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taylormarieee · 4 months

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New Girl Luke Castellan

Summary: You were the new girl in town, after stirring some problem, you catch the attention of a certain kind, hermes boy where you have your first times with...

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Fem!Aphrodite!reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Kisses, first time, angst, fluff, Percy being a sweetheart, Admiration, Mild cursing, mentions of fighting...

A/N: This was inspired by @angelicdanvers for her Breathe Deeper Social media fic. I will be having a social media thingy as well because I was so inspired by her, so creds to this lovely lady right here<33

You were Aphrodite's demigod daughter. When your Father safely brought you to camp half-blood you were scared.

You didn't want to be here. You didn't want to leave your father, but I guess there's a first time for everything.

2:14pm

You were not claimed yet and was relocated to the hermes cabin. Where kids who weren't claimed go until they are claimed.

You walked in with Chiron and he explained everything to you. As you walk in Chiron claps to get everyone's attention.

All eyes were on you. You hated this kind of attention but at the same time, something inside of you loved having this attention.

"Everyone, This is our new half-blood, Please make her feel welcome." He announces to everyone in the room.

Your eyes land on a blonde haired boy with blue eyes. He smiles at you and you smile back. You notice your stuff next to the blonde kid and went over there.

Everybody's eyes traced your body and where you walked. When you finally reached your stuff you sat down and sighed.

"Hi. Are you ok?" The blonde haired boy asked you. You looked up and saw him sitting next to you and staring at you with sympathy.

"Yea, just overwhelmed you know? Didn't want to a half-blood. Didn't expect any of this." You respond.

"I know. My first time here was two weeks ago. I'm still trying to get used to it. I lost my mom trying to get here. I'm Percy. Percy Jackson." He says with a warm smile.

You offer it right back. "I'm sorry about your mom. Nice to meet you Percy Jackson."

You tell him your name and he smiles. You two talk for a while before a certain someone catches your eye.

A cute brunette boy with a scar on his right eye and cute puppy dog eyes staring at you and percy talk.

When you look at him, you both hold eye contact for a little while before Percy snaps you out of it by calling someone's name.

"Luke! Come here dude." He calls. You look away looking for who he's calling over and that's when you notice he was calling over the boy you were staring at earlier.

So his name was Luke huh? you thought. He was cute, very cute. You loved the way his curls bounced as he made his way over to the both of you.

You loved the smile that appeared on his face when he saw his friend Percy. He also threw a kind smile your way and you folded.

"Wassup Percy!" He said with excitement. He stopped in front of both of you still standing.

You stood when Percy stood up not wanting to be the only one on the floor looking like a fool.

"I wanted you to meet my new friend." He says with his cute smile. You look at him and he locks eyes with you again.

"Hey, I'm-"

"Luke. Yea, I heard." You respond with a slight chuckle. This makes him chuckle and he raises an eyebrow as if to ask what your name is.

You also tell him your name and he repeats it. You love the way it rolls off his tongue. The way he says it so easily and majestically.

"Well, come on! We'll show you around." He says smiling at you again. As your walking a girl with curls comes and pushes you in the shoulder.

"Hey what the hell is your problem!" You snap back pushing her. She immediately pushes you back and you push her right back again.

Before things could escalate any further, Luke is pulling you back by your arms while your thrashing around yelling at her.

"Shhh calm down. Calm down." He says in your ear.

"Don't tell me to calm down! Let me go Luke!" You say slightly breaking out of his hold and pushing her down to the ground.

She yells at you with hatred and rage in her eyes and you yell right back.

When Luke pulls you back your seething with wrath but you've calmed down a bit.

"Ugh! What is your problem new girl?!" Clarisse yells at you.

"My Problem!? What's your problem?!" You yell back...

"You pushed me for no reason and then laughed about it! I know you fucking saw me!"

"Don't EVER do that again or I promise you will regret it!" You say pulling Luke's hands off you.

Immediately Clarisse scoffed but she backed off raising her hands in surrender.

"Ok...ok, i'm sorry. Won't happen again." She says staring at you. You blinked a little shocked at her surrender but you nodded.

"Apology accepted. I'm sorry for pushing you back." You apologize. She wipes the tiny blood on her face from when she fell and then nodded before walking away.

All of a sudden the crowd splits when she leaves and everyone looks up and sees an Open winged Dove holding a rose in its beak above your head.

Chiron's voice is heard as he approaches. "You have been claimed. Daughter of Aphrodite. Goddess associated with love, lust, beauty, pleasure, passion, and procreation." He announces.

You look at Luke and Percy and they smile at you.

5:35pm

You all were having Lunch at the Hall and you were sitting with Luke, Percy, and Annabeth and Grover who you just recently met.

You had gotten to know her and liked her very much same with Grover, he was funny. You guys had just finished the Capture the Flag and were now enjoying some lunch.

"And then I pushed her back and she fell. Who is she anyway?" You ask reminiscing about the fight that happened earlier.

"Her names Clarisse Daughter of Ares. She isn't exactly nice but if you get glory she respects you." Luke says.

You nod and continue eating. "You looked like you knew what you were doing. You get in fights a lot?" Luke asked curiously.

"Yea, back when I was in school. I used to get into a lot of fights. I guess I know why now." You say chuckling.

"Well Your the daughter of Aphrodite! Why would a pretty girl like you get into fights? Your not Ares daughter!" Percy exclaims.

"Cause, a lot of girls would think I was trying to steal their boyfriends or be a pick me girl. Constantly trying to ask for attention. But that was never the case. Sometimes I got partnered up with their boyfriends! Not my fault, the teacher chose not me. You explain to the four.

They all nod and you all sit in a comfortable silence. "Hey Luke?" You ask staring at him. He makes eye contact with you and raises an eyebrow.

"Yea?" He replies.

"Thanks. For holding me back. Calming me down. I probably would have punched her." You say chuckling.

"No problem. What are friends for?" He says smiling at you. You smile and your face gets hot.

"W-Were friends?" You ask looking at everybody at the table.

Everyone nods and smiles at you. Percy wraps his arm around your shoulder and you smile.

You had made friends, on your first day. You guess this camp wouldn't be so bad huh?

10:37pm

You made yourself comfortable at cabin 10 with everybody else. Your dressed in your silky blue pajamas that your dad had gotten you for your 15th birthday.

As you were getting tucked in you tried to go to bed. But memories of Luke kept flooding your mind.

God, why was the son of hermes flooding your mind. He was so cute though.

You were so influenced by your thoughts that you didn't even realize that you were walking towards his cabin in the middle of the night.

You found the window near his bed and peeked inside. You noticed he wasn't there.

Then you felt someone's hands on your waist turning you around and putting you down.

You quickly turn around panicking but calm down realizing it's just Luke himself.

When you fully register who it is you start panicking again. "Oh h-hi Luke."

You awkwardly stand there as the smirk on his beautiful face grows by your flustered state.

"Hey pretty girl. W-what are you doing by my window?" He asks raising an eyebrow and smirking.

"Uhhh... I was uhm.. Just l-looking for uhm... PERCY! That's right!" You say slightly proud of the lie you just told.

"Percy was claimed today. Remember? Son of Poseidon? You literally called him that earlier today." He replies his smirk getting wider as your smile slowly fades.

He laughs out loud and starts walking towards the door. "See you tomorrow pretty girl." He says chuckling. "I know deep down you were he for me." He adds with a wink.

You weren't gonna do this. You weren't gonna do this. God, you weren't gonna do this.

"Wait Luke!" You whisper yell out.

Shit. You did this.

"I uhm... can you just-ugh." You give up and walk up to him. You grab his face and smash your lips on his.

You kiss him passionately and lovingly before pulling away to get a break.

"I like you. Just wanted to tell you that. You've been running around my mind all night and I couldn't sleep until I told you. So goodbye." You say kissing him one more time before making your departure.

Luke stood there completely flabbergasted and dumbfounded. His eyes wide and mouth agape.

What the actual fuck?

Taglist: Lemme know if you wanna be on the taglist in the comments!!!!

#luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #lukecastellan #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #pjo series

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ma1dita · 23 days

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im begging on my knees for you to see my vision of riding Luke in the driver’s seat of a car after a stressful and dangerous quest 😩😭 THE TENSION!? THE ROUGHNESS??

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

mdni

luke castellan x reader

a/n: it's 7am... i... don't know either. smut. unprotected sex. semi public. slight exhibitionism

wc: 835

riding luke in the driver's seat of a car he stole while accompanying you on your first official quest.... having a car was a quicker way to get the job done he said, and chris also reasoned the old lady they carjacked won't know what she's missing. with two sons of hermes against you, even if you disagreed with them they still wouldn't hear a single complaint from your lips once you could sit in the ac instead of trod through the summer midwestern heat.

a week later you're sitting in the parking lot of a motel in rural illinois. one second you're grinning over the success of your quest and waiting for chris to come back with the room key and the next second luke's pulling you over the console into a bruising kiss that makes his cracked lips bleed. days ago you remember watching luke pick the locks of this car just as easy as he flicks your belt open just now, your knees digging into the hot metal of the seatbelt mechanism next to his thighs as you rise up from your haunches and he can see the sweat glistening on your tummy, back arching over the steering wheel. your shirt flies over his shoulders and lands somewhere in the backseat. shorts following as quick as he can pull them off you, slick rubbing against the meat of your thighs so much that when you sit back down on his lap he can feel it through his jeans---the heat isn't just coming from the red glow of the motel sign almost vibrating with the words 'open 24/7'.

he presses your back across the wheel, one hand snaking up to your throat and the other dragging your panties to the side for him to peek and prod at in the dim light. with his seat leaned all the way back, he watches you like you're something out of the porn magazine chris jokingly nicked from the gas station earlier, shiny with sweat and something he can smell, desire reeking from every pore of your tired body. demigod aside, you're a fucking fever dream, a nasty thought that keeps luke hard at night until he can jack off when everyone finally goes to sleep in cabin 11. the only thing he'll be thanking the gods for is the fact that his brother left you two long enough for a quick fuck.

"luke, we're still dirty," you mumble, but he knows you couldn't care less, both of you covered in blood and grime and unable to know where he ends and you begin once his fly goes down and you sink onto him like a perfect mold. this is filthier---the feeling of your pussy clenching down on him tight with every thrust of your hips downwards like he'd ever want to leave this small slice of heaven.

"f-fuck, just like that...you're so tight f'me..."

you grab onto his curls to make him look at you in the dim lighting, dipping your fingers into his mouth as you rock your hips hard and he sucks on them like they're covered in nectar---sharp tongue and plump lips dancing around your digits despite the dirt under your nails but he's entranced by the way your eyes roll back once he starts fighting against your rhythm. it's not a competition but with every noise that spills from your lips as he pistons into your sopping warmth, he thinks he might be winning.

"so dirty baby... you're right... feels too good to stop though huh?" he grins at the sound of sticky skin slapping once he bucks his hips up faster. through the steamy windshield, he can see curtains rustling in the windows near where he parked the car. maybe it's the way the whole vehicle is shaking with the force of your hips, the headlights he accidentally turned back on when taking your clothes off, or maybe its the way you're screaming his name like you want someone to hear.

"oh, luke, i can't! slow down, people are gonna...see!"

you're holding onto his shoulders and peeking at his face through teary lashes and this motherfucker has his tongue between his lips smiling---mortals be damned. they can watch if they want, regardless he fucks into you like he means it. until you fall apart on his cock and there are red handprints on your hips from where he pulls you off of him, the both of you pulling at his cock with his hands over yours until hot streaks of cum paint your tummy to your tits.

there's a knock at the window. rolling the window down at eye level, luke makes eye contact with chris who looks at his brother with a knowing grin. you've thrown your head onto his shoulder in embarassment, sandwiching the multiple stains and fluids between your shaking bodies.

"shower's open. you guys were... occupied so i went ahead. you both need it," chris smirks, before sliding luke the extra key card.

and he's right. the both of you need a shower. good thing the next step after getting dirty is scrubbing each other clean, right?

#jo's 23rd birthday bash ⋆｡°✩#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x reader smut #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians

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starflirts · 3 months

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OUR SECRET MOMENTS IN A CROWDED ROOM

as mrs swift once said: "romance is not dead if you keep it just yours" luke castellan x fem! reader, wc: 614, warning: none, note: here's a little something i queued before classes took over my life… enjoy! (still working on other stuff though don’t worry!)

“They have no idea about me and you” he whispers softly in the space between your neck and your collarbones, soothing breaths tickling your skin.

The lake is quiet at this time of day, campers from all cabins too busy with their own activities to pester Luke. The setting sun casts its golden rays on the water and you can hear the faint giggles of dryads in the woods.

You stand with your back against the trunk of a tree, a bright smile on your face as you card a hand through his hair. “You have to thank me and our secret spot for that.” you muse, slightly pulling on his curls to get him to look at you.

Luke grins, hands resting on your waist, thumbs tracing small circles on the skin hidden by your shirt. “And you,” he tilts his head to the side, “should be thankful Chris accepted to take over my camp counselor duties without asking any questions !”

Curling your hands around his neck, you let out a laugh and Luke swears you’ve stolen the last remnants of sunlight. “If you keep disappearing like that he might become a little too curious and find out. And I really don’t want him complaining about you not telling him about us. He’d beg to be your best man.” you tease him, fingers toying with the curls at the back of Luke’s head.

Your boyfriend can’t help but smile at the implication. He shrugs, hands still on your waist. “Whatever. I’d like to see his face when we tell him.”

Pretending to pout, you cross your arms over your chest. “No more secret rendezvous then ? Such a shame, I love having you all to myself.” you answer with a grin, tone dripping with amusement.

Luke can feel warmth creeping up his ears. His hands crawl up your sides until they're resting on your cheeks. He’s so close to you now you can almost feel his lips hovering over yours and the tip of his nose brushes against yours. “Pretty lady, I am yours all the time. Always have, always will.”

He’s about to lean in when voices suddenly call your names. Whipping your head towards the source of the sound, you push yourself away from the tree but the distance between you and Luke remains minimal.

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Annabeth is the first one to appear in your line of vision, Percy in tow. “The Apollo cabin is setting up the bonfire. You guys should come now otherwise Percy’s going to eat all the s’mores.” she adds, ignoring Percy’s complaints.

When the four of you make your way back to the heart of the camp, Annabeth looks back at you once. If she notices the way Luke’s hand brushes against yours she doesn’t say a thing.

Bonfire nights are Luke’s favorites by far. With your hand safely secured in his underneath a blanket you both share, he enjoys the proximity; whispering sweet nothings into your ear when no one notices, grinning when only he can see your bashful smile.

“You’re so obvious Castellan” you giggle, shaking your head.

