays to them anymore,” you reason. Luke's offerings to the hearth must have been extinguished by the wrath he’s rained on Camp Half-Blood by now. The perfect storm.

“Not when it comes to you. Mortals never fail to surprise me. But it seems you’re a special case, my sweet. He’s made a home of you.”

To love Luke feels like having to keep a secret and never being able to tell anyone, but Hestia reaches for your hands across the table and looks at you knowingly.

“When I gave up my seat on Olympus for your father it wasn’t a sign of weakness, even if I did it so that others could be happy. I think your soul is a lot like mine in that you’ve given up so much of what you want to protect others. In turn, he’s doing the best he can to protect you; I listen to him every day, sweet girl. You are not weak for loving him still. There are generations of strength in your bones.”

“What else am I supposed to do? I search for him in everyone I meet and I’m not sure I’ll ever find that type of love again.”

These are thoughts you’d never told anyone—not Annabeth, not your father, not even yourself and surely never aloud.

“I hope you never do,” the goddess says, and you know it too.

i. no winter lasts forever (a night out after a drive home from virginia)

Flick. Flick.

“Come on, Hestia. Not you too. Don’t fail me now,” you mumble. The frigid metal of your zippo lighter rubs against your thumbs as you cup it in your hands, shielding the tiny flame that fights the harsh winter wind. Trying to focus as you lean against the brick of the Inferno, you take a deep inhale of smoke to warm your bones. Healing was never supposed to be easy.

Breathe in.

It’s somewhat of a routine you’ve made since getting back from visiting Annie. You’re a regular at this pub now—not even acclimated to the ins and outs of your sleepy college town, and though you don’t know the name of the hall your classes are in, you do know there’s a barstool in the corner of the Inferno with your name on it. There’s something funny about using your father’s gift as a form of fake id, and you wonder if he knows how heavily you indulge in your vices. Five vodka redbulls down the hatch have your knees feeling weak under the alley light until a stranger looms over you like a shadow.

“Those things are gonna kill you one day.”

Breathe out.

“Gods willing,” you laugh, stumbling over your boots and Luke catches you like he was never meant to let you go in the first place. The leather of his jacket is musky and his hair is buzzed. 

Either you were wasted or uncaring of who he was (both), you toss him your car keys and climb into the passenger seat. It’s a silent ride to your apartment besides you giving him the directions and Luke wonders how bad he must have hurt you for you to lay out for a stranger and waste away like this. But he’s the farthest thing from a stranger, even in this error in time and you’re still the daughter of the god of wine so after the third time you try to put your key in the lock he helps you because he hopes you’ll let him in.

“Y’know Annie would get a kick out of your haircut. Come inside.”

You’ve always been able to see right through him.

He’s standing in the hallway with his hand around your waist and he’s already broken too many of the titan’s orders by being here, so he scoffs, “You’re not gonna remember this by morning.” But you leave the door open anyway, dragging him by the wrist and your hand still feels the same in his even after all this time. What more is there to resist when there’s not much left of him to lose? 

This is the last time, he reminds Kronos, and there are monstrous hands around his brain, but yours are still gently holding his heart. The little part of his soul that hasn’t been eaten away holds on for a bit longer, tethered to your being by the way your hands are tied.

“I can, if you want me to.” 

He looks ready for war, and he is— yet you have him following you around the tiny living room almost in a trace as your arms loop around his neck. Luke doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know if you’d want to see him sober, especially when his absence is still fresh for you.

“Baby you look different from the last time we met,” you slur, stepping onto his feet as he takes you for a spin around the coffee table, dancing in the quiet. He’s older than you’ve ever seen him, voice deeper and colder. This is not the boy that ran from you in the forest many months ago. This is a man who’s seen horrors you haven’t lived through yet. You can deduce that he’s the cause of them too.

“So do you. Though still as beautiful as I remember,” he whispers like he’ll get struck for saying it. Your eyes are unfocused as he inspects your face, still soft and young with hope. The titan grips his features now, almost burning through his sense of self—though it’s not tangible he wonders if you could see it.

“I see you all the time. I just… usually have to drink enough to make it feel real. I just miss you.”

He looks pained at your words, and for a moment you wonder if he even heard you. Luke pushes you towards your room, an aura of darkness spreading through him like fire but he relents, pushing past the flames. He’s on borrowed time now, but Luke would gladly waste those minutes tucking you into bed.

Lifting your arms up, he pulls an old shirt of his over your shoulders, and his eyes catch onto the fact that you’re still wearing the dragon scale necklace he made you. Luke digs through your medicine cabinet while you sloppily wash your face and his calloused hands rub serums and moisturizer into your cheeks like how you taught him once upon a time. These are the things he won’t forget. Kronos can take it all away, as long as he gets to keep you. You lean against his chest and shut your eyes, scared that if you open them again he won’t be there.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you? Are you mine?”

“I’m always going to be yours,” he says with no hesitation, “Four years later, and there is still not one living thing worth losing you,” he says, lips chasing after your fingertips as you trace his jaw. Your eyes flutter in exhaustion, and Luke’s eyes survey your room and he finds traces of you that he’s missed as he rubs your back lovingly like he has all the time in the world.

Your hands cup his face, making him look at you, and he surrenders himself to you as you pull him into a kiss. He’s a ticking time bomb about to detonate in your arms. The warnings that Kronos is beating into his head is nothing compared to the pain of knowing he won’t be with you for much longer. And he kisses you like he could save you from his blaze by doing so, lips and tongue and shattered breath saying I’m here, and this is real. Maybe your worst vice is not being able to wean yourself off the taste of him.

“Tell me what I need to hear. Even if it’s not true…Even if you’re not real,” you say between gasps, and your position on his lap makes him wonder why he’d ever give the world up and burn it down when it’s sitting right here and staring at him with violet eyes.

“It’s always going to be you and me. I’ll love you until the end of my days and then some.”

You laugh in the way that drives him crazy—though he already is, for loving you still. Luke lost all sense of himself when he left camp four years ago. All that remains is you, pushing him so that his back hits the bedspread. He lets you consume what’s left of him, and he’s on fire.

You wake up the next morning with a jolt. It’s still winter, and you’re still alone but despite the chill, you feel warm.

ii. autumn years (with a familiar visitor who finally shows up on time)

Knock, knock.

There’s someone at the door, but your date isn’t supposed to be here for another 10 minutes.

“Babe, someone’s here for you!” your roommate Jo calls out, and you tell her it’s fine to let them in.

The pantyhose clings to the lotion on your thighs and you fix the bracelet on your wrist, stepping out from the bathroom hollering, “You’re early, Kit! Don’t tell me you’re skipping to the good part; I’m a lady i–”

“Who’s Kit?”

Luke’s standing in the doorway of your bedroom and his eyes flit to the reflection of your naked back peeking through the undone zipper of your dress. You look stunning, lips painted red and eyes smoky, but you’re also furious. Too bad he’s always thought you looked extra hot when you’re mad.

“None of your business. As you can see, I don’t exactly have the time for this, Castellan.”

He shrugs, closing the door behind him gently and with the raise of his brow, Luke is leering at you like a teenage boy. Respectfully, of course. The glint of celestial bronze against his hip reminds you who he’s become though.

“I’ll make the time if you say the words, trouble.”

Sighing, you step forward, but then he does that thing again from the last time you saw him out on sea, twisting the crick in his neck like he has to resist your touch.

“You’re still funny. Some old habits die hard I guess,” you scoff, turning and lifting your hair out of the way so that he can zip you up. He opts to not touch you, sliding the dress closed until it fits against your body. You think you can feel his fingers ghost above your skin, and goosebumps rise where he leaves and his breath is warm on the back of your neck.

“Leave your weapons at the door. I run a tight ship, unlike you.” 

Gliding away from him while his hands are still in the air, you turn and sit at the edge of your bed, crossing your legs as you nod at him. Luke picks up the pair of heels next to where he sets the sword against the wall, and like it’s nothing out of the sort, he gets on his knees. You offer a foot to him while he speaks, “I could tell by the taser on your bedside table. You’ve killed monsters before, why a taser?”

There’s freckles on his tanned cheeks and he smells like the sun. You wonder what he’s done to come see you tonight.

“I’ve found out that not all monsters are mythical. When…are you?”

His eyes dart away from yours, securing the buckles on your ankles, and his touch sears through the mesh of your pantyhose.

“A few months ahead.”

There’s an eyelash on his nose, and your finger reaches out to touch it, but he flinches away. Face pulling into a frown, you spit, “You never slow down enough to let me catch up with you, huh?”

You can hear the microwave whirring in the kitchen, your roommate none the wiser of the sound of two hearts breaking. The both of you suddenly realize this is the first time you two have been alone (and the same age) since he left camp. There’s a silent question of if it will ever happen again as he gets up from the floor.

“So you’re seeing other people. Must’ve been easy, h—”

You punch him in the face before he finishes speaking, and all he can do is laugh. You would never let him off so easily.

“Fuck you. What, you think you can just hop in here and act like everything’s okay? What do you want, Castellan? For me to grovel at your feet and beg for you to fix what you broke?”

