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januaryembrs · 25 days

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YOU WERE LIKE AN ANGEL TO ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says- i’m a menace but i ADORED the spencer fic u posted 🥹 UGH THEYRE SO CUTE YOUR HONOURRRR 👹if it’s okay, may i request another fic with the same couple 🙈 perhaps one day reader is not as sweet or chirpy as she usually is, or she gets injured or threatened in the field? much love and lots of kisses xoxo 🫶

Description: Spencer swore he wanted to hate her. She was too happy, too chirpy, too much for a guy who spent months rotting in prison. But how could he ever hate her when she cried in his chest like that?

Length: 5k (I'm feral for these two)

warnings: post prison reid. Angst. depiction of suicide from the Unsub. gory language used. guns mentioned. mention of $nuff video and other murders. Nothing that hasn't been done on CM already.

authors note: if y'all want to see more with these two just SAY because I am all ears I would die on this ship

There were a lot of times in his time at the BAU that Spencer had wished he could have changed the outcome of their bad guy, surprisingly enough. There was the time they found their UnSub a few minutes too late, and one of the victims fathers decided to take him out then and there with a shotgun to the head. He was just a kid. There was the entire time he was with Tobias Hankel, and he lived in a state of both fear and sympathy for the boy trapped in his own body after years of abuse. There was Nathan Harris, the kid who had stopped him at the subway station and practically begged him for help to stop his urges to murder, only to slit his own wrists before Spencer could get to him because he thought he was tainted.

He could see how it was easy in their job to get wrapped up in saving the day, in saving everyone they could. He just had hoped, on some stupid grace of a god he didn’t even believe in, that she would have at least remained untouched by the bad luck.

Spencer had always thought, since the first day he had arrived back into the office after his stint in prison, that she seemed to just waltz through life easier than anyone else. He knew the concept of luck was not quantifiable, that it was just a coincidence that good things happened to some people, and bad things happened to others. He always grouped himself in with the latter, because what was his entire life if not one bad hand of cards after another?

Part of him had been seething with vitriol jealousy when he first met her. He hated how the elevator doors seemed to open without hesitation for her, no waiting required. He hated how her hair never seemed to fall out of place, while his required primping and preening to upkeep. He hated how she was always so happy, whether it had been she’d been given an extra cookie at the bakery for free, or her coffee had just tasted super delicious that morning, or the road works clogging the city had been put on hold the one day she needed to drive into the office. She was one of those people, he had decided, that life just seemed to smile down upon, and she beamed back in that dazzling grin.

He felt sick to his stomach for ever wishing it gone, especially when she looked like she might never smile again.

They never liked to say that they had easy cases and hard ones, all of their cases were difficult to process. But this one had been a handful above the rest.

“UnSub has been killed on site, all units stand down,” Luke said into the radio, and the entire squadron took a sigh of relief, all of them except him.

Because he saw that look in her eye, the way everything sparkly about her seemed to have vanished.

They had been following Bobbie Wrids for a week. Five bodies in, five men shot between the eyes execution style, almost six by the time they’d arrived on the scene.

She’d gone with Tara around the front of the abandoned building; Penelope tracked their newest victim, Henry Frond, through his phone pinging off the nearest satellite towers, and it had been straight forward from there. Or at least it should have been.

Because by the time Spencer and Luke arrived in their own SUV, Penelope had time to access the rest of Henry’s phone, and it was clear to see the victimology behind all six men.

They were distributing snuff videos of women, some between themselves, some to other usernames on the darkweb, and Bobbie Wrids’ daughter had been one of them.

Bobbie had become somewhat of a vigilante, but he was a grieving father above all. He was a wounded animal chomping at the bit to soothe the ripping pain of his daughter's murder, the same one those men were getting off to.

Tara and her exchanged a glance as Penelope relayed the information over their headsets, her once serious expression falling into something sombre and sorrowful. How could she arrest a man she couldn’t help but feel sorry for, one she couldn’t help but think wasn’t entirely wrong in his actions.

“Bobbie Wrids,” Tara’s voice was stern, cutting through the silence of the desolate building. Their footsteps were careful as they made their way through the hallway, down to what had once been a rec-room, or perhaps a staff room, where they knew Bobbie had Henry, “This is the FBI, we’d like to talk,”

They heard nothing, and she looked up to the older woman hesitantly, her finger hovering over the trigger the way Spencer had taught her. Tara took a minute, knowing she was leading the charge here with the girl being so inexperienced, before she nodded to the door knob and the rookie twisted the handle, pushing the peeling wood open gently.

Bobbie Wrids stood in the centre of the room, moth eaten couches either side of the damp rug, the ceiling tiles half caved in from wear and tear. Henry Frond was already a pulp in the UnSub’s arms, and yet it was Bobbie that her eyes shot to first, sympathy shooting through every fibre of her being when she saw the distraught look on the father’s face.

He was grieving. He was grieving his little girl’s death. He was looking for a solution, and this seemed to be his best bet.

“Bobbie,” Her voice was shaky, her and Tara frozen in the doorway as the man brought the pistol to Henry’s beaten face, cocking it towards his temple before they could even explain themselves. “We’re going to come in, is that okay? We just want to talk, just let us talk-”

They had only edged closer by three paces between them as she was speaking before his knuckles turned white and he squeezed the gun tighter to Henry’s skin, the barrel contorting the flesh, “Don’t come any closer, this pig isn’t worth your mercy,”

“We know,” She said, her and Tara slowly stepping over a fallen ceiling tile, cracking under her boot as she met his desolate gaze for the first time, his head snapping to her. “We know what he did, Bobbie. What they all did.”

His throat bobbed, his bottom lip quivering and the sight of it, a man so broken, forced a frog into her oesophagus, and she willed herself not to cry.

“They hurt my little girl,” Bobbie choked out, his face turning mauve as the tears began to build behind his eyes, “She was my girl. She was only eighteen.”

She nodded, his wetted hues seemingly permissive when she stepped closer to where he held Henry hostage.

“I know, I’m so sorry for what happened to her,” She said, her voice croaky, unstable as she wrenched it into something audible, “I’m so sorry,”

“He doesn’t deserve mercy, none of them did,” Bobbie spat, his forearm crushing against Henry’s trachea in a vice-like grip. The man floundered, a wheeze coming from his lungs, not that she felt much sympathy for him.

She sprung into action, flicking her gun onto safety and holstering it, Tara doing the same as she lowered her weapon to her side. He profiled as a vigilante; he had no reason to hurt them.

“Bobbie, listen, I know they didn’t deserve to walk free, okay?” She said, taking the smallest step towards where the men stood, “But she wouldn’t want this for you, would she?”

The man flinched, his jaw hard as a rock with how he clenched his teeth together, as if holding back a sob.

“Come on, Bobbie. Let him go, we have enough evidence to get him sentenced. We can get you a plea deal, I know a good lawyer,” She begged, because she wasn’t beneath it, because she knew he was a good man backed into a corner, “Please,”

Maybe it was the way her eyes were soft when she looked at him, or the fact two more agents burst into the room from the hallway, Spencer’s eye immediately falling to where she was stood so close to their UnSub, her gun out of hand. Tara stood by, but that wasn’t good enough for him. He edged with light footsteps until he was behind her, his gaze cautious, never leaving the gun in Bobbie’s hand.

“Please,” She repeated, and Spencer saw Bobbie’s shoulders drop, every sliver of resolve draining from his body at her gentle tone, a deer approaching a hunter.

Henry was thrown to the floor, the man practically dead weight as he gasped, almost retching at the feeling of air sucking back into his chest frantically, and Luke and Tara were quick to wrestle him into cuffs, the woman reading him his Miranda rights.

Spencer almost made a grab for her then, because she was still creeping forward towards the man who had a loaded gun still live in his hand. He didn’t care for one second that the statistics said Bobbie wouldn’t lay a hand on her since she wasn’t part of his list. He didn’t care that every sign pointed to their UnSub being benevolent towards women, especially younger ones, that she fit his daughter’s description. Spencer didn’t care, he wanted her as far away from that gun as possible.

His heart lurched into his throat when Bobbie did in fact make a lunge for her, just not the way he’d feared. Because she had grabbed him. She’d pulled him into an embrace, a hug, kind and sweet as she always was.

Spencer cursed her for being so soft. It was going to get her killed.

“Agent,” His voice was terse, worried if you dug a little deeper than the sharp surface, but she didn’t listen to him. She held Bobbie tight as the man unravelled on her shoulder, falling into heart breaking sobs and it was then Spencer realised she was crying with him.

“It’s going to be okay, you’re okay,” She was shushing him, the killer, reassuring him he was safe, as if the killing thing wasn’t still between his fingers that clutched at her back with rough hands.

“They killed my girl, they took her from me, and then they laughed about it,” He wailed, and she nodded, squeezing him even tighter if that was so possible, “No one would listen, the police didn’t listen, I had to do something,”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” This was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be sympathising with the criminals. But she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t help the gasping urge to comfort the man who had lost his whole world, “I’m listening. Tell me about her,”

“She was so beautiful,” Bobbie whimpered, sniffling into her shoulder. Spencer felt his chest twinge at the scene. He hated that she was so soft. “She never hurt a soul,”

She cried with him, though hers were choked down as much as she could get them, her wet cheeks the only proof she had ever let them slip.

“I’m sorry,” She said again, because no matter how many times she repeated those two little words, it would never bring his daughter back, “I can help you,”

He pulled away from her shoulder, and it was only then that Bobbie Wrids even noticed Spencer, his face taut in anxiety as he watched the man’s hands still holding onto her body as if she was the only thing that kept him upright, which Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if it were true.

He fished the cuffs out of his back pocket, his finger never leaving the trigger as he stared down at their UnSub cautiously. He knew he may be being cruel, knew that ten years ago he would be just as caring as her. But that Spencer was long gone. And what remained was screaming in terror that she was in the line of danger, that she was holding the danger in her bare hands like she didn’t see the jeopardy she was putting herself in.

Bobbie pulled away to look at her, the creases around his eyes deep chasms, and even with the smattering of grey hair, the stubble, the cold, empty look of someone with nothing left, she thought he might have been a handsome man once. He looked at her with a ghost of a smile, and one of his callused hands came up to tuck her hair behind her ear as if it had been second nature to him for eighteen years.

“You’re a sweet girl,” He murmured, and she blinked at him, her chest easing at the way his wails had subsided into something quiet. She could help him, she swore she would help him. He was a good man beneath it all. “But no one can help me anymore, sweet girl,”

And with that he lifted the pistol beneath his chin and pulled the trigger.

—

She heard someone scream before she realised it was coming from her own throat, but her ears were ringing and she couldn’t open her eyes. Her face was wet and hot, and for a second she thought it was tears, but she was beyond crying now. She felt arms pulling her back into a strong chest, and someone was murmuring to her, or perhaps they were speaking normally and the sound of the gunshot had knocked her hearing. Either way, it was like someone had pulled a bag over her head as she brought her shaking hands up to her eyes to wipe.

She managed to crack her lids then when the sludge was gone, only to see the room still a blurry mess. She could make out, in the haze of blobs and crimson tint, Bobbie’s body slumped to the floor, a dark puddle seeping into the rug as those long arms tugged her out of the room. She only then looked down to her hands where she had rubbed her face and she caught the same claret plasma coating her fingers, her white shirt, her pants, her arms. It covered her head to toe.

It was in her eyes, she realised when she saw the ichor coating her fingertips. It was blocking her vision, turning the world a vivid wine colour, and she thinks she whimpered, or perhaps it was a moan of horror seeing the puddle beneath Bobbie’s body growing larger by the second.

“I don’t understand,” She said out loud, her head spinning, and she brought her fingertips up to her eyes again, maybe to get the blood out, god there was so much blood on her face, or maybe because she hoped to everything out there that she would clear her sight and find it all a terrible hallucination, the product of one too many nights of sleepless tossing.

But when she rubbed her lids again, this time seeing the scene a little better, Bobbie was still dead. She had still been too late.

“You’re in shock, you need to breathe,” A voice instructed her over her shoulder, and it was from the same person who had their hands around her waist, pulling her away from the crime scene, as CSI filed in from behind them.

She tried pushing the arms off her, weak because she couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t the horror in her stomach, and it took her a second before she listened to their words and realised she was holding a breath in her chest, the way a toddler does when they’re overwhelmed.

“I don’t-” She gasped, the air rushing through her lungs, so fast it made her cough, “I don’t understand, I was going to help him- I don’t understand- why?”

“I know, just breathe for me, sweetheart,” Spencer. She only just realised it was Spencer speaking, because he had never called her that and the gentle tone he’d taken was nothing like his usual, civil cadence. He had been dropping a few jokes the past few weeks since she’d driven him home, had been more touchy feely with correcting her form when she was at the shooting range, had delicately touched the small of her back when they were navigating a crowd together. He was slowly cracking from his statuesque expression that hadn’t left his face since he’d gotten out of prison, but the softness with which he held her waist was entirely new.

“Spencer, I don’t- I don’t get it,” She said, her voice bubbling into a sob as she allowed herself to be pulled away with no fight left in her. He took her into the hallway, turning her body from the sight of his hand lifeless on the floor with little to no effort. She was damn near limp in his arms, “Spencer, I don’t under-understand, I was going to h-help him, why would h-he do that-”

“Shhh, you need to breathe,” He murmured into her hair, trying to lead her out the front of the building and far away from where she’d just been front row seats to a messy suicide, “Come on, just breathe for me, baby, and then we can talk,”

But she wasn’t listening, and he wasn’t offended. Spencer knew it was the shock. He knew the symptoms by how her respiratory system had picked up in a matter of seconds and it was like she had gone from zero to a hundred. She let out a long whine, tears collecting the blood on her lash line and her chest seized into action, gulping down air, too short to do anything for her lungs, and her legs began to buckle beneath the two of them.

Spencer stopped in the hallway, realising she was in more shock than he must have thought. He knew she was sensitive, hell it was one of his favourite things about her. He knew she felt everything so deeply, burned too easily, like a daisy wilting in a dry heat, or candyfloss melting in his mouth. Spencer knew, as awful as watching death up close was for any agent, it would hit her hardest of all of them.

He moved around to her front, his hands migrating from her waist up to her shoulders, brushing over her upper arms soothingly. But her body felt numb, her head felt heavy, and her eyes were glazed over, down a rabbit hole entirely away from him, even when one of his hands cupped her wetted cheek gently.

“Just breathe, hey, look at me,” He tried a firmer tone, and she bent to his will too easily. It was a punch in the gut seeing everything shining and pretty leached out of her eyes, as if she had become soulless in a matter of minutes, as if she had lost all hope in the world the second Bobbie pulled that trigger. She looked like hell, blood still fresh on her cheeks, in her hair, smeared around her eye sockets where she had scrubbed so hard to get it off her skin, “You need to calm down, you’re going to faint if you don’t breathe,”

She nodded, or something close to it, her eyes falling down to the floor, and she seemed to wrestle for control over her chest then. But what came after was worse, Spencer thought. Her brows screwed together, her eyes welling up with more of those fat tears, and her lips dropping into a devastated pout, her eyes trailing over the mess on her uniform, on her hands.

“Spencer, I don’t understand, I tried to help him, I wanted to help him,” She sobbed, sniffling to herself miserably, and he barely even thought about it when he pulled her into his chest, not caring that her skin would dirty his shirt.

His hand wound into her hair, stroking her sweetly as she buried her wails into his vest. He used his other arm to pull her close to him, which she seemed to have zero qualms about as she clawed at his back to keep him close, as if she didn’t want to face what was going to happen when they left that building.

Spencer regretted ever thinking her sunshine was too bright for him.

–

She hadn’t smiled in a whole week. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had given Penny a very forced smile when she had fussed over the younger woman the first day she got back, had said thankyou with downcast eyes and a fragile grin when the blonde presented her with a framed picture of a puppy to keep on her desk ‘incase she needed something nice to think about,’

She hadn’t looked at it once, because they both knew it wouldn’t do anything, no matter how much she pretended for Penelope’s sake that she would put it to good use.

He had taken her out for coffee on him that first day, but by the time they had got to the front of the queue, he had been doing almost all of the talking, which had become rare nowadays since he had come home from Mexico. Usually, it had been her filling the silences, because he knew in her right mind she hated the sound of static nothingness, she found it awkward and unnecessary when she could talk to anyone without thinking about it too hard.

They had got to the desk, the barista smiling up at him as he ordered his usual, before he turned to look at her as the woman serving asked her what she would like. But she wasn’t listening, she was watching out the window, nothing particularly invigorating beside a bird cleaning its feathers on top of a stop sign.