He only chuckles at that. “Can’t help myself pretty. I just love you too much.”

His words make you shy away from his gaze, turning towards the crowd of campers by your side.

As you face the fire, you can feel Annabeth’s eyes on you from across the flames, a smirk on her face. Her gaze shifts from you to Luke, intently observing his lovesick gaze and your giddy countenance. Raising your eyebrows as if to ask her what she was thinking about, she only mouths back: “I knew it !”

#percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo imagine #pjo x reader #pjo fluff #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan fic #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine

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atlabeth · 2 months

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Girl for one get that glass of water! andddd this is a loose request but I LOVE knight Luke and we just gotta see them have that cinderella live action ball scene like romantic dancing maybe the secret garden as well but either way we gotta see these gals at a ball! Have a great day you're an amazing writer!

under the moonlight

fic about the ball

pairing: knight!luke castellan x princess!reader

a/n: thank you so much for this request it is so fucking cute lmao. i changed it a bit to make it work with my vision (bc they wouldn’t really be able to dance at a ball) but the core is that they're dancing together!!! and it is much more intimate and personal lol. here is the cinderella scene that the ask mentioned (and that i took inspo from because it's a beautiful scene lol)

wc: 2.5k

warning(s): basically all fluff

as usual, a mix of hcs and traditional fic!

ALRIGHT LAST TIME WE LEFT OFF princess was dancing with princes during the ball and luke was sulking at his first ever ball accompanying you as a knight

and thankfully, that all goes okay.

You don’t get murdered, Luke only goes slightly insane, and you don’t fall head over heels for any royals.

All in all, a pretty alright night in retrospect.

But post-ball is rough on both of you.

You complain about how much your feet hurt from your heels and how uncomfortable your dress is and how your cheeks ache from smiling so much.

To your surprise, as Luke follows you down the halls, he laughs.

You stop in your tracks as you whirl around. “And what do you find so funny?”

“Nothing,” he says with a slight smile, almost private. “Just… good to be back with you, princess.”

A small smile of your own starts to creep on your lips. “It was only half the night, Luke.”

“And you have no idea how much I missed you,” he muses.

You just shake your head and continue walking. “You’re funny.”

(he’s not joking. he’s just going through it now that he’s not training 24/7 and actually has time to feel emotions again)

You finally get back to your room—thankfully, you got out of any post-ball events with any princes by citing exhaustion, and it’s very rude to demand more of an exhausted lady—and Luke shuts the door behind you as you sink into the edge of your bed.

“God,” you groan as you immediately peel your heels off, letting out a sigh of relief. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to those.”

“If it’s any help, you looked very regal out there,” Luke says.

“It is my duty,” you say as you smile inwardly. “You looked very knightly out there.”

“And that’s my duty,” he says in kind. He gets a chuckle out of you.

You begin to take everything off—you undo your hair from whatever elaborate style it was in, you strip your wrists and fingers bare of bracelets, bangles, and rings (though you leave a certain necklace on), you undo parts of your dress. When you take your nightgown from your chest and go behind your folding screen, Luke clears his throat.

“Princess,” Luke says, “do you want me to—?”

“You can stay,” you say. “I don’t mind.”

And Luke, idiot that he is, gets all in his head.

(Does she not want me to leave because she doesn’t even see me as someone who could like her like that???) (We’ve been friends for so long, does she just see me as an older brother???) (Does this mean she trusts me or sees me as like. a painting on the wall.) (what the fuck)

It’s not any of those, poor boy. it’s just that you feel more comfortable around him than anyone because you’ve been around each other for your entire life—he knows you better than anyone. What’s the harm in him being in the room when you’re separated by a folding screen anyway?

but Luke is dramatic and also so fucking insecure when it comes to your feelings for him lmao

and he has a reason to be i guess?? because at this point while he knows that he has feelings for you (hasn’t fully realized he’s in love) you haven’t realized your own. you just think you have a lingering childhood crush on Luke and it’ll go away as you get older and start being courted

(spoiler alert: it will not go away.)

so he gets all weird and silent, giving one word responses as you talk with him, and when you come out in your nightgown you immediately stare him down.

“Luke,” you said, “what’s wrong?”

He blinked, as if he wasn’t expecting you to say anything. “Nothing.”

“Luke,” you repeated. “Come on.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he repeated as well.

You crossed your arms. “Don’t act like I don’t know every single thing about you.”

“If you do, then you should know that nothing is wrong,” he countered.

You stared at him for a moment more, then you held out your hand. “Dance with me, then.”

That actually seemed to throw him off guard as he frowned. “What?”

“Did you go deaf back there?” you joked. “I want you to dance with me.”

He managed a smile, though it was slightly awkward. It only made your smile grow. “I don’t dance, princess.”

“Which is why I’ll teach you,” you said with a nod. “I’ve had plenty of practice.”

“And I have none.” Luke gestured at his armor. “I’m not exactly suited for it, either.”

“You can take off your armor,” you said. “It’ll make it all much easier. And a lot quieter.”

“My job is to protect you, princess.” Luke laid his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I can’t exactly defend you if all the armor’s gone.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. He really did worry too much. “Nothing’s going to happen here, Luke—not now. I’ll even let you keep your sword with you if it matters that much.”

He still didn’t seem sure. You inclined your head and took another step forward, still holding out your hand.

“I’ll count you through it all,” you promised. “And if you like, I can hum one of those orchestra tunes they played earlier tonight. And I promise it’ll make you feel better.”

“...Fine,” Luke relented, and he started undoing his armor. “But you don’t tell anyone about this.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” you remarked.

It took a fair amount of time for Luke to get his armor off, but it took just as long for you to get every layer of your ball gown off earlier—and besides, you had endless patience reserved especially for him. The toned forearms revealed as he rolled his sleeves up certainly helped.

“Are you ready?” you asked as you held out your hand again.

Luke took it uncertainly. “I feel as if I’m the one meant to be asking you that.”

“You can lead next time we train together,” you said with a smile. “For now, you’re in my domain.”

You put Luke’s hand on your waist and reached for his other one, adjusting until it was right, then you looked up at him. “Does that feel alright?”

His eyes were startlingly dark this close, surprisingly intense. He nodded.

“Good. I’m going to teach you a few basic steps so you can get used to it.”

Luke nodded again. You wondered why words seemed behind his grasp.

yeah girlie I wonder why

Luke is. not a great dancer

You’re not surprised, and you don’t say a single word about it as you teach him the basics. he spent his childhood swinging a sword around, and you spent yours learning etiquette and ballroom dances lol

He steps on your foot about ten times and apologizes like a freak every time, you just laugh and smile and tell him you’re fine. Sure, your slippers don’t provide much protection and Luke’s boots aren’t great against them but you honestly don’t even feel it. you’re too busy getting lost in his eyes lol

And for someone who spent two years training like an insane person, he gets frustrated very easily when things don’t go his way.

“How do you do this? It’s impossible.”

“I learned this dance when I was twelve, Luke.”

as much as you jest while you’re teaching him the basics you’re encouraging him the entire time because he’s your best friend above all else!!! and you honestly believe he can do anything lmao

And he’s a quick learner! He didn’t become the youngest kingsguard in history by learning slowly. So soon enough, you’re actually dancing together.

Luke’s hand on your back feels like the most natural thing in the world, and you can tell he’s actually starting to get a little into it.

You didn’t have to count your steps off anymore, so you’d switched to humming one of your favorite symphonies from the musicians back in Aurelda.

Luke is still focused on landing every move, but your lead and the music gives him confidence in this that he didn’t really know he had. He spins you, and you get an idea as you twirl your way to the balcony door. You open it and look back at him.

“Princess—” Luke starts as he takes a few steps towards you, but you just shake your head with a grin and hold out your hand.

“Trust me.”

And he does, somehow.

You didn’t know what part of himself Luke had to get to in order to actually go along with this, but he allowed you to fully take the lead. His eyes never left yours as you guided him through one of your favorite dances—sometimes you called out whatever move that was coming next, and he would do it perfectly. His instincts and reaction time, sharply honed by his training, actually came in handy.

“And lift!”

Luke braced his hands on your waist as he raised you into the air without missing a beat, and you found yourself actually laughing with pure glee as you landed. You grinned at Luke who had a smile smaller than yours, but that you knew meant the same. He glowed with exertion and the light of the full moon shone down on him.

Angelic was the only word you could think of to describe him.

“Princess,” he said, bringing you back to the real world, “are we done?”

“I see no reason not to end while we’re ahead,” you said, slightly out of breath from his lift. “You’re a natural. Are you sure you’re not a prince?”

Luke’s smile didn’t fully reach his eyes for the slightest moment—he covered it up before you could fully analyze it. “Thankfully, I’m not. Otherwise I would have had to do that all my life like you.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” you said offhandedly. “Especially when you’ve got such a great partner.”

Luke suddenly lowered himself into a bow, his arm held in front of his chest as he bent over. You couldn’t stifle your laugh in time, but he was smiling when he rose.

“The only proper way to truly end a dance, so I’ve seen,” he said. “I wouldn’t be such a great partner if I forgot that.”

You grinned as you took the skirt of your nightgown in your hands and bobbed into a curtsy. “Thank you for the reminder, my lord.”

A shiver ran through you and Luke’s eyebrows creased. “You should get back inside. You’re not dressed at all for this weather.”

“It’s simply a night chill,” you said, and you walked over to the railing and rested your forearms on it. “And it’s too beautiful a night to ignore.”

“It truly is.”

You heard Luke walk up next to you, so you glanced over. His gaze was only set on you.

You felt your cheeks flush and you bit back your smile as you stared back up at the stars. For a moment, you stood together in comfortable silence.

“Thank you for tonight,” you finally said.

You could hear his frown in his words. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” You leaned a bit closer to the railing, shifting your balance. “Your presence always… calms me. And I was a bit nervous for tonight.”

When Luke finally responded, it was more restrained than usual. “Why?”

“Well, I was nervous tonight because you put the idea in my head that I was going to get murdered,” you said wryly. “And your presence calms me because it always has.”

“So… I made you nervous and calmed you down for what I made you nervous about?” Luke shook his head. “I’m sorry, princess.”

“Why are you apologizing?” You finally turned to look at him, the smallest smile on your lips. “Anytime I got overwhelmed on the floor, or felt as if I was going to keel over from boredom, I just searched around until I found you.” You shrugged. “The sight of you alone was enough to get me through the rest of it.”

“And of course,” you tipped a shoulder as your gaze drifted back to the stars, “you danced with me for no reason. That gives you all the good will you need from me.”

“It wasn’t for no reason,” he said. “It made you happy. That’s reason enough for me.”

The chill in the air was a blessing as you felt heat rise in your cheeks, and your smile grew just so.

“Besides.” You could feel his eyes on you as he continued. “This was my first ball. Anytime I got overwhelmed, I would find you in the crowd, and your confidence got me through it.”

You chuckled as your gaze fell to the marble railing. You didn’t know if you’ve ever felt less confident at a ball—but knowing that Luke was looking for you the same way you did him made butterflies arise in your stomach.

Warmth spurned all through you, and the fingers on your forearms felt bumps rise on your skin. You didn’t exactly know what possessed you as you cleared your throat and started back towards your room.

“It’s late,” you said, perhaps a bit too hasty. “We— we should turn in. It’s going to be a long ride back to Aurelda.”

You paused at the door, waiting to hear Luke’s footsteps or his voice, and it took a few seconds for him to do anything.

“...Yes,” he eventually said. “I apologize for keeping you so long.”

You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself as you opened the door and walked back in. Always so noble—it was no question he had knight’s blood in his veins.

“It’s not your fault, Luke,” you said. “You were just meant to drop me off—I got you to stay.”

You sat on the side of your bed as Luke put his armor back on. There was no point in it, but he refused to let the implications of him leaving your room at this hour in his underclothes fester.

“I chose to stay,” he said. “I know better.”

“You can give it a rest for a night, Luke,” you said with a slight laugh. “I’m your princess, aren’t I?”

“Certainly.”

“And you are my knight.”

“Yes.”

“Then I don’t see how anyone could have a problem with my knight spending time with me.” You smiled as you leaned forward, meeting his eyes. A smile twitched on his lips for just a moment before he continued to get dressed.

Soon enough, he was ready to go. Luke paused at the door, fingers on the handle, and met your eyes.

“Thank you again for tonight, princess,” he said. “I…”

His breath caught for a moment. His eyes flickered down to your neck. A millisecond later, they were back at eye level, and you allowed a knowing smile.

“I enjoyed it,” he murmured. “Goodnight, princess.”

“Goodnight, Luke,” you said softly.

And you got one more smile out of him before he closed the door behind him.

#IF I EVER DO NOT DO THE “IT'S BEAUTIFUL” “YEAH IT IS” *LOOKING AT THEM* TROPE THEN I AM DEAD I AM DEADDDD DO YOU HEAR ME #posting at midnight because i once again have no self control #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan headcanon #luke castellan au #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #knight!luke #sadie writes

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myevilmouse · 11 months

Note

Can you tell us three random headcanon of yours?

Three random headcanons!!! This is a great ask thank you @blackmonitor!

#1: I headcanon that Luke Skywalker is just as savvy a politician/diplomat as his sister, maybe even more so since he has learned to control his impulses/cultivate patience thanks to the Jedi training. He just doesn't like the business of government so he tries to keep a distance (you may have seen on my blog I don't share any dumb Luke stuff--I think he's very far from a brainless twink).

#2: I headcanon that Grand Admiral Thrawn is rather sexually frustrated because he understands that fraternization rules are actually pretty logical, so as much as he may LIKE to bang someone on his ship, he doesn't want to set a bad example and then have the Chimaera devolve into a spunk-scented flying fuckfest. This is why Governor Pryce is a good alternative (or any outsider).

#3: I headcanon that Luke wasn't actually as promiscuous as I write him--I think he was pretty shy with the ladies and also he had a horrible crush on a certain princess *cough* which kept him from sleeping around between Episode IV-V. I think after Empire he realized he wasn't in the running (no hard feelings Han) but it was a little late to sow his wild Jedi oats, too much trauma and sense of purpose for the future getting in the way...

Thank you so much for the ask! It was fun to think about and I really hope to have more time to answer asks (I know I'm behind) and write in the future. 🥰😘

#my thoughts #luke skywalker #grand admiral thrawn #asks #i like asks #fandom friends #blackmonitor #headcanon #thryce #luke/leia #luke x all the ladies

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luminoustarlight · 5 months

Text

As Fate Would Have It | Chapter Two

It's your first day of work at Skywalker Enterprises.