And you’re right, he supposes. This is the closest to peace that you’ll get in this life you’ve created without him. He won’t be able to take you on nice dinner dates like Kit can, or hold your hand without feeling like fate is going to smite him for existing. You scoff at the lack of his response.

“What happens next?”

Luke watches you chew on your lip, and even if he shouldn’t touch you in fear that you’ll will away his reason for defecting, by the gods does he want to.

“What do you mean?” he mutters. The cord of his necklace is tucked into your dress now that he looks closer.

“If I’m right,” you say (and it’s rare that you’re not), “each version of you that comes to see me knows less, and each time I see you I learn more. You were 23 last time. Why didn’t you see me at 22?” You know he won’t have an answer, but this is the only time you’ll be able to ask the real him. The one that’s yours, just a few steps ahead.

“There’s already been a lot that’s happened since I last saw you.”

“Are you going to hurt me?” you offer him, like he hasn’t already. He can feel the bruise blooming on his cheekbone and he grimaces with what he’s about to say.

“Never intentionally. I’ll try not to.”

It sounds stupid coming out of his mouth and you feel stupid with how empty you feel just watching him. He’s made a home of you, choosing moments in time to visit, but when he inevitably leaves, then what? Luke taught you how to be a home, forgetting you exist until it’s convenient and now there are things about yourself that you can’t unlearn yet don’t know what to do with.

Your roommate knocks on your door asking if you want a shot of vodka before your date starts, and Luke is already walking towards it since he’s overstayed his welcome. He raises his sword to open a portal but you shake your head.

“Go out the way you came,” you swallow, fiddling with the copper pendant around your neck, “and take the purple umbrella in the hall. It’s raining outside.”

When you walk into the kitchen moments later, the front door shuts gently and Jo’s sitting at the table with a mouthful of ramen noodles.

“Is he warming up the car? Your date’s hot as fuck, babe,” she grins, steam coating her glasses.

Knock, knock.

Your phone buzzes and there’s another knock at the door. Kit is 15 minutes late.

iii. auld lang syne (ringing in the new year with an old friend, or more)

Your apartment is filled with friends and acquaintances, but who the fuck cares anyway? There’s 10 minutes to midnight and you’re crossed out of your mind. Holding onto a half-empty bottle of prosecco, your heels clomp over to the window in the living room as you crawl onto the fire escape. 

Clack, clack.

The air is chilly as you hug yourself, and you hear someone step out onto the stairs behind you. 

“What are you doing out here alone?”

You sigh, not even turning to look at him, “What are you doing here, period?”

He takes the bottle of prosecco out of your hands, making you swivel your head to look at him as he takes a big gulp. He’s younger again, and it makes you laugh at how fucked up your luck must be to never be able to see him when you want. It’s always been on Luke’s terms.

“You’re too young to be drinking that,” you drawl, knees bumping against his when he takes a seat next to you. Long Island is quiet at night, and the lack of city lights is nice when you can see the stars so clearly. Music blares through your JBL speaker in the living room, and the sound of cheers gets louder when The Neighborhood starts playing.

“We used to do worse,” he laughs, but something in it sounds hollow. The breeze picks up and you shiver, taking the bottle back from him and swigging it.

“All these visits…you sure do know how to make a girl feel special. But you never come in the summer.” 

He clears his throat, before leaning back on his elbows, “ I haven’t gone a summer without you since we were 14.” This Luke doesn’t know what’s ahead of him yet, but you realize that he’s right. Even now, he keeps up the habit of pissing you off and raising hell on Camp Half-Blood every summer. You notice he’s not wearing his camp beads, and he notices you shiver again in the chill. 

Clack, clack.

Your heels rattle the metal of the fire escape as you readjust your position. He takes off his jacket to sling it around your shoulders and neither of you realize you’ve missed the countdown until fireworks burst in the sky above you. The red and blue reflect off the planes of his face, but what stands out to you is the orange of his shirt, and you comprehend now where he just came from.

“I had to see you. I didn’t get to say goodbye when I left,” he says, and you take another sip before handing him the bottle to finish off. The only new years’ kiss you’re getting is through the lips that hold the last remaining drops of prosecco. 

You nod, remembering it all too well as you both watch the fireworks in silence. He wasn’t able to watch them properly the last time he was with you, Annie, and Percy just a few hours prior.

iv. spring cleaning (only big days are ahead for the both of you) 

It’s quiet in your college apartment this morning. 

The moving boxes are half-packed and stacked against the wall of the entryway and the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the French press on your kitchen counter permeates the air. Perhaps the idea of caffeine is the last thing on your mind, hands twitching as they smooth over the black polyester of your graduation regalia. There’s a few hours still before the ceremony, but you’ve never liked being unprepared. Pollux is driving your dad down the Island because despite the war you’ll inevitably be fighting in once you cross the stage and get your degree, D specifically told Zeus that he’d wage another if he was made to miss your big day.

Parting your hair to fit under the ugly graduation cap, the tassel swings in front of your face as you grab a few bobby pins from the side table. A golden medallion of Castor’s smiling face almost whips into your cornea and you stifle a laugh. D said in his Iris message last night that all three of them would cheer so loud you’d be able to hear it from Elysium (and honestly, jokes aside—he probably has a way of making that happen). A staggered breath leaves your lungs, and you’re filled with anticipation, though you’re not sure what for. 

Time is a thief and you know that too well by now. After all, you’ve spent the past four years running from the truth of your heritage—dodging monsters between study sessions and grief welcoming you every time you come home. Four years later, and who are you trying to fool? While walking across that stage later you might as well take a bow. After all, your ex-boyfriend is the reason why there’s going to be a war of both blood and ichor, mortal and undying and still, you find yourself in the middle of it. You’ve found yourself fielding questions this last semester like dodging celestial bronze, the questions always a little too close to home and the answers you give are too entertaining to be considered the truth.

So, what are your future plans? 

Oh no big deal, just going home and dealing with generations-old family drama. If it drives me crazy enough I might enlist! 

Gods. 

How do you even articulate that these past few years were those future plans? That you didn’t expect to be alive this long, much less have the comfort of feeling secure enough to dream… It’s been years since you’ve had a good dream to work towards with a boy you once knew holding your hand through it all. But the expensive piece of paper you’ll be receiving later feels fake somehow. 

Who does that belong to? Surely not you…surely, someone who dreams without bearing the weight that comes with it. Someone who doesn’t have to look over their shoulder everytime they walk to work in the mornings, who can convince children that monsters aren’t real without having to lie. Psychology was a great field to learn from the mortal side of things—to know the reasons why brain chemistry affects us so deeply instead of just willing it away with the touch of your fingers. You like making people feel better. But who can ever do that for you?

A gust of wind sweeps through your room, the multicolored tassels hanging off your neck swaying from the force and you shut your eyes knowing he’s there again. Citrus and musk, and something that’s just him. He knocks over your hamper, cussing under his breath until his eyes follow your motionless figure in front of the mirror.

“Shit. I can explain, um… I thought you’d still be asleep,” Luke sputters, his converse falling into your laundry pile like quicksand. He bends over, stuffing your pajamas and sweatshirts back into the bin with fidgety hands as his eyes take a quick scan of your room. There are no pictures of you and him on the bedside table. For a moment, he wonders what that means but then his cheeks redden when he picks up a pair of your lacy underwear. He shoves that down too.

“Big day today. You know I can’t sleep when I know something is about to happen,” you smile wistfully, and you keep your eyes shut for longer, because like this, it’s almost like he’s actually there in real time. In a world where things went your way, this would be his apartment too, and his clothes would be scattered around your shared bedroom like how they used to back in cabin 12. You always used to put them on The Chair, as he would call it—but Luke’s known to make a mess of your life regardless of your efforts.

“When isn’t there? Something’s always going on when you’re around, trouble.”

Click. Scattered memories flicker in your head like images through a view-finder, spinning through your vision as you hear the sound of his laughter, gently tapping away at your heart again. Click. In the ones you pre-selected, he’s draped in sunlight, honey eyes sweet and kind, and his kisses are perpetual instead of an indulgence. Click. He’s always wearing faded orange, worn-out, but most of all well-loved. Click.

You open your eyes and they meet his own in the mirror. Time stops for once, letting you catch your breath.

Right now, he looks just as you like to remember him, as you knew him four years ago. Multicolored camp beads are resting easily against his broad neck instead of weighing him down, and he’s wearing the red converse his dad gave him. He’s too young, and so in love with you that it blinds him, but even then…now, he knows the look on your face and it makes him ask, “It’s not my first time visiting you is it?”

“You’re usually more discreet, the door right behind me wouldn’t have been your first option. But you’ve never failed to surprise me before. Tell me about your day, Luke.”

A hesitant smile crosses his face as he sheathes Backbiter against his hip, adjusting under the weight like he’s not used to it yet, and then he speaks, “We ate strawberries in the fields today, straight off the vine, but I argued that the ones you conjure will always taste sweeter to me. You smushed one against my face and I carried you home. You?”