He said her name, putting his hand on her back and her head whipped around, her eyes empty as they looked up at him expectantly, “What do you want to drink?”

She blinked, waking herself from a stupor, and looked at the barista with an embarrassed expression, “Hot chocolate, please,”

And that was all she really had to say until lunch rolled around, and she excused herself to head home early. Emily smiled at her reassuringly, her eyes wary as she watched their happy-go-lucky rookie head for the elevators with a desolate look in her eyes.

Spencer hoped she would come around on her own, or maybe even be brave enough to talk to someone about the thoughts rattling around that head of hers, but she just didn’t. She stayed as silent as possible, only ever speaking when spoken to, asking Emily if she could finish off her reports at home, to which the Prentiss woman never protested.

But Spencer had had enough. He’d worried himself sick over her, and where all thoughts of how endearing and lovely and charming she was had sat in his head before, now it was all just ways he could think to make her smile again.

It was the following Tuesday by the time he braved action. She had gone home after their midday briefing, apologising to Emily with tired eyes that seemed to be growing more and more heavy by the day, like she hadn’t slept a wink in a fortnight. Which Spencer thought was entirely possible.

He pulled up to the house Penelope had not so discreetly told him was hers, definitely not because he’d asked, and definitely, definitely not breaching any human resource policies about distributing fellow workers information (meaning Spencer had almost certainly not begged Penelope for the address with those puppy eyes of his he knew could bag him anything).

The peonies in the window bays were wilting but her house was something out of a fairytale. He wasn’t sure why he was really so surprised. It screamed her, everything about it, from the toadstool post box to the little green, cast iron bench that sat in the garden, the metal forged to look like florets of ivy holding the sitter upright.

He rapped the brass knocker, the metal cold under his long fingers. Brushing invisible dirt off his shirt, he hoped she would answer as the present squirmed at his feet.

“Just a second,” He hushed, and as if she heard him, the front door swung open to reveal her bare face he hadn’t seen since he’d helped her wipe the blood from her skin in the back of the ambulance.

She looked at him with furrowed brows, before they quickly shot to the floor, to her cobbled pathway that had clicked under his shoes, and her face washed with a shock.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She crouched to her knees, a slobbery lick immediately meeting her cheek as the Spaniel rubbed his wet nose up to her ear, sniffing her unique smell, as if it was a bag of Class A’s, “I never knew you had a dog,”

“I don’t,” He replied, kneeling with her to ruffle the soft fur behind the canine’s ear, “This is Ace. He retired from the Bomb Unit a month ago and Penelope sent me his handler’s number. They said he’s the happiest dog in the world,”

“I would be too if I stopped so many people from blowing up,” She said, but before he could ask what she meant exactly by that, Ace had jumped up and attacked her entire face with kisses as if he too thought that statement was worth silencing.

And she laughed. She laughed louder than she had in days, weeks, her eyes crinkling in joy as the little pink tongue stole away her sorrow, tickled away the traces of the blood that had tainted her skin.

Spencer smiled, his eyes watching her face scrunch in a squeal, hands eventually coming up to the elderly dog’s jowls to gently push him down.

“Oh, you are the sweetest guy,” She said, and the words had him tugging at the leash to lick her all over again, “Yes you are, you’re the sweetest little guy around, huh?”

She chuckled, scratching down the mutt’s neck, and her eyes flicked back up to Spencer, who watched her with more intent than she’d realised.

“Petting and receiving affection from pets causes spikes in serotonin in our brain and reduces anxiety, did you know that?” Spencer said, Ace pushing his muzzle into the palm of her hand to prove a point.

Her smile wavered slightly, and she looked at his hazel hues that seemed to see right through her, “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been so off lately, I just can’t sleep at the moment-”

“Don’t apologise,” He cut in, though his tone was kind, and the two of them stood back up to their full height, “What happened was horrifying, even some of the longest serving agents I know would struggle seeing that,”

She scoffed, unusually pessimistic coming out of her mouth, “You wouldn’t,”

His head tilted, not quite understanding what she meant, because she hadn’t sounded cruel when she said it. Then again, he didn’t think she was actually capable of that emotion.

She looked at him, a flash of something vulnerable in her eyes, something like that day he’d held her in the hallway; too fast he almost missed it.

“You’re so brave, Spencer, you’re like invincible. I mean, you survived prison and your mom getting kidnapped and you bounced straight back to work like it was nothing. I can’t even watch a murderer die without spiralling out of control,” She huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and before he could respond on just how wrong she was, before he could tell her that that was exactly the opposite of what had happened because he had damn near changed every inch of himself in prison to stop himself from breaking, he caught her murmuring and he thought he might just have been punched all over again, “I wish I was like you,”

His jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he stepped towards her, and her head shot to him, worried she may have said the wrong thing by mentioning everything that had happened, everything Pen had specifically said was a touchy subject, and she opened her mouth to apologise.

“Do you know how unbelievably glad I am that you are nothing like me?” Spencer said, his voice bordering on furious and her fumbled for a reply, worried she had truly pissed him off.

She wouldn’t blame him for hating her. She’d always worried, until perhaps that day they’d gotten into her car and she’d driven him home, that her very essence annoyed him.

“I’m sorry-” She started, but he shook his head.

“Stop apologising,” He said, his hand reaching up to grab where her fingers tugged together nervously, his hold featherlike, his face softening when he saw her expression, “I don’t want you to be anything like me. I like you just how you are,”

She sighed, eyes doe like with emotion as she looked at him, “Really?”

He smiled, a rare and genuine smile as she seemed to glow under his words, “Yes, really.” Spencer allowed himself to enjoy the way that the twinkle returned to her expression when he smiled at her with something almost like the old Spencer in him, before he cleared his throat, “We all like you. Everyone on the team likes how you are,”

She paused, nodding to herself as if knocking herself out of a silly daze, and Ace bounced on his hind legs trying to get her attention again.

“You don’t think I’m too sensitive?” She asked, holding her palm out for the dog to nuzzle at with that wet nose of his.

Spencer shook his head, “Sensitive is good. It means you feel something. Means you feel the good things deeper too,”

Her smile was blinding, because she’d never thought of it that way before, and she looked like her old self again. Spencer wasn’t stupid enough to think she was never going to think about Bobbie again, he still thought about that first UnSub he’d tried to save. He still thought about Tobias Hankel. He thought about them all.

But he was going to make sure she never turned into him. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself if she did. He’d protect her sunlight even if it burned him to know he could never have her the way he wanted. Because she was everything good, and he was him.

She looked down at Ace, the life returning to her as she stood aside for the two of them to enter her house, “Tea?”

Yep. Spencer felt something run hot knowing she would always be out of reach. Didn’t stop him from thinking about it, though.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #Post Prison!Spencer Reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #matthew grey gubler x reader

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lady-ashfade · 5 months

Text

Our comfort

Platonic!Yan!Camp Half-Blood x Comfort!Goddess!Reader. (Percy, Annabeth, Grover)

—£ Yes I know I haven’t finish the book but I actually couldn’t wait anymore. So, this is me with little knowledge so bare that in mind.

—£ Warnings: Book/show spoilers, Yandere! Behavior, Being bound to a place, Possessive behavior, Obsessive behavior, Manipulation, Characters fighting for the reader’s attention. Short.

You weren’t a known for too long goddess, much younger then rest of the gods. A teenager like age compared to them. It was strange to have more powerful gods look to you for comfort but you love it. As you are the goddess of comfort.

But, as the other gods started to have many demigods you saw how miserable they could get. You hated the fact they didn’t care for their children so you decided to stay at the camp for half-bloods when the time came.

The campers cling to you. You bring a comfort they never quite felt before. It was like a warm hug, like the ones they wanted from their parents.

You couldn’t leave, and at the beginning you were glad to accept that fate.

Almost always you are found surrounded by demigods and they just relax in your comfort. You are the one they go to with every worry in their mind.

Being close to Aphrodite, her seeing you as a sister and a younger child. Stories of your love for one another are still told today, as she gave ideas to the mortals of how great your relationship was. But in reality there wasn’t much to tell.

So her children have a mentality that they are your favorite and because of their mother, they have some sort of claim to you above the others. But that never works because you love the children equally.

The demigods have less nightmares with you around and watching over them.

Ares children fight often for your affection. They will constantly get into fights with others to show they deserve more time with you. Which you always scold them but it never sticks. They kiss their weapons each time to you, like a sign of good luck. Aries children are one of the worsts ones because they get aggressive at times, even with you. But the golds make them stop by punishing them, mostly their father.

Hermes children are hard to explain really. They aren’t aggressive, but they are mischievous. They take their revenge of stealing things from the other campers, pulling pranks. Or trapping some of them up and go straight to you before they can get there. Luke for instance, is always looking around for you and talking about his day. He’s either laying down next to you, or making you watch him train.

Many games of all houses take place just for you.

AnnaBeth, is constantly by your side when she has free time. She scares off people with a glare behind your back, knowing that she could put plan them. She also trains and makes you watcher her and needs your praise. Maybe, somehow you are her older sister. But, sometimes she just chills by your side not saying anything, she’s like a lost duck at times.

Grover however is actually a lost duck. You comfort him when his past missions fail and he loses kids. You are so nice to him and makes him feel special and brave. When he has to leave he keeps a coin in his pocket with your face on it and prays a lot. He’s not possessive much. He’s willing to take what he can get and is just happy to be there. But maybe if someone comes in when he’s “crying” and having you fuss over him then he’ll be a bit mad but never does anything about it.

When a new camper arrives you devote your time to them because they need it a little more. They come into a world they know nothing of, waiting for the parent they hardly know to claim them. You claim them like your own until the time comes.

So when Percy comes you feel something off with him, like he is special and in need of a lot. He lost his mom, taken from the world he knew.

Percy becomes the most possessive out of all of them.

He feels out of place but you are always there to listen to him. It doesn’t help that you follow him to make sure he’s okay. At the beginning you’re both following each other around.

“It’s okay, Percy.” You brush his hair lightly like his mother used to do. “You’ll get claim, and you’ll have glory.” And he doesn’t care if you say that to everyone because you make him feel special.

Also, you protect the new bloods. So you’ll show up when he gets bullied and just raise one brow and they all back off. Can’t risk making you mad at them.

When Percy gets claimed he’s all alone again, no friends and the campers looking at him funny. Being one of the top threes son isn’t fun or easy. He shares a cabin all to himself.

So he starts to be the worst of them all. Raising his voice when you try and leave him and he manipulates you to stay with him. Can’t you see how alone he is?

He can’t sleep unless he knows your watching over him.

You pick no sides of the war. Your family will figure it out themselves, while you take care of their children.

#disney plus percy jackson #plantonic percy jackson x reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #yandere percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #platonic #yandere #grover underwood x reader #yandere annabeth chase #annabeth chase x reader #annabeth chase #grover underwood #yandere Grover underwood #yandere greek gods #yandere annabeth chase x reader #I stand peter Johnson

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atlabeth · 3 months

Text

geyser

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: percy learns about the first girl luke castellan ever loved.

a/n: this is a lil sad. sorry about that. but i really like it and it came out of nowhere in like 2 days so i hope you enjoy despite the sadness. title from the mitski song

wc: 6.5k

warning(s): major character death; not shown but hangs over the whole fic. angst made angstier by fluffy flashbacks. mostly told through percy’s pov but includes luke, annabeth, and reader povs

also if you saw this before on another account DONT WORRY... that account was also me. im just doing some stuff behind the scenes right now as i figure stuff out lol i promise no plagiarism is going on

Percy thought that his head might explode.

He didn’t know how he was still walking, honestly. His mom died, he killed a— no, the— Minotaur, all the Greek myths were real and his dad was one of them, and now he had to deal with that freak accident with Clarisse and the toilets.

At least he would be ready next time she tried to beat him up. Percy had been the new kid enough to know there would be a next time.

All he could do was stare at the Minotaur horn in his hands, the only sign that what happened outside the border was real. The horn in his hands and the hole in his heart.

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d been thrown into the deep end, and the only thing on his mind was when he would start to drown.

“Hey.” Percy looked up to see the counselor he’d met earlier with Annabeth—Luke. He tossed a ziploc bag at him and he caught it, taking a moment to look at what was in it.

“I stole you some toiletries from the camp store,” he explained. “Thought it might make you feel more at home.”

“…Thanks.” He didn’t know if Luke was joking, but the damage had already been done. And it was the nicest thing someone had done for him so far. He set it down next to his Minotaur shoebox. “Is this the best that it gets?”

Luke’s lips quirked up in a slight smile. “For now. We’re a little crowded, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Just a little bit.” Percy stood up from his sleeping bag and worked out the knot in his shoulder. “Where’s your bed? Assuming you have one.”

“I couldn’t wrangle all these cats without some back support,” he said, and he pointed to a bed in the corner. It was the only one on its own without a bunk, and he had a fair amount of decorations. Counselor privileges, he figured. Percy walked over, Luke trailing behind him.

“Nice place,” he said. Percy picked up the Yankee’s cap on his bedside table and nodded as he looked back at him. “Nice taste.”

“It’s for Annabeth,” Luke said. “She wanted us to match.”

Percy nodded again in approval. “Good taste for both of you.”

Luke had various other things around — an alarm clock knocked over next to the baseball cap, a huskie sticker on the wall half-scraped off, a poster for an album he didn’t recognize.

But the thing that caught his eye was a polaroid hanging on the wall, surrounded by a smattering of others varying in size.

The first one had to be an old picture—Luke didn’t have his scar, and the biggest smile stretched across his face. He had a girl close with an arm slung around her waist, and she might’ve been smiling even more than Luke. A bright energy emanated around her, something that must have transferred through the picture, because Percy found himself feeling a little better just looking at her. He wondered if she was a camper.

His eyes flicked to the next picture, which was another one of Luke and that girl. They were both laughing as she tried to put a blue hat on Luke’s head, and he protested with a hand on her wrist. They were in the forefront of a baseball game, Percy noticed.

There were other pictures, too—Luke, a girl dressed all punk, and what looked like a young version of Annabeth, most notably—but a majority of them were either Luke and that girl, or the girl all on her own. In every single one, she beamed brighter than the sun.

Percy pointed at the picture of Luke and the girl at the baseball game, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Who’s that?”

That seemed to catch Luke off-guard, his lips parting for a moment as if he wanted to say something. It barely took him any time to get back on track, but Percy found himself frowning.

“That’s…” Luke cleared his throat, wet his lips, shook his head. “A friend. A very good friend.”

“Does she go here?” Percy asked.

“She did.”

He frowned. “Where is she, then?”

“Percy—” Luke’s voice was strained, but he didn’t really notice as he went on.

“I didn’t see her around,” he continued, “and you look pretty close.”

Luke blinked a couple times, and Percy swore he could see the telltale glimmer of tears starting in his eyes. A muscle worked in his jaw, and suddenly Percy was worried that he’d said something horribly wrong. He had a talent for that, it seemed.

Fortunately, he was saved by the bell—conch shell?—and something like relief flooded through Luke’s expression. Tension still coiled in his body.

“Come on,” he said, that camp counselor smile coming back as he put his hand on Percy’s shoulder and guided him away from the enclave. “That means dinner’s about to start.”

Percy’s frown deepened as curiosity won out again. “Was she your—”

“You don’t wanna be late,” Luke continued, ignoring his attempt. “I assume you’re pretty hungry after two days spent out?”

Well, that only made him want to push harder. But Percy figured he wouldn’t get anything out of him—especially not now.

“…Yeah,” Percy said. “Starving.”

An odd look flickered across his face, but again, it only lasted for a second before he was back to normal. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Eleven! Fall in!”

Percy was at the back of the line by virtue of him being the new kid, and he found himself looking back at that picture of Luke and the girl. He didn’t know why, but something drew him to her. Before Percy could think about it more, the line was moving and his growling stomach drew his attention away.

He would have plenty of time to ask Luke about it later.

Or rather, ask him and piss off the only person who’d tried to be his friend so far.

…Gods.

Maybe he was going to drown sooner than he thought.

“Luke—”

“No!”

“Luke, please!”

“Annabeth will kill me if she knows—”

“She won’t know!”

“Alright, alright— stay still, you two!”

Your mother laughed from behind the camera as you and Luke fought with each other, you trying your damnedest to get your Red Sox cap on his head as he tried his damnedest to stop you. The frantic laughter on both sides made it a little difficult for either of you to succeed in your quest, but eventually, you got the rock up the hill and the hat on his head.

“Take the picture, Mom!” you exclaimed, pulling Luke even closer by his arms so he couldn’t get it off. “I need the proof!”