◂ chapter one ▸ chapter three

rating: mature | pairing: dilf!anakin skywalker x afab!reader | wc: 3.7k | read on ao3

warnings: swearing, age-gaps, sexual fantasies

The moms at St. Lucas Preparatory School are shameless. Single, divorced, and married women (and some men) alike can’t help but hold their breath when Anakin Skywalker steps onto campus. The dads are intimidated by him and the moms… well, let’s just say the moms have less than school appropriate thoughts about the billionaire.

Anakin detests the end of the year. He hates being involved at the school. He doesn’t want to spend 2 hours of his day off packing meals in a crowded gymnasium with other parents who also don’t want to be there.

He doesn’t want to make small talk or ask about Luke and Leia’s classmates because frankly, he doesn’t give a crap. The only children he likes are his own and he won’t pretend otherwise.

“Mr. Skywalker,” Leia’s teacher, Ms. Clark sighs, “you are the only parent in my class who has yet to sign up for a slot at this year's Cranberry Sauce.” Cranberry Sauce is just the name the school gives the Thanksgiving Drive to make it sound more “fun”.

Anakin gives his children a kiss on their foreheads and sends them through the school gates. Once they’re out of earshot, he addresses Leia’s teacher. “I already wrote a check to buy the damn food. Isn’t that sufficient?”

“Mr. Skywalker,” Ms. Clark repeats with annoyance. If it were up to her, she’d let Anakin donate all of the money he wants in order to keep him from volunteering at school events. She thinks he’s arrogant, stuck-up, and far too handsome for any man to be. So she decides to loathe him since she can’t fuck him. But Headmaster Franklin is adamant Anakin attends the event.

“I really insist that you participate for at least an hour at Cranberry Sauce next weekend. It is important for your children to see you involved at the school. At their school.”

Anakin’s tall and broad stature seems to grow even larger at this statement. How dare this woman insinuate anything about him as a father?

“You think I’m not involved in my childrens’ lives?” Anakin has just enough self-control not to completely raise his voice at his daughter’s fourth grade teacher. Especially since parents are continuing to drop off their kids. “You think I’m an absent father who gives the school money to compensate for my lack of paternal instincts?”

“I didn’t say that,” Ms. Clark answers cautiously. “There is no need to make a scene. I have no doubts you are an excellent father, Mr. Skywalker. I don’t think Leia would be the young lady she is if you weren’t. One hour. That's all we ask.”

Anakin raises an eyebrow. “We?”

“Oh, um, well-” Ms. Clark stammers. Busted. She sighs with defeat. “Headmaster Franklin would very much like to see you there.”

“I’m sure he would,” Anakin replies smugly. Headmaster Franklin wants him there for publicity. Anakin should be more pissed about that than being accused of not being a present parent, but he’s not. He likes his ego stroked every now and then. “One hour.”

“Thank you,” Ms. Clark smiles tightly. “Does 10-11 work for you?”

“Fine,” Anakin waves his hand dismissively as he gets a message on his phone.

Ben Kenobi

Your new secretary is here.

Shit. It’s Anakin’s first day without Dorothy. No wonder the morning has gone the way it has. Between Luke spilling orange juice on his shirt, Leia’s uncooperating French braids, and his conversation with Ms. Clark, Anakin can’t help but fear the change in routine with a new assistant. He types his response.

Anakin Skywalker

Assistant. Not secretary. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.

Ben Kenobi

If you say so.

Ben Kenobi is Anakin’s closest friend. Some might even call them brothers. Ben is fifteen years older than Anakin, married to the mayor, and enjoys fly fishing on the weekends. He’s also Luke and Leia’s godfather. Should anything happen to Anakin, there is no one else he’d trust to raise and watch over his children than Ben Kenobi.

And Ben knows better than anyone that Anakin doesn’t like change. He’s been dreading Dorothy’s last day since she told him she was retiring a year ago. How was he going to find someone as good as her? Someone who anticipates his needs before he does?

That’s why he tasked her with finding her own replacement. He’s just too busy to interview a replacement for Dorothy himself. He wouldn’t know what to look for, anyway. If he doesn’t know what he wants in a woman to date, how is he supposed to know what he wants in a new assistant?

“Mr. Skywalker is not in at the moment. Can I take a message?” You’ve uttered that exact sentence at least seven times since you arrived at the office at 8:00 a.m. Now, as it nears 9:00, you expect to see your new boss very soon.

Each time you hear the elevator ding, you look up with hopefulness at the arrival of the esteemed Anakin Skywalker. What will you say to him? How will you introduce yourself? Will he be nice and welcoming? God, you hope so. You’ve read just about every article, watched every interview, and listened to every podcast he’s done to prepare yourself for the job. The consensus is the same in all of them.

Anakin Skywalker is generous, he’s polite, and generally gets along with everyone— if you don’t get on his nerves. And, according to Dorothy, he’s a charmer.

“Yes, absolutely,” you say while taking notes of the message on a legal pad. Your head is down so you don’t notice Anakin walking out of the elevator. He stops 5 steps away from your desk. His ribs feel like they’re collapsing around his lungs because of that voice. Why does he know that voice?

“I will let Mr. Skywalker know you called as soon as he gets into the office.” You hang up the phone and as you look up, there he is in all of his gorgeous glory.

You actually have to tell yourself to take a breath because he’s even more handsome in person. Faint lines around his eyes represent years of life he lived before you were born. His dark blonde hair is combed back effortlessly and is it wrong that you want to run your hands through it? Yeah, probably. He’s your boss and over twenty years older than you.

“It’s-” Anakin can’t even say more than that because holy fuck. Is he dreaming? He squeezes his eyes and then opens them, only to see you now standing with your hand extended to him. “It’s… you.”

“Um, yes,” you say while awkwardly returning your arm to your side. “I’m Y/N. Your new assistant. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Skywalker.”

“I- um, yes,” Anakin clears his throat. Christ, that wasn’t even a sentence. “I need to take care of something,” he says on his way towards his office. “I am not to be disturbed until I come out. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes. Yes, sir,” you barely answer before Anakin’s office door is shut violently. Well, that certainly wasn’t the introduction you were expecting or hoping for. You’re starting to think not meeting him beforehand was a bad idea. It honestly should’ve been a red flag but Dorothy insisted it was fine.

It doesn’t seem fine.

And things definitely aren’t fine. For Anakin, that is. To say he’s freaking out is putting it lightly. He paces the length of his office, shoving his fingers through his hair and muttering to himself. “It can’t be. There’s no way it can be her.”

Maybe he’s hallucinating. Maybe he’s having an incredibly vivid dream where his favorite OnlyFans performer, who he has known as HoneySuckle for the last three years is his new assistant. What did you say your name is? Anakin couldn’t hear you over the erection that was forming in his pants because he knows your voice. He’s cum from your voice alone. He’s cum because of you so, so many times.

This can’t be happening.

He’s never seen your entire face but he knows it’s you. He’d recognize your lips in a police lineup. He hears your voice in his wet dreams. He just knows it’s you.

And the fact that he has a hard-on is a problem. A problem he wishes you could take care of but you can’t because now you work for him and he’s your boss. This is all so, so wrong.

Anakin doesn’t so much sit on his leather chair as he does collapse into it. This was never supposed to happen. Yes, he has dreamed about meeting you on more than one occasion. He’s thought about telling you who he is during your countless direct messages so many times. He’s thought about using his infinite resources to find out who you really are on more than one occasion.

But he always concluded that it would be so insanely wrong and borderline creepy if he did that. You were always supposed to remain a fantasy. Just a nameless woman on a screen who doesn’t live in the same country, state, or city as him.

Yet here you are— sitting outside of his office, taking his calls, calling him Mr. Skywalker and being even more beautiful than he could have imagined.

You are no longer the woman on his tablet spewing filthy words as you make yourself orgasm. You’re tangible. You have a name- although he can’t remember what it is. He replays the interaction over in his head. The feeling he felt when he saw you was reminiscent of seeing his wife walk down the aisle at their wedding. He was a blundering mess then, just as he is a blundering mess now.

He doesn’t even want to think about your first impression of him. He’s supposed to be Anakin Skywalker for crying out loud! The suave, handsome millionaire who has the ability to make men cower and women fall to their knees. The embarrassment he feels from that interaction is enough to subdue his hard-on. He pours himself a bit of Bourbon, shoots it back like it’s a normal thing to do at 9 in the morning, and prepares to reintroduce himself to you.

Anakin smooths his hands down his slacks before opening his door. As his eyes are magnetized to you, his heart starts beating irregularly. Get a fucking grip.

You stand attentively when you notice Anakin walking towards you. Worried you made a terrible impression on him, you wait to speak. But Anakin doesn’t say anything either and now he’s standing in front of your desk, all tall and lean and smelling like Cedar and Whiskey. He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read. Did Dorothy tell him anything about you? Or did he go into this just as blind as you did?

His eyes seem to dance all over your body which makes you feel like he’s studying you. Or criticizing every single thing about your appearance. From your simple burgundy dress to the pearl studs you bought with some of Skyguy81’s most recent (and overly generous) tip.

Finally, because his gaze on you was becoming too much to bear, you are the one to talk first. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Skywalker?”

Yeah, you can remind him of your name for starters. “Do you have messages for me?” is what he asks instead.

“Yes,” you answer, picking up the pad you’ve been scribbling notes on for the last hour. “Rex sent over the final schematics for the 0525 project that needs your approval by 3 p.m. today in order to begin production. Mayor Kryze’s office called about the upcoming Gala in December and wanted to know if you would be in attendance. And if so, how many tickets should they reserve? Oh, and someone from St. Lucas Preparatory School called to let you know that your son ripped his pants and needs a new pair brought to school because they don’t have any new pants in his size.”

Anakin taps his index finger on your desk while he listens to you. He barely registers anything you say because it’s really hard to hear your voice without getting aroused. It’s hard even looking at you without automatically picturing you naked. There’s not an inch of your skin he’s never seen. Well, except for the top half of your face which now, of course, he has seen. And God, does he love what you have to offer.

You’re still relaying messages but suddenly you’re bent over your desk, gripping the edge of it with pale knuckles as Anakin slams into you over, and over, and over. He’s making you yelp his name so loudly the whole building can hear you.

“Mr. Skywalker?”

Anakin snaps back into reality where you’re still fully clothed and definitely not moaning his name. “What?” comes out a little harsher than he intended. And he immediately regrets it when he sees you visibly shrink right before him.

“What- what would you like me to tell the Mayor’s office?”

Anakin has gone as a bachelor to the last two Christmas Galas. Ben stays close to Satine the whole night and he really doesn’t see the point in asking a woman he has no interest in to be his date. Plus, going alone lets him leave the party with whomever he wants or to call it a night and go home early to watch ELF and drink peppermint cocoa with his kids.

“Have them put me down for 2.”

You nod whilst making another note on the pad. “And what about your son’s pants?”

“Did they say where he ripped them?”

“Right down the middle,” you answer.

Anakin shakes his head. “Oh, Luke,” he mutters to himself. “Alright, I’ll go home and get him a new pair.”

“Icandoit,” rushes out of your mouth.

“What?”

“Sorry, my mouth moved faster than my brain,” you reply, hoping Anakin will find it endearing instead of annoying. “I said I can do it. I don’t mind. It’s my job, isn’t it?”

Anakin opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything. Yes, technically it’s your job to do this sort of errand. But Anakin doesn’t want you going to his house alone, sifting through his son’s drawers, and bringing him new pants to his school.

Primarily because he’d much rather you be in his home under different circumstances.

“We’ll go together,” Anakin decides against his better judgment. “I’ll drive.”

So, Anakin definitely didn’t think things through when he said he’d drive.

In what world did he think sharing a close, confined space with you was a good idea? This whole morning has been a cluster-fuck. Honestly. He’s still struggling to wrap his head around who you are. When you announced Squirting for Sky was going to be your last video, he thought what a devastation it would be to not look forward to your videos every week. Who would’ve thought you’d be the one replacing his dear old assistant the very next week? The odds of it all are overwhelming.

But isn’t this what he’s always wanted? The opportunity to meet you? To know your name and know you personally? Every wish of his has been granted— except for the fact that he is your boss and you are technically his subordinate. He says technically because Dorothy always felt more like family than an employee.

You could be family.

You could be so much more than his assistant.

Oh, Jesus Christ, Anakin. Be reasonable. She’s your employee. She’s practically a kid.

Anakin looks over to you for the first time since getting in the car. You’re pressed against the side of the passenger door, knees angled away from him and arms crossed over your chest. “Are you cold?”

“Oh,” you say, looking at him with a tentative smile. “A little.”

“You should’ve said so,” Anakin turns on the heater and your seat warmer. “My kids call seat warmers butt toasters. Let me know if your butt gets too toasty.”

You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

There’s an awkward pause as Anakin realizes what he just said. He absolutely cannot think about your butt any longer than he has to because we all know how that will end.

(A hard cock, in case that wasn’t clear).

“I mean, uh- shit,” Anakin briefly closes his eyes to compose himself. Let me know if your butt gets too toasty?

“Just turn it off yourself if you get too warm.”

Do you make him nervous? No way. You decide to let it go. “Kids? Plural?”

“Yeah.” Anakin drapes his right arm over the center console and taps his fingers against the gear shift. Long, dexterous fingers at that. You have to look away before you start thinking about something completely inappropriate of your boss. “I have twins. A boy and a girl. Luke, he’s the silly one. Right now he’s big into archeology. He’s also pretty clumsy, hence the rip in his pants. And Leia, my daughter, she’s far too serious for any 9 year old to be. She says she wants to be a senator when she grows up.”

This is the longest you’ve been able to look at Anakin without feeling your cheeks burning. Now, they’re just hot because of the heater blasting in your face. “You light up when you talk about them,” you say. “You must love them a lot.”

“More than anything,” Anakin doesn’t hesitate. “Here we are.”

You should’ve been paying attention on how to get to his house from the office. Surely, you’ll be running these errands on your own if things go well with your employment. Oh, well. That’s what the Maps is for.

Anakin’s house is a stunning Eichler. It looks straight out of an Architectural Digest cover. The lawn outside is perfectly cropped and perfectly green but littered with a soccer ball, football, a baseball bat and whiffle balls. You wouldn’t have pegged Anakin for a mid-century modern kind of guy. You would’ve thought he’d opt for an insanely modern, sterile house.

As you walk through the atrium and into the main body of the house, it’s clear it is a family home. Anakin uses his foot to sweep his kids’ shoes out of the way so you don’t trip over them. “Sorry about the mess.”

“It’s okay,” you shrug. Anakin’s house isn’t even all that messy. It just looks like a home. There are so many pictures on the walls, it would be impossible to look at all of them in one go. One in particular, though, catches your eye. It’s the largest out of all of them and the only one in black and white. A significantly younger Anakin is at the bedside of who you presume to be his wife with two bundles of babies in their arms. They are both looking down and smiling. His wife was stunning. They definitely made an attractive couple.