You nod, turning around to face a ghost of your past, and the both of you meet in the middle only a hairs distance away as you admire each other.

“I graduate today. Annabeth’s driving up with her boyfriend and the rest of my family is coming to celebrate.”

He doesn’t know of Percy yet, of Chris’ insanity, of your brother’s death, and the immense hurt he’s caused everyone. The smile that lights up his face makes you realize he thinks he's still a part of this—you. And you miss him—even when he’s right here, fuck, you miss all the versions of him that have come to visit, even the ones you don’t know of yet. Tears brim your waterline as you take a deep breath; the last thing you want to do is scare him away.

“This was his promise to me. By showing me something I was sure of—and I always knew you’d graduate and make it big. Wanted to see it for myself, baby,” he grins, tangling his fingers with yours like your strings of fate, and though you know the answer to your next question you still take a chance, just in case.

“If I tell you what’s happened since…you. Would it be too late to change your mind?”

“Trouble, do you want me to? Kronos’ plan is already set in motion. I think…” he swallows, and your vision blurs without your permission as tears start to fall. Through the film over your violet eyes, Luke frowns and pulls your fingertips to his lips, kissing each one. He hasn’t done that in years.

“Did I make a mistake? Do I lose you, in the end?”

“Angelface…” you sniff, leaning your cheek against his hand, “You were so scared of losing me that you didn't even stop to think of what losing you would do to me. I lost you so long ago, Luke. And you’re not mine anymore. I don't think you have been in a long time.” In these heels, your forehead is closer to his lips so he kisses that too, hoping that somehow this time he can will away your pain instead of his. He doesn’t know what to do but hold you until you say something again.

“I’ll tell you something you need to hear. And no matter what you say or think, babe—it’s the truth. Even without all the glory in the world I would still be yours. I still am, even if I can’t bear it.”

Though he’s holding you, it somehow feels like the opposite—a purer version of him in your embrace while he holds the broken pieces of you together with his golden touch. Right now, you look into honey instead of gold. The both of you look at each other in the mirror melded together like kintsugi, something good still shining through the cracks of you two together like this.

The sound of keys jangling in the lock of the front door lifts you from his embrace, and with one look you both know its time for him to go; Luke’s brows furrow as he mutters, “I’m sorry. I’ll fix this, and we’ll be together. I promise.” You nod anyway, hoping at least one of you believe it.

“Go home, Luke. She…I still need you. I’m always gonna.”

He’s already got Backbiter in hand and one foot through time when he looks back at you. Your voice sounds a lot like how it does when you tell him you love him. Luke wonders how long it’s been since you did. Your bedroom door opens with a bang and some laughter.

“Hey troublemaker, you left the dryer on! All your clothes are gonna shrink,” Jo grins, peeking her head through the doorway of your room and she’s looking at you in your graduation gown standing there alone.

“Were you on the phone? Who were you talking to?”

It’s quiet in the apartment again. Your fingernails make indents in your palms, bunching up into fists before you let go. A sad smile crosses your face as you let the settling wind kiss your cheeks, before reality kicks in and everything settles back to how it was before. 

“Just someone I used to know.”

—

“And no one can ever figure out what you want, and you won’t tell them, and you realize the one person in the world who loves you isn’t the one you thought it would be, and you don’t trust him to love you in a way you would enjoy.” -Richard Siken

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?)

1/2 luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko@bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303  @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r@visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #pjo x reader #made by ma1dita ♥︎ #luke castellan imagine #percy series #luke castellan angst #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[ajbullet]

My thoughts on episode 1 and 2 of Percy Jackson and the Olympians: (spoilers)

- The ACCURACY of the little Percy casting was unbelievable. They look identical.

- The SARCASM 🫶🏻👌🏻

- I’ve never been able to connect with Sally Jackson as a mother-figure in the books just because of my own rocky relationship with my mom, but the way she’s played really made me believe in her character and her love for Percy. It gives PERCY’s character more grounding and their relationship really drives the show.

- Sally just sitting in the rain with Olivia Rodrigo playing. Mood.

- “You fell in love…with Jesus?”

- The friction and “betrayal” between Percy and Grover was super interesting to see and I’m really glad they touched on that more than in the books

- I’ve been pronouncing Brunner wrong. Dam.

- Sally saying goodbye to Percy, knowing she was probably going to die 😭. Percy screaming for her.

- the Minotaur fight was awesome

- “YOU DROOL WHEN YOU SLEEP” Omg I can’t believe she said it. Leah’s delivery was different than how I imagined it but I loved it. She’s so matter-of-fact

- Again, I’ve always struggled with connecting with Luke’s character just because I felt like he was a little two-dimensional in the first book and then after that, you know, he’s evil and while I understood his motivations, I just didn’t really…care? Idk but his portrayal really helped me understand the depth of his betrayal and just how heartbreaking his story really is. I already love him more than I’ve allowed myself to from the books

- “She’s my little sister” I love their relationship while it lasts. Seeing how close they are really adds to the layers of both of their characters

- I’ve also been pronouncing Thalia wrong. Double dam.

- THE BLUE CANDY. PERCY BURNING IT NOT TO TALK TO HIS DAD BUT HIS MOM. That scene broke my heart.

- Leah. As. Annabeth. I’m going to be completely honest, Ive loved Leah from everything I’ve seen about her but I was nervous just because of how precious of a character Annabeth Chase has always been to me and I didn’t know if ANYONE, not specifically Leah, could live up to those expectations but omg I love her. Her bluntness. Her facial expressions. Her voice and delivery. Her sure movements and confidence and self-assuredbess that has come from success after success and training for so long. The way she is so unashamed to admit to using Percy and only watching him to see what he could do for HER. In her short amount of screen time so far, Leah was able to add layers to this character I’ve loved for so long that I didn’t even know where there. I never wanted her to leave the screen. My only complaint is that she didn’t have more lines. She is my Annabeth Chase. She’s not from the books. She’s not from the movies. She’s her own version and she stole the show.

- Luke saying Annabeth has a plan and that Percy will know what to do, only for PERCY TO BE FLOSSING AND PEEING AND PETTING GECKOS and trying so hard not to drive himself crazy with his ADHD and having nothing to do. I genuinely laughed out loud. Might be my favorite part.

- the fight scenes are so well choreographed.

- CLARISSE. She’s too pretty. I can’t hate her. And her ELECTRIC SPEAR. When it broke and she screamed, I got chills.

- The trident.

- Annabeth KNOWING Percy was Poseidon’s before anyone else cause she’s “always 6 steps ahead”

- People already keeping such important info from Percy “for his own good”

- “You are Poseidon’s son” “No, I am Sally Jackson’s son!” Might just be my favorite line. It’s so true. She raised him. She sacrificed everything for him. She loved him and cared for him and taught him that he wasn’t broken, he was singular, a miracle. She died so that he could live.

- Sally Jackson is parenting goals

- The way Percy instantly changed his decision to go to the underworld as soon as Grover told him his mom could be saved. Their relationship is unmatched

- Walker Scobell is already pretty well known, but I have a really good feeling his popularity is going to skyrocket after this show. He is such an amazing, dedicated actor. I know exactly what he is felling 100% of the time.

Overall, I absolutely loved it. In two episodes it’s become a comfort show that I can’t wait to continue watching!!

#annabeth chase #percy and annabeth #percy jackson #percabetn #percy jackon and the olympians #percy pjo #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo fandom #pjo disney+ #pjo #pjoverse #annabeth pjo #grover underwood #percabeth #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson and the lightning thief

[voltronisanobsession]

There is no End | Luke Castellan x Reader

A little idea I had, needed to right something angsty and toxic 😍💀

“Let go of me, Luke!”

You stumbled and tried pulling your arm away from the blonde boy who continued yanking you forward. The bruising grip Luke had on your arm did not deter you from trying to escape.

You thought he only wanted to talk. Maybe apologize for everything he had done. As anxious as you were to meet up with the boy, you did nonetheless.

Why? Because he’s your boyfriend. Or was, at least. Never did you imagine the kind boy you once knew to drag you away from the camp grounds kicking and screaming.

“Luke, I’m serious! Let me go!” Your voice trembled with rage and fear.

You were far from camp, you knew that. But you didn’t know that you were so close to home too. You looked at the house in front of you, anxiety shooting up as you recognized it as your own.

How did you guys manage to travel out of state so quickly? And how were you home??

It was all too confusing for you. You were cold, upset, and scared. You wondered if anyone at camp noticed your absence yet.

“LUKE STOP!”

At last, it seemed the boy finally heard you after all your previous attempts. He stopped suddenly, causing you to crash into his side. You yanked your arm away and was surprised when he let go.

You stepped away from him, eyes tracing his blank face carefully. You knew if you ran, he’d easily catch you. Your eyes traveled down to the sword strapped around his waist.

Who knew, maybe he’d use that sword against you too. What was it called again? Backbiter?

Luke’s eyes stared off into the distance. It was like he wasn’t even mentally there in the moment. He had changed so much, you noticed.

He looked older, in a way. His face, no longer soft and sweet, was hardened from the past years of intense fighting. You knew he’d seen and been through so much since he had left camp.