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Luke groaned, staring at the camera as you wrapped your arm around his side and leaned into him. He could already imagine your victorious smile, brighter than the sun beating down on them in the stadium, and just the thought of it made one of his own flit across his lips.

“Oh, shut up, Castellan,” you said. “You chose to come to this game. Everyone’s gonna know you’re a Red Sox fan now.”

“You said you wouldn’t tell her!” Luke defended, wrenching his arms free of your control to take the hat off his head. “I don’t even care about baseball!”

“You care so much about it,” you said cloyingly, “and you’re ride or die for the Boston Red Sox.”

“If you say a single word—”

“Okay, kids!” Your mother pointed at the seats next to her. “The game’s about to start—you can keep arguing, but only if you sit down so I can see.”

“Sorry, Mom.” You grinned at her as you pulled Luke over to your seats—they were a step up from nosebleeds, but they were the ones closest to the balcony so you could at least peer over the railing down to the diamond.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” She glanced at Luke with a smile, and he could really see where you got it from. “We’ve gotta make him a fan somehow.”

“I guess I can live with the brand.” Luke set the cap back on your head once you were seated, purposefully pulling the brim a little over your eyes, and he smiled at you. “Even though it looks better on you, anyways.”

“You just don’t have what it takes to be a Red Sox fan in the heart of Yank territory,” you mused, pushing the hat back up so you could see. “It’s fine.”

Luke rolled his eyes, but he could hardly bite back his smile.

“I am glad you came, though,” you said, glancing back at him. “I’m glad you came with me in the first place. This is gonna be the best semester.”

“Thanks for having me,” Luke said. “It’s… it’s been a while since I’ve left camp.”

“Fingers crossed for no monster attacks, eh?” You held up your hand. “At least, not during the game. I could live with it happening any other time.”

“Don’t speak it into existence,” your mom said. “We’re going to have a monster-free school year.”

To humor her, you made a claw over your heart and pushed out. She hummed in satisfaction, and you looked over at Luke. “It’s gonna be fine.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Because two kids like us aren’t gonna draw any attention.”

“Oh, I know we will,” you said. “But I know it’ll be fine.”

Luke frowned. “How can you be so sure?”

You shrugged with a smile. “I’ve got you.”

And in that moment, he was thankful for the freakish heat that honestly made no sense in the spring—at least it covered up any sign of what your words did to him.

Luke thought you were joking when you asked him if he wanted to come back home with you for the school year. He didn’t know why you wanted to go back in the first place, being a Big Three kid that apparently had a death wish, but the thought of him leaving camp was almost inconceivable.

Even after you assured him you weren’t joking, he still wasn’t sure. He was on the run with you for three years, then…

Well, he couldn’t think about it for too long. But Luke had been on the outskirts of regular society for so long, doing nothing but fighting for his life, that he didn’t know if he could actually function at a normal school.

But it felt right for you two to get some normal time together after you were separated for so long. It took him a semester to decide, but one day during your usual Iris message conversations, he told you he’d love to spend the rest of the year in Boston with you. Luke still remembered the grin you wore, your disbelieving but victorious cheers, the apology you yelled back at your mother for your noise.

Luke watched you as you talked with your mom, discussing Boston’s chances and player statistics and baseball jargon he didn’t think he’d ever understand, and he knew he would sit through a thousand Red Sox games if it meant he would get to keep seeing your smile.

You must have felt his eyes on you, because you glanced over at him. “Are you okay?”

Luke smiled. Gods, he was so glad you were here.

“Never better.”

“That one nearly got me,” Luke said.

Percy huffed as he picked up his sword from the ground—he was pretty sure he would officially lose his mind if Luke disarmed him with that stupid move one more time. One benefit to the Hermes cabin being too scared to associate with him after getting claimed was that he wasn’t making a fool out of himself in front of other people.

“Maybe I can only beat you when I pour water on myself,” he said.

Luke chuckled as he took a bottle from the cooler on the side and held it up. “Wanna try?”

He shook his head. “I think my arms will fall off if I keep going with you.”

He tipped his shoulder. “Fair.”

Percy stared at the ground as Luke gathered himself, trying to put the free range thoughts roaming around his head in order. It didn’t help that he’d gained a million questions after Poseidon claimed him, and it didn’t help that there’s been a newest addition to his dream last night.

He still felt strange asking Luke about it, but he had to know more about her. Percy didn’t know why it felt like his mission to find out who this mysterious girl was, or why he felt that strange connection to her. Maybe it was the way Luke acted whenever he brought her up, maybe it was that she’d popped up in his dream next to him at the very end, maybe it was just plain old curiosity.

“I’m not supposed to be alive,” Percy said, breaking the silence. “I could die at any time in a bunch of different horrible ways. So will you tell me more about that girl on your wall?”

Again, Luke seemed to be caught off guard by it. Percy heard the crunch of plastic as his hand clenched ever so slightly around the bottle, and he tried to cover it up with an arched eyebrow. “Why do you want to know so badly?”

He shrugged. What was he supposed to say?

“I’m curious,” he decided.

Luke huffed a dry laugh before he took a sip of water, and he stared off into the distance for a while. He did a lot of staring whenever this girl was brought up. They looked like they were best friends in those pictures, but maybe whatever they had ended badly. And if she was a demigod too…

Well, it would make sense why he didn’t want to talk about her.

“You know that phrase about curiosity?” Luke asked.

“And how it killed the cat?”

He nodded, drinking some more. “It goes double for demigods.”

“Everything else wants to kill me,” Percy said. “So curiosity’s gonna have to get in line.”

Luke’s laugh was a little more genuine this time, and he shook his head. “I guess I can tell you a little about her. You actually probably have a right to know.”

“Is she a half-blood?�� Percy asked immediately.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Who’s her parent?”

Luke capped his water bottle and looked at Percy for a good, long moment. His face glowed in the warm afternoon sun, his scar cast in a softer light than usual. The scar used to unnerve him, but he’d gotten used to it after weeks staring at it during sword fighting.

“She was a child of Poseidon, Percy,” he said. “Just like you.”

Percy felt short of breath, like Luke had just knocked his sword out of his hand and shoved him to the ground. But he stood on his own two legs that somehow still worked, and Luke hadn’t moved.

He had a sister?

“I have a sister?”

“…Had,” Luke corrected. “She… she died a few years back.”

A vice latched onto Percy’s heart. He was still having a hard time breathing. No wonder Luke always used past tense when he was talking about her.

He had a sister, he wasn’t alone, but he was because she was dead. And if Luke was one of her friends, that meant she died young.

Gods.

“What about their oath?” Percy asked, trying to ignore the aching in his chest. “I’m already on thin ice for my whole existing thing. How did Poseidon get away with two kids so close to each other?”

Luke shrugged. “I’ve never known why gods do things. Her mother was a great woman, though—I could see what drew Poseidon to her against the oath.”

One half of Percy wanted to ask every question that kept popping into his head. The other side of him wanted to break down and cry.

“How did you meet her?”

“We ran into each other when we were both young,” he said. “Both child runaways, both demigods, both New Englanders—we decided to rough it out on the road together. Couldn’t be any worse than doing it on our own.”

Percy tried to imagine it. A young Luke and a younger version of that girl—maybe Percy’s age—living together in the wilderness and fighting monsters. Surviving off of nothing but their wit and skill, facing death each day before they’d even reached middle school.

“It… it didn’t happen then, did it?” he asked hesitantly.

Luke shook his head. “Couple years later. All we did was watch each other’s backs out there.”

Percy couldn’t help himself. “What happened to her?”

“The same thing that happens to everyone,” Luke said flatly. “There’s a reason I’m the oldest one here.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Percy insisted. “It— it makes it worse, Luke. You see that, right?”

Luke stared at his empty water bottle then tossed it back into the cooler. When his gaze met Percy’s, he was shocked by how… tired he looked. Beyond exhausted—bone-weary. Percy wanted to say more, but he didn’t get the chance.

“This isn’t good conversation,” Luke said, “and it’s getting late. You should hit the showers before dinner.”

The sun still beat down on them, bright and angry in the sky, but Percy provided no argument. He had a lot to think about.

Before they went their separate ways, Percy stopped and looked back at him. “I’m sorry she’s gone, Luke.”

Luke’s gaze went unfocused for a moment, his eyes growing glossy. “So am I.”

Percy sat on the floor of the Hermes cabin in the corner that used to be his, staring at his meager belongings. He had to decide what to take on his quest, which was made easier by the fact that he hardly had anything to his name. Things could always be worse, though. At least he would have a change of clothes.

He should’ve been doing this in his own cabin, but it felt too empty, too suffocating in its silence. Eleven was still more familiar. He heard the door open and saw Luke walk in, and his eyes lit up when he saw Percy.

“Hey,” he said. “I wanted to see you before you left. How’re you feeling pre-quest?”

“Like the world’s about to end,” he said.

Luke’s lips twitched into a smile as he sat on the bed across from Percy. “Understandable. It kinda is.”

“It’s just overwhelming.” Percy shoved the unfolded clothes into his backpack. “I have to clear mine and my dad’s names and get Zeus’s bolt back, or else war will start. No pressure at all.”

“You were chosen for a reason,” Luke said. “You may not see it, Percy, but you’ve improved a lot since you got here. If anyone can do this, I think it’s you.”

Percy looked up at him, and he was reminded of the way their last conversation went. He was asking before he could really stop himself.

“I could die on this quest and never see you again,” Percy said. “So could you tell me more about my sister before I go?”

Luke smiled wistfully and sighed. “You really won’t let this go, will you?”

“It’s not really something you just let go,” he said. “Besides, I… I saw her in my dream last night.”

Luke’s smile faded. “You did?”

Percy nodded. “For a split second, but I know it was her. I felt the same way I did whenever I looked at her pictures. And… it’s the second time she’s shown up.”

He let out a long sigh and shook his head, his gaze trailing off to the wall. He always looked so much older when he talked about this girl, like he was a war veteran reminiscing on his lost love. And from what he’d gathered, it might not have been too far off.

“I told you we ran together when we were young,” he said, and Percy nodded. “We were both nine, and it should’ve been terrible, but she had a way of making everything better. Always found the bright side of things, was always able to make me laugh.”

“She was from Massachusetts—right in the middle of Boston.” Luke chuckled as he looked at Percy. “Huge Red Sox fan.”

Percy grimaced. “We all make mistakes.”

Luke smiled, though it faded a bit. “We got separated for a while, but we found each other again when I got to camp. Things were more peaceful than they are now, so she’d been claimed at camp pretty quickly. I figure Poseidon wanted her to have the protection of him openly standing behind her after what happened.”

He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘what happened’?”

Luke shook his head. “That would be an awful story to send you off on.”

Percy wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Luke was probably right—Percy didn’t want to make him relive it and then have to go on a death quest right after.

“A happier part, then,” he suggested.

“She ran away from home as a kid to protect her mom, but now that she had an idea of what she was doing, she started going back to school. She invited me to stay with her during the school year one year, and I accepted. That—” Luke’s throat bobbed, and the other hand clenched into a fist— “that was when she died.”

In his stunned silence, Luke got up and went over to his alcove. He pulled the drawer open on his bedside table and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. It must’ve been folded and crumpled a million other times in messier ways by all the creases he could see, but when Luke opened it, he could see handwriting all over the front.

A letter.

“We Iris messaged each other constantly while she was at school,” he said, “and we wrote back and forth when we couldn’t. This was the last letter she sent me.”

Percy’s first instinct was to say he wouldn’t be able to read it, but he realized that he didn’t really care. These were words that his sister wrote—he would sit here the rest of the day forcing sentences to make sense if that was what it took.

So he took the letter when Luke offered it.

To the one and only Luke Castellan,

My mom said yes! After a very long interrogation (she now knows basically everything about you) and a million promises that you would be as careful as possible and that you were good enough at sword fighting to take down anything that could come after us, she said you can spend the year here. We spent a couple hours every day making my mom’s study into a guest room, so you have a place to stay.

I’m an idiot that didn’t bring enough drachmas so that’s why I have to send this letter—hopefully it gets to you soon enough, because we’re gonna come get you a week before my winter break is over. Mom is letting me drive down because she says I have to get my permit soon. It makes sense that my first big test is getting to you. If we don’t make it, it’s because we died in a fiery crash.

Just kidding. I’m a great driver. But tell me some of your favorite songs when you reply and I’ll burn a CD for the ride—I figured out how to use LimeWire. Oh, and throw in a couple drachmas with the envelope so I can Iris message you next time. I miss your face and your voice, and my hand is cramping up writing all of this.

But this is so exciting! I can’t wait to introduce you to all my friends at school, and show you my favorite places in the city, and make you into a Red Sox fan. And you can come to my soccer games— I’m the greatest forward there is.

Jokes aside, I’m going to make sure you have the best time. We’ll spend every second together, Luke. We’re gonna make up for the time we lost.

I can’t wait to see you again.

Your hurricane.

It took Percy a long time to get through it with the words swimming all over, and it didn’t help that his vision had grown blurry.

Tears, he realized as he blinked, and he did it again to make sure they wouldn’t fall. He couldn’t cry in front of Luke, not over a girl he didn’t even know—even if she was his sister. But maybe he was grieving that—the fact that he would never get to know her.

“God, man. I— I’m sorry.” Percy couldn’t think of anything else to say. “She sounds like she was great.”

Luke couldn’t even manage a smile this time as he stared at the wall. Percy was surprised he could even talk to him about it.

“She was,” he murmured. “You would’ve liked her. And gods,” this time, a bit of a smile broke through despite it all, “she would have loved a little brother.”

“I’m gonna make her proud on this quest,” Percy vowed. “I’m gonna clear our dad’s name for her.”

Something in Luke’s gaze had changed—sadness, almost regret. “You’re a good kid, Percy. I hope your quest doesn’t change that.”

I hope I come back alive, he wanted to say. But given the topic matter, he didn’t. Percy carefully folded the letter back up and handed it to Luke.

“Thank you for telling me about her, man,” Percy said. “I… I know it can’t be easy.”

Luke let out a shuddering breath as he stared at the closed letter—Percy wondered how many times he must have sat in this same position, reading her words. “No better way to honor her memory than helping her brother.” He glanced at Percy. “I see a lot of her in you.”

He’d been wondering if he had anything in common with her. Percy felt a sudden flare of anger shoot through him—it wasn’t fair that she was dead. Poseidon was a god, and she was a teenager. He should have saved her.

Percy’s mouth was drier than a desert. A part of him wanted to curl up in a ball and sob over the sister he never got the chance to know, but the other part of him knew—from what little Luke had told him about her—that she wouldn’t want him to.

“I should get going,” Percy said, standing up from the floor. “We have to leave for the quest soon, and Annabeth and Grover are probably wondering where I am, and…”

Percy trailed off, and Luke nodded in understanding. He turned around and took one of the photos off the wall—one of you alone in the middle of a park, wearing a bucket hat and absolutely beaming.

“You deserve to have a part of her with you,” he said. “For good luck.”

He felt himself choking up, and he pushed it down as he accepted the photo. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.”

“Good luck, Percy,” Luke said. “You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you.”

Percy found himself studying the picture of you once he made it outside, trying to memorize your face. With your wide, infectious smile that emanated pure sunlight, he could have mistaken you for an Apollo kid. But when he looked at you, he got that same warmth that he felt every time he imagined his father.

“I won’t let you down,” he murmured. “I promise.”

After sleeping in his train seat for half the day, Percy vowed to never complain about his bed in Cabin Three again. He was gonna be going down to the Underworld with permanent cricks in his neck.

Grover was still sound asleep—Percy envied him for how easily it came to him in the worst conditions—but thankfully, Annabeth wasn’t. Her gaze was focused on the view as their train chugged along.

Percy cleared his throat in a flawless attempt at getting her attention, and it worked.

“You’re awake,” she said.

“Unfortunately.” Percy sighed. “How much longer do you think it’ll be?”

“Another day, at least,” she said. “And we’ve got a layover in St. Louis.”

“St. Louis,” he hummed. “Nice.”

They sat in silence for a while—there wasn’t much to talk about when they were coming off of two— or was it three, now?—near-death experiences. But eventually, Annabeth cleared her throat, taking a page from his book, and it worked again.

“There— there’s probably something you should know,” Annabeth said, and that worked even better than clearing her throat. “You’re not the only Big Three kid to come through Camp Half-blood lately.”

“I know,” he said. “Grover and Luke explained it.”

Her eyes widened slightly and she leaned forward in her seat. “Luke did?”

“…Yeah. You all already told me about Thalia.” Percy glanced away, suddenly feeling a chill in the train car. “Luke told me about my sister.”