It’s not lost on you that there are no other pictures of Anakin’s kids with their mom. He’s only spoken about his wife’s death in one interview, about a year after her passing. If you remember correctly, she died shortly after the twins were born.

You can’t imagine the kind of pain and heartache Anakin must have felt losing his wife. You don’t know what it feels like to experience that kind of grief. You want to tell Anakin you’re sorry for his loss, but what good will that do? Is there any consolation in that at all?

You’re still looking at the photo when Anakin returns from Luke’s room with a new pair of tan pants. You can feel his presence right beside you and the silence is louder than words.

He shouldn’t have brought you back here. It’s only your first day and you’ve already seen too much of his life.

“Let’s go,” Anakin orders. You nod without a word and follow him out to the car.

The tension in the air is palpable on your way to St. Lucas Prep. You feel like you’ve done something wrong by simply stepping foot in Anakin’s house. His whole demeanor shifted when he came back to the front room with Luke’s pants. Does he regret bringing you to the house? If so, why? Dorothy clearly laid out your responsibilities to you. Tending to personal matters at Anakin’s house is part of the job. You are not just a professional assistant, but a personal assistant, too.

You can’t stand not knowing why someone is upset with you. “Did I do something wrong?”

Anakin’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. “No.”

Wow, how reassuring. “Okay, then why do I feel like I did something to upset you?”

You’re really pressing your limit with him right now. You’ve only just met 2 hours ago. See, this is why meeting him should’ve been part of the hiring process. You’d be a lot more acquainted with each other than you are right now.

If only you knew how acquainted Anakin is with you…

“You didn’t,” is all he says. But with a twitch of his jaw, you still feel like he’s not telling you the truth.

“Look, Mr. Skywalker,” you begin. “I understand Dorothy meant a great deal to you, and her leaving is going to be an adjustment. But I promise you I am capable of this job. I’m never late, I’m up late all the time so if there was anything you needed, I’d be able to fulfill it. I love kids, I’m a hard worker and I would really appreciate it if you gave me a chance before making any decisions about me.”

“You’re right,” Anakin says. “I’ll give you a chance.” But he’s already made up his mind. He doesn’t have to ‘give you a chance’ to know that he wants you. He is crawling out of his skin with how badly he wants you. And he knows it’s wrong, probably immoral, but he really doesn’t care. Because now that you’ve been inside of his home, the boundary that should exist between him as your boss and you as his employee feels impossibly blurry.

◂ series masterlist ▸ chapter three

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x f!reader #dilf!anakin skywalker #dilf!anakin #dilf anakin skywalker #modern!anakin skywalker #modern anakin skywalker #modern au #anakin skywalker fan fiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #as fate would have it

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corroded-hellfire · 4 months

Text

Merry and Bright - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Collaboration with the marshmallows to my hot chocolate @munson-blurbs 💝

Summary: It's Eliza's first Christmas, and even though she may not have a clue what's going on, the rest of the Munson family have fun introducing her to their traditions.

Note: Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Festivus, and have a safe and cheerful whatever it is you celebrate!

Words: 4.3k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eliza’s usual 6am feeding has you and Eddie awake before the boys on Christmas morning for the first time ever. Their 11-week-old sister has them beat for the earliest riser this holiday.

Both of you sleepy-eyed as usual, you and Eddie slip into your daughter’s nursery and close the door behind you so her cries don’t wake her brothers. As soon as she sees you, she calms down because she knows the routine by now. You show up when she cries? Eliza gets food.

You walk over and peer into her crib, Eddie stepping up behind you and slipping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. Eliza’s tears dry as she stares up at you and her father, her eyes wide like his.

“Merry Christmas, Eliza,” Eddie says.

“Happy first Christmas, sweetheart,” you echo.

She clearly has no idea what you’re saying, but the way she’s looking at you makes you think that she’s thinking: Why are you just standing there smiling at me? Did you not hear the crying? Do you not know what time it is? Where is my food, lady?

You pick her up, clad in her green pajamas dotted with snowflakes and Santa Claus on them. The very same pajamas you, Eddie, Ryan, and Luke are all wearing. When you came up with the idea of matching family pajamas, you weren’t entirely serious until the boys backed you up. Whether they were truly into it or were just going along because they knew their dad would hate it, you have no idea. But Eddie grumbled and agreed, and once it’s just the two of you, declared that you are the only person in the whole world that he would do this for.

Eddie goes to the window and pulls back the pink curtains with the white polka dots while you settle into the rocking chair with your baby.

“Wow,” Eddie says as he looks outside. “It must’ve snowed the whole night. Everything is white.”

“Hear that, Eliza?” you coo as she begins to drink. “Your very first Christmas is a white Christmas. I think your brothers are going to have some fun outside later. Maybe we’ll go out and join them.”

Eddie looks over his shoulder at you. “Does she have enough clothes to layer up and go outside in this?”

“Enough clothes?” you ask with a chuckle. “Between the baby shower, Max and Nancy giving us some of their old baby clothes, and what we and the boys bought? I think she has enough layers to look like the Michelin Man.”

“Oh, but look at those rolls,” Eddie says in that baby-talk that’s pretty rare for him. He grins and kneels down next to the two of you in the rocker. “She already looks like the Michelin Man.”

There’s no denying Eliza’s rolls around her wrists and knees and ankles are absolutely the most adorable thing ever. And there is most definitely a long list of adorable things about Eliza.

Once Eliza is done eating, you burp her—and she gives you one her father is quite proud of—and change her diaper, then you head out into the hallway and it’s time to wake the boys.

Eddie walks into Luke’s room and heavily plops down on the mattress, making the ten-year-old bounce. He’s usually a pain to wake up in the morning, but Christmas is an exception.

Luke rouses with a sleepy laugh and rubs at his eyes. “Present time?” he asks.

“I dunno,” Eddie casually replies, shrugging his shoulders as though the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “You think Santa came this year? I haven’t checked the tree yet.”

“And why wouldn’t he come?” you ask from the doorway, holding Eliza. Luke glances over at you and grins; you return his gesture in a silent I’ve got your back.

Eddie, meanwhile, is dead set on provoking him. “Oh, come on,” he scoffs, “Luke had to have made the naughty list.”

Luke playfully lunges at his dad, who catches him and swings him over his own body to let his son land on the floor.

“Nice try,” Eddie says. “But you’ll never beat me.”

When you let out a snort of laughter from where you’re standing, Eddie raises his eyebrows at you.

You innocently raise your shoulders and walk across the hall to Ryan’s room. He’s a bit easier to wake up than his younger brother, though he’s started to fit the teenage stereotype of sleeping in late.

“Oh my God, it snowed! A lot!” you hear Luke shout from his room, which makes you chuckle. “It’s like Antarctica!”

You can practically hear Eddie playfully rolling his eyes. “Yeah, bud. We’ll see a penguin waddle by in a sec.”

Ryan is already awake from all the chaos. He’s slightly grumpy from his unconventional wake-up call, but he smiles as soon as he stumbles into the hallway and scoops Eliza from your arms.

“Merry Christmas, baby sis!” he coos. You notice that his pajamas barely reach his ankles even though you’d only bought them a few weeks ago. “You ready to see what Santa brought this year?”

As anticipated, Eliza says nothing, but you unanimously agree that she’s excited for presents.

The five of you head to the family room to see multiple gift piles under the meticulously decorated tree.

Luke points at the biggest pile near the front, blue eyes wide. “Who’s that for?”

“Eliza,” you tell him as you ruffle his curls. “Mostly from you and Ryan, I’d wager.”

The boys had wanted to spoil their new sister with heaps of presents; you had to continually remind them that she’ll quickly grow out of any clothes and won’t be playing with toys for a few more months. Eddie had to keep reminding them that they were technically spending his money on the baby. He’d found it nearly impossible to say no to them, his heart swelling with pride that he’d raised such thoughtful—if not rambunctious—young men.

Luke and Ryan get down on the floor, while you and Eddie sit down on the couch with the baby.

“So, this is how we do it, Eliza,” Luke tells his sister, as if she will grasp any of what he’s saying. “Ryan picks up a present, reads who it’s to and from, then he gives it to me, and I give it to whoever’s it is.” It’s a tradition they’d started before Luke learned how to read, but it’s stuck throughout the years.

Eliza lets out a few puffs of air that Luke takes as confirmation that she understands.

“She gets me,” he says simply.

“Or,” Eddie teases, “she can’t tell which one of you is Ryan and which one of you is Luke in these ridiculous matching pajamas.”

The four of you take turns opening Eliza’s presents for her. Each time a new one is opened you try to get her attention to show it to her, but she rarely cares. Eddie’s curls start to be more of interest to her than anything anyone else is doing.

Whenever Luke or Ryan open them for her, they get really excited and hype their sister up about whatever it is that she got.

“Wow, Eliza! Look at this dress!” Luke says as he picks it up and shows her. “It has Princess Ariel on it! I bet you’re going to love the princesses.”

“Ooh, Eliza! Look at these!” Ryan shakes the oversized keyring with the pastel-colored plastic keys hanging from it. “You can drive Dad’s car with these.”

“I’d let her drive it before I let either of you two menaces behind the wheel.”

Eventually, Eliza’s pile is depleted, and the boys open their own presents. Ironically, they were more enthused for Eliza’s, though their new Game Boys are an absolute hit. There was eventually a gift that Eliza seemed to be enthralled with though. The only thing that really caught her attention was the shininess of a new watch that Eddie got from Luke. She wanted to put it directly in her mouth, but Eddie stopped her as Luke warned that he wasn’t sure if it was water proof or not.

Once presents are done, Eddie cleans up the variety of wrapping paper while you dress Eliza in her Christmas candy cane outfit. This outfit Eddie picked out. It seemed only fair since you practically forced him into the pajamas.

It’s nap time for Eliza, so you settle her down while the boys go through their new gifts. The clothes they received only got a once over while the toys and video games were more heavily scrutinized.

After Luke makes his rounds through his toys, he notices how much snow has built up on the ground.

“Daaaaad!”

“Whaaaat?” Eddie mimics as he walks in the room.

Luke walks over and gives his dad an over the top smile—a telltale sign that he wants something.

“Wanna go play in the snoooow?”

Eddie pretends to consider the question even though he’s been waiting for one of the boys to ask all day. He’s still a kid at heart and has been dying to get out there and mess around.

“I guess I could go for kicking your asses in a snowball fight.”

“Luke and I can take you, old man!” Ryan says.

“Two against one? Huh. Babe? Wanna come be on my team?”

“Sorry, hot stuff,” you say as you stroll in from the kitchen. “Then who would be here to get little Miss Eliza up from her nap and get her all bundled up for the snow?”

Eddie suddenly looks a bit more serious. “She’s going to have to have a lot of layers.”

“Really? Because I was going to bring her out in just her diaper.” You can’t help but chuckle at Eddie’s protectiveness and lean up to press a kiss to his lips. “Don’t worry. She’ll have so many layers she’ll look like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man.”

The three men get all layered up and you get comfortable in a cozy chair near the window with a mug of hot chocolate to watch their shenanigans unfold. The boys go to one side of the yard and start making snowballs while Eddie goes to the other side. Your husband makes a little snow barrier that he can crouch behind before he starts making his snowball supply.

“Teach these kids to call me old,” he mumbles to himself.

Eddie quickly throws a snowball that hits the back of Luke’s head before he ducks back behind his wall. Eddie tries to control his laughter, but it keeps coming out in hot puffs of breath that he can see float away from his mouth.

“What the?!” Luke shouts, looking all around. “How’d he do that?”

Eddie chuckles to himself as he creates more ammunition. These amateurs.

You look on in amusement as the three of them commence in all-out war. Eddie clearly gets the better of them, which you can tell he’s secretly proud of. Or not-so-secretly as he sticks his tongue out at them and taunts them. You’d swear you were the one in this relationship who is older by a decade, not him.

After a while of running around, your sons and husband fall into a pile in the middle of the yard, obviously tired from so much exertion. You giggle as you watch them try and catch their breaths; Luke literally reaching up with his gloved hands to swipe at the condensation his huffing and puffing is causing.

Luke is the first one up and starts tugging on his dad’s coat sleeve to pull him up too. Ryan is the next one up, then finally Eddie. It takes you a couple of minutes to figure out what they’re doing at first. It looks like they’re just moving piles of snow around with no rhyme or reason.

Just as you’ve put together that they’re trying to build an igloo, you hear Eliza’s cries coming from her room. You get up from your warm cocoon on the chair and wander into Eliza’s nursery where she’s whining for attention.

“What’s all the fuss about?” you ask as you scoop her up. “It’s Christmas. Didn’t anyone tell you there’s no crying on Christmas?”

Eliza’s only response is a tiny sneeze that makes you giggle.

“God bless you. Now, let’s see how many layers of clothes we can put on you before you’re as good as bubble wrapped.”

When you open the back door, both you and your daughter bundled up tightly against the cold, the igloo looks like it had some architectural issues. Eddie pushes himself off the ground and comes over to the two of you.

“Look at my girls. So cute in all your layers.” He presses a kiss to your nose, which gives you a shiver.

“Your lips are freezing!” you exclaim, scrunching your face.

“What do you expect?” Eddie asks with a laugh. “Igloo construction is very serious work that can only be done in these dire weather conditions.”

A few snowflakes fall onto Eliza’s pale pink coat, and she blinks at them in confusion before they melt away.

“How is the construction crew doing?” you ask, nodding to the boys and their building, snow stuck to their gloves like Velcro.

“Some structural problems,” Eddie shrugs. “Definitely inhabitable, but I don’t have the heart to break it to them.” He brushes his gloves onto his jacket and holds his arms out towards Eliza. “Come here, you.”

He takes her, snuggling her to his chest, and walks over to where the boys are working tirelessly. Crouching down, he lets Eliza’s legs hang down so her booted up little feet are on the snowy ground.

“Hey, ‘Liza,” Luke chirps. “We’re making a house out of snow.”

“It’s not going too well,” Ryan adds under his breath.

His brother scowls. “She doesn’t know that!” he hisses.

Eliza’s eyes track the snowflakes falling down around her.

“You like the snow, huh?” Eddie asks her, kissing the tiniest sliver of exposed forehead beneath her fuzzy hood.

A chunk of the attempted igloo comes off in Ryan’s hands and he lets out a defeated sigh. “You wanna try some snow?” he asks Eliza just as you walk over to join them. He breaks off the snow into a small chunk and holds it up near Eliza’s lips. She only stares at it for a second before Eddie helps her lean in and she opens her mouth, just as she does when she’s trying to eat.