His once bright blue eyes were now dull in shine. He looked towards you, eyes narrowed as he turned his body to you.

“Join the army.” Your jaw almost dropped in shock.

You stepped back agin. He stepped forward.

“You seriously kidnapped me from camp, take me to my home, just to tell me to join your army? Is this a joke?”

Luke’s face twisted in anger. He took one large step and stood no more than a foot a part from you.

“No, it’s not. Join our army, and I promise you won’t get hurt when the war happens.”

Hurt? War? You realized in the moment that this was more dangerous than you anticipated.

“Why should I join your army, Luke? If you forgot, I still remember how you betrayed us. Betrayed me.” You scoffed out, arms crossing in defiance. You weren’t going to let Luke have his way.

“Betrayed you? I’m doing this for us. For everyone who was betrayed by the gods. You should feel betrayed by them.”

Luke was now so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from the skin on his arms. He was angry and you knew it. Luke never got angry before.

“When have the gods and goddesses ever been there for you, huh? Your father? Why do you take their side when the only thing they’ve done is screw you and everyone else over?”

You stared up at him in shock. Was he really trying to use your father against you? You knew what he was trying to do, you knew it.

“Luke-“

“No! Tell me, when was the last time Apollo said happy birthday to you? Actually, tell me when was the last time you’ve even seen him?”

Your face scrunched up in hurt, your body trying to back away from Luke’s, only for him to wrap his hands around your biceps, stopping you from getting away. You gasped from the squeezing pain.

“He doesn’t care about you, y/n. None of the Olympians do. Why are you fighting for immortals that don’t even care if you live or die?”

Your eyes watered up with unshed tears. His presence was becoming too much for you. Was he going to kill you if you didn’t join? Oh gods, you were going to die.

“No one cares about you. You don’t matter to anyone. Not even your own mother-“

“Stop it, Luke! Don’t say that!” Your lips wobbled as you spoke, the tears welling up in your eyes and slowly falling down your cheeks.

“It’s true, though. You want to see how much you matter to her? Don’t worry, I’ll show you.”

Your heart leaped to your throat as the blonde boy began dragging you to the house you once lived in. Panicking, you began your game of tug and war against him again, but you weren’t as strong as he was.

“No, no Luke please! Don’t do this, please!” You sobbed out as Luke continued pulling you closer and closer to the house.

Once close enough, he shot you a look as if to say quiet, making you immediately stop babbling out nonsense.

You were hysterical at this point, your face red from your crying and sobbing. Your body shook as you tried and failed miserably to stop your cries. You continued crying even as Luke pulled you up to a ground level window of the house.

Luke grabbed your jaw to keep you from turning away from the window, forcing you to look into the house.

“Look Y/N. I said look.”

You sobbed as you did what he wanted. It had been exactly 5 years since you’ve last seen your mother. 5 years since she left you at camp and never came back. All the memories came flooding back immediately as you stared at the woman you loved so dearly.

She sat on a chair reading a book, the same way she always did when you were younger. The house looked the same way it did when she took you to camp all those years ago. Except something was different.

You began crying all over again, broken sobs escaping your body as you saw two small children run over to her.

“No, no, no.”

You gasped for air as the woman in front of you put down her book and picked up the young children, placing them on her lap as she smiled gently at them.

Your pulled away from the window, away from the house, and back into the darkness where you first began.

You didn’t even register Luke pulling you close to him, his arms engulfing you in a hug. The boy whispered sweet nothings to you as you slowly calmed down from your hysteria.

You sniffled softly as Luke’s whispers filled the silence of the night.

Your arms slowly wrapped around Luke’s body, head leaning against his chest.

“There is no end, Y/N. I told you, they don’t care about you. They never did.”

You sniffled again as your eyes stung with tears again. He didn’t need to remind you again. The boy then kissed your head, still hugging you as you got a hold of yourself.

“But I care, Y/N. I care so much for you. That’s why I want you to join me. So you don’t have to be alone again. I promise I’ll never leave you like your parents did.”

And you couldn’t help but believe him. The sincerity in his voice was hard to miss. The way he held you was the same way he held you all that time ago, when you were younger.

He promised he wouldn’t leave you. Your hands clenched around his shirt. You took a deep breath and unclenched your hands.

“Ok.”

Luke pulled away and held your face, eyes staring straight into yours. These blue eyes were the same ones you remembered staring into when you were at camp.

“Promise me you won’t leave.”

He gently kisses your forehead, wiping away your stray tears with gentle hands.

“I promise.”

You never returned to camp after that night, leaving many of the campers to worry and wonder what had happened to you. Little did they know that you had signed a deal with the worst monster imaginable, after he promised you he would never leave you alone.

#luke castellan x reader #pjo x Reader #Percy jackson x Reader #Luke castellan x you #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo headcanons #Luke castellan #pjo luke #x reader #Percy jackson and the Olympians #percy jackson headcanon #luke pjo #headcanons

[lixzey]

ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ, ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴍɪɴᴇ ᡣ𐭩

𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙼𝙴 જ⁀➴

hi, my name's ellie and welcome to my blog!

i just started writing on this platform last september 2023. i've been writing fics since i was twelve (yes, it was cringe) on wattpad. i would love to read your feedback, or be friends! my inbox is always open for anything 🫶🏻

anyway, here's some lil facts about me:

i'm 21 years old • she/her • filo-canadian • enfp • libra baby • mother of a four year old girl • a gryffindor child of aphrodite • has adhd and wears glasses • has photographic memory • loves writing (obvi), music, and reading

- i live in the philippines, so pls bear with me. i try to be awake the whole night so i can post when most of my followers are awake

- as i've mentioned, i am a mother to a four year old. so when i get delays in posting, blame her (lol pls don't blame my kid)

- pls don't be rude to me :( i cry at the simplest things :( so hate will definitely be deleted.

xoxo, el 💘

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐈𝐗𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

╰┈➤ CHARLIE BUSHNELL

╰┈➤ LUKE CASTELLAN

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ divider by @saradika-graphics

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

‼️All of my works are purely fictional and are intended for entertainment only. I do have a wattpad account of the same username (lixzey_), but I haven't posted anything that I have written there aside from one. Please do not repost any of my works on any other site. ‼️

TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

The Story of Us - In which you are Timothée Chalamet's high school sweetheart. After a messy break up ten years ago, Timothée is Hollywood's it boy, while you are a rising star. The two of you will star in a new movie, what could possibly go wrong?

Letters - One day Timothée receives a package from someone unknown: a basket of eighteen letters. Letters from a girl named y/n. A mysterious fan who poured her heart out in her letters and is trying to fix herself. As Timothée begins to read, and the letters begin to run out, he finds himself falling for this girl.

Until one day he stopped reading.

Because she stopped writing.

Can't Help Falling In Love - In which two strangers accidentally get married.

Forever Yours

Heart to Heart

My Girl

The Girl With Hair Longer Than Rapunzel

24 Hours

Paradise

Bride for Rent

The Unknown Number

Bad idea, right?

Catching Feelings

Over and Over Again

Angel Eyes

Risk It All

TIMOTHÉE'S CHARACTERS `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

Foolish Ones - Theodore Laurence

Crazy Little Thing Called Love - Wonka

Choices - Paul Atreides

Against All Odds - Hal [The King, 2019]

STAND ALONE `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

• Rising Star

• Daddy's Angels

• More Than Words 🔥

THE MARAUDERS `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

James Potter

• Almost A Love Story

• Must Be Love

• To All The Boys I've Loved Before

• Once Upon A December

• Me Before You

Regulus Black

• Monster Among Men

• To The Moon and Back

• Protego Maxima

• Forever and Always

Remus Lupin

• Professor, Professor

• Head Over Heels

• Seven Minutes to Forever

• Timeless

Sirius Black

• Golden

• The Name of The Game

• If Only

• Safe and Sound

PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

Luke Castellan

• Serendipity

• Sincerely, yours

• Lovelorn

• Late night cravings

HEROES OF OLYMPUS `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

• blood runs thicker than water

#timothée chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #regulus black x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #ellie's masterlist #ellie's works 💘 #el's writing ✨

[kiwanopie]

Laptop

boyfriend!kiyoomi part IV!

“So… Where’d you two meet?”

Sakusa sighs.

This was exactly the scenario he was trying to avoid. Sitting on the bed adjacent to his longtime teammate and trying to avert his eyes from the way he kicks his feet from under him like an overgrown school boy. His gleeful - prying eyes sear holes in the side of his head from where he’s got his nose pointed at his laptop monitor, and if his hunch should tell him anything; it’s that little Mr. GossipGirl won’t rest until he’s juiced him of all the mushy details.

But the problems not that he doesn’t like talking about you. It’s the opposite actually, he could start and never finish, it’s just…

It’s embarrassing to get all sweet and blushy in front of this honey-eyed fool or any of his teammates. He hates the vulnerability of it all. Fending off a smile and trying to minimize all of these very big, very honest feelings he has about you. And ever since meeting you he’s been very slowly but surely pushing himself away from his previous dispositions.