Annabeth went silent.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I kind of annoyed Luke until he told me. Doesn’t really seem like a subject people at camp like to talk about.”

“I’m just surprised he did,” she murmured. “They were… they were close, Percy. Her death destroyed him—Thalia and your sister. All of it’s complicated.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I got some of that.”

“I only knew her for a year at camp, but everyone loved her,” she said. “She was nice. Popular. Always helped when she could, always had the biggest, most infectious smile on her face.” Annabeth looked down at her hands. “She didn’t deserve the fate she got.”

Percy didn’t think he’d ever grieved so much for someone he never knew. “But her and Luke—were they…?”

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, “they were a thing, later on.”

That seemed to be all she wanted to say on the matter. Percy decided not to push.

“How did you meet her?” he asked.

Annabeth’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I met her on the day I thought I would die.”

For the first time in her life, Annabeth Chase couldn’t think.

It had all happened so fast. One second she was running with Luke and Thalia and Grover, praying to her mother and any other gods that would listen to make the horde of monsters let up even a centimeter.

The next, she’d collapsed on the ground, never so grateful to have grass and dirt and dust in her face. But she could hear Luke yelling, barely able to make it out in her delirious state—she didn’t know when she’d last had a sip of water, and they’d been running for at least three miles—but he sounded hysterical.

She remembered her last clear thought: they weren’t going to make it.

But they had. They had, so why was Luke losing his mind?

Annabeth pulled herself up from the ground—how long had she been bleeding out of those slashes on her arm?—and looked for the rest of her friends. Luke wasn’t yelling anymore, instead arguing with someone she didn’t recognize in a bright orange shirt. Grover’s furry legs trembled as he stared down the hill they’d just gotten up, completely silent, and Thalia—

Where was Thalia?

Annabeth tried to get up but her legs gave out almost immediately, and steady arms caught her before she could fall to the ground again. Kind eyes served to ease some of her panic—she was older than Annabeth, maybe around Luke or Thalia’s age.

Thalia—

“Hey, you’re okay,” the voice said, and Annabeth’s attention was drawn back to you. “I’ve got you.”

“Where’s Thalia?” she blurted out, because now she couldn’t think of anything else.

Your brows creased and you glanced back down the hill—Annabeth did too, and she saw Grover and Luke arguing with each other. Or rather, Luke was yelling at him as Grover anxiously hooked his hands through his hair.

“I don’t know,” you said, “but right now, I need to make sure you’re okay. Are you hurt?”

Annabeth absentmindedly held up her arm, but she was only focused on her friends. Why wasn’t Thalia with them? Why was Luke so upset?

You cursed under your breath in Ancient Greek as you cradled her arm, and you looked back down the hill. Annabeth could see at least half a dozen other kids.

“We’ve got two half-bloods and a satyr, one injured!” you yelled back. “Get Molly and Brayden!”

“Three,” Annabeth found herself saying. “There’s three half-bloods—”

“Annabeth!”

Her head shot up at the sound of Luke calling her name as he bounded over, and her eyes widened at the blood steadily spidering across the fabric of his shirt.

“Luke, you’re hurt—”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “It’s fine.”

“We have Apollo kids coming,” you said, looking up at him, still cradling Annabeth’s arm. “We’ll get y—”

Your sentence stuck in your throat, and Annabeth could see tears welling in your eyes as your brows furrowed. She thought Luke’s eyes might burst out of his skull as he stared at you, his lips parted but nothing coming out. Neither of you were able to form words.

When he finally did get something out, it was a single name. One Annabeth knew by heart, one that he’d mourned for years.

“Luke?” you whispered.

Before he had the chance to do anything, two teenagers got over the hill and called out your name, the same one Luke used. He always said you were dead, but you clearly weren’t dead, because you were here and you had her arm in your grasp and while your hands were cold, they weren’t cold enough to be dead—

“Molly’s gonna take care of you,” you said, looking back at Annabeth and cutting off her inner dialogue. “She’ll get you to the infirmary and heal you up, okay?”

“My friends—”

“They’re gonna be okay too,” you said. “I promise.”

Annabeth looked up at Luke, and he nodded. “We’ll be with you soon, Annabeth. We— we have to talk about some things.”

So she went with Molly down the hill, and Annabeth put pressure on her bleeding wound when she told her to—it had started to sting like hell now that her adrenaline was fading.

She looked back just in time to see you and Luke share the tightest hug ever.

The hug of two people who realized they weren’t seeing ghosts, Annabeth thought.

You bolted up in bed, eyes wide and your chest heaving as you rapidly sucked in air. Your fingers found purchase in your bedsheets, desperate for something familiar—it took a second for you to recognize your surroundings, that you weren’t in an endless void, but your childhood bedroom offered little comfort.

You ran a hand over your forehead, damp with sweat, as you tried to calm down. Your breathing slowed, but you couldn’t shake that awful feeling that hung over you in your sleep.

Your nightmares were getting worse, you knew that much. That raspy, demented voice used to be a rarity, and now it appeared every night. You could usually deal with your nightmares, but the sense of absolute dread that voice and the pit fostered in you was too much. You hadn’t managed to sleep through the night once since you came home for the school year.

You could deal with the monsters—to you, this was the worst part of your godly blood.

A knock rattled on the door out of nowhere, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The only thing that calmed you down was the thought that monsters didn’t knock.

“Come in,” you croaked, your throat drier than a desert.

Thankfully, a monster hadn’t come to make your night even more miserable. Luke stood in the doorway, his eyebrows creased in concern, messy curls hanging just above his eyes. He wore the Red Sox t-shirt you’d bought for him at the game you dragged him to, and in your addled state, you didn’t even think to tease him about it.

“Are you okay?” He should’ve been as disoriented as you, but his alerted eyes told a different story.

You could only think of one thing. “How did you know?”

Luke’s lips parted for a moment, as if he hadn’t even considered it. “I could just feel it.”

You managed a smile despite every atom in your body screaming at you. “I think that means you can come in.”

He closed the door behind him, and you shifted over in your bed to make room for him. There wasn’t much in a twin, but you made it work. Luke’s weight pressed into the mattress, making you adjust your position, and it was more comforting than any amount of blankets.

“You’re so cold,” he murmured, laying the back of his hand against your arm. “How do you live like that?”

“Blame my dad,” you said. “I’ve got water in my blood.”

“I think that’s probably a bad thing,” Luke said, and you knocked your shoulder into his with a huff.

“You know what I mean.”

Luke let his hand fall back in his lap, and as you brought your knees up to your chest, you pulled the covers with them.

“So,” Luke said, glancing at you, “what’s got you awake at the witching hour?”

“The usual,” you mumbled.

“Nightmares that might be prophetic?” he asked.

You made a lazy gesture with your hand. “Bingo.”

“The worst sense of dread imaginable?”

“Bullseye.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

You shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t deal with.”

“You don’t always have to put on a front, y’know,” Luke said. You felt his eyes on you. “You don’t always have to be strong.”

“I’m naturally strong,” you said with mock austerity. “Comes with the god for a dad.”

Luke chuckled and shook his head. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” you murmured.

You leaned into his side, fitting your head into the crook of his neck. Luke wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, and you let out a contented sigh.

That voice in your nightmares seemed so small when you had Luke.

“Can you stay?” you asked softly.

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

“Just like old times,” you whispered.

“Just like old times,” he agreed.

Luke ran hot, and you’d never been more thankful for it as you fully settled into his side. Icy blood ran through your veins, and you let out a shaky sigh. You could hear his steady breathing, feel his heartbeat through his chest, and the anxiety from earlier began to steadily fade. You never felt safer than when you were with Luke.

There was something between you—you weren’t that stupid—but you hadn’t talked about it. With you and Luke, it was just… you and Luke. You didn’t have to put a label to it.

How could you put a label to your relationship, when you’d spent your first few years together fighting for each day, and then the next few thinking the other was dead?

Maybe someday, you would talk about it. But for now, this was more than enough.

“Don’t worry,” Luke murmured in your ear as your eyes began to droop. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

And by the gods, you believed him.

#reader is the mara of she ra the mikey berzatto of the bear the nellie crain of hill house DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #daughter of poseidon #child of poseidon #sadie writes

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targaryenluvs · 4 months

Text

— SOLIDIFY

pairings: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader, percy jackson x sister!reader

summary: yourself and luke are navigating your new relationship. with the two of you being popular amongst the camp, eyes were on you always. some tended to wander to places reserved for the other.

warnings: creepy boy, protective luke & percy (yk the drill), arguments, fighting/violence, flirting, luke being a tease, cutesy patchups

a/n: this does kind of remind of a fic i already have so let’s just say i drew inspo 😋 also i’m a sucker of mean luke hehehe - kind of regretting making it into a series rather than one long fic

wordcount: 880 words

taglist: @songofthesuns @gayforyelena @taloulalila @honeydanny @7s3ven @sssi-nr @percabethtears @gr1mes-cc @2hiigh2cry @10ava01 @ahh-chickens @fangirl-swagg @anotherblackreader @midmourn @lovelyforesst @urfavpogue @lilacspider @mysteris-things @whoreyzontal @lunalixya @dangelnleif @wordsarelife

part i, part ii, part iii, part iv - finale out now!!

ii. solidify

you were luke’s, even if the guy infront of you didn’t know it. luke knew it, you knew it, and that’s all that mattered. luke definitely knew it, by the amount of times he’d kissed you all over, hands wandering—

besides the point.

but luke had composure, something he prided himself on. he was able to keep a pokerface when need be. and he really did need it. this boy was pushing his buttons, and seemingly trying to undo yours.

luke watched on for a bit, trying his hardest to keep up the smile on his face that everyone knew. thankfully, he didn’t need to step in this time. as annoying percy’s protectiveness over you waynhave been, it had its perks. such as percy being annoyed by the same things as luke.

“hey y/n, i’m feeling kind of tired. you mind walking me back to our cabin?” percy stood behind you as you turned his way, laughter from behind you caused a scowl to come over your face. “what’re you laughing at?” the boy crossed his arms, “the fact that this kid can’t walk alone.” percy’s fist was itching to connect with this guys face, but he knew you could handle it.

“this kid, is my brother. and if you have something else to say you sure as hell better be ready for someone to talk back.” you were eye to eye now, and you could see him practically shrink back into himself. “that’s what i thought.” the campers rung out in ‘oohs’ as you turned to guide percy away.

what you didnt anticipate was for him to fight back. “the hell do you think you’re doing?” his fingers clung onto your wrist, and that was more than enough for luke to punch him square in the jaw. but that wasn’t enough, with each leg over the boys waist he continued to raise his fist, over and over.

until eventually you managed to pry him off of the boy. but the damage was done, he was currently cradling his wrists and crying out, “he broke it!”

“you idiot. come on.” percy was in front of the two of you, deciding to say out of the way as you reprimanded him, “and again, i can handle myself just fine!”

“is it so wrong of me to want to protect you?” luke shouted as the two of you stopped in your tracks. “you’re my— best friend.” thankfully your back was facing percy, the smile on your face was wide. “i know, and i thank you for wanting to protect me. but i can fight my own battles luke. don’t do it again.” percy furrowed his eyebrows, “so can i.” you laughed, “no you can’t percy.”

once you’d settled percy in you walked luke to his empty cabin. luke’s smugness was irking you, “why are you so happy?” luke shrugged, “hurt him good, why wouldn’t it be happy?” you shoved him inside, your head was hurting from the whole encounter. “happy? you’re happy for hurting someone?” luke’s hands rested on either cheek, his eyes seemed darker than usual, “he hurt you, and i can’t let that happen.” you shook your head.

“seriously, what the hell was that?” you were so close to choking him, and not in a fun way. “what was what? me defending you? that guys hands were all over you, i broke them, he won’t be using them again. problem solved.” you walked him over to his bed before pushing him down. luke’s own hands were bruised, the moonlight seemed to dance over them, dried blood and shallow cuts. you inspected them with care, before grabbing a first aid kit.

“i’m not incompetent yknow? i can handle myself just fine. you undermined me out there, im a camp counsellor, i’m a leader. you made me look like i need saving!” he exhaled, whilst you wiped over his knuckles with wipes before walking away to throw the rubbish out. “i didn’t mean to, i just— i saw him. and his hands on you and i couldn’t just sit back.” you were situated between his legs, his hands came up to rest on your hips.

your hand tangled in his hair, thumb rubbing up and down as he rested his head against your stomach. “i know, i know. it’s sweet, that you want to protect me but you can’t treat me like a kid. i’m your—.” the silence between the two of you was comforting, never awkward.

“say it.” his voice was soft and sweet, almost desperate, he looked up at you and your own heart was threatening to leap out of your chest. just one look from luke was more than enough to send your head spiralling. “i’m your girlfriend, luke. and you’re my—.”

“boyfriend, your loving, loyal, extremely hot and amazing swordsmen of a boyfriend. and i’m pretty good in other areas too.” you hid your head in your hands, the heat in your cheeks was annoying you, “nah, i wanna see you.”

he managed to lift you up, despite your squeals of protest, and lay down with you on the bed, “i’ll protect you any day, anytime.” luke peppered your face with kisses as you begged him to stop, “never.”

you groaned, “god you’re cheesy luke!”

“only for you.”

#luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson x fem!reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fic #percy jackson x reader

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cowgurrrl · 1 year

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She’s A Gun

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: *John Mulaney voice* My wife is a bitch and I love her SO much (gif by @salome-c) I also didn’t know how to end this so sorry

Summary: Somebody didn’t give the new guy a heads up about talking about Joel Miller’s family [1.6k]

Warnings: idiots in love, a quick mention of a queer slur, I can’t think of anything else!!

You catch him looking at you across the room as you sip some new whiskey Tommy traded for. He looks young and fresh-faced without many scars or littering the surface of his skin. His eyes are bright when they meet yours, and you give him a polite smile before returning to your drink. Unsurprisingly, he bellies up to the bar a few minutes later. You glance at the door, and the man follows your gaze.

"You meeting someone?" He asks. The bartender, a kind man named Nick, flashes you a look, but you wave him off, turning to the younger man, who is dead set on making his presence known.

"You must be new." You say, and he laughs as he holds out his hand.

"You got me. I'm Luke," He says. You meet him halfway and shake his hand, giving him your name. "Where are you from?"

"I came here from Boston."

"You're a long way from home. What brought you here?"

"Long story."

"Is it longer than the time it would take to get you another drink?"

"I can get my own drink, but thank you."

"'Course," he says but doesn't move from his place next to you. "What do you do here in Jackson?" He asks, and you open your mouth to say something, but he cuts you off. "Let me guess. School teacher. No, a nurse."

"I work patrols, but good guess."

"Oh, I'm going to work patrols, too. I actually just signed up for my first shift tomorrow. Speaking of which, do you know anything about this guy… Miller, I think, is his name. I heard he's a hard ass."

"Joel or Tommy?"

"There's multiple?" He asks, and you smirk as you sip your drink.

"There's a few of 'em hanging around, yeah. What did they say? Maybe I can," you shrug and try to hide the amusement in your voice. "Help you figure it out."

"Well, this guy, Seth, said Miller shouldn't even be in Jackson. Something about him killing people to get by before coming here, but he gets to stay because he's buddies with Maria. Apparently, he's a hell of a shot, though. I heard a rumor that he once shot an Infected from a mile away, but I'll believe it when I see it." He says, and you nod.

You remember that day well. Tommy had been bragging about his marksmanship, mostly telling big fish stories, and you finally got sick of it. Joel told you to leave it, but you had to see. When you went on patrol the next day, you and Tommy had a competition to see how far he could actually shoot. You passed the gun back and forth to see who could hit accurately and how far. You were the one holding the gun when the Infected bound his way up the hill and quickly went down as the bullet buried in his skull. You didn't think that story would've made the rounds, though.

"What else did Seth say?" You ask, and he puffs his cheeks out as he shakes his head.

"He told me to stay away from him. Something about not fucking with people like that because he's ruthless, especially when it comes to his kid. He said Miller yelled at him last week because he said something to her. Just... totally lost his mind like a crazy person." It wasn't just something. He called my daughter a dyke, you think to yourself. Joel may have pushed him and made him leave, but you threatened to ruin his fucking life. If you ever hear him say something like that to Ellie again, you'll make Joel look like the poster child for forgiveness. You bite the inside of your cheek and save that information for later.

Seth wasn't warning Luke about Joel. He was warning him about you.

"And you're sure he was talking about a man?"

"Pretty sure. I mean, I know people do lots of shitty things to stay alive, but I can't imagine a woman instilling that much fear in a man like Seth," He says, and you hum. "No offense."