The moment the coldness touches her lips, Eliza turns her head and curls her hands towards her face, making the rest of you laugh.

“Cold, huh?” Ryan chuckles, tossing aside the snow that Eliza hasn’t consumed.

“All right,” Eddie says as he stands up, shifting his daughter in his arms. “I don’t know about you boys, but my butt is pretty numb. What do you say we head inside?”

Both boys whine, even though you can tell by their chattering teeth that they’re getting a bit cold themselves.

“How’s hot chocolate sound?” you add.

That gets both boys up and headed towards the back door. Eddie walks ahead of you with Eliza, and you shuffle towards him so you can whisper in his ear.

“If you can’t feel your ass, maybe I could feel it for you?” Your lips curl into a smirk.

Eddie turns to face you. “Why, Mrs. Munson, how very naughty of you.” His kiss lingers in a way that tells you to expect a special gift the moment you two are truly alone.

It takes a few minutes for everyone to peel off their wet clothes. Eddie and Ryan work on throwing the snow-soaked pants and socks into the dryer while you recruit Luke to help a freshly warmed Eliza into her swing in the living room so you can make hot chocolate.

Luke buckles the straps over Eliza’s red and white outfit and turns the swing on the lowest setting. It gently sways her back and forth from left to right, which is usually her favorite thing in the world, but her tiny cries warn that she is not amused.

“Hey, what’s the whining about?” Luke asks, frowning at his fussy sister.

Eliza squeals and throws her little arms up as much as she’s able to as though purposely acting in defiance.

Luke immediately springs into action. “No, no!” He scrambles for an idea. “Here, watch me, Eliza!”

He starts to do an overexaggerated jig in front of her and sings I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas.

“I want a hippopotamus for Christmas. Only a hippopotamus will do. I don't want a doll, no dinky Tinkertoy. I want a hippopotamus to play with and enjoy!”

Eliza stops her crying and just stares at her older brother as he continues his impromptu performance.

“I can see me now on Christmas morning, creeping down the stairs. Oh, what joy and what surprise. When I open up my eyes to see my hippo hero standing there!”

Watching the mini concert from the kitchen, you notice that Eliza is mesmerized by her brother; the look on her face reads, “what the hell are you doing?”, but you’re not going to question whatever it is that’s quieted her down—even if it means being subjected to one of the most irritating holiday songs in existence.

“I want a hippopotamus for Christmas. Only a hippopotamus will do. No crocodiles, or rhinoceroseses. I only like hippopotamuseses. And hippopotamuses like me too!”

Successfully distracted, the baby makes spit bubbles and flaps her arms. Luke feels that he’s done his job, and he gives a small bow.

Luke finishes imagining the applause his baby sister so obviously wants to give him when Eddie comes into the living room carrying two mugs full of steaming hot chocolate.

“Hey, Timberlake. Here’s your drink.”

You and Ryan are right behind him as you carefully balance your own drinks, giggling at each other as you check on one another’s progress from the corner of your eyes. It’s almost a game to see if one of you will spill a few drops before the other.

Luke plops down in the chair you had been sitting in while watching the boys outside and Ryan settles in on the loveseat. You take advantage of your husband sitting alone on the couch to cuddle up to his side. Eddie settles one arm over your shoulders and brings his Metallica mug to his lips with his other hand. Taking care to hold your “Meowy Christmas” mug dotted in adorable kittens in both of your hands, you rest your head on his shoulder. Your eyes admire the cup that Luke gave you last year for Christmas before they drift over to your daughter comfortably rocking in her swing.

Her large eyes move from family member to family member, as if wondering what you’re all doing. You imagine her holding her own little mug-shaped bottle to join in with the rest of you and you let out a soft giggle at the thought.

“What, baby?” Eddie asks softly.

“Nothing,” you say with a shake of your head. “Just look at our little girl. Watching all of us.”

Eddie smiles when he looks over and his daughter’s gaze locks on his. He feels as if one more ounce of happiness was pumped into his heart it would explode. The room is still and quiet, but Eliza continues to look on as the four of you warm up by drinking the confectionary delight.

By the time the four of you have emptied your mugs, Eliza is fast asleep in her swing. Eddie presses a kiss to your temple, and you take his empty cup as he rises to his feet. He walks over, slowly stops the rocking, and scoops Eliza up. She lets out a little sigh as Eddie resituates her in his arms; her classic sign of contentment when she knows she’s safe in her daddy’s care. He carries the sleeping infant into her room and lays her down in her crib.

“Sweet dreams, sweet pea.”

An hour later, the buzzer rings.

Wayne’s on the other side of the door, two pizza boxes in hand. Since Eliza is still so little and requires almost all of your energy, there isn’t a fancy meal this year, but no one seems to mind.

The Munson patriarch sets the food on the table, opening the boxes to reveal pepperoni & green peppers atop each pie. “Christmas colors,” he announces proudly.

Eddie pops a Christmas album into the CD player as you all gather around the table and eat. By some miracle, Luke and Ryan manage to take their slices without fighting over the bigger one, and you thank your lucky stars.

No sooner do you sit down and lift your own slice to your lips, Eliza’s cry bleats through the baby monitor. You instinctively start to stand, but Wayne puts a gentle hand out to stop you.

“I got it,” he assures you, walking into the room where Eliza lays in her crib.

“You’re the cutest candy cane I’ve ever seen!” you hear him exclaim as he lifts her to carry her back out to the kitchen.

He takes his seat next to Luke, who holds his slice in the baby’s direction, a glob of sauce plopping onto the floor.

“Eliza, you want some pizza?” He pretends to bring it to her mouth before he pulls back and cackles. “Aahh, just kidding!”

The tiny baby manages to stay awake for the entirety of dinner, but by the end of dessert, she’s starting to get cranky again.

When it’s time to clear the table, Eddie stands up and stretches his arms high over his head. And so what if your gaze drifted to the pale expanse of his stomach that it showed?

“Come on, men,” Eddie says. “Let’s get this place looking ship-shaped.”

“You sure you weren’t the one in the military?” Wayne asks with a husky laugh. He hands you the baby who is only getting fussier by the second.

“I think it’s time for some jammies,” you say as you hold her against your chest. Her whines and whimpers in return sound like a disagreement, so you can only imagine what her backtalk will be like when she can speak.

“Not fair,” Luke says with a huff as you move to leave the dining room. You turn around and raise an eyebrow at him.

“What’s not fair?” you ask.

“You don’t have to clean,” he says as he picks up the bowl of mashed potatoes that is now so empty it looks as if it’s been licked clean. It wouldn’t surprise you if it was, honestly.

“Do you want to try and get Miss Crankypants into her pajamas? Then to bed?” you ask.

“No,” Luke admits with a groan and brings the empty dishes into the kitchen.

“That’s what I thought,” you say to Eliza as you carry her down the hall to her room.

It’s time for the annual tradition of watching Charlie Brown’s Christmas, but Eliza still hasn’t gone to sleep. You’re not sure how long you’ve been trying to soothe her to sleep, but it feels like it’s been hours. You tell the guys to start watching it without you as you start to walk throughout the house with your fussy daughter in your arms. The rocking motion of walking tends to have a calming effect on her. Hasn’t worked so far, but it’s worth another shot.

“Come on, sweetie,” you beg her. “You had a big day. You must be so tired.”

She continues her protests, so you hold her closer to your chest, her green elf pajamas soft in your hands. On your fourth lap of the house, you pass by the living room again but there’s music coming from the television this time.

Eliza stops her fussing at the sound. The scene ends and Eliza starts to act up again, so you take another lap around the house. Once more back at the living room, there’s music and again she calms down.

“Hmm…” you hum to yourself.

Testing your theory, you sit at the edge of the couch and keep your firm hold on Eliza. The music continues as Eliza calms all the way down. This time, she’s calmed enough that you can sit back on the couch and enjoy the show with your family. Every time a scene with music comes on, Eliza gets happier and even gives you a smile that you’re pretty sure had nothing to do with gas.

“You like the music, huh?” you ask your daughter softly.

“Making her daddy proud,” Eddie says, throwing a wink your way.

Not much later, Eliza falls asleep, and it allows you to watch the rest of the program with your family. When it’s time for bed, the boys each get up and press a soft kiss to their sister’s forehead. Once they’ve gone to brush their teeth, you bring Eliza into her room, Eddie right behind you. You gently lay her down and Eddie snakes his arms around your waist from behind. Both of you look down at your daughter, her little pink lips parted as her chest moves up and down with her steady breathing. The soft downy hairs on her head are starting to get a curl to them and you smile at the thought of her having hair like your husband.

Eddie presses a kiss to your cheek and rests his chin on your shoulder so he can look down at the sleeping girl as well.

“We made a cute baby,” Eddie says softly.

“The cutest,” you agree.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #dad!eddie #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fic #AYW #AYWS

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puckarchives · 4 months

Text

personally, i found it very attractive: l. hughes

blurb: in which an interview with the devils' upcoming rookie takes the intern by suprise. / word count: 1.5k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

To be fair, all that I wanted to do was leave the Prudential Center, go home, and take a long bath. The game between the New Jersey Devils and the New York Rangers had gone into overtime, and as much as I loved my job, it truly had been a long day.

Flashing my lanyard at the security guard standing outside of the Devils' locker room, I was ushered into the room, joining the growing cohort of other journalists; writers who had made their entire career off of reporting on the comings-and-goings in the sports world. Now that the team had been solidified with major additions, and taken players off of their Injury Report roster, the Devils had put up a good fight against their Hudson River rivals.

Grabbing my phone and opening voice notes, I made a beeline for the one player that I needed to cover— Luke Hughes, one of the newest additions to the Devils, and a hell of a defenseman that I needed to talk to on his play earlier on the ice. And, thanks to the work I had put in weeks before trying to get this same interview, I had the opportunity to actually talk to him, instead of having to wait around in a circle while other journalists droned on (and asked) practically the same questions over and over again.

I had fallen in love with sports journalism because of this— because of the opportunity to speak with the players who have it their all on that ice, and who had a true passion for the game they played.

I once again flashed my I.D. to one of the team's publicists, Sharyl, and she smiled over at me— shaking my hand and calling over Luke.

"Hi Y/N! How are you holding up over this season?" she asked as we stood in our corner, both angled to see the player coming towards us.

"Hi Sharyl, I'm doing well! Just finished up my third-year, and I just need this last interview to finish up the project I've been working on these past few weeks," I told her. It was true— I had been working on this player profile for the past few weeks, and currently, this single nineteen-year-old rookie was the only person left on my list before I could publish the article that I was hoping would help my career.

"Oh that sounds so good, sweetheart! I know just how many hours you've been putting in here, and I'm so excited to read!" the older lady said.

"Here's Luke now!" she said, saying hello to the defenseman, and then turning back to me.

"Luke, this is Y/N, the reporter I mentioned from ESPN's journalism internship cohort. She's just going to go over a few things with you, and finish up her profile," she told the curly-haired boy.

"Hi, Luke, I'm Y/N, it's nice to meet you!" I spoke up, putting my hand out for him to shake.

It seemed to take him a few moments to catch up with me; and, to be fair, that was to be expected. I was his age, and from the way Sharyl was speaking about me, you'd expect me to be much older, or even a man. When I had begun working for ESPN's College Internship program, I had started with baseball as my main coverage sport— slowly growing from that to hockey as the seasons changed, and then, finally, landing on the Devils as my main beat at the beginning of the season. With all that, however, I knew the way people looked at me— questioning as to why an eighteen year old college student was interviewing men in sports that others thought I didn't even know existed, or even know how they worked. So, his reaction was expected.

The six-two boy in front of me seemed to be struck out of whatever stupor he was in, however, and shook my hand back.

"Hi, Y/N, it's nice to meet you. Sharyl said you'd be stopping by," he said. He was quiet, and I could tell how much of a toll the game had on him— despite being freshly showered, he sported his signature smirk— looking down at me as the cheers and celebrations kept it up behind him.

"Yeah! I just have a few questions to ask, but do you want to follow me out to the media office? It shouldn't take too long, especially since I'm sure you want to go celebrate your win tonight," I told him.

Not really looking for a response, I looked over the boy— he was, admittedly, cute. His eyes were full of life— and he filled out his after-game clothing well. That, and the coupling of beauty marks over his face just enhanced how handsome he was. God, get it together, I told myself. You're on the job!

Finding ourselves in one of the various media offices hosted in the Prudential Center's basement, I sat down across from the rookie, and waited until we were both situated to start the interview.

“So, thank you for sitting down with me! It was a long game out there, but you’re really pushing through,” I laughed, trying to ease the tension I could feel on my end. I really didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of this very cute boy, and even less knowing that he was a professional player in the sport I covered heavily.

“No— no it’s all okay, no worries,” he said, “I’d rather be here than listening to Shmido trying to recap the entirety of the second-half,” he laughed.

“Well, you’re the first to say that,” I smiled back. “So, now that you’re on your second official NHL game, I kind of have to point out— you went from playing for Michigan, and then skating for the league in just a few weeks, and you admittedly have had a huge transformation—” I started.

“Yeah I got faster,” he laughed, his cheeks tinging a shade of pink, and I couldn’t really lie to myself and blame it on his earlier celebrations. “Don’t worry, you can say it— Jacky has.”

“Well, I’ll be honest, it’s really been great to watch. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you the entire game,” I said, and then admittedly felt my own cheeks flush, because truly, what was I thinking? Was I openly flirting with a guy I was supposed to be interviewing? Before I could feel myself blush even further, or even make the situation even more awkward, the silence was broken with Luke’s laugh— a stark and loud chuckle that made me look up automatically. His blush had now traveled from his cheeks to the tip of his hair, peeking out of his wet curls.

He ran his hand through his hair, “Well I mean, that’s definitely great to hear— are you serious?” he said, and for the life of me, I couldn’t tell if he was joking— if he was making fun of my obvious lack of flirting ability, or egging me on.

“Very,” I said. “It was a great game, and the goal you made in OT was just so smooth! Personally, I found it very attractive” I said; I had spent the entirety of the game looking at Luke skating— the smooth and strategic moves he made on the ice, passing the puck back and forth as if he was moving in water. He was beautiful on the ice— weaving between the opposing team’s players quicker and way more efficiently to the point where they couldn’t even keep up with him.

“And I have to point out the pass you made to Jack in the second-half and the assist you sent to Nico! I haven’t seen a lot of puck work that really resembled that in such a while, and—” I cut myself off, trying not to let myself ramble any farther in front of the boy I could feel myself crushing on.

“I mean that’s really a high compliment, thank you,” he said. “I mean, I know this might not be entirely appropriate for the interview, but I’m free after this, if you are two?” he asked. This had to be some kind of cliche, I thought, not really thinking that he had just asked me out.