Aloof old Omi, safely reclusive - inside his little shell, has peeked his head out and fallen in love with the sun.

This guy’s gonna eat that shit up.

Sakusa grazes his finger along the touch pad, tapping it a few times before grumbling curtly. “Can you go to bed already?”

“Not without a bedtime story,” Atsumu chirps. “C’mon. Tell me all about ‘er! I know you want to.”

Sakusa sighs again as he taps in a few loud keys. White orange tinted light turning his skin a filtered fuchsia as the screen flickers. “What are you five? You’re a little too old to be swapping secrets like a grade schooler.”

“Is she a secret though?”

“She’s not.” And that’s a resolute answer if he’s ever heard one.

“Then why won’t you tell me about her?!”

“Because-“ Sakusa blows out an exasperated breath.

There’s a long moment he spends pointing his nose to the hotel ceiling to quietly deliberate. Longer the few seconds he spends clenching and unclenching his jaw as his eyes fall and his pupils twitch in careful thought. He opens his mouth - closes it again but his lips part on their own. Sakusa blows out a breath until his voice comes tumbling after it, and it pains him to know that his fight for composure was fruitless.

“If I tell you, will you shut up and go to bed?”

Atsumu crosses his fingers over his chest. “Hand to God.”

Sakusa stares at him for a while.

“We’ve been… dating for the past couple of years,” Three years and eighteen days of pure bliss. “She was one of my sister's students so we met through her.”

The uncut version is that Sakusa stormed his sister’s office before her lecture could fully clear to bitch about her saddling him with mom on his only days off. Had to have looked mad as a snake when he walked in there, face twisted up and everything.

And obviously a 6’4 Olympian isn’t what your average college student expects to run into during their four o’clock lecture, especially when he’s calling out to their professor like he’s got a loaded gun in his hand. But you were too busy filling in your last minute notes to care about him or whatever he was doing at the time.

Sakusa sees you but he doesn’t see you. He just knows you’re the only person in this room and there’s a wicked witch on the loose. “Have you seen Kyouka?”

You hum. “Sakusa-san?”

“Obviously.”

Your eyes are the first thing he notices when you raise your head. They’re doey and soft and disarming. You’ve got that kind of look to you that reminds him of a love song; one of those old school radio ones that you hear in the car on the way to work but it’s stuck in your head throughout the day and you can’t stop singing it under your breath.

“You look like someone shit in your laptop and closed it.” You say.

The tendons in his jaw stress as you point your extended arm toward the door. “She’s in Nabuya’s lecture down the hall but, I don’t think she’s gonna talk to you with your face all twisted up like that.”

Sakusa quietly nods before turning his heel for the door.

It took two whole months of silently pining and bringing his sister pickled daikon for lunch to finally get you to agree to go out with him, and since then he’s been living on cloud nine.

“Oh-Ho!,” Atsumu grins. “And did charmin’ ol Omi put the work on her? ‘That it?”

He didn’t anticipate how dry the air would be on your first date so he wound up with a nosebleed that geysered for like a solid five minutes. “Yeah…”

“A’right, a’right, So… How is it that I’m just hearin’ about her now? I mean, from that phone call-“

“Let’s not talk about the phone call.”

Atsumu titters. And he seems genuinely happy to see his friend all settled down and loving someone so earnestly. He knows how difficult relationships can be for a high maintenance guy like him, and it’s refreshing to see his edges softened a little. He kicks his feet until he’s pressed against the headboard adjacent to Sakusa, smiling at him from across the way as he cradles a pillow against his chest.

“You should know that you’re safe to talk about yer personal life with us, Omi. It’s not like we were gonna tease ya too much about it.”

Sakusa blows out a short breath through his nose. “I know that. It’s just-…”

The way Sakusa softens up is quite honestly enough to make him start to blush. “____’s really special to me. So, I guess it’s hard to bring her up without getting touchy about feedback.”

Atsumu throws his head back a little. “Well, it’s flatterin’ that you’re bein’ so honest about it with me.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

He snorts as he rests his head on the headboard with a quiet thump!

And then he furrows.

Atsumu leans in to get a better look at his monitor. “Why ya lookin’ up purses?”

Sakusa hurriedly shuts his laptop.

Physical therapy

#boyfriend!kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #hq sakusa #bnha x reader #hq x reader #hq fluff #hq #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa fluff #sakusa x reader

[lynsstrange]

The one thing I wasn’t a fan of about Annabeth being there for Luke’s betrayal is the potentially lost conflict for seasons later on.

The most interesting part about Percy being alone for the betrayal in the book is Annabeth’s internal struggle with the way she sees Luke.

Even in the later books, when they’re well past Luke’s betrayal and into the war, she still acts desperate and excusing whenever Luke is involved.

Desperate to see an ounce of the boy she knew before. Some hidden bit of kindness and compassion he still has left that she felt when she was seven and needed someone to show her love. Some vulnerability he’s willing to show her that he didn’t show to Percy when they were alone in the woods.

Because if she had been there, he wouldn’t have been able to look her in the eyes and backstab her, right? Because they’re family.

And again, and again, and again he proves her wrong. In the worst way possible. She has to force herself to believe it, to fight him over and over again. But I think there was always a, tiny, irrational part of her that thought maybe he wasn’t too far gone. That his care for her could override the bitterness that had consumed him. Until the last Olympian.

I’ve talked about this passage before, but it’s so interesting to me.

It’s only when they’re on the literal elevator trip up to end the war that she finally, really accepts it. Luke isn’t ever coming back from this. He won’t even be coming back from it alive.

But when she’s on the ground, battered and vulnerable, with Luke standing over her, she still can’t help but say one last time “you promised.”

Because deep down he’s still that boy to her, and will always be.

I just feel like some of that depth is lost with her eavesdropping on Luke’s entire villain monologue to Percy. There’s less room for the interesting conflict between her and Percy that we see later on. And the way it becomes obvious how truly torn she is. How much it rips her apart to have to truly come to terms with it at the end of the series.

This was just my opinion on it. If we’re getting future seasons, I’m sure it’s gonna do a good job with the fallout of Luke’s betrayal, just maybe not in this way. But I still feel like that that was a really interesting layer to the scene that was taken away.

Edit: I think I worded the second half of my post poorly. in no way am I saying there can’t be internal conflict !!! Annabeth obviously watches Luke do terrible things later in the series, and her desire to see him in a good light comes from seeing him as an older brother, above all else. Not just from not witnessing Luke backstabbing Percy. I just think that her not watching it happen is an interesting extension of that. Like, does she think she might have been able to talk him down if she were in the forest with them, deep down? Her fatal flaw is hubris, after all, and maybe she could have fooled herself into thinking that her being there could have made him think twice. Because she’s his little sister, and would he have hurt her? It’s probably harder for her to accept the complete 180 between the last time she saw him and the next time she sees him in SOM when she wasn’t present to see exactly how angry and bitter he’d become.

By TLO, I know it’s about much more than that, it was my mistake using a photo from it, it was just what I had on hand. I’m saying it’s an interesting idea that could have been explored, especially in the second season.

#percy jackson #pjo series #luke castellan #annabeth chase #percabeth #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo tv show #percy jackson tv show #percy jackson tv series #pjo tv series #rick riordan #percy and annabeth #Percy Jackson finale #percy jackson spoilers #pjo spoilers #pjo fandom #walker scobell #leah sava jeffries #Lyn talks pjo

[perseas-wellyboots]

The Luke Castellan problem in PJO books and Fandom

I just finished rereading the pjo series for the dozenth time and I have so many thoughts about Luke and how the fandom woobified him.

Like no Luke did not have the right idea and executed it in the wrong way. He wasn't a misguided victim, although there is no doubt Kronos manipulated him. But him being manipulated does not absolve him of his wrongdoings. Hurt people can still hurt people, you can be abused and still become an abuser.

Most of Fandom's idea of Luke being a 'hero' because he did the right thing in the end is extremely doozy like ok he killed himself to stop Kronos but that does not absolve him the blame of killing innocent people.

While Luke's main goal was the destruction of Gods, that was not because he wanted the demigods to have better lives. He actively killed demigods.

In the Sea of Monsters, when Percy, Annabeth and Tyson snuck into Princess Andromeda; they saw 12 year olds being trained how to kill a 'dummy in camp half blood tshirts'. He was actively exploiting children and manipulating them into killing other children and saw nothing wrong with it.

He only considered deflecting from Kronos when he found out that he was going to be possessed by him.

He only worked and cared for him, he was so lost into power and revenge that HE became a monster.

"Oh but he cared for Thalia and Annabeth!!" I'll get into that later too

I think Luke's fatal flaw contrary to the opinion of fandom is The Urge to Prove Himself.

He had one conversation with Hermes which made him angry and bitter and Thalia even notes that after that conversation Luke got into more and more fights with monsters like he had something to prove which Annabeth didnt seem to see as a problem since he was her hero. They got into more skirmishes because of his recklessness, fighting more monsters since Luke wanted to pick a fight with each one he came across.