"None taken." You smile and watch his guard come down just enough for him to feel comfortable reaching for your arm.

"I wish I had known they let women as beautiful as you out on patrol. I would've signed up with you instead of Miller." He says, and you almost gag. Joel's hand skims your lower back almost as if on cue, and you turn to face him. He kisses you a second too long before looking over your shoulder to face the stranger who looks embarrassed. His arm wraps protectively around your middle, and he's close enough that you can smell his shampoo over the bar’s stench of stale beer.

"Great timing. This is Luke. He's starting patrols tomorrow," You say. Joel reaches across the space to shake his hand, and Luke winces at his too-tight grip. "Luke, this is my husband, Joel Miller," you wish you had a camera to take a picture of the stunned look on his face when he hears the last name. "Joel, we were just talking about the last time I was on patrol with Tommy."

"You're Miller?" Luke asks, suddenly looking pale. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Oh, I thought I mentioned it. I'm sorry, I'm probably losing my mind." You echo Seth's words and smack yourself on the forehead dramatically. Luke drains his drink before glancing around the room.

"It was great to meet you, man. Um, I'm gonna run to the bathroom really fast." He says and takes several steps away from the bar.

"Oh, so soon? I was hoping you and Joel could talk about routes."

"Maybe later." He says, and with that, he's gone. You smile and turn in Joel's arms to face him.

"Jesus, I thought he was going to have a heart attack. What did you say to him?"

"Seth was warning him about the mercenary who's buddies with Maria and shot an Infected from a mile away, asked if I knew anything about the guy."

"Seth should learn to keep his fuckin' mouth shut." He grumbles, and you nod.

"It didn't help his case that he tried flirting with me. Even asked if I was a school teacher." You say, and he gives you a look. His warm fingers reach under your shirt collar to pull out the chain with your wedding band on it.

"Maybe if you actually wore this, that wouldn't happen so often."

"C'mon, everybody knows I'm yours. It's not my fault no one gave him the run down," you say, and he tugs on the chain to kiss you, his big hands moving to hold your jaw. He swallows your gasp when he licks into your mouth, sending a zing of electricity down your spine. He's a touch too handsy for a public space, but you're not complaining. "I don't see you wearing yours out on patrol either." You say, pulling away before he can start something he can't finish, at least not in public. Still, his hand slips into your back pocket, squeezing your ass through the denim.

"Don't want to lose a finger. Besides, everybody knows I'm yours," he parrots, and you smile. A familiar, old country song plays over the speakers, and Joel lights up at the first few chords. "Will you dance with me?" He asks, pressing light kisses to your jaw to butter you up. You lock your arms around his shoulders and let yourself forget about everyone else in the bar.

"And to think there was a time when you hated PDA."

"That was before someone tried hittin' on my wife," he says, and you feel like your face will get stuck from smiling so much. It's been three months since the small backyard wedding officiated by Tommy and Maria. Ellie walked you down the aisle— more of a patch of grass than anything else— and acted as your maid of honor. When Tommy asked if she agreed to give you to Joel, she said, "it's not like she's fucking property, but sure." She beamed so brightly when she realized you each included her in your vows, promising to love and protect her as much as you love and protect each other. It wasn't planned, but the unexpected matching further proved that you three are a family. Still, you don't know if you'll ever get used to hearing Joel call you his wife. "Dance with me, please." He pouts into your neck, and you finally give in, grabbing his hand and leading him to the dance floor.

He pulls you close, and you bury your face in his neck as you slowly dance to Tanya Tucker's voice. He sings along for only you to hear, his accent getting stronger as he does. You could stay like this forever, wrapped up in him and listening to him sing the same song you used to sing along to while driving on backroads. You would marry him again if you could. You think you would marry him in every lifetime.

Scary rumors of mercenaries and blood on your hands fade from your mind. To men like Seth and Luke, you are a subversion of their holy mother. You are bloody and broken, a monster beyond saving. You are a warzone with a heartbeat.

But to Joel, you are the most sacred thing he's ever held. It's not enough to erase the rumors and nightmares about you, but it's enough to knock the wind out of you and make you love your husband that much more. That has to count for something.

🍓

Tag list: @evyiione

#joel and ellie #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #i wrote this for me but you can read it too i guess

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lilislegacy · 2 months

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Okay, I’ve been thinking about something lately

All the time I see people make statements about Percy that start with “Percy would never…”

Some examples I’ve seen: “percy would never kill someone/something in front of his mom” “percy would never yell at someone he loves” “percy would never get drunk” “percy would never let his child go to camp-half blood”

Now if you passionately believe one of those, hear me out. I’m not necessarily saying I disagree!

I’m saying… who would have ever thought Percy would torture a goddess and choke her on her own poison? And…. enjoy doing it? If someone had said that on tumblr pre-HoH, every single comment and reblog would have been “PERCY WOULD NEVER!!” I mean, who would have thought Percy would do a million things he’s done? He’s done some very not so ‘silly little guy’ stuff. He is an extremely complex character. In his own head and to some people, he’s sweet and fun and silly, but to many people he’s reckless and scary and dangerous. Some people see him as someone who’s very gentle and relaxed, but some people see him as someone who’s quick to get very angry and cause destruction. And the truth is, he’s all of it. It depends on his mood. Consistency does not apply to him in many aspects. He has consistent traits, like loyalty, humor, and bravery, but his actual actions and reactions are NOT consistent. I understand why we think Percy would never do certain things. We think we know based off of his past and his history with his mom, or with Gabe, or with Luke. And I’m not saying I think he would do those things, but unless he specifically states it, we can NOT, ever, infer what Percy Jackson might or might not do.

Like for instance, the drinking thing. I am not saying percy would be a big drinker, if one at all. And he probably does have an aversion to the smell of beer because of how the apartment used to smell when he was young. But we have no evidence that Percy associates all alcohol with Gabe. Alcoholic drinks aren’t just foul smelling hard liquors. There are a million different forms that you can consume alcohol in - some of which don’t even smell like alcohol, and barely taste like it. And in The Chalice of the Gods, it’s said that Sally drinks a glass of wine every night. And Percy thinks Sally hangs the freaking moon. So if his mom drinks, he definitely doesn’t believe that alcoholic beverages = the enemy. And here’s the thing, if Annabeth and Piper and Leo were all drinking and having a good time, like college students do, and they go “Hey Percy, come sit and have a drink with us!” there’s a very good chance that he’s so comfortable with his best friends, and just wants to let loose and be a college kid, that he wouldn’t even think about Gabe. He’d just be like “Sounds fun! Count me in!” But I don’t know. That’s the point. I don’t know. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t. I truly think it could go either way. And even if he does drink, maybe he never - not even once - gets drunk. Maybe he’d drink in college and as a young adult, but when he becomes a father one day, he decides he doesn’t want his children to ever smell so much as a drop of alcohol on his breath, and therefore completely stops drinking. Or maybe he doesn’t ever like it, even in college. Or maybe he’s like his mom, and he and Annabeth just have a glass of wine with dinner. Who knows?

Not us. That’s what I’m saying. WE don’t know.

I’m not saying we can’t have headcanons based on what we know about him. I have a million. But the point is, I feel like we can’t try to pretend like we actually know what Percy wouldn’t do. As a fandom, we analyze him and his choices WAY more than he ever thinks about a single choice. He definitely does not think about his life and his actions as much as we do. (I’m not saying that he’s dumb or doesn’t contemplate his life and his actions, but he doesn’t nearly do it to the degree that we do.) Us, we pretend like it’s simple math. (Our first mistake, since math is consistent and full of rules, which is the exact opposite of Percy’s character.) We go “okay luke did this and gabe did this so therefore percy would never do this.” But Percy doesn’t think that way most of the time, especially not in heat of the moment matters. The only thing we 100% know about Percy is that he will always be loyal to his loved ones. But even then, we don’t know what that loyalty will look like. Is it sacrificing himself for someone? Is it murdering the enemy? Is it manipulating someone else? Percy lives in the moment. He doesn’t often think too much before he acts. He just acts. Whether it’s in a life of death situation, or his after school activity for the day. He is unpredictable, like the ocean. It’s one of his defining traits.

Honestly, I think that’s why annabeth is so drawn to him. With everyone else, she can read them super easily and know their next move. But with Percy, she has no idea. Which is frustrating to her, but also exciting. It’s a big part of her initial attraction to him. It’s also why many of us like him so much. We don’t know what’s coming next, and we never know what he will do in a situation. Like, how could we possibly know what he would or wouldn’t do when HE doesn’t even know? Half the time I don’t think Rick himself even knows.

We become so sure that Percy wouldn’t do something because we understand his character so well, right? But I think the truth is, the minute we become certain about what Percy would or wouldn’t do, is the minute we don’t understand his character at all.

Thank you for reading my analysis of Percy on why we can’t reliably analyze Percy

#the only thing we can predict is that he’ll be unpredictable #none of us know what he wouldn’t do #analysis #pjo analysis #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #sally jackson #piper mclean #leo valdez

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wlntrsldler · 1 month

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THE PROPHECY | LUKE CASTELLAN

synopsis: series of events between zeus!reader and luke that started the prophecy. not canon-compliant; inspired by the prophecy by taylor swift.

series masterlist | previous | next

Hand on the throttle, thought I caught lightning in a bottle, but it's gone again.

"Do you think Thalia knew I loved her?"

There was a bite in the air, as there always was when the summer began to fade and fall began to creep up at Camp Half-Blood. It happened every year, at least for the past three years you've called Camp Half-Blood your home.

Luke sat beside you on the hard, dirt floor, looking up at the green of Thalia's pine tree. The summer campers knew of her legend, but it was the year-rounders like you and Luke who understood her sacrifice best. There was a feeling of guilt and gratitude that engulfed all of you, like the protection Thalia blanketed over the campgrounds. You were thankful that demigods had a place to feel safe, but it came at the cost of a life. Thalia should be here.

"Of course she knew," Luke replied, unconsciously yanking out the blades of grass that flourished between the cracks in the floor. "She's your sister."

"Yeah, but do you think she knew I chose to love her?" You clarified, turning your head to face him. You did this every year, you and Luke at the foot of Thalia's tree once the summer campers all left for the year. “I mean yeah, I had to love her because she’s my sister, but do you think she knows that I would’ve chosen to love her even if she wasn’t? I feel like I never told her that. We always fought.”

Each year you studied Luke and noted the things that were different. He's older now. His arms were more defined, muscles beginning to form on his otherwise lanky frame. He'd grown taller in the last few months and his body was adjusting to his new height. The pants he wore all of last summer were discarded a few months ago. They stopped short on his ankles and Luke decided that it was time to let them go.

Another bead was added to his necklace, three wooden beads clanking against each other, just like yours, when he moved his body too quickly. A new bracelet adorned his wrist given to him by a young girl in the Hermes cabin before she left to go back to Virginia for the year. Luke had a collection of bracelets stashed in his bedside drawer. It was a reminder of all the demigods he wanted to protect. Some became painful reminders of the ones he couldn't.

Luke pursed his lips, "Sisters fight. I don't think she took it personally."

Each year you studied Luke and treasured the things that stayed the same. He still had the same smile as he always did, bringing you back to when you and Thalia first met him all those years ago– just three kids fighting for your lives all on your own. You and Luke were the same age, him only your senior by a few weeks, but he took the protector role seriously. Luke was your safe place before Camp Half-Blood.

His curls were the same, especially in the mornings when he first gets out of bed; all wild and unruly, just like how he is when he wasn't carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Some people say it's because he's the son of Hermes so mischief ran through his veins, but there was nothing about Luke that mirrored his father. He was too good to be like the gods.

"I just wish my last words to her weren't that," You uttered, a bitter taste in your mouth as you replayed your last conversation with Thalia. In the final stretch of your journey to Camp Half-Blood, you and Thalia got into an argument. In hindsight, it was petty, a disagreement that any older and younger sister would have, but it felt big at the moment. You didn't speak to her for two days. And then, in the blink of an eye, there was a blinding light, and suddenly, your little sister vanished.

You don't even remember what the fight was about anymore.

"You need to forgive yourself," He said, flicking away the blades of grass he had in between his fingertips, "This wasn’t on you."

He said this every year, yet it never felt rehearsed. It always felt genuine when Luke said it. You wondered if he got annoyed at how you brought this up each year, this never-ending feeling of guilt that you didn't turn around to see if Thalia was behind you, that you couldn't protect your little sister, but Luke was patient with you. If it bothered him that you thought about it often, he didn't show it.

"Sometimes it feels like it is," You whispered, watching a singular pine fall from a branch. You like to think that Thalia did these things to let you know that she's listening. "Our dad hasn't talked to me since."

Luke clenched his jaw, wiping his hand on the fabric of his cargo pants. His warm palm took your hand, giving it a soft squeeze, "You're better off."

"Maybe."

"You are," He said, clearing his throat. His chest felt heavy as he spoke. "I have to tell you something."

You turned your hand over, lacing your fingers together. Holding Luke's hand always felt right, even when you were fourteen and he had to drag you away to safety from the monsters who were out to get you; even when you were fifteen being woken up by the nightmares caused by the empty Zeus cabin, a chilling reminder that your sister was supposed to be there; even when you were sixteen and began to take on more responsibilities at camp despite your protests. "What is it, Luke?"

"I have a quest," He admitted. He'd been keeping this from you for days. He was meant to embark on this journey today, but he pleaded with his father to give him until tomorrow to begin. He knew the day the summer campers left was hard on you.

Your stomach dropped. Luke had been waiting for a quest from his father for years. You watched him fall into a pit of despair every time a camper who'd been at camp for a shorter period of time got a quest and returned with the glory of the strongest and bravest champions. You knew Luke wanted the opportunity to prove himself to his father. This quest was it, but it didn't mean that you were enthusiastic about the idea. "When do you leave?"

"In a few hours."

"Oh."

"Are you upset?"

"No," You said, then paused. You thought about it. Luke let you think in silence, rubbing his thumb along your skin. "Yes, but I can't do anything about it. I can't stop it."

"Say the word and I will, you know that," Luke rebutted, staring at you now. "I won't go if you don't want me to."

"Luke," You sighed, "You can't deny the gods."

"For you, I'd try to." Sometimes Luke said things that worried you. You'd always been told that your allegiance should be to the gods, your parents. Sometimes you felt differently, but you never said it out loud, but Luke had no problem doing it. He made it clear that his allegiance was to the people he loved, to you.

"You should go," You said, ignoring the shake in your voice. It was tempting to tell him to stay; Tell him to be content to live a quiet life in the safety of these grounds, to be content with the glory he received from being the head counselor of the Hermes cabin, as the best swordsman at camp. But Luke craved more to life than this, you knew that. He needed more than another notch on his belt from Capture the Flag. He deserved more. He deserved a father who cared about him. Maybe this quest is the key to giving him exactly what he needed. You couldn’t in good conscience keep him from that.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." The lie burned your tongue. While some demigods returned victorious, some never returned at all. The thought of it made a chill run down your spine. It made Luke flinch.

He wrapped his arms around you. The position was awkward, but neither of you cared. When you were younger, his curls tickled the side of your cheek when you hugged him. You used to be able to look him in the eye back when you were the same height. You used to be able to memorize the features on his face; the crinkles by the side of his eyes that would appear when he'd smile, eyelashes brushing against the stray hairs of his eyebrows; full cheeks dusted with the faintest shade of pink from the beating sun or the wind chills; a crease under his lips that cast a shadow on his chin.

Now that you're older, his curls fell against your temple when he held you like this. His face was thinner, jaw more defined and cheeks hollow, like his youth was being drained from him each year. But his heart remained the same. A steady thump against your own, a beat that became synonymous with home.

“I feel like this is a test,” He murmured, shaking as he spoke. He’ll blame it on the wind if you asked, but he knows that his words would fall flat. You always did know when things felt wrong with him. Sometimes he thought that you knew him better than he knew himself. Luke licked his lips, “Like he’s expecting me to fail and prove what he’s known all along.”

“You always tell me that I’m more than what the gods think of me,” You said, looking up at him. Luke was staring at the sky, jaw rigid as he fought back the tears. There were only a handful of things that made Luke emotional– talking about his father was one of them. He used to cry when he talked about May, too, but now when someone asks about his mother, his tone turns robotic. He recited her fate like a broken record, waiting for the inevitable looks of pity from the onlookers. You brushed your thumb along his jaw, “Luke?”