I did, however, hope he wasn’t egging me on— and, besides, after this profile came out, I wouldn't be covering the NJ Devils until next season, so why not? Why not spend an afternoon with a hot hockey player who I had already called cute? “You know what? I am also free, and I was going to get dinner, if you wanted to join me,” I responded, hoping the youngest Hughes would take me up on the offer too. “I also don’t have class tomorrow, so yes, I am very free after this,” I laughed.

The boy in front of me smiled up, pushing the curls falling in his face back, and saying a quick “Well, then let’s get this thing started.”

#luke hughes #new jersey devils #nj devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #nhl blurb #nhl imagine

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endless-ineffabilities · 2 years

Text

and what of your love?

Aemond Targaryen x f!Reader (nsfw / 18+)

part two of the prūmia va perzys (heart on fire) series

part one: 'don't you love me?' , part three: the flames that divide , part four: the aftermath

themes: angst (obvi), smut, mention of violence/death, language, dragonrider!reader (her house is not stated)

word count: 4.6k ▪︎ masterlist

Aemond Targaryen is to be married, but his heart is not in it. In fact, he feels as if he hasn't had a heart ever since you left.

The message sits on your desk, the words all too vivid and clear, as if mocking you.

"You are cordially requested to bear witness to the union of Prince Aemond Targaryen and his future consort, Lady Alys Rivers..."

You had rushed through the words, in utter disbelief, your heart breaking all the while. Towards the end, it also stated, “His Royal Highness, King Aegon II, wishes to extend a truce, only to the Lady y/n, for the entire duration of the royal festivities, at the behest of Prince Aemond."

Oh please.

It has been over a year since you last saw him in your field, and ever since that night, you've tried your hardest to erase him from your heart. When he played a hand in the death of Lucerys, you were sure that would be the nail in the coffin of whatever love you may have had for him. Sweet, brave Luke who grew to become a brother to you. He was too young. The pain was crippling, the rage it unravelled was immeasurable.

You tell yourself, every day, every hour, that Aemond is lost. The man you once loved, the Prince who relentlessly pursued you, the lover who promised you the world - was no more.

But even you can't fool yourself.

Every time word reaches you of his latest crime, you don't feel hate. You want to only be angry, you should be. But you just can't.

He will always be your Aemond. You may condemn his actions, but you could never cut yourself free of him. He will always have a part of you, which is why you haven't taken any other lover.

But, apparently, he has.

The Lady Alys Rivers was rumoured to be beautiful, and enchanting. The perfect match for the equally alluring young prince.

Oh, seven hells. This must be a joke. Surely, he doesn't think I would actually deign to attend this union.

When you gave word to Daemon and Rhaenyra, they were sure that Aemond is merely toying with you. They knew all too well about your past affair, and seemed assured that this invitation was just a way for Aemond to get under your skin. To get you to lower your defenses.

There was no way you would cross over into enemy territory, given the heightened scale of the ongoing war.

Besides, why the fuck would you want to?

If he truly has forgotten me, if he has truly fallen for another, then I must move on. He no longer is my Aemond. He is hers.

Resolute, you take the parchment, the confirmation of what you have lost, and throw it into the hearth.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The revelry is in full swing, and the lords and ladies of the court are jovially partaking in the week-long festivities, customary before a grand wedding of a prince of the Seven Kingdoms. Albeit now there is an atmosphere of gloom. A sense of unease due to the war is felt by most, and tonight, ale and dancing and fucking are the thoughtless remedies.

The groom, Prince Aemond, sits stoically at the High Table. His inebriated King brother sits to his left, and his bride, Lady Alys, to his right.

She keeps one hand on him, as she does every time, as if she fears that he might run away.

He has half a mind to do just that, plotting as he sips his wine. You had not showed up. You had not even given any notice of having received the invitation.

Does she know I am to be married? Does she not care?

Aemond downs his cup of wine in one long swig, to which his brother cheers, and pats him on the back.

His soon-to-be wife, glances at him chastisingly, and says, "Slowly, my love, the feast has only just begun."

My love. Aemond whips his head to her in a flash, "I told you not to call me that. Call me whatever you wish, just not that."

Lady Alys flinches at his tone, "Careful with how you address me, Aemond. I am your wife."

Aemond takes another swig after his cup has been filled, "Not yet."

"It makes no difference. I will be, soon," his consort smiles, clearly satisfied with herself, "Dance with me, husband?"

"Hmm," he tries to remain polite, although it's taking much resolve, "you go ahead. I'll remain here for now."

She plants a heavy kiss on his cheek, giggling, and joins the dance, getting lost in the crowd.

Aemond muses about his consort, how provocative and sly she is. The reason why he chose her, after the incessant nagging from his mother Alicent that he should be married, is because she's just about the least likely prospect.

Alicent immediately wanted to marry him off to some other highborn lady, someone more proper. Not the bastard daughter of House Strong, but he disagreed. He had no personal desire to be married, anyway, and is merely performing his duty. Marrying for love was clearly out of the cards, since you...

You. Aemond takes another gulp of wine.

He chose Alys on a whim, but also because she was the most amusing out of his options. She is beautiful, brazen with her words, and didn't care much for pomp and nobility. And, well, she was the one who is the most similar to you. Although, she can never hold a candle to your hold on Aemond's heart.

Aemond didn't love her, no, but he is able to tolerate her at least. He once thought that, perhaps, if you had never been in the picture, maybe Alys might have been able to steal his heart instead.

But you are. And you had.

He wonders if you still feel longing, if you also possess that incessant emptiness in your chest. If you still... love...

Fuck. I need her. He takes another drink.

"Brother," Aegon claps him on the shoulder loudly, jeering, "I've never seen you swig ale that quickly. Don't worry about losing your bachelorhood. You're the fucking Prince! You can have any bedmate you want, and your wife can't say a single thing."

There is it again. Wife. Aemond begins to think it vile. A pang of pity also befalls him for his dear sister Helaena, that she should be saddled with an imbecile of a spouse such as Aegon.

Fortunately, in a twisted way, it may even be beneficial for Helaena that her husband sleeps around, so that she may constantly not be on the receiving end of his nightly drunken stupors.

He wonders, dread and jealousy enveloping him, if you had taken anyone to wed. If he is anything like Aegon is as a husband, then war be damned. He would take Vhagar, reach wherever you and that mongrel may be, and end him.

In truth, even if your chosen consort would be the kindest lord in all of the Seven Kingdoms, Aemond would still crush him. He would burn him to the ground.

Doesn’t she care the same? Why isn’t she here now, putting a halt to this farce of a marriage?

Perhaps, she doesn’t trust me. Of course, why would she? Given what I’ve done…

“I know why your face is so sour,” his drunken brother addresses him again, “It’s because of Lady y/n’s absence, is it not? Well, she may still be present at the actual wedding ceremony.”

“You reek of ale, brother. Drinking like a fucking Braavosi sea horse, as always.” Aemond snaps back, getting tense at the subject of you being brought up.

“Why must you be so into that bitch, Aemond?,” Aegon continues his tirade, “You have a lusty wife now, and you can have a thousand whores besides.”

In an instant, Aemond slams his fist on the table and gets off his seat, drawing everyone’s attention to him. Aegon, the King, shirks away from his brother, knowing it was unwise to get on his nerve. Despite jesting with him so often, he may have forgotten that he shouldn’t have mentioned you in that way.

The Kingsguard draw close, prepared to defend their king. Ser Criston Cole rushes over to Aemond, “Stand down, my prince. Not here.”

Aemond glares at his brother, and if looks could kill…

Until he mumbles that sinister, “Hmm.” He composes himself, and raises a hand up to the guards, and to the crowd, “Carry on.”

The feast reluctantly restarts at first, but moments after, the whole exchange was forgotten.

But Aemond can no longer just sit there. If you weren’t going to come to the feast, or to the wedding, then there may be another way to get you to him.

He stands, ignoring the questioning looks coming his way, and he stalks out of the great hall.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

It has been a long evening, mostly spent in the Black Council, analysing the current trajectory of the war. Everyone was in agreement that the Greens have not made any significant measures due to the ongoing wedding festivities of one Prince Aemond.

Half of the council wanted to strike then, while they were occupied with all that pompous nonsense, while the other half favoured a temporary truce, at least until the nuptials have been finalized, for the sake of upholding and respecting Westerosi tradition.

Daemon, being Daemon, had only this to say, “Oh, who cares if my one-eyed nephew will be wed? All our eggs will be there, drowned in booze, in one basket. We should ride and just burn everything down.”

But that was the problem. Everyone would indeed be there. Even the lords and ladies, the maesters, the children, who were simply forced to side with the Greens, out of fear for their lives. Rhaenyra didn’t want any more unnecessary bloodshed, to which you agree.

You return to your chambers, exhausted, mostly due to the sore subject of Aemond’s wedding having been mentioned often. You were grateful to Rhaenyra, who was quick to change the matter of discussion, when she noticed you were growing uncomfortable.

Walking over to your table, you notice a plain black box, one that was not there when you left. You trace your fingers over it, feeling the smooth wooden exterior, and carefully lift the lid.

Your heart stops.

Gillyflower.

A cluster of fresh gillyflower lay inside, in a bright burst of red and violet. The flower that grew so wildly in that field. Yours and Aemond’s.

This used to be your tradition. If either of you wished to meet the other there, all you had to do was surreptitiously send some gillyflower. Like your own shared secret message.

Normally, there would be have been a bit of parchment, with sweet words imprinted.

My love.

My flower.

Come to me.

Each day without you is one I cannot bear.

Now, there was none. But you are sure, this can only be from Aemond.

Should I…? What if it’s a trap?

You mind races, heart beating wildly. You want nothing more than to take the risk, but what of your allegiance? Would you be betraying them? You should be concerned for your safety, but you also knew, he would never hurt you.

You need answers. You need revenge. You need Ae…

Oh, seven hells. Grabbing your sword, and putting on your cloak, you make your way out the door.

“Going somewhere?”, Daemon stands, leaning against the wall, as if expecting you to come out at any moment.

“Daemon,” you say, surprised. The cloak and the sheathed sword surely gave you away.

“It’s my nephew, isn’t it?”

“What-“

“I intercepted the messenger who brought over that box. I wondered about the contents, but then, who else could it be from?”

“Hmm,” you whisper, knowing it futile to hide anything from Daemon, “he wishes to meet me. I know not what for.”

“And you’re going.” He replies, as if stating a fact.

You nod, thinking of the right thing to say next. About how you will never betray Rhaenyra, how you only need to see him even if you’re not sure why, how you will be able to fend for yourself.

But your worries are quelled when Daemon says, “You better hurry then.”

“Daemon,” you say, not expecting him to just let this slide so easily.

“Listen, y/n, I trust you. I trust that you know what you’re doing,” he moves closer to you, “As for my nephew, he may be a bloody monster, and I may never forgive him, but I’m sure he thinks himself lucky to have someone like you to love him truly.”

You stare at him in admiration. There was a reason why Daemon drew so many people to him. He was cunning and highly dangerous, yes. But he was also intelligent and fair.

“I myself think the same way in that I have Rhaenyra to love me, as wretched as I am,” he smiles, and nudges your shoulder, “Go.”

You start to walk away, but you turn back once more, “Thank you, Daemon.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The field is more or less the same, although the growth of gillyflower has become more relentless, pockets of red and violet and white spread all throughout.

You dismount from your dragon, close to Vhagar, and the great and terrifying beast only grunts in recognition. You were one of the only two people whom she was comfortable around, after your many trysts spent riding with Aemond.

“Hello again, you beauty,” you call out to her, “Where is your master, hmm?”

The field itself was empty, but there was a new fixture in the distance, close to the hills. A small, stone cabin, with faint candlelight burning inside.

Steeling yourself, you make your way over, knowing that nothing can truly prepare you for what’s to come.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“My love.”

You hear him the moment you walk inside, and you have to stop yourself from running straight into his arms. You raise your head, and finally meet his gaze.

Aemond looks rougher, more rugged. As if the war has taken its toll. All the fighting must have strained him, as his figure is still lean and lithe but more muscular.

“Aemond,” you finally say, taking a quick glance around the room. It’s a humble space, with a large bed pushed up against the wall, candles haphazardly placed around the room. You see a bunch of gillyflower on a round table, weapons hung neatly above the fireplace, as well as…

Aemond follows your eyeline, and takes the framed image from the wall.

“Do you wish to see it?” he says, but he’s already handing it to you.

Taking it in your hands, you study the image containing a likeness of you. Every detail of your face, to your neck, down to your shoulders, portrayed by an artist’s skilled hand.

You try to comprehend what the fuck exactly it is you’re looking at, and you also can’t seem to grasp how cordial Aemond is acting about everything.

As if he hadn’t played a hand in the demise of some people you truly cared for.

You slowly hand the painting back to him, the words stuck in your throat.

He hangs it back up, “Beautiful, isn’t it, my love? I had it made not too long ago. As for this place, well, I needed somewhere where I can still have you. One way or another.”

“What are you talking about?” you manage to say.

“I haven’t been able to see you in far too long, my love. Too. Long.”

“There’s a clear reason for that, Aemond,” you say firmly, growing uneasy at the unhinged look in his eye, unblinking, devouring the sight of you.

He reaches for your hands, and you instinctively flinch backwards.

“Don’t, Aemond.”

“Why not, hmm?” he circles you, pacing ever so slowly, stopping just behind you, “You came here on your own volition, pet. You wanted to come, to see me.”

“I came to talk.”

“Hmm,” he makes the low noise that he always does, and it makes you want to just capture that sound from his lips with your own. He lowers the hood of your cloak, and you just stand there, letting the situation unfold.

Aemond’s fingers brush purposefully against the back of your neck as he takes your cloak off, and leaves in it a pile by your feet.

He steps closer, and you feel his breath against your neck. Using one hand, he pulls you to his chest. You don’t want to turn around and face him, afraid you might lose control, but you also can’t find it in you to move away.

“You built this place,” you state, your voice flat.

“This is our secret place, y/n,” he whispers close to your ear, “Every corner is a tribute to you. There is your picture, your favourite flowers, the sheets are of your favourite colour, the volumes on the mantel are the stories you like the most. Through this, I have some way of being with you.”

“Aemond,” you force yourself to pull away from him, “my love.”

“You finally said it,” he smiles.

“What?” you lean against a wall.

“My love,” he says, and moves to sit on a chair opposite you, “you’ve called me by name since you arrived, until then. Even though I don’t mind the way my name rolls off of your sweet tongue.”

“Stop,” you remind yourself that you came here for answers, “why did you call me here? Aren’t you about to wed?”