(Conversation from PJO, The Last Olympian)

His fatal flaw being to Prove Himself would explain why he took the failure of his quest so hard that the night he returned from the quest was the same night Kronos started speaking to him for the first time. It didn't help that when he returned from his failed quest, the campers treated him with pity.

He wanted to pull Olympus down stone by stone because He failed his quest that he didn't want to do because it was already done by Hercules once. 🥴

His endgame has nothing to do with wanting to help ANYBODY. He wanted to take down gods because he had a grudge against them and wanted to Prove that he could do it. Everything else comes secondary if it fits his agenda.

This is one of the reasons why it bothers me so much when people say that Luke had the right idea or that Percy would have joined Kronos if Sally had died like you fundamentally misunderstood the character of Percy if you think he would have joined Kronos.

He talks about "driving humanity back into caves, all except the strongest - who would serve him" THIS IS LITERALLY FASCISM???

(According to Merriam-Webster, Fascism is a political philosophy, movement, or regime that exalts nation and often race above the individual and that stands for a centralized autocratic government headed by a dictatorial leader, severe economic and social regimentation, and forcible suppression)

Now onto the topic of Thalia, Annabeth and Luke

First of all, I absolutely hate that 'Thalia and Luke had a thing before she got turned into a tree bit' because Thalia was 12 and Luke was 14 when they met and Thalia was 15 and Luke was 20-21ish when they meet again in TTC ugh hate that.

Now TTC, where to begin, here I used to believe Luke had already bathed in river Styx as there are some narrations where Percy notes that Luke looked worse and like his scar was reopened and would certainly explain how he survived the cliff fall but on my rereading I realised that Thalia and Luke fought when Percy was holding the sky and Thalia injured Luke so nvm then.

It is however in this book that Luke began to realise Kronos's plan for him as it is implied by the General and he starts to fear for his life.

Mind you, what did Luke think would happen if Thalia did agree to join Kronos when he knew Kronos was looking for a host of body...

Luke is many things, he is cunning, manipulative, a great swordsman but what he is not is stupid. If Thalia would have agreed then Kronos would have used Thalia as a vessel 😬

And oh boy the can of worms that is Luke and Annabeth. I've seen many Luke fans/apologists deny that there is no canon evidence of Luke being romantically interested in Annabeth BUT THERE IS?? they refuse to believe and call Annabeth an unreliable narrator because otherwise their uwu white boy would be a Pedophile. Even if he wasn't a Pedo, he manipulated Annabeth so many times to make her sympathise with her and use her emotions against her.

(excerpts from various books: TLO, TLO, BoTL, MoA annabeth's pov)

^ Annabeth was 15 almost 16 or already 16 I believe when Luke asked her to run away with him in a romantic sense and he was 21-22.

also another evidence adding to the theory of his fatal flaw having proving himself.

Now, onto the topic of CHB and Luke:

Luke being hesitant to attack camp half blood in BotL has less to do with him suddenly growing a spine (as some fans suggest) and more to do with the inevitable possession.

When Kronos informs that he will himself lead the attack, Luke advises to use Hyperion instead because he knows for Kronos to attack it in person, he would finally possess Luke.

(first one is from TTC, the other two from BoTL)

One of the last things I wanna talk about is Silena Beauregard & Luke and Luke's portrayal in the new Percy Jackson series:

Luke was 17 when Kronos started speaking to him and 19 when he left the camp. Silena was 17-18 when she died which makes her 13-14 when Luke left the camp in TLT and 11-12 when Kronos first started talking to him. Adult Luke charmed an underage girl, and promised her that she was helping the demigods and then when she tried to stop, he started blackmailing her. [excerpts from TLO]

According to the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children UK, Grooming is when someone builds a relationship, trust and emotional connection with a child or young person so they can manipulate, exploit and abuse them. The relationship a groomer builds can take different forms. This could be: a romantic relationship, as a mentor, an authority figure, a dominant and persistent figure. They might use blackmail to make a child feel guilt and shame or introduce the idea of 'secrets' to control, frighten and intimidate.

So canonically, Book!Luke is a fascist groomer pedophile.

Now on the new Disney+ Percy Jackson show, it seems that Rick Riordan is subtly rewriting the character of Luke and removing the more problematic aspect of him (pedophile and grooming). Let me explain why I think that:

Even though in TLT the book, Luke describes Annabeth as his little sister we know how well that lasted but I don't think they are keeping Annabeth's crush on him on the show from what I've seen (though I could be wrong).

Secondly, the casting of Dior Goodjohn as Clarisse puts Clarisse on the same age range as Luke, maybe a year or two younger but in the first book Clarisse was 13-14 and she was 17 in TLO, so they have aged her up. It is my assumption that they will also age Silena by casting a 17-19 yr old actress as her.

And they have made Luke far more sympathetic in the show than the books (him not calling a hellhound during capture the flag and no pit scorpions in the finale), but we wouldn't know how sympathetic or villainous they are making him until season 2 comes out. Charlie Bushnell gives an excellent performance imo

Though this again reflects the double standards it comes to PJO, they have given much grace and praise for the changes made to Luke's character and little to no complaint for ageing up Clarisse but the hate Walker and especially Leah are given is so cruel. Leah has been so much racially targeted though I think she's an excellent Annabeth, just something to think about.

Also, before I forget-

We don't give enough flack to Rick Riordan for writing two weird age dynamics without recognising as grooming and pedophilic nature. (Lukabeth and Caleo/Capercy)

The characters are never made to realise (especially Annabeth) that an older person having feelings for them as a minor is not a normal behaviour.

Especially in regards to Calypso who may take the form of a 15 year old but is actually more than 4612 (according to the riordan wiki) and her having a crush on 14 year old Percy and 15-16 yr old Leo Valdez, not to mention how rudely she treated Leo. Also her cursing Annabeth because Percy left her. Not only is it plain nasty but she's never called out. Its actually so disgusting🤕.

Anyways this turned into a long rant but I would love to read your opinions, especially on Luke's fatal flaw.

I know for some people it may seem like I'm too hard on him but this is just my opinion.

IMO I have no problem if you like a morally bad or gray person, an antihero or a villain as long as their bad deeds aren't swept under the rug and pretend they never happened or glorify their good deeds.

I actually think villian's bad things make them more interesting.

Luke is an antagonist and a villain of the PJO series and a part of being a villain is that some people are going to hate you and that's ok.

Me personally, I was never a fan of his and that's ok.

I know some people are going to bring up the fact that Percy in MoA sympathises but the PJO characters are complicated and Luke was very skilled at making others think of his reason to destroy the Gods the way they would sympathise the most and we see that multiple times.

#percy jackson meta #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan #anti luke castellan #i think #annabeth chase #thalia grace #silena beauregard #clarisse la rue #titans curse #battle of the labyrinth #the last olympian #mark of athena #pjo tv show #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians tv show #anti calypso #anti caleo #leo valdez #perseas-wellyboots #rick riordan critical

[kekaki-cupcakes]

hello!! Hope you’re doing well!!

could you please do a Leo x mortal reader cafe au like the Connor stoll one? And could the reader be a Greek mythology nerd also please have a little brother who she’ll randomly quiz about the Olympian gods?

have a nice day 😚😚

heyyy i didn't get your whole request in but i got the vibe dw and also kind of made a moodpboard for it cause I loved the whole aesthetic and no one requests mood boards <3 LISTEN TO EXPRESSO BY SABRINA!

Leo Valdez x Reader--- cafe au

»»————-　★　————-««

“Hello,” you said, looking up from your screen for a millisecond, “what can I get you today?”

When whoever it was ordering didn’t respond, you raised an eyebrow, hand hovering over the digital menu. The boy frowned at the screen above your head where it listed all the different drinks. He had the nicest brown curls, you noticed, and looked back down before he caught you staring. 

He tapped his fingers quickly on the counter. Sabrina Carpenter's new song was playing over the cafe speakers. It sounded like summer.

“How many espresso shots are you legally allowed to put in one drink?” The boy asked with a crackly voice. He had dark smudges under his eyes. And on his hands. Huh. You really needed a camera to look into at times like this, for comedic effect. Like the office.

“About six,” you said, dropping your customer service voice with a shrug, and opened up a new order on the tablet, your bracelets jingling. “What can I get you today?” 

You loved your bracelets. Some were from that second hand store down the street full of goths and grandmas where you’d bought yet another version of the Odyssey yesterday, and the rest were from your little brother. 

You never admitted it to anyone, but he’d made them based on all your favorite Greek gods. The ones you were wearing today had pomegranate seed charms and antler horn patterns.  

His eyes widened considerably. They were brown. And sparkly. “What happened to your voice?”

You squinted at him. Someone else came into the cafe with three little dogs stuffed into their giant handbag. 

“That was my customer service voice.” Your brain was finally receiving enrichment in messing with this cute greasy boy. You put it on again, paired with a fake smile. “What can I get for you today?” 

He chuckled, and hitched a giant canvas tote bag over his shoulder. There was a giant inked cat with butterfly wings on it, and a long metal pipe sticking out the back. You had a feeling this boy would steal your name if he got ahold of it, or trap you in a ring of flowers deep in a forest.