“Hm?” His eyes darted to yours, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips as he studied your features. Luke always knew you were beautiful, but sometimes when he was this close to you, it knocked the breath out of his lungs for a moment, like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“You always tell me that I’m more than what they make me out to be,” You repeated, holding his face in the palm of your hand, “And yet you never believe it for yourself.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. You’d called him out on his hypocrisy more times than he could count. You were right, though. He did always tell you that the opinions of the gods didn’t matter, not when they didn’t know you like he knew you, not when they were too preoccupied in their own world to realize that you were the greatest thing they created.

“You are more than what your father thinks.”

He wanted to believe you, he really did, but all his life he’d been told that he was destined for something great. And yet the things he’d been able to accomplish so far seem so miniscule, irrelevant, in the context of the gods. He craved more.

When Luke was a child, May Castellan used to mumble the same phrase over and over again. He didn’t think much of it then, nothing that his mother said usually made any sense to his nine-year-old self anyway, but the more time he spent at Camp Half-Blood, the clearer her words became. Luke was destined for something, it’s in the cards, it’s in the hands of fate. This quest might be it, the first step to reaching eternal glory.

There are times though, during moments like this, with you beside him, when he thinks that he’ll be fine not reaching eternal glory. He can live out his life happily with just this; you and him at the foot of Thalia’s tree, with you telling him he’s more than what the gods want him to be. After all, he’d give up eternal glory if it meant being with you.

“You’re gonna be okay without me around?” He teased. For years, it had always been you and Luke. It was a type of co-dependence that made Chiron and Mr. D's eyebrows raise. They found it dangerous. You overheard them talking in the Big House about it once, how unnatural it was for two demigods to choose each other despite the dangers of it. You joked that it was a trauma bond of sorts, but you and Luke both knew that it was more than that. Neither of you said it out loud, though, both too scared to ruin whatever this was.

“No, probably not,” You confessed. Your words took him by surprise. He was expecting you to join his teasing, but he found no trace of banter in your tone. You bit your bottom lip, “But you’re gonna come back, so I’ll be okay. I need to be okay with you being gone. I can’t expect things to always stay the same.”

Luke couldn’t help but frown at your words. He knew you were right like you always were, but he didn’t like the idea of things changing. So much in his life moved with the tides, and up until he met you, he was fine with it. But the idea of the two of you changing, the idea of one day not having this, not having you, well, Luke didn’t think he could stomach the idea. His lips hovered over the crown of your head, almost touching you but not quite, “Not us, though. It will always be us.”

Luke didn’t know what he was destined to do, what prophecy the gods and the Fates had in store for him, but the only thing he was sure of was you. And that was never going to change if he could help it.

#frances writes #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke fic #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan series #percy jackson fanfic #luke pjo #pjo series #pjo fanfic

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gh0stsp1d3r · 3 months

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Hiii!! I was wondering if you could do a Luke x f.reader who is a daughter of Hephaestus and basically she’s jealous of the the Aphrodite girls and how Luke seems to take a liking to one of them, and so f.reader tries to change herself a bit to get Luke to notice her but instead one of Apollo son’s does and luke gets jealous. 🫣👀

𝒴ℴ𝓊’𝓇ℯ 𝒷ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒽ℯ𝓇

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

I made this longer than it had to be. 😭 so sorry.

Warnings: jealousy, some angst

You watched him pass by. Your best friend, the boy you’ve had a crush on since you saw him at the camp years ago. When he was just a small, scared, confused little boy.

Usually, he would give you a smile and sit with you. Not today. He was talking with one of the other counselors, one of the Aphrodite girls.

The Aphrodite girls. Most of them were kind, loving. They were beautiful. And you were stuck forging swords, which you loved. But you felt a pang in your heart as you watched him sit down with her instead. She laughed with him about Gods know what.

You stared at them from afar, eating your food as your friends and siblings talked amongst themselves. You would get his attention again. You were determined to.

You watched over the younger campers, watching them as they hammered and drilled. Your arms were folded, calling out some people and helping them, correcting them.

“It’s good. But it’s dull. Make it less curved , and sharper.” You spoke when one of them handed you a sword they had made. You smiled at them and they nodded, wiping the sweat from their forehead and going back to their station.

“Hey.” Someone said from behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder making you jump slightly. You whipped around, your eyes meeting those brown ones that you knew too well.

“Hi.” You replied, swallowing the lump in your throat and turning back to the kids, facing away from him. The Aphrodite girl.

“Are you alright..?” He asked you, noticing how you seemed off.

“I’m fine.” You said simply, his hand left your shoulder and he frowned.

“I was just wondering if tomorrow you wanted to go to that party at the lake with me. Like… 6?”

You smiled to yourself, covering your face so he couldn’t see and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

“I’ll see you later.” He said, a small smile on his own face as he walked away.

Your sibling came up to you, a smirk on her face. “If you don’t just ask him out already…”

“Shut up.” You playfully hit her in the arm, rolling your eyes at the girl.

After watching the kids, you took a shower, and sighed as you flopped down onto your bed, tired from the day. It was dark out, and late.

You fell asleep quickly, and woke up to your sibling shouting something in your face.

“What? What’s wrong?” You grumbled, turning to the side and shutting your eyes again.

“Wake up! You’re gonna be late.”

“Late for what?”

“You’re checking the cabins today, with Luke, remember?”

“Oh. Shit,” you mumbled, sitting up and stretching. You got up, put on some baggier clothes when you had a thought.

That Aphrodite girl.

You would be with Luke for about an hour, why not try to make yourself look presentable? You thought.

You did your hair, brushed your teeth, then grabbing some moisturizer and putting it on your face. You put mascara on, even grabbed a thing of lip gloss, putting it in on and then in your pocket.

You changed your clothes, taking off your hoodie and putting your camp half blood shirt, which you were supposed to have on while checking the rooms.

You looked through your closet, and ended up with a pair of flared jeans instead of the baggy cargos you usually wore when you were with the kids at the work station. You put on a pair of boots that matched and you looked at yourself in a dirty mirror.

You shrugged, and left the cabin. You would be able to show off more, at the party.

You grabbed your clipboard and paper, going up to Luke now.

“You’re late. I already checked mines and Athena’s.”

“Oh yeah? Did yours get a 4 again?” You joked.

“No… we got a 5.” He said. “Which still isn’t good but…”

“That’s shocking.”

He rolled his eyes and laughed. He noticed something different about you. He looked closely at your face as you both walked to the other cabin.

“Are you… wearing mascara?” He said after realizing it. Your pants were different too. He noticed it all.

“Yeah… why?”

“Nothing. Just never seen you do that.” Something was wrong, he knew it. Something in his chest says that something was wrong. You’d told him once you don’t wear that much because your face gets dirty anyways, after forging and even just watching over them.

You shrugged and you both acted like nothing was wrong. Then after a while of checking it was time to head to the Aphrodite ones, the last cabin.

You tensed, and of course, Luke being the most observant, noticed when he looked at you. He put a hand on your shoulder, not knowing what was wrong but trying to bring some comfort anyways.

“Okay.” He breathed out, knocking on the door. All the Aphrodite girls were on their beds, waiting patiently. It was perfect, nothing spilled or a clutter.

The girl you saw Luke with yesterday waved to him. He waved back, giving a small smile. You tried to ignore the tears that started welling in your eyes.

Why were you so jealous?

“It’s a 10.” You spoke up, voice cracking slightly.

He nodded in agreement. You just left the cabin in a rush, you ignored everyone around you as you headed to your cabin.

Why couldn’t he look at you instead?

You took off your camp shirt, looking through your side in the closet once more. Nothing. There was nothing that could catch his attention in there. It was all dirtied, old, worn-out t-shirts. The party was soon.

"You need help?" Thank the Gods for your sisters.

They all got the best shirts they had. Crop tops, tank tops, baby tees, all of it. The boys ignored it, sitting on their beds and talking.

One that caught your eye was a pink cropped long sleeved shirt, it hugged your body when you put it on, showing your curves. The girls squealed when you came out, they all complimented you.

"I have the best mini skirt for that." One of them said, you quirked an eyebrow.

She handed it to you, and you went back into the bathroom.

"It's adorable!" she said.

It wasn't you, though. It didn't feel right. You just put on a smile as you headed outside.

"I'll kill him if he does anything." One of your brothers mumbled under his breath.

"Stop being overprotective, Alex." One of your siblings rolled her eyes.

It felt odd walking out like that, but you held your head high. Luke was going to walk past, thinking you were just one of the aphrodite girls until he saw your face.

"Y/N?" he asked, he was shocked.

"The one and only." You stopped walking, he stood in front of you.

"You look..."

You were nervous to hear his next words.

"different."

You just nodded. "It's a party, Castellan.

"Sorry. Just not used to it. Shall we go, madam?" he asked, faking a posh accent at the last sentence, his arm extended.

"We shall." You said with the same accent, smile on your face, locking your arm with his as you both walked to the lake.

About an hour or two later you were standing by the lake, your feet dipping into the water as you stared out. He had been talking with the Aphrodite girl again.

Why not you?

You didn’t hear the Apollo kid behind you until he sat next to you, two drinks in his hand.

“Hey.” He said.

“Hi.” Not turning to look at him.

“I was just over there, and I thought you were really… gorgeous.” He said, looking you up and down. “Would you want this?” He asked, handing you a drink. You hesitated but took it.

But he’s not Luke.

You turned now to give him a small smile.

“Thank you.”

“What’s your name?”

You told him your name and he told you his.

“Oscar. After Oscar Wilde.” He said, a small laugh escaping him. You smiled and nodded.

“What are you doing out here alone?”

“I was with a friend but…” you shrugged.

It was soon that Luke had overheard a conversation with some of Oscar’s friends.

“Nah, he’s not here, he’s trying to take some girl to his cabin. Think her name is like, y/n? Some Hephaestus girl.”

Luke glanced over there when he heard that. You were talking with the boy. Oh he was going to kill this guy.

He walked over, fuming as he neared him.

“Luke?” You asked, furrowing an eyebrow as he walked over. Oscar turned around too now, his face flushed as he realized Luke was coming for him.

Luke grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, whispering something in his ear as you tried to get him off.

“Don’t ever come near her again.” Is what he said, dropping him onto the floor, he ran away and back to his friends. Everyone was watching you guys now.

“What?” Luke shouted to them. They quickly turned around.

“Luke, what the hell was that for?!”

“He was trying to…” he began to speak, his anger faded off once he saw the look on your face.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, not sure what else to say.

“Luke, what is wrong?” You asked him. “Did I do something?” Your voice cracked, your eyes welling up again. His own eyes were glossy now.

“No. You didn’t do anything.”

“Then why do you keep leaving me for that Aphrodite girl?”

The truth comes out. He stares at you, confused for a moment.

“Aphrodesia?”

You nodded.

“I… is that why you…?”

“Yes! Luke…”

“I was hanging out with her because I had no clue how to ask you out.” He said with his voice slightly raised, you stood there, feeling guilty.

“Oh.”

“She was telling me how to, giving me ideas. But now I see that I should have just asked.” His words were quiet now.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled.

“I’m sorry. And the reason for.. that whole thing.” He motioned to the party. “Was that I got jealous. I got jealous, and then I overheard some of his friends saying how he was planning on taking you back to his cabin.”

“I guess we both got jealous.” You said with a small laugh, he smiled and nodded.

“Can I still go out with you?”

You nodded with a smile. “I’d like that.”

—

“You did look gorgeous tonight.” He told you as he walked you back to your cabin. “But I like you no matter what you wear. You’re gorgeous either way.”

“Thank you.” You said, laughing. “It did feel kind of weird. I don’t think I like it.” You were now in front of your cabin, holding his hand in yours.

You both gazed into each others eyes, when he suddenly spoke up.

“Can I kiss you?”

You were shocked by his question. You didn’t answer and he began to apologize before you cut him off, crashing your lips into his. His hands went straight to your waist.

“You wanna know something?” He asked once your lips left his, voice a whisper.

“Hmm..?” You whispered back.

“You’re better than any of the Aphrodite kids.”

#luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #charlie bushnell x reader #pjo disney+#pjo #percy jackon and the olympians

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reythenerdypisces · 3 months

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things that I overlooked in PJO the first time / small, funny things I noticed during my reread

Part 1: The Lightning Thief

All I could think of was that the teacher's must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room. oh he was one of those guys

"I believe that was question 38 on your final exam..." He [Chiron] looked at me as if he actually expected me to remember question 38. once a teacher always a teacher

A strange fire burned in my stomach. The weirdest thing was: it wasn't fear. It was anticipation. The desire for revenge. We got a hint of dark Percy in book 1

I'd been afraid he [Luke] might resent me for getting so much attention the last few days. But here he was giving me a magic gift... It made me blush almost as much as Annabeth. tell me again this boy did not have a crush on Luke

The game ended when I tossed the apple toward Grover and it got too close to his mouth. In one mega goat bite, our Hacky Sack disappeared - core, stem, and all. Grover blushed. He tried to apologise, but Annabeth and I were too busy cracking up. I love moments of them being able to just be kids

She [Annabeth] loved reading so much, I'd forgotten she was dyslexic, too. I think the fandom forgets this too

Annabeth muttered to me, "Circus caravan?" "Always have a strategy, right?" Percy is so smart and so good at thinking on his feet, I'm tired of the fandom treating him like he's dumb

I was feeling satisfied after the burger, and a little sleepy, and I figured the least I could do was try to make small talk with our hostess. He's so sweet. Even if the host was Medusa

"I hate Australia! Naming that ridiculous animal after me [Echidna]." As someone currently living in Australia, this cracked me up.

I whistled. "You have evil thoughts for a goat." "Why, thank you." I love Grover and Percy and their friendship, very under appreciated

"I'm Crusty," he said, with a tartar-yellow smile. I resisted the urge to say, Yes you are. he's hilarious

A steely look of anger flared in my mother's eyes, and I thought, just maybe, I was leaving her in good hands after all. Her own. I also love Sally Jackson

that's all, I'll be back for sea of monsters :)

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo disney+#pjo series #the lightning thief #rick riordan #perseus jackson #annabeth chase #grover underwood

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ma1dita · 3 months

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trouble's coming for you

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

words: 3.7k

summary: (established relationship) suggestive banter lol The one where Percy meets his two favorite counselors at Camp Half-Blood. Also known as the three times Percy is completely oblivious about you two, plus the time he learns what L-O-V-E looks like for two teen demigods. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: PERCY POV!!! maybe the real enemy was the blue balls Luke got from a clueless 12-year-old. you’re gonna tell me you wouldn’t overthrow the gods too? scream at me in the comments and feel free to reblog :)

(posted 2/29/24, edited!!! i think!!! four hours of sleep later and a big kiss to @hotchfiles miss lari as always for inspo mwah)

—

What’s in a name?

One of the last defining memories Percy Jackson had with his mother before arriving at Camp Half-Blood was her reminder that names have power. He’s held fast to that belief, treading carefully with his words in this unfamiliar place that he’s supposed to call home so soon after losing his own.

Being the new kid for the hundredth time in his life means that he’s accustomed to change, much less introducing himself as Percy Jackson, whatever that means at this point—but then becoming known simply as the kid who causes trouble. What then, is he supposed to do, when his first friend at camp introduces him to a girl who embodies the name trouble?

To Luke, through Percy’s actions, it seems as if he’s trying to reclaim a crown that currently belongs to the beloved head counselor of Camp Half-Blood.

—

The dining pavilion is filled with mouth-watering scents and the sound of chattering campers to the point that it’s a bit overstimulating if he thinks too hard about it. Mr. Brunn—er, Chiron told him to take it easy after the events from yesterday, but he feels a bit tough on luck after making Luke run circles around camp trying to find what he’s good at.

“Is there a Greek god of disappointment? Maybe someone should ask if he’s missing a kid,” Percy says glumly, pushing the mac and cheese around on his plate. Luke sighs, letting the boy to his right speak.

“Oizys,” Chris mumbles through full cheeks before he cocks his head at the 12-year-old, “but she’s a goddess, and her whole thing isn’t really disappointment, it’s more like failure.”

Luke looks to Chris with a half smile before looking back at the kid and saying, “We’re gonna find the thing you’re good at. I know it.” He looks like he’s going to say something else before something, or someone catches his attention and it’s almost like the older boy is transfixed, eyes shining with mischief or something deeper that Percy’s young brain couldn’t comprehend just yet.

“And here comes trouble…” Luke says with a smirk, eyes following your figure until your feet take you to their table. The sandy-haired boy twists around, expecting to see a goddess of some sort until he sees you, violet eyes and a lilt of something sinister—giving off the energy of someone who holds power but also likes to fuck with it. You cross your arms over your chest, gaze floating over the three boys and at the tip of your chin, Luke takes his plate off the table, prompting you to hop up and slide onto the smooth surface in front of him.