“Only for the sake of my duty, to further the Targaryen line.”

“Really? Why Alys Rivers then? Why not some highborn, legitimate lady?” your voice grows cold, and Aemond smirks at your jealousy.

“Because I simply don’t care. It pisses mother off, and you as well, it seems.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re free to wed whomever you wish, Aemond.”

“No,” he says, “I am not. Otherwise, I would have wed you a long time ago.”

“Well, your actions have forever buried that possibility,” you say too quickly, ire reflected in your words.

He flinches at your words, his lips pursing, “I only do what I have to do.”

“You didn’t have to kill Luke!” you lunge forward, your hand flying to the hilt of your sword by your waist.

Aemond notices your movement, but does nothing, “Hmm, Luke was merely a casualty in this war.”

“He was your family, Aemond. He was just a child. Why?”

He says nothing, and looks at you up and down, assessing your growing distress.

“Do you even regret it?” you ask.

A long pause passes, until he says, “I only regret that it has caused you pain.”

“Wrong answer, Aemond.” You unsheathe your sword, holding it out straight it front of you, “Fight me.”

This is the only right thing you can think of doing. The other things that have crossed your mind were completely unsavoury, unthinkable acts to do with the murderer who caused the death of your friend. You shouldn’t reach for him, you shouldn’t kiss him, you shouldn’t admire him, you shouldn’t run your fingers down his scar with reverence. Never again.

So, perhaps, you should bring him to justice.

“My love,” his tone is amused, and you grow even more frustrated.

“Get your sword.”

He stands, a sly curve on his prominent bowed lips.

My brave girl, he thinks.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re angry.”

For fuck’s sake, Aemond. No. “Your sword, Aemond.”

He backs away slowly to where his sword hangs above the fireplace, takes it, and diligently twirls it in one hand.

Your nerve starts to fail. Aemond was surely a better swordsman; he has been furiously training all his life. But, well, so have you.

Long ago, you and him even trained together. You may stand a chance.

“Your move, pet,” he says, tauntingly.

You cross the distance between the two of you, and deal the first parry, your blades connecting loudly in the air. An electric pause occurs, and Aemond smirks at you.

You dodge to the side, and lunge at him again. He easily deflects the blow.

You circle each other, and it’s unclear as to who is the predator and who is the prey.

Aemond deals a wide overhead arch, and you’re quick to block it halfway. This brings his face dangerously close to yours, and he whispers, nearly against your lips, “Surrender, my love.”

“Never,” you lunge backwards again, and Aemond twirls his sword smoothly, once, twice, and another final time.

Then, he spins in a circle, his sword a mere blur in the air, before delivering his final stroke, pushing you against the wall, the edge of his blade an inch away from your neck.

But, you were able to anticipate this, at the last second, as your sword slipped from your grasp.

“I win, pet. You’re mine.”

“Think again.” you whisper, and when he looks down, he finally notices the sharp edge of your knife poking at his ribs.

He looks at you in awe, “Well, I suppose we both have each other then, my love.”

He lunges forward, and claims your lips in a searing kiss. Wild, and passionate, as if to make up for lost time. Your respective blades remain where they are, and he muses, “Hmm, you know, we could just kill each other here. A glorious lovers’ death.”

“Aemond,” you say, out of breath from the kiss, and let your knife clatter to the floor.

He does the same with his sword, and pushes you against the wall once more, using his whole body to keep you in place.

“Tell me what you came for, my love. The truth.”

“I…” you say, deciding to let everything go, “I came for you.”

That is all he needed. And, for you, it feels freeing to allow yourself to just want Aemond. To love him. Despite what’s he has done, and how wrong this may be.

Your Aemond.

You run your fingers down the side of his face, and he shuts his eye in ecstasy. Your fingers stop at his eyepatch, asking permission, and he nods once, immediately.

His sapphire eye never fails to take your breath away. If anything, it only made him look otherworldly. Ethereal.

“Beautiful,” you whisper, and his heart swells.

He takes your face in his hand, admiration raw in his expression. Then he lifts you, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Your lips battle each other, as he strides over to the bed. He gently lowers you, and your arms naturally reach for his neck, bringing him down with you.

He chuckles deeply, flattered by your eagerness, “Patience, my love.”

“I have been patient,” you respond, as he nips at your neck, “but now I just want to take.”

“Hmm,” he muses, “I’ve missed your fire.”

“I’ve missed my dragon.”

“And,” he says, softly, pausing to kiss you, “a dragon…” another kiss, “is nothing…”, and another, “without its fire.”

“Oh, Aemond.”

He presses his forehead to yours, “I am lost without you.”

He makes swift work of untying your dress, only pausing to leave kisses down your body, until you’re left in a sheer white shift. You sit up, helping him remove his tunic, admiring every ripple of muscle, every new scar, every stretch of his glowing skin. His hair had come loose, the signature Targaryen silver like an aura surrounding him.

When he’s undressed, he takes the final piece of clothing off of you, the white shift that leaves nothing to the imagination, and throws that to the floor with the rest.

You begin a sort of dance, one that you both know so well, repeated over many sleepless nights filled with passion.

He always starts with you, lowering himself down to your heat. You almost come undone every time you see him, lips close to your entrance, before he makes the first taste. His eye gleams up at you, and then he begins.

Tongue swirling at your entrance, while his thumb masterfully plays with your folds. He keeps at it for a long moment, before he takes a second to look you right in the eye while he brings his fingers to his lips.

“Mmm,” he breathes, then he lowers his lips to your wet cunt once more.

“Aemond,” your fist bunch up at the sheets, your back arches, your toes curl.

He makes you tremble, your breath hitching at intervals.

He feels you getting close, so he licks one last strip upward, “Not yet, my love.”

“Yes, my prince.”

“Hmm, say that again,” he gets up, positioning his knees on either side of your thighs.

“My Prince Aemond,” you say, “Mine.”

“Yours,” he purrs.

He takes your lips again, an action you will never grow tired of, his fingers gripping your hair. He kisses down your cheek, your jaw, then your neck. He sucks at the flesh, marking his territory, making you press your pelvis onto his, feeling the length of his hardened shaft.

“Hmm,” he shivers, “fuck.”

You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him to position himself, and he does.

His pushes his tip to your cunt. Torturously, but only just.

“Oh, for gods’ sake,” you moan, “come inside me, Aemond.”

He laughs, “As you wish, my love.”

He stretches you wide, pushing inch by inch, and you have to grow accustomed to his size once more.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan.

“Does it hurt badly, my love?” he is quick to ask, watching your face intently.

“It’s okay,” you grip the back of his neck, “keep going.”

With one deep grunt, he fills you completely, thrusting deep.

He moans, music to your ears, and whispers your name. He rolls his hips backward, then forward again, the motion more rough this time, moving your entire body upward.

“Aemond,” you whisper, “my Aemond.”

“My love,” he looks at you in wonder, sprawled beneath him, “it’s only been you. It will only ever be you.”

You pull his face down to yours, kissing him passionately. His hips resume movement. Slow, deep thrusts at first.

Then he turns wild. He ruts into you, quicker, more frantic, the smacking sounds of flesh and sweat, and unhinged animalistic moans echoing throughout the room.

He does a surprising move, his fingers first drifting around your neck, then applying pressure, and he looks like a vengeful, hot-blooded god above you. His face hovers just inches above yours, and his grip on your neck unexpectedly excites you, the danger of Aemond only serving to make things more erotic, and reckless. Your dark prince.

You dig your nails into his wrist, returning the pressure.

“You should have married me,” he breathes, “why didn’t you run away with me?”

“Aemond,” everything throbs, the fire in your abdomen reaching its climax, from his frenzied thrusts, to his hand on your neck, to his crazed expression.

“You’re mine. They can’t have you. No one else can.” His words are punctuated with hard thrust, after hard thrust.

Almost simultaneously, gloriously, you both come apart. Aemond spasms inside you, filling you with his seed. Your hips continue to jerk against him, as you writhe uncontrollably, riding down your high.

He places one more soft kiss upon your lips, then collapses beside you.

You close your eyes in satisfaction, letting the feeling wash over you.

You feel his fingertips on your neck, and you open your eyes, finding him lying on his side, studying you.

“Was that okay?" he asks, referring to his grip on your neck.

“Mhmm,” you reassure him, turning to your side as well.

He hums in return, before smirking, “I knew you couldn’t resist.”

You laugh at his forwardness, and he looks at you lovingly.

He leans forward to kiss you, “My heart has returned.”

You feel a pang of guilt at how you left him, all that time ago, even if it may have been the right thing to do. It will never be simple between you and Aemond.

“I missed you,” you say wholeheartedly.

“And what of your love?” he says, taking your hand.

“My Aemond,” you press your forehead to his, “It will never be gone.”

taglist: @dazecrea @ladystardvsts @afro-hispwriter @dudfahsn @poohkie90 @literishdegree99 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @lilostif16 @deeeeexx @nephitis @ladymoon666 @minicikasworld @livimulati @the-orions-belt @blueskies4everxo @stillinracooncity @julieeba @lawlerek @missusnora @wickedbutlovely @camspnt @umavvitch @claudie-080102 @abcdefghi-lmnopqrstuvwxyz @puredicks @crazylokonugget @lj127 @amethystwonders11 @icarusignite @mandyki @darylandbethfanforever9 @highexpectationsgurl @narwhal-swimmingintheocean

I've decided to save most of the sadness & regret for the next part, and yes, there will be a part 3. Our boy Aemond is still to be married after all. And he is still a "bloody monster" with majestic hair.

I hope I've tagged all those who asked - I'll keep yous tagged for any upcoming Aemond fic as well.

Taglist open - just comment.

PS. Alys Rivers is apparently Aemond's lover in the books, and I fear the feral jealous monster I will become if they decide to show that old hag in the upcoming seasons of HOTD. Sorry, not sorry.

#house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfic

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ma1dita · 3 months

Text

crazy little thing

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

words: 3.4k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he spends all his drachmas to make you smile. Sometimes, the Apollo kids are better matchmakers than Aphrodite herself. Everyone’s tired of you two dancing around each other. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: lil valentines day special though im working on more est. relationship fluff after this!! happy season 2 renewal babies

(posted 2/9/24 unbetaed)

—

“Come on, you gotta admit—it’s kinda funny!”

Luke is met with blank stares at the camp store after he places a few drachmas onto the folding table in front of the Apollo kids. They’re not sure if he’s trying to convince them, or himself.

Because yeah, that’s the excuse he goes for, wanting to spend his savings on having them sing to a certain head counselor instead of admitting his blatantly obvious feelings, so if you ask Lee Fletcher and his half-siblings, it’s kind of pathetic.

“What do we look like, a traveling mariachi band, Castellan?” he deadpans, watching the usually confident boy scratch the back of his neck with his face red like someone who’s been sitting out in the sun for too long.

“I’m not saying to follow her around all day or whatever, just pick a random time to sing a song and catch her off-guard,” he insists, before meeting the judgmental look of one of Lee’s younger siblings.

Lee chuckles, ruffling his sister’s hair before looking at Luke quite seriously, “She’s a good friend. You’re gonna have to pay us more than that. Special song for a special lady after all.”

The son of Hermes knows he’s gonna regret this sooner or later, but proceeds to throw the rest of his meager earnings onto the table. He has other ways of being resourceful anyway, the box of chocolates he nicked from behind the store counter feeling heavy in his jacket pocket.

“Right…she’s just a friend.”

Luke’s hands fidget at his sides as he stands there, feeling a little stupid.

Lee’s little sister scoops up the coins from the table, her raised eyebrows and light aura mirroring that of her older brother.

“What song were you thinking?” she asks, “Gotta make sure I know it if I’m singing it to your…friend.”

The 18-year-old boy tugs at his dark curls, getting more embarrassed and wanting to retreat with every minute that passes, but he’s never been one to back down from anything–swordfights, monsters, capture the flag, but this—trying to impress you...is a whole different story somehow.

Why are feelings so damn complicated?

It feels like being at the butt of a joke, or more accurately—at the sharp edge of a sword, and Luke never lets his fights end in a draw.

“You guys got it covered. Just…surprise me too, I guess,” he sighs, walking off without finishing his sentence. He wishes he could pray a little harder to his dad for luck, even if he’s unsure of what exactly he’s wishing for (or if his dad will even listen).

“Castellan’s hopeless. You think he knows it yet?” the girl asks her brother, to which Lee laughs.

“I don’t think she does either, even though everyone else can see right through them. The new bets are on who’s gonna break first. Chiron’s been keeping track, but don’t tell Mr. D.”

If Luke wants a show, they’ll make sure he’ll get his money’s worth—and hopefully, it’ll push you two along faster. Lee bet on you two getting together before the summer after all, and he’ll be damned if he loses to Clarisse.

—

Valentine’s Day might be the day of love, but for you, someone who’s single (not by choice), and heavily busy with making sure people aren’t so…enamored in public (you’ve lost count of the reports you’ve written out due to indecent behavior this morning alone)---this just feels like another Wednesday, except with more hormonal teenagers with uncontrollable urges than usual.

Oh, the joys of being the daughter of the camp director, also known as everyone’s favorite narc.

Honestly, love can suck it. With this much love in the air, you can feel it suffocating you like a plastic bag over your head.

That’s an uncontrollable urge. Too much?

Maybe Silena was right, you do need to open yourself up more to romantic opportunities. But if you have to watch another person swap spit and get pawed at like they’re the last dinner roll at the table….You might commit arson and set this place ablaze.

You just didn’t understand why people had to go all out today of all days. Shouldn’t love be shown year-round? Though you were a person of theatrics and enjoy a good show, it is amazing how much grandiose displays of affection make you cringe. It felt very performative, instead of genuine, and you would know, you’re the best actress at camp. You’ve acted out stories before, knowing all of the greatest romances and tragedies by heart. And you pride yourself on being a decent teacher to the campers, but for some of them, love still translates to a bad rendition of a ballad they heard on the radio.

Nothing gets past you at this point.

But that sucks too sometimes, you know?

Multiple failed flings and a heartbreak or two weigh down on you on days like this one, as you’re stuck being a bystander to outlandish displays put on by the Aphrodite kids being put to work. Love is their domain anyway, and yours…makes you feel a little less undesirable. Each demigod has their own strengths and weaknesses, but perhaps in the name of love, some of them don’t know how to take a hint. Several forgettable prose readings, a Sparknotes version of Eros and Psyche, and too many red roses to count have you reeling from exhaustion and a bit of disgust—-and it’s only lunchtime.

So yeah, maybe you’re a little jealous; they could call you Nemesis at this point.

The only flowers you got today were from the little kids from along the path to the strawberry orchard, and though it’s sweet—the human side of you misses affection.