“Uh,” he trailed off, and then winked, scrunching up his entire face. “Surprise me.”

You blinked at him. How entirely helpful. You watched him pull an entire fucking old fashioned pocketwatch out of his pocket to check the time. 

Medium was the most commonly ordered size of drink, so you selected that, and then a caramel latte with whipped cream. You had that knack that every person in your generation seemed to have been born with. 

Selecting random objects and flavors to match someone’s vibe precisely. You just happened to be a barista. 

For instance, this talkative sleep deprived boy was rocky road slices with peanuts in them, and torn open sugar packets, and caramel. Your coworker, Lou Ellen, who was wiping down tables behind the handbag dog man, was those butterfly shaped ice-cubes and home brewed black coffee from a saucepan and dragon fruit juices.                            And that thick book on Greek mythology she’d bought you for your birthday last year [she’d nicked it from the library and peeled the sticker off]. 

“Four dollars and sixty cents,” you said patronizingly, in your customer service voice. He grinned like you had just invented the funniest inside joke ever, and handed over five dollars in fifty cents coins.

“Keep the change.”

You printed out the receipt and reached for a medium sized cup and the ballpoint pen from a uni campus open day, after pocketing the generous tip of forty cents and a paperclip. 

What a gentleman. “Name?” 

“Leo Valdez, super sized Mcshizzle, bad boy supreme,” Leo Valdez super sized Mcshizzle bad boy supreme said happily, as one of the handbag dogs escaped the bag and started chewing on his laces. 

You desperately needed that camera to look into now. You should be the star of a sitcom at this point, with you as the tired main character dealing with silly customers while desperately longing to go home and read your books, Lou Ellen as the hilarious trashy best friend, Will [your coworker who was currently taking out the trash] as the angry bisexual lumped with the night shift crew, and your little brother, who would pop in at random times in each episode to deliver the punchline.  

Instead of letting the credits roll, unfortunately, you scribbled out an unintelligible scrawl to represent the complete nonsense you were supposed to instead. Your smile was strained this time. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

Leo [you assumed that was his name] beamed. “Thanks!”

It was only as you frothed the milk and tried not to burn your fingertips on the spout did you realize that the song was still going. Lou must’ve looped it, as she did with every song ever until she got sick of it and hated it. 

You nodded your head and tipped the bubbling milk into the cup, reaching for the tube of caramel sauce. “Soft skin and I perfumed it for ya, I know I Mountain Dew it for ya.” 

“That morning coffee, brewed it for ya.” You rolled your eyes to no one and tipped the extra caramel sauce into it. It was ten o'clock at night, and your shift had just started. Morning coffees meant college students rushing in at two a.m. so they could finish their projects. 

You shook up the whipped cream. “One touch and I brand-newed it for ya.” 

One of the most satisfying parts of your job, apart from spinning around and introducing yourself as the manager [you are not the manager] when someone demands to see the manager [who comes in once a month, looks around, and leaves again], is the whipped cream. The sound of it and the little pattern it makes just itches a scratch. 

You smile as you finish the swirl, which sinks into the cup of espresso shots and caramel milk. You spin around, “now he’s thinkin’ ‘bout me every night, oh…”   

“Is it that sweet? I guess so,” you hum under your breath, and ducking the spray bottle Lou Ellen launches over your head, you stick a straw in the cup and walk to the bench, where Will’s serving the man with three purse dogs a jelly donut. 

Leo’s digging through his bag while you wait, not bothering to rush him and leave the 24/7 rip off starbucks diner empty. 

You pick up the pen and take the lid off with your teeth, doodling a little cat on the blank bit of the cup. The tail comes out all wrong, and one of the whiskers slides halfway around on the plastic with a scratchy sound. 

You add rushed fairy wings to its soft looking back, and hand the cup over as Sabrina Carpenter sings about being a singer. Her voice is so pretty. Like caramel. “There you go.”

Leo grinned at you, and while you watched in absolute horror, proceeded to pour an entire monster energy drink he’d pulled from his tote bag into the perfectly made coffee. 

“Excuse me?” you whisper shrieked. 

He blinked at you owlishly, and you tried not to notice how warm his eyes looked in the vintage yellow lights of the shop that made everything seem seventies. “What?”

“That’s enough caffeine and chemicals to give a water buffalo a heart attack,” you said, pointing at his awful concoction. It started to fizz. You wondered if the building had chemical reaction insurance.

“I’ve got a lot of work to do,” Leo shrugged, and picked up his cup happily. He looked down at it, and a grin split across his face. “I got a drawing!”

»»————-　★　————-««

It was only a few days later when the bell rattled quietly by the door and you looked up to see Leo and smiled despite yourself, fingers tapping on the cup in your hand, wear the ring you’d made from that paperclip sat, did you realize what role he would play in your heart shaped ice-cubes Sabrina Carpenter soundtracked paperback books late night set ballpoint pen sitcom.

The love interest. 

»»————-　★　————-««

#leo valdez x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #pjo fandom #pjo #heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #leovaldez #leo valdez #leovaldezxreader #leo valdez pjo #leo valdez fanfic #leo valdez x you #the heroes of olympus #leo valdez x y/n

[literallyjusttoa]

Apollo throughout the ages! Or at least from birth to Rome. I'm going to go ham on explaining the timeline under the cut, but I hope you guys like the designs I made for the different periods of his life!

Anyways EXTREME TIMELINE RAMBLING TIME

Baby (2591 B.C.E.): The year I arbitrarily decided Apollo was born in lmao. Apollo didn’t look like this for long. Probably only like, a minute. Just long enough for Leto to safely give birth and then he was immediately like “ew, no I wanna be big” 

2. Fighting Python (2591 B.C.E.): Immediately after being born, Apollo flies off to go fight Python for 7 days (fun!). After that, he is punished for committing murder and has to purify himself by serving as a slave for 9 years in the Vale of Tempe (funner!) Yeah, Apollo definitely had an A+ childhood. One thing in his first two designs Apollo doesn’t look entirely human. This is bc I like to think he was born with some cool titan traits!

3. Pre-First Punishment (2582-2300 B.C.E): Back from his years in the mortal realm, Apollo looks much more human. His clothes are inspired by Ancient Aegean fashions I found, as we are long before the start of what is considered Ancient Greece. Apollo is the youngest member of the Olympian council and it shows. This boyish look stays with him until after he serves under Laomedon.

Other events that happen during this time: 

Hermes is born (Around 2500 B.C.E.)

4. Post-First Punishment (2290-ish B.C.E-1500 B.C.E.): Apollo comes back from Troy influenced by their traditions, and it shows in his design. There wasn’t much I could find on how Troy differed from the rest of the Mediterranean at the time (probably bc for a while we thought the place didn’t even exist lmao) but I did find something that said an emphasis was put on those with higher status wearing jewelry. So Apollo gets pearls in his hair and golden bands around his arms. His clothes are inspired by feminine Aegean attire. 

Other events that happen during this time:

Music duel with Marsyas (Around 2000 B.C.E)

Dionysus is born (Around 1600 B.C.E)

5. Post-Daphne (1500 B.C.E-1194 B.C.E.): The introduction of the laurel. After Daphne’s death, Apollo distances himself from his family a bit, which leads perfectly into our next big event-

6. Trojan War (1194-1184 B.C.E): Apollo sides with Troy, and its influence once again appears in his appearance, this time even more pronounced. In a war against not only Greece, but his own family, Apollo keeps himself covered and constantly prepared to aid in battle. Missing his mother back on Delos, Apollo grows his hair out for the first time. 

7. Post-Trojan War and Hyacinthus (1184 B.C.E-776 B.C.E.): After Troy falls, Apollo sheds it’s influence quickly, not wanting to look like he’s supporting a side the rest of his family is either against or has given up on. He breaks his time evenly between Olympus and the mortal realm, and takes many lovers until the death of Hyacinthus around 800 B.C.E. After that, he stays up in the heavens for a few decades. 

8. “Main” Apollo (776 B.C.E-540 B.C.E): Starting with the first Olympics in Greece, Apollo is lifted as a paragon of Greece and its people. Shedding the peplos he has worn throughout his early years, Apollo wears a classic chiton and becomes much more invested in the affairs of man. This is a period of great power and ecstasy for him, but as the saying goes, pride goes before the fall. 

Other events that happen during this time: 

Death of Niobe’s children (Around 770 B.C.E.)

Music duel with Pan (Around 750 B.C.E)

Dating Cyrene (Around 630 B.C.E)

9. Coronis-Asclepius (540 B.C.E-500 B.C.E): A design that only lasts as long as Asclepius lives. Zeus is unsettled by Apollo’s influence over Greece, and starts applying more pressure against him. This leaves Apollo stressed, and that's without the fact that he is now raising a prodigy in medicine alongside Chiron. In these 40 years, Apollo attempts to balance his want to be involved in the mortal world with his fathers wrath. In the end, his father will win. 

Other events that happen during this time: 

Around 515 B.C.E - Tarquin purchases the Sibylline Books. Apollo and the Sybil of Cumae must happen before this point (not entirely sure when yet, but definitely in this period.)