“You look like someone kicked your puppy, so you must be the new kid. Peter, right?”

A snort of laughter comes from behind your slouched form, Luke partially concealed but body obviously shaking with amusement as he looks at you.

“He might just turn out to be a puppy kicker one day,” the son of Hermes jokes, “Meet Percy Jackson.”

“That’s not…”

You sigh at Luke’s idea of a joke, face incredulous as you lean over and conjure strawberries onto Percy’s plate. He’d never seen anything like that before, someone so casual about their abilities, but he didn’t have much of a reference past yesterday. This camp keeps surprising him in ways he’s never imagined possible.

“Heard D gave you a hard time earlier, sorry about him—I’d blame it on withdrawals but he’s just an asshole,” you offer with a smile and a handshake as you introduce yourself, watching the boy’s eyes widen with wonder.

“It’s not your fault…I’m used to being the new kid.”

Eyebrows furrowing at his tone, you lean in closer, voice turning serious. You’re a lot like Mr. D in the sense that it’s easy for you to poke at the kids who come through here for a reaction to make sure they’re okay mentally. When they don’t react is usually the call for help.

“Well, new kid, if anyone gives you a problem here at camp, you let me know. Even if it’s these two hooligans, or if it’s my dad.”

“You’re talking to our lovely head counselor, Percy. She calls the shots around here,” Chris chimes in jest. But only one part of your sentence sticks in his mind as he whips his head up from munching on a berry.

“He’s your dad?”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” you giggle, “and though you’re sweet and I would love to have you as a sibling, he kind of has a rule on having too many kids at once, unlike other gods.”

“A rule he’s already broken,” Luke drones, hand fidgeting with the black bandana tied around your thigh, “but who knows? If Percy ends up to be one of you, well…may the gods have mercy on us all.”

A deadpan stare is directed at the scarred boy, and you swipe at his curls like a feral cat, making him wince and laugh all the same as he bats you away.

“Tough shit, 11. Do you know how many hellions inhibit your cabin? Your dad inflicts agony on me personally every time another one of your siblings walks past the boundaries.”

The petty squabble is interrupted by the chime of the bell over your heads, but you two are still in a world of your own. It reminds Percy of the time he watched two subway rats fight over a pizza slice on the 6—he didn’t really know who to root for then either. Chris sighs and gets up, nudging Luke to follow, which he does begrudgingly as he claps his large hand on your leg. You hiss.

“Our turn!” Luke says with a hint of sarcasm.

“Our turn for what?”

“Burnt offerings,” you explain as you chomp on a strawberry, “the gods like the smell, so it gets their attention before you say a prayer.” You notice Percy stay in his seat, which makes a smile pull at your lips, “Think you’re off the hook for today though, bud. Or you can be just like me.”

“Don’t give him any ideas, trouble. I’ll throw in a few for Hestia.” Luke chews at his lip as he leans over you to grab a few berries off of Percy’s plate to toss into the fire for you.

“You don’t pray?”

“I’m not really the religious type. I’ve got what I need,” you concede, leaning back on your palms as you watch the son of Hermes stand for a few extra seconds at the hearth. “Besides, my godrent is right over there, and Luke worries enough for me. It’s more his thing,” you say with a lazy smile. The campers filing out of the dining hall wave at you and you enthusiastically greet everyone with dancing fingers. He doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone that…happy to be on the job, but things work differently around here, so he doesn’t think much of your upbeat attitude.

“Eat up. Some of that strength has to go to you. Gonna need it.” You say ruffling Percy’s hair, and when Luke comes back, he tugs at the shoelaces of your boots until you kick his hands away. You both share a smile like people do a secret, even here in the open air.

“Do they like the smell of burnt mac and cheese?” Percy says curiously, eating another spoonful of the meal. His head hurts at another thing to consider in this brand-new world he’s walked into.

“They like the smell of begging,” Luke grins, and you laugh like a firework going off, making Percy’s lips pull up into a smile.

“I’m not much of a beggar though, if you ask me.”

The son of Hermes hums at you like he wants to say otherwise, and you slap his chest as you suck air through your teeth. Beneath the wood top of the table and with Percy being none the wiser, your fingers intertwine with Luke’s like it’s second nature.

“You burn what you’ll miss the most. Then they know you really mean what you’re about to say, so they listen.”

Luke takes a breath after explaining how things work for the nth time to the kid, knowing Percy’s quite persistent about making his dad notice him. He remembers being jaded too—striving to be the best for a lick of his dad’s attention and all of his efforts were done in vain. Even though the kid’s arrival at camp was a bit unexpected, Luke doesn’t mind showing him around.

Hopefully, less work on your end means that he can spend more time with you once this is over with— but by the looks of how the day is going so far, he’s not so sure. He hopes his offerings reach the gods and they grant him extra patience for his good deeds. Watching you laugh at something Percy says as you all walk out of the dining pavilion, Luke wonders if you know that every offering he burns for the goddess of the hearth and home is so that she’ll protect you.

—-

“Lights out in 10 minutes, cabin 11! Everyone ready for bed?”

The sound of your voice jolts Percy awake from his post-dinner nap and he blinks slowly until he sees you walking towards him with extra blankets and pillows in your grasp. The other campers were kind of stand-offish, and after praying to his mom he was overwhelmed with the feeling of missing her, so much so that it drained the rest of his energy.

“Long day, huh bud?”

Drowsy with sleep, for a moment, Percy forgets where he is—the unfamiliar walls of the cabin making him shift with unease as he rubs at his eyes. The blurry version of you makes his chest go warm and for a second, it’s like—

“Mom?”

He blinks again, his pale face turning red when he realizes his slip-up. Percy’s shoulders drop when he hears giggles from somewhere in the big cabin and you reach out to smooth his hair away from his face with a gentle smile.

“Don’t worry about it. Everyone who first comes to 11 gets nightmares. For some of them, they don’t leave,” you mutter. Percy notices your eyes flicker over to Luke’s bed, where he’s zipping up his hoodie and chatting with one of his half-siblings. Cabin 11 is finally quieting down for the night—children scrambling into their bunks, doing nighttime routines, and having quiet conversations. It’s all so weird, this being everyone’s normal.

“You’re not alone though. Saw you earlier, outside. I still pray to my mom sometimes. She's quite the listener,” you say with a sad twinkle in your eye. The kid sniffs as you hand him the pillows and blankets, finally meeting your gaze.

“Did your mom…” Die too? The words feel like lead in his throat, feeling heavy as he swallows it down. He doesn’t want to cry in front of the pretty counselor, much less speak the truth, because if he says it out loud, it means his mom dying must have been real. Also since you’ve seen him sit in the dark of the forest burning blue jelly beans like a freak. What he didn’t know is that you pride yourself on being one. It takes one to know one, after all.

“Yeah. Makes for one hell of an origin story, but I found my place here, and people who care. I know you will too, when you’re rea—” Your words trail off when you see Luke walk past the both of you with a cool expression before he nods towards the door, and you squeeze Percy’s shoulder before getting up.

“Night guys! It’s getting late so we’ll have to do a story next time, okay?” You walk down the aisle patting heads and tucking in smaller campers, and he hears you whack the younger Stoll brother when he teasingly says, “It’s not fair that Luke gets a bedtime story and we don’t…”

“Connor, enough. I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up and called me mom, so save it for tomorrow.” He must have been the one laughing earlier.

“Everyone say goodnight trouble!” Luke calls out with a coy expression, making you roll your eyes as you flick the light off to a symphony of jeers. It’s finally quiet as Percy is propped up against some pillows that smell like raspberries and soft cotton before he realizes he has to pee.

But Chris said harpies hunt kids after curfew… he thinks.

In a moment of sheer panic, Percy looks around in the darkness of the cabin before the sound of your cackling pierces through the dim light from the outside. He hops up from the makeshift cot and tugs his shoes back on, slowly creeping past the long row of bunks to not disturb other campers before he gets to the door. Your head turns quickly to the intrusion as you spring away from Luke, stubbing a cigarette underneath the wood panel out of sight when Percy steps through the doorway.

“Sorry, I need to use the bathroom,” he says sheepishly as Luke nods, scratching his neck and leaning a far distance away from you. Under the low burning lamps, Percy notices Luke’s cheeks redden and he wonders if he is interrupting something, but the urge to go increases as he steps between you two.

“Right. I’ll walk you to yours?” Luke blurts in one breath. With a wordless smile on your lips, you nod before Percy purposely interrupts this time.

“I can walk her, it’s on the way to the bathrooms, right?”

If only this poor kid knew he was being the cockblock of the century.

“Yeah, Percy’s got me. The harpies won’t like you missing curfew, Castellan,” you tease, stepping around him with a shit-eating grin. Your hair almost floats in the gentle breeze, and Luke rolls his eyes.

“Stay out of trouble. I mean it,’ he sighs, before shoving you off the porch, and you laugh at the irony of his words. Looking back at Luke, Percy noticed his eyes were on you like he wanted to live in your skin, which was equal parts disgusting and confusing to the 12-year-old. His steps double in pace as you both walk down the path and a brief side glance at your stifled smile quickly makes the kid wonder if you’d let him. Pushing the sleeves of Luke’s hoodie past your elbows, you wave at Percy’s rushing figure as he almost bolts to the bathroom and you lean against the doorway of your empty cabin. You turn the light on and look across the way to see your boyfriend still leaning against his door, so you flip him off. Of course, he takes that as his cue to saunter over.

But then the loud clanging sound of pipes bursting reaches both of your ears and toilet water floods the dirt near the back end of your cabin.

So close.

“I’m gonna go check on Annie to see if she’s still on duty. Tough luck, babe,” you giggle, pressing a kiss to his cheek before walking in the direction that Percy went, sending the son of Hermes to drag his feet towards your cabin, alone (he didn’t expect to fall asleep propped over your covers waiting up for you, but a lot happened in that damn bathroom).

—

“Hey, today feel like a winning kind of day to you?” Annabeth smirks at the son of Hermes. Next to them, Percy feels a hand clap him on the shoulder and all three of them turn to see you donning red.

“Didn’t you three hear the conch? Wouldn’t want you to fall behind,” you say with a grin as Luke steps up to you and whistles lowly.

“Didn’t know you were playing today. It’s a shame you look that good in red.”

Annabeth fake gags as she crosses her arms to say, “You’re also currently on enemy territory if you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, you wound me. I’m not a threat. Percy, I obviously don’t have the flag, right?”

He nods a bit dumbly, still worried about the mechanics of the game and the part he has to play for the blue team, but no one else seems to share his concerns.

“Anyways, sorry I’m not on your team, Perce. The Ares kids snatched me up as soon as my name was on the roster, so I came to wish you all luck.”

“This better not be a diversion tactic, trouble,” Luke simpers, playfully tugging at your staff, which you use for leverage to step up onto a rock to meet him at eye level.

“Nah. You know I like the competition, angelface,” you whisper, almost daring him to do something.

“Bite me, trouble.”

There’s a fire in his eyes you’d love to stoke, but now’s not the time or place. You can’t help but indulge though—the both of you enjoy the reactions you can pull from each other.

“You’d like it too much.”

“Alright now,” Annabeth groans, calling your name, rolling her eyes as she pulls at Luke’s arm, “Gotta remember he’s your enemy!”

“I’M TRYING!” You laugh, shaking your head and walking back towards your team as you shoot them a fake salute. It all happens too quickly as Percy’s unable to catch the spitfire words between the two of you, thinking further about how he might get maimed during this game (which in the grand scheme of things, he almost does. Thanks Clarisse).

“Those two are hopeless! Walk faster, sunshine—we lost too much time watching whatever that was.” Percy stumbles along the forest path as he follows Annabeth, the both of them leaving Luke smirking to himself as he follows the rest of their team.

Hours later, at Clarisse’s muddy feet and holding her broken spear, Percy hears cheering in the distance as he watches the blue team led by Luke waving the red flag in one hand and your legs supported by his other. You’re in a fireman’s hold across his shoulders and everyone watches as the son of Hermes spins you around like a Tilt-a-Whirl until the sound of your shrieks is audible from the shoreline. He sets you down gently, dominant hand still around your waist as he snickers, “Got my win and my girl. Must be time to celebrate.” You laugh at his absurdity, pulling his helmet off and wiping the sweat off his forehead with your bandana.

“You’re always going to be a loser in my eyes.”

Slapping the plush of your hip, the sound echoes in the air—suddenly quiet as you gasp. But you’re not looking at Luke anymore, but rather the gleaming trident above Percy’s head as it’s revealed he’s a forbidden child. His jaw tightens at the sight, and there are a lot of emotions running through him, remembering Thalia and knowing that his plans will have to be altered once more because of Percy Jackson. You squeeze his hand before walking away from him to follow your dad and Chiron to the Big House, shooting him a nervous glance.

Damn.

—

The boys have been sparring for hours, and just as you think Percy’s getting the hang of it, Luke thrusts forward with an energy no one should have towards a 12-year-old. Although a bit concerning, he does have a lot to catch up on how to fight like a demigod before his quest in a few days.

“Take a break or else you’ll be crawling away from camp by the end of the week,” you joke, handing Percy and Luke bottles of cold water. Your boyfriend takes big gulps before pouring the rest over his head, leaving you gaping and a little hot under his stare as he nudges your chin and winks.

“You’re doing that on purpose!”

Luke shrugs slyly, and the both of you watch Percy catch his breath. He leans over your shoulder, the tone of his voice sultry as it tickles your ear, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other word would smell as sweet.”

You bite your lip, before bursting with laughter—which isn’t exactly the reaction he thought you’d have. Maybe he should’ve finished reading the sonnet before falling asleep, but you always take too long with your nighttime skincare routine.

“That doesn’t mean what you think it means, but you’re cute for trying,” you coo, leaning closer so that your cheek touches his. Luke’s whole face is warm from exertion and now embarrassment, but he smiles nonetheless at the proximity. He can’t believe he still misses you, even when you’re skin-to-skin like this.

“That stanza…Isn’t it about names being meaningless?” Percy says between gasps of air before he pours the rest of the water bottle over his head like Luke did. He’s looking up at the both of you as he leans against a tree, instantly feeling more rejuvenated.

You jerk up from your seated position on the large rocks, excited to talk about Shakespeare, and Luke almost pouts at the loss of your attention.

“Yeah! Good job, bud. I forget you went to a hoity-toity charter school,” you say tongue-in-cheek, before turning back to your boy.

“So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, and, for thy name, which is no part of thee, take all myself. You’re gonna have to interpret that one yourself, angelface.”

“Trust I have no fucking clue but you sound really hot when you talk dirty to me,” Luke says with a shrug. Percy laughs at that, before finally bringing up the question that’s been on his mind since Luke introduced you to him.

“Why do you call her trouble? She seems okay to me.”

“Thanks,” you say dryly, but the older boy leans on his arm with a lovestruck expression as he gazes at you. Oh…Percy thinks, brain feeling freshly washed. How did he miss that?

“She used to get in trouble a lot,” he says, before you elbow him hard, “I mean, we used to get in trouble, she’d always drag me into it.”

“You always offered! Don’t twist the fucking story,” you shriek, and the boys laugh at your exasperation.

“Yeah anyways, she’d always find me. Still does, my partner in crime. Trouble always comes for me,” Luke murmurs, waggling his eyebrows and intertwining your fingers together. Your jaw drops and cheeks flush and Percy thinks he understands better now, but gets confused again with what you do next.

You almost slap the goddamn scar off that boy’s face.

—

It is a terrible thing to be so open: it is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world. -Sylvia Plath

ask to be put on luke/general taglists!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @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 @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings @silver007 @sunny747 @huang-the-geek

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

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moneyndior · 2 months

Text

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ you’re too sweet for me. ⋄ 𓍯

…IN WHICH! luke feels as if you’re too sweet for his bitter self.

tags/warnings; luke castellan x apollo!reader, teenage dirtbag!luke, mutual yearning for each other, luke being kinda insecure, luke taking reader’s innocence as a bad thing, grape and wine mentioned a lot, my interpretation of ‘too sweet.’