10. 2nd Punishment (500 B.C.E.): Apollo serves his second punishment under Admetus. Crushed by the loss of his son and anger of his father, Apollo spends most of this time in hiding. It is only through the gentle hand of Admetus that Apollo finds some sort of healing. 

11. Late Greece (499 B.C.E-146 B.C.E.): Apollo is definitely trying to move on far too quickly from his punishment. He cuts his hair, dons his chiton, and gets right into being an Olympian. It doesn’t help that he is beginning to see the cracks in the foundations of Greece. Athens is flourishing, but only at the expense of Sparta and his own Delos. Years of civil war and threats of Roman invasion leave Apollo shaken, and he pulls away from both the mortal realm and his family, who seem more and more like strangers every day…

Other events that happen during this time:

Trophonius’ death (Around 200 B.C.E)

12. Fall of Greece (146 B.C.E.-32 B.C.E.): Rome officially takes over Greece, and suddenly Apollo’s family are all lost to him. As I’ve mentioned before, I don’t think Apollo has a Roman form like the rest of his family, and I imagine the sudden switch in their personalities must have been terrifying. Rarely worshiped and ostracized from Olympus, Apollo returns to the mortal realm, spending his time in solitude as a shepherd. As his influence grows weaker, he begins to show sign of weakness. This is the only time Apollo “ages” (I gave him a beard) and I tried to take away some of the attributes that would have been considered divine. Apollo is completely covered, and he wears shoes (which gods would never do)

13. Rome: (32 B.C.E.-476 C.E.): I know, I know, Apollo should have multiple Rome designs, but I got lazy. Apollo is credited by Octavian for his success in battle against Marc Antony and Cleopatra, and worship of the god skyrockets. Now back on Olympus, Apollo is still wary of his family’s Roman counterparts. He drowns himself in luxuries, hoping to distract from his worries about his brothers and sisters. Who knows what kind of bad decisions a man might make in this scenario?!? (*cough* Commodus *cough*). 

And that’s my full timeline so far!! If there’s anything y’all have questions about (Any missing myths, questions about why I put things were) I’d be happy to answer! I put a lot of work into this, so I hope y’all like it!

#trials of apollo #long post #toa apollo #lester papadopoulos #apollart #sunny speaks #timeline

[captainsophiestark]

Like A Damn Disney Prince

Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my Year of Olympians and part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023​! It features a ton of other awesome creators and runs all year, so go check it out!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Prompt: Aphrodite; Love, Passion, Beauty, Desire, Rose

Summary: Elijah asks the girl of his dreams to accompany him to the Mikaelson ball.

Word Count: 1,396

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Just a second!" I called at the sound of the doorbell. I set down the whisk and the bowl of brownie batter I'd been working on, then quickly wiped my hands before heading to the door. I peeked outside to see who it was and found none other than Elijah Mikaelson standing there, dressed impeccably in a suit as always and with his hands behind his back. I smiled, trying to ignore my racing heart as I opened the door.

"Hi Elijah," I said. He smiled as soon as he saw me, and my heart thumped a little harder than before.

"Hello, Y/N. It's lovely to see you," he said. With that, he brought his hands out from behind his back and held out a rose to me, along with a nice manila envelope. "For you."

"Oh my goodness, thank you," I said, reaching out to take both items from him. He'd brought me an actual rose, while wearing a suit. Like a Disney prince.

"The letter is an invitation to a ball my mother has decided to throw. She asked us each to find a date, and I couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather go with."

"Oh my gosh, Elijah! I... I don't know what to say."

"How about... yes?"

I beamed, holding the rose and the letter a little tighter to my chest.

"Yes. Absolutely yes, I'd love to go with you. I'm so happy you asked."

He smiled. "Excellent. I'd offer to pick you up, but my dear sister beat me to that request. She wanted me to ask you if you'd like to go dress shopping and get ready with her in, say, an hour?"

"Absolutely," I replied with a grin. "Rebekah and I are due some girl time."

"Wonderful. Then I'll see you tonight."

Elijah reached out and took my hand, placing a soft kiss on the back of it before stepping away from me with a smile. My heart melted.

"Until we meet again."

With that, he turned and walked away. I watched him go, waving when he got into his car and gave me one last smile before driving off. I stood on my porch for a few more minutes after he'd gone, a dopey but happy smile on my face. I could already tell this night was going to be magical.

Rebekah showed up on my doorstep an hour later on the dot. She'd just finished asking Matt Donovan to be her date, and although she insisted she didn't have feelings for him I felt confident she was lying. Still, I didn't press her on it as we cruised the shops of Mystic Falls trying on every dress that caught our eye. Once we'd each found the one, we went back to my house to get ready.

"Oh. My. God. My brother is going to have his first heart attack in a thousand years."

Rebekah grinned at me as I twirled around the room in my literal ball gown, feeling just like a princess. We'd done each others' makeup and had gotten completely dressed, and now we were basically ready to go. After, of course, we properly hyped each other up.

"You really think so?" I asked, the heat rising to my cheeks. Rebekah nodded.

"I know so."

"Thanks, Beks. And Matt's absolutely gonna fall over at the sight of you, too."

"You're damn right he is," she said, flipping her hair over one shoulder and holding out her arm for me. "Now let's go, shall we?"

I smiled as I took her arm and the two of us headed out to the car. The last rays of sunlight still stretched over the town as we came to a stop outside Mikaelson Manor. Cars lined the street and every other available parking spot, the party already in swing as Rebekah and I arrived.

"I can hear your heart racing," said Rebekah with a smile as we walked up the steps side by side. I huffed.

"Great. Good to know my nerves will be loudly on display for any vampire in attendance."

"You don't need to be nervous."

She said the words as we came to a stop in the entryway, people pausing to look at us before carrying on with their evening. A little ways up the grand staircase in the middle of the room, I could see Elijah standing and talking to Klaus. When he glanced in my direction and first caught sight of me, however, he froze, mouth slightly open before a smile tugged its way onto his face. He said something to his brother, then started walking down the stairs and towards me.

"See? He's head over heels," said Rebekah, leaning in to whisper the words in my ear. I could hear the smirk in her voice. "I'll give you two some space."

With that, she disappeared into the crowd. A moment later, Elijah stood before me, looking even more handsome than usual (which I hadn't thought possible) in an immaculate tuxedo.

"I'm so glad you made it," he said, his words a bit breathless. He looked me up and down, his expression awed, and I smiled back at him. "You look... absolutely stunning."

"Thank you," I said, doing a little curtesy. Elijah grinned. "You look fantastic, too."

"You're very kind."

He paused, staring at me for another few moments, and despite the noise in the rest of the room I had a feeling he could hear my heart pounding. Finally, he held his arm out to me, grinning with a gleam in his eye.

"Come with me," he said. "I have a few people I'd like you to meet."

We made our way around the room, me holding tight to Elijah's arm as he at last introduced me to the rest of his family. I'd met Klaus and obviously Rebekah, but now I got to meet Kol, Finn, and his mother, too. I got the distinct impression his mother was up to something bad, and Elijah shared similar suspicions with me as we moved back into the crowd. But, for tonight, we decided to put every supernatural problem on hold and enjoy the magical evening together.

Finally, after a toast from the Original family themselves, it was time to take to the dance floor. Elijah immediately found me, offering a hand.

"May I have this dance?"

I smiled and took his hand. "Of course."

Elijah led me out onto the dance floor, twirling me into the dance's starting position amidst all the other couples. All kinds of different friends, foes, and otherwise interesting guests dotted the floor, but I ignored every single one of them. The rest of the room fell away as Elijah and I twirled into the first steps of the dance, eyes only for each other.

"I feel like I'm in a fairytale," I admitted, smiling as Elijah twirled me out and away from him before pulling me back into his chest. The look on his face sent warmth blooming through my chest.

"You certainly look the part of a fairytale princess."

I grinned, laughing a little and leaning my head on Elijah's chest. When I looked up again, I found him smiling at me, and in that moment I couldn't possibly have been happier.

"Says the literal Disney prince."

Elijah chuckled. "A Disney prince, hm?"

"Impeccable manners and honor, a true gentleman, handsome, dresses nice, and brought me a rose to ask me on a date? Yes. A Disney prince."

"I didn't realize I checked so many of the boxes."

"Easily."

"Well then, I'm very lucky to have found my princess."

I beamed at Elijah as the dance wound to an end, his arms wrapped tight around my waist as he held me to his chest. Slowly, just barely, he leaned down and glanced at my lips. I knew he wanted to take it slow for me, which I appreciated, but this was one thing I didn't want to take it slow on anymore.

"May I kiss you?" he muttered, voice low with only a few inches between us. I grinned.

"Hell yes."

"You know, I don't think Disney princesses swear-"

"Oh, shut up."

With that, I closed the distance between us and kissed Elijah, hard. He immediately returned the kiss, deepening it a little bit, although not too much since we were still in the middle of the dance floor. And just like in basically every Disney princess movie, in that moment, with Elijah, I knew I'd found my happily ever after.

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