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ go listen to too sweet by hozier tmrw. also i threw this up because i fear i might leave for the week next week since it’s spring break and i wanna see my friends

—

you watched as luke walked past you. again.

what you did to deserve such treatment like this—you’ll never know. you truly did all you could to seem sweet, kind, gentle—loving. but it’s like none of those qualities appealed to him.

it’s like it pushed him away. like you being too sweet was too much for him. you tried to not be overbearing, overly clingy, too sensitive, everything. because you genuinely liked luke.

and you genuinely liking someone was rare. you treated your body like it was sacred—something that not even the gods above could touch.

luke seen the disappointment in your eyes as you bit your tongue. he’s doing this for your own good, he’s doing this for your own good. he swears it up and down.

he’s too much of, well, an asshole if we’re being honest. you’re a deity he’d hear about from stories passed down from generation to generation. he’d pray and worship you if you weren’t actually in the same camp as him.

luke wants nothing more than to protect you, truly. corrupting a girl like you was the last thing he’d want.

he wants nothing more than to be the guy to hold you, to kiss you, to brush your hair, to be your assistant when your fixing up another broken nose. luke prays to experience such a thing in another life.

his bitterness and your innocence were just something that were never meant to be. and luke took that harder than you did.

you were as soft as rain, as bright as the morning, pretty as a vine and as sweet as a grape. luke would wait forever for you to, inevitably turn bitter. slowly but surely, he believed everyone did. he wished that he could sit you gently on a barrel and wait for you.

but watching you patch up percy with the most careful precision he’d ever seen made him feel different.

like he’d take his whiskey with a chaser instead of neat like luke normally would. he’d throw out his plain black coffee and take whatever iced latte you prefer.

seeing how well you are with kids would make him hear wedding bells. luke pushed the chimes to the back of his head and finally took his eyes off you as he seen a younger aphrodite girl rush up to you, frantic.

“y/n! help me, please! i got a paper cut and it’s bleeding and it hurts! will it scar? be honest!”

you couldn’t help but giggle at lottie as she looked like she was on the verge of tears. for a moment, you didn’t think about luke. you rushed her into your cabin, under the premise that ‘you’ll do everything you can to make sure it doesn’t scar her pretty finger.’

lottie felt you put a band-aid on her with the utmost gentleness she’d ever felt. a thumb wiped away the tears that couldn’t seem to fall down her cheek.

as you guided her back to her cabin with a smile across the blond’s face, you felt a pair of eyes watching you.

luke wanted to be right there with you, helping lottie, praising you as he kissed your temple. but he stood several meters away with a clenched jaw as his brows in their normal furrowed state.

he knew he couldn’t go up to you like he prayed he could. maybe in a few years, months even. if he prayed to you hard enough. if he clenched his hands together harder.

luke castellan would rather hold the 7 realms with his pinkie than ever corrupt what he grew to love about you. even if it meant pushing you away, pushing you to love another, he’s doing it for your own sake.

maybe he would have to forget praying to the gods for a day and be selfish. just this once. he’d pray that the grape he loved so much would turn to wine faster.

things that were too sweet for luke were simply too much.

#—LUKE CASTELLAN #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan blurb #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #apollo!reader #luke castellan x apollo!reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader #i love you hozier #hozier you lyrical genuis you

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atlabeth · 5 months

Text

bleedin' me dry | luke castellan

runaway with luke ending here!!

summary: luke has a proposal. it doesn't go over well.

a/n: so um. obviously im a huge percy jackson stan ive got annabeth in my name and ive literally wanted to be her since i read the books in second grade and by virtue of being an annabeth stan i hate luke but i also think he is so interesting and so good for angst and i also love the pjo resurgence we’ve got going on here from the show!! so here you go. here's some angst

title from vampire by olivia rodrigo

wc: 2.8k

warning(s): fem!child of demeter reader. luke is his own warning lmao. pushy and manipulative behavior, not the healthiest relationship! and no happy ending

“You know I love the forest,” you mused, “but you have to have a reason for bringing me out here.”

He gave you a wry smile as he squeezed your hand. “Do I have to have a reason? You said you love it—that’s gotta be reason enough.”

“I love it, but there are monsters here.” You twisted your free hand and flowers sprouted up a few feet away. “It does give me a chance to show off, though.”

You were in your cabin helping Katie clean up everything—it was the last day of summer and most of the Demeter kids had already left—when Luke knocked on the door and asked you to accompany him on “a little adventure”. Despite the teasing of your siblings, you bashfully accepted.

It wasn’t the smartest thing, admittedly, to find yourself in the forest with your boyfriend with a couple hours ‘til curfew when you still weren’t even sure if you were leaving or not, but you had your dagger. Luke didn’t have his sword, but you had been practicing.

It wasn’t like it really mattered, anyways—he probably just wanted to make out with you. It was far from the first time, and for all he knew you were leaving for the school year in a few hours.

He chuckled but didn’t say anything. You looked up at him, a slight frown creasing your brows, and nudged him with your shoulder.

“Is everything okay, Luke?” you asked. “You’ve been… oddly quiet.”

Again, it took him a moment to respond before he just shrugged. “I’ve been thinking, I guess.”

“About what?”

“Life,” he said. “Our lives.”

“Very philosophical for the hour,” you said dryly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Luke nodded, “yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Ask away.”

“Have you ever thought about leaving?”

“I’m still deciding whether I want to go back home for school or not, but—”

“Not after the summer,” Luke interrupted. “Leaving camp. For good.”

You frowned, a chill running down your spine. “Of course not. Camp Halfblood saved my life, Luke. I could never leave.”

“Says who?” Luke stopped and your intertwined hands pulled you back, stopping you as well.

“Says all the monsters that tried to kill me last time I went home,” you said slowly. “Don’t tell me you forgot the dracaena that nearly got me on that field trip.”

“‘Course I didn’t forget,” he said, inclining his head. “I just think you’re good enough now to make it without this place.”

“Luke,” you said with a strained laugh, “you— you can’t be serious.”

He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because if we leave, we’ll die,” you said slowly. “I barely made it on my own out there.”

“You’re more powerful now. And you won’t be on your own,” he said, tugging you closer. Despite it all, warmth bloomed in your chest. “I can protect you.”

“Luke…” You trailed off as he cupped your cheek with his other hand, bringing your gaze back to his.

“What’s the point of staying here?” Luke murmured, an unmistakable softness in his eyes. “Just so we can sit around at summer camp for the rest of our lives? I mean, it’s not like that’s gonna be much longer, the way Chiron tells it.”

“I ha— we have friends here,” you said, huffing another laugh as you took a step back from him. It was easier to think when he wasn’t touching you, when you were still able to sever the string connecting the two of you. “We have a life here. A safe life, Luke, where we don’t have to look over our shoulders constantly.”

“Not me.” Luke shook his head as he moved a step forward in tandem, and he took your hand again, his grip tighter this time. “You’re the only thing I’ve got keeping me here.”

“Please,” you said in disbelief. “You’ve got a whole cabin of siblings that adore you. You’re the best swordfighter here. I’m pretty sure even Mr. D has a soft spot for you.”

“Please,” he mocked, “you can’t seriously believe that.”

You shrugged. “All I know is that when you finally asked me out, I gained a whole lot of enemies.”

“Like that means anything,” Luke said.

“The kids love you too!” you exclaimed. “Their eyes light up with stars whenever you help them with their sparring. You’re a beacon of light to this place— where is all of this coming from?”

“I’m tired,” Luke said roughly. “Tired of the gods ignoring us when all they’ve caused is pain.”

You frowned, but he continued on.

“You’re telling me you haven’t noticed it?” he asked. “When’s the last time you ever saw my dad give me any kind of attention besides some fun-colored smoke? He ruined my mother’s life— he ruined my life! And our cabin is damn near overflowing with unclaimed kids. Where are their parents?

“Luke—”

He shook his head as he forged on. “And you can’t say that Demeter is any good either. I bet she makes your cereal tastes real good in the morning, but she’s abandoned you for your whole life.”

“Luke, where is this coming from?” you asked, your frown deepening further and further as you let go of his hand and took a step back. “You— you know I’m not a fan of them, but you can’t just go around saying things like this. The last thing I need is for my mother to— to smite me, or strangle me with vines or something because I’m not appreciating her enough.”

Luke huffed a laugh. “That would be the most attention she’s paid to you since she claimed you.”

“She’s a goddess,” you said. “She’s got more important things to do than send me emails asking how my day is going.”

“Really?” Luke asked, his eyebrows rising.

“Yes, really,” you enunciated. “I expect it. I consider myself lucky she claimed me at all.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” he marveled as he said your name. “Your mother has never been there for you, and you think you’re lucky?”

“Luke—” you started, but you couldn’t even finish as he continued on.

“Demeter wasn’t there for the year you spent feeling like the scum of the Earth because you hadn’t been claimed yet. Demeter wasn’t there for the childhood she gifted to you then abandoned you for.” He pushed forward still. “Demeter wasn’t there for all those sleepless nights you spent in the Hermes cabin wondering if you were ever going to know who got you into this mess.”

“Luke, stop,” you finally managed to get out, moving back in turn.

“You know who was?” He continued to forge on, capturing your wrist when you tried to take another step back, eliciting a shaky exhale as you flinched. “Me.”

You ripped your arm away from him, fire in your eyes and blazing in your blood. “Don’t ever touch me like that again.”

“I’ve been here for you since the moment you stepped foot into Cabin Eleven!” Luke’s voice rose, and you’d never been more aware of the dagger hanging off your belt. “Through every tear, every tirade, every godsdamned rant about the gods—”

You stumbled back, and your heart stuttered in your chest as your back hit a tree. Your jaw was clenched, attempting to stop your tremors trying to wrack your body.

“And you’re telling me,” his voice suddenly lowered until it was scarily soft, little more than a whisper as he leaned over you, noses nearly touching, “that you would still choose them over me?”

“If you do not get away from me right now,” you said, quiet and even, “what we have, and anything we could have, will be over.”

Luke didn’t move. “Answer me.”

For a moment, it was just that—you and Luke staring at each other. His chest rising and falling just so from the effort of yelling, his beautiful eyes devoid of any previous softness. You thought your teeth might crack with the pressure in your jaw.

“No,” you said. “I wouldn’t choose them over you.”

And for an even shorter moment, his eyes do soften.

“But I won’t leave my family,” you whispered. “Not for whatever cause you think you’re fighting for.”

And just like that, the armor went up again.

“So that’s the way this ends,” Luke said evenly, and when he moved a few steps back, you felt like you could finally breathe again.

“You know who I am,” you argued, though you couldn’t make yourself move. “My siblings are my family— my friends are my family. I’d never leave them.”

“Oh, I should have expected it,” he said offhandedly. His laughter was a cruel thing. “I always knew you were a coward.”

“Don’t you dare turn this on me,” you spat. “Why do you even want to leave in the first place?”

“Because I’m sick and tired of all the bullshit that goes on here!” Luke yelled. “We’ve been here for years, and what the hell do we have to show for it? A couple scars? A lot of near death experiences? Some deadbeat parents that ruined our damned lives?”

“I have a family that I never could’ve dreamed of!” you exclaimed. “I have sisters and brothers that love me, friends that understand me, and—”

Your voice broke for a moment and you swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing the tears back. Some of the fire burning through your veins had been extinguished as you continued.

“And I thought I had a boyfriend that was there for me.”

It was there again—his eyes softening ever so slightly when he looked at you. But then he clenched his jaw. “And I thought I had a girlfriend that was there for me.”

“I won’t leave,” you enunciated. “I’m not going to help you with whatever crusade you think you’re meant to lead against the gods!”

“You don’t understand,” he insisted.

“You don’t understand!” you exclaimed. “You’re ready to leave all of this behind, and for what?”

“I don’t want to leave it all behind,” he said. “I want you by my side. We could be something truly great together— can’t you see?”

Luke took your hand again and pulled you away from the tree, gesturing with his hand around you. “You can control all of this. The whole world is your domain—we’d be untouchable.”

“Luke, you sound crazy,” you said roughly. “Where is all of this coming from, seriously?”

“I just know that we can live a better life,” he said. “Together, without the gods.”

“Witho—” You couldn’t even manage to finish the word, shaking your head at the pure absurdity of it. You hardly recognized your boyfriend purely because of the insanity he was spouting. “Luke, we don’t need to leave! We don’t need to stand against the gods, or— or whatever this is!”

This time, you took his hand as you tried to smile. “We can make this work, Luke, and we can make it work here,” you begged. “I promise.”

“Things need to change,” he said, voice steely, pulling his hand away. “And they’re clearly not going to change here.”

“Yes, they can,” you insisted, your hands clenching into fists at your side. “I want things to change too, believe me! But going off on your own isn’t going to do anything for it. We can start it here—together.”

His eyes were colder than ever as he looked down on you, and you truly didn’t recognize him. The glint in his eye and edges you would cut yourself on and the insanity he was spouting for no damn reason. You didn’t know what in Hades’ name had gotten into him.

“All we do is sit around and wait for that hag in the attic to spout prophecies, and then Chiron sends some kids off to die, and then we sit around and wait to do it again,” Luke said. “The gods keep making kids and the kids keep dying because they leave them in the world alone— we’re practically grandparents here because we’re lucky to make it past sixteen! The gods don’t do a damn thing about it, and neither does Chiron.”

He shook his head as he stared right into your eyes. “You’re not as smart as I thought if you think you can change anything here.”

“So— so what?” you asked brazenly. “You’re just gonna leave?”

Luke shrugged. “I was always gonna leave. It just depended whether you were with me or not.”

He turned around and started walking, and for a moment you were fully dumbstruck, unable to move. Then something snapped inside of you, and you moved your hands straight up through the air. Vines sprouted from the ground and tangled around Luke’s legs, stopping him and nearly causing him to fall.

“You don’t just get to walk away from me after spouting this bullshit,” you fumed as you ran to catch up with him. “What in Demeter’s name has gotten into you, Luke? Gods— this isn’t you!”

“See?” Luke smiled, ignoring your question. “You are powerful.”

“Answer me,” you seethed.

He shrugged, that small smile still on his lips. “It’s always been me. Maybe you’ve just been too stupid to realize.”

“Where are you going to go?” you asked, ignoring his jab. “Not home, clearly.”

It was a deep cut, something you never would have said under normal circumstances, but his expression didn’t change.

“I’ve got plans,” he said, ignoring your jab, and he huffed a laugh. “And I guess they don’t involve you anymore.”

All you could do was stand there, stunned as you stared at him. It was cliche, but it really wasn’t him, because you loved Luke and he loved you.

He’d always been a bit spitfire, always a little sharp around the edges, but you loved that about him—and he softened those edges for you. He was strong-willed and caring and passionate about everything, and you didn’t want to lose him. Not like this.

You knew what he’d been through. You knew what happened to his mother, what happened to Thalia, everyone he’d lost and every reason for every scar. But you never thought—

Gods. You never thought he’d actually do… this.

“Let me go, will ya?” Luke asked, tilting his head. “Or else what we have will be over— or whatever it was you said back there.”

The vines receded against your will, like his words just connected to your subconscious. You stayed rooted in place as he continued walking away.

But then he stopped. Turned around, looked right at you.

And for a moment you were fourteen again, feeling alone and forgotten going into your third month in the Hermes cabin. Grumbling your way through sword practice because the excited camp counselor who just happened to be your age refused to let you sulk for another day.

It was days after your fifteenth birthday, and the golden sickle with sheaths of wheat had finally appeared over your head at lunch. Luke had lunged at you, wrapping you in the tightest hug possible, and looked at you with all the stars in your eyes as he congratulated you. He helped you move your meager belongings into the Demeter cabin the very next day.

It was the first time you decided to go home since arriving at camp, and Luke was sidled outside your door, making wry comments every so often as he kept you company while you packed.

It was him kissing you right before you went over the hill because he said he couldn’t keep his feelings in any longer. It was you kissing him right back wondering why he waited so damn long.

It was three years of the best thing you’d ever experienced, of the most steadfast companion you could’ve had by your side—three years of Luke Castellan’s love.

Then you blinked, and you were back in the woods. Luke’s expression had softened, but the brimming tears in your eyes blurred your vision.

“I really did love you, y’know,” Luke finally murmured. “But you should know that love isn’t ever enough.”

He was out of your view before you could even muster the strength to move again, and then you were running through the forest faster than ever before.

But when you reached Cabin Eleven, there was no sign of him. And when you checked the pavilion and the forge and the amphitheater and the training arena and every other godsdamned place, you were just as disappointed.

But by the time you got to Chiron and found out the chaos that had spouted in his wake, that he had wanted you to be a part of, it was much, much too late.

Percy Jackson was fighting for his life. Camp had been left in complete disarray. Luke was working for Kronos.

And the man you loved was truly gone.

#this is especially funny to me bc luke is all for kronos but kronos literally ate her mom #couple goals!!#also she spent like 30 minutes looking for him after which is plentyyy of time for him to try and kill percy #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #pjo x reader #x reader #sadie writes

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