Devotion.

To be a daughter of Dionysus meant to deal in extremes, obsession or nothing, and there are very few people who can handle that. Always being too much to handle, or uninterested as a defense mechanism. Perhaps that’s what scares admirers away.

That, or the fact that Luke Castellan is always attached to your hip. To be honest, you’ve always preferred it that way—the both of you working as a pair always gets things done faster around camp and he brightens your mood, whether you admit it or not.

But you two are just friends.

Really good friends who look for each other in crowded rooms, hands constantly brushing against the other for comfort, and able to pick up where the other one leaves off. Usually he’s the first person you see in the morning, and the last person you say goodnight to. You know how he likes his coffee and he cuts your apples for you as you two sit together in your unassigned seats in the dining pavilion. You watch each other’s workshops and if one of you is missing, everyone knows to ask the other to get an answer.

Right? That’s totally normal coworker/friend behavior.

If you were ever given immortality, perhaps they’d make you the goddess of denial.

You’re sweeping up confetti from the dining hall floor after an uncoordinated excuse of a flash mob was performed for one of the Demeter kids…and not to sound like a heinous bitch, but maybe next time they should use something biodegradable…or less messy. Sighing deeply, you feel someone’s eyes on you, and when you look up, Luke’s standing there with two full plates of food.

“Take a break, trouble. No one’s paying you overtime,” he jokes, and you roll your eyes as you put the broom aside.

“No one’s paying me at all…” you groan, before taking the plate out of his hands and knocking your head against his shoulder in thanks. He snickers as his hand brushes the small of your back, tickling your spine as he leads you to sit at a table.

“Just another holiday. You know how it is.”

“It’d be nice to have a night off though. Sometimes I regret taking up the position,” you mumble through spoonfuls of soup. He throws his large hand over your shoulder, kneading some tension from your trapezius. Head jerking along with the movements, you giggle as soup dribbles off your spoon, which makes his lips quirk into a small smile. Being around you felt so thoughtless and easy that if you told him to jump off a bridge he’d do it without question, which should be more concerning—the hold you have on him is irrevocable. Feelings are way too difficult for his teenage brain to comprehend at this stage. It’s easier to wash dishes with lava or fight off a dragon (bad example, he knows, but there’s something about you that already makes him feel like he’s losing before anything’s even happened).

Luke is someone who fights until the end, a soldier who’s always trained and so ready that sometimes it makes you wonder what war he’s preparing for. Infatuation, or the scarier, four-letter word was not something he was ever briefed on.

“No, you don’t. You’re a control freak,” he says with a grin.

Luke watches you play with the pendant on your necklace, the dragon scale he fashioned into your favorite accessory glinting in your hand. Running your fingers back and forth over the smooth surface, your other hand puts the spoon down and you place your head on his shoulder. He thinks if he had to describe the four-letter word on the tip of his tongue, he’d tell whoever’s asking about the way you kissed his healing cheek after you both left the Garden of Hesperides. More than a year later, Luke is still unable to find the right words even if the weakness has made a home in his heart with your name written all over it.

“I swear if I have to hear another person croak out a lovesong I might just drown myself in the Long Island Sound,” you scoff as his fingers trace circles onto your waist.

There’s a low strum of a guitar that reaches your ears and your forehead meets the cool surface of the table as you shut your eyes and grumble. It’s Lee and his half-siblings, beginning to walk through the hall seconds away from singing until they see Luke shaking his head and dragging his finger across his throat to please, gods, stop. The Apollo kids swivel and 180, walking out of the hall as the music stops dissonantly, rolling their eyes and dragging their feet.

“That was quick,” you say inquisitively as your head pops up from the table to see Luke looking off in the distance.

“Heh…I think they were just practicing or something…”

He then had to run off and pay them more drachmas for the inconvenience.

Fucking hustlers.

—

The sun sets quickly on Camp Half-Blood since it’s mid-February, and Luke finds you trying to calm your nerves as you look at the mess of glitter and paper mache that covers the arts and crafts hall from floor to ceiling.

“I can’t believe this!” you say in disbelief as you look at Luke, and he takes the can of Redbull out of your shaking hand.

“There’s just no fucking way everyone decided to use glitter. It’s everywhere! I’m—CONNOR, PUT THE SCISSORS DOWN!”

Luke sighs as he holds his hand out for his younger brother to give up the craft scissors, which he relinquishes with a mischievous grin.

“Guys, go find trouble somewhere else,” Luke mutters, pushing his head away, and where Connor goes, Travis quickly follows, tossing a canister of glitter back at him and not knowing it was still open.

“Oops.”

Immediately, the both of you are showered in iridescent particles, floating over your heads and stuck in your hair as the older Stoll brother looks at the two of you wide-eyed.

“You've already got trouble anyway,” he says teasingly, and this asshole winks at Luke before bolting out the door.

The room is silent now, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, before speaking, “I don’t care if he’s your brother, Luke. I might just fucking kill him.” You'd say more but your eyes are shut as you try not to breathe in glitter, and then the sound of the doorknob rattling catches your attention. Luke is standing there, finally faced with a door he can’t open, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance–but the effect isn’t as menacing as it should be when he’s covered in red and pink sparkles.

“Not if I get to him first, the little bastard.”

“Just open the door,” you say panicked, running over and forcing his hands off the doorknob.

“I can’t if you won’t let me do it!” He grits, elbowing you and trying to unlock the door with both his inherited gift and brute strength.

“What kind of demigod even are you? Lockpicking is supposed to be your thing!”

“Well OBVIOUSLY, but it’s not working, now is it, trouble?”

Luke finishes off the rest of your energy drink before throwing the can over his shoulder and he swears he can hear you cuss at him under your breath as you berate him about the mess, so he chooses to focus on busting the door down instead of looking at the glitter stuck in your eyelashes and thinking about how the idea of being stuck in a room with you makes him feel weak at the knees. Through the window, his eyes meet the group of Apollo kids staring at the predicament you two are in (and the barricade of chairs the Stoll brothers put in front of the door). He sighs, and Lee’s little sister flips him off as they start to walk away again, instruments in tow.

“You gonna charge him again?”

A tiny Will Solace looks at his elders for guidance as they walk along the path. As one of the youngest in the bunch, he especially idolizes anything his half-siblings do, going along with whatever they see fit.

“No, but we’re close enough to the archery range that I might just shoot them through their hearts myself. Eros and Aphrodite themselves are pretty much begging us to,” Lee grumbles.

“Why are we doing this again?” Will babbles, and his half-sister grabs his hand to help him walk faster.

“A crazy little thing called love. You’ll understand it better someday, kid.”

—

Thankfully, it all starts winding down after dinner. Luke finds you leaning against a tree flipping through your clipboard during the camp sing-along, so he tugs at your elbow to get your attention.

“Wanna get out of here?”

You look at him, slotting your pen behind your ear as you notice faint glitter particles still dotted along his cheeks. As your lips pull into a small smile, you say, "I still have a few things to do after this, don't you?"

"Cleared your schedule for the night," he mumbles, and whether it's the glow of the bonfire or he's actually blushing, a teasing expression crosses your face as you step closer and cross your arms at him.

"You cleared my schedule for the night. How on earth did you do that?"

Instead of a proper reply, he grabs your hand, tugging you out to the docks near the lake.

"Don't worry about it."

He's not going to tell you that he owes Chris and Annie a few favors before the end of the month to make up for the night shift they ended up taking. Instead, you both sit cross-legged at the edge of the dock, a gentle breeze brushing at your clothes and for the first time today, you're able to just exist.

"I hate Valentine's Day," you suddenly say, looking up at the night sky, and he's watching you closely as the gentle shine of the moon casts a cool glow on your face. Luke cringes at your statement, thinking he's already thrown away his shot.

"Why's that?"

"Tell me something Luke, am I unlikable? Like, is there anything wrong with me?"

He looks at you like you've told him you’re secretly a cyclops.

“The fuck? How many times do I have to tell you that everyone thinks you’re great?"

You don't even give him a chance to finish his sentence before you blurt, "I don’t want to be great, I want to be loved!" Reeling back a little, you lean back on your hands to create some distance.

“Sorry... that was a lot, and I’m just...wanting to be noticed. It's nice to have people's attention sometimes, you know?”

You’ve got all of mine, he thinks, realizing he never stood a chance at fighting it—this four-letter feeling you give him is the first and only battle he’ll back down from, and you're the only person he’ll wholeheartedly surrender to.

In short, he’s fucked.

"I always notice you." He pulls out a dented box of chocolates from his jacket pocket, opening it up for the both of you to share, and the look of amusement on your face makes him glad that at least one thing somewhat went to plan today, even if the chocolate truffles are a bit smushed. You’re popping one into your mouth and his dark eyes follow the trail of your fingers to your mouth, feeling his heart beat a bit faster.

But then you both hear the soft strum of a guitar from near the trees, and the two of you turn to hear some of the Apollo kids singing beautifully along the coastline.

I'll be seeing you, in all the old, familiar places...That this heart of mine embraces...

You gasp, grabbing Luke’s arm to push yourself up so that the both of you can turn and face a small group of your closest Apollo friends singing to the both of you. Luke’s eyes soften further when he feels you grab his hand and squeeze, leaning against his shoulder as you listen.

“Did you do this?” you mumble, still entranced by the performance.

“Only if it makes you laugh.”

And you do, in the way that he loves—a bit crazy and too loud, and it’s perfect.

I’ll always think of you that way…I’ll find you in the morning sun….

Whether it’s fireflies or Will bouncing light off the water to look like small, glowing candles, Luke can’t tell—he’s too busy watching your lips pull into a smile so confectionery his sweet tooth starts to ache. The little kid was never good at archery like his other half-siblings, but as your eyes shimmer under the ambient lights, you think his added romantic gesture shot you straight through the heart.

“You know, sometimes I really do hate you, Luke Castellan,” you whisper, and it couldn’t be more far from the truth.

“No, you don’t.”

His eyes flicker to you again, but you’re already looking back at him.

“I don’t.”

And when the night is new, I’ll be looking at the moon…but I’ll be seeing you…

It’s quiet now, and you’re unsure of where the Apollonian ensemble disappeared to but instead of worrying about if they’ll make it back before curfew, you stand there in front of Luke with your guard down.

Getting a little closer than he expected, your noses brush before you pull the slightly crushed wildflowers from your jean pocket, the only physical reminder you’ve kept from today, and tuck them into his jacket pocket, sitting right above his heart.

“Thank you.”

Luke doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until he feels your lips gently kiss the marred skin on his right cheek, the blemish having an uncanny resemblance to a stroke of lightning; it serves as a reminder of his weakness. The lines blur as his eyes close to savor it and he doesn’t know if weakness is your kisses or his scar—but he is vulnerable to it all the same, realizing there’s a crack in the otherwise perfect persona that he’s worked so hard on. When his eyes open again, his Achilles’ heel has taken human form.

—

“This has got to be cheating,” Clarisse grumbles as she watches from the distance, hidden behind the trees.

“It’s not cheating if I’m winning. Silena’s gonna get a kick out of this,” Lee chuckles, ushering everyone back towards the cabins. It’s a bit harder to do this in the dark as they try to be quiet and not interrupt whatever will happen next between their favorite counselors.

“Well lucky for you, your gifts are cute and romantic, what am I supposed to do? They fight enough!”

“That’s what got them into this mess in the first place. Come on, curfew’s in 10. We’ll find out which of us wins the bet soon enough,” Chris mutters, pushing them along back onto the main path.

“Easy for you to say, Rodriguez, you live with Luke!”

“Would I ever lie to you, La Rue?” he says with a mischievous grin, and the Apollo kids giggle at the irony.

—

“My body ages,

my anger burns into a seam.

I am so annoyed by love

and still it comes.”

-Kate Baer

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

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bratzforchris · 7 months

Text

Billionaire Baby

❃

Summary: In which Luke pays off your tuition in full and only asks for one thing in return

Pairing: Sugar daddy and investment banker!Luke x sub!reader

Warnings: Smut, dom/sub dynamics, nonsexual submission, overstimulation, jacuzzi fucking, doggy style, mentions of free use, unprotected p in v, fingering, underage drinking given to reader by Luke, sugar daddy mentions, student (university/18+) x older male relationship, bondage, Luke has an obedience kink, overall really fucking filthy and a bit fluffy ;)

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: Luke leans more towards boyfriend instead of sugar daddy than I originally planned, but I still adore this work anyway. I put my heart and soul into this piece, so reblogs are much appreciated :)!

DNI under 18

❃

“What the fuck…” You mumbled, scrolling through your email.

You were sitting in the library, trying to study for your upcoming biochem exam, but failing a bit. You were getting distracted by everything, hence why you were scrolling through your email on your laptop instead of studying. The email was from two hours ago and it was asking you to come to the dean’s office today at three for a meeting.

You began to panic a bit, wondering why on earth the dean wanted to have a meeting with you. You had never, ever been in trouble academically or ever, for that matter. You were a bit behind on your loan payments, but not so much they were rescinding your admission, right? You cursed when you realized that it was currently two-thirty, and the dean’s office was on the other side of campus.

Quickly shoving your laptop, books, and stationery into your bookbag, you hurried out of the library that you loved oh-so-dearly. Going to Columbia University had been your dream since second grade, and that day that you saw the main library on your tour in tenth grade just confirmed that this was the school for you.

You slowed your pace a bit when you got closer to the building, taking a moment to soak in the crisp, fall air and the splotches of autumn that decorated the New York City sidewalks. You pulled your cardigan tighter around yourself and hurried up the steps of the School of Professional Studies.

“Hi,” You whispered quietly to the lady at the front desk as you signed in.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said, eyeing you up and down. “You’re a very lucky girl.” she winked.

You furrowed your brow, wanting to ask what she meant, but not wanting to be rude. You eventually just shook your head and sat down in the lobby while you waited to be called back. This was a huge school, full of children of the rich and famous. She must’ve had you confused with someone else.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” the dean asked, walking out into the lobby. “Follow me.”

You quickly picked up your backpack and followed him, deep into the building where his office was sat. You struggled a bit to keep up with his long strides, being a bit out of breath when you finally reached his office.

“Take a seat,” he said not unkindly, opening the door for you. “This will be quick.”

You took a tentative seat on one of the down chairs on the opposite side of the desk, trying to control your breathing. You were afraid your features would show your fear, so you tried to keep your face even.

“Ms. Y/L/N, you are extremely lucky…” he started. “Your tuition has been paid in full by an anonymous donor, to include everything you will need to complete your undergraduate degree.” he smiled.

“I’m sorry, what?” You asked, trying to stay polite, but also wanting to know what the fuck was going on.

“Someone has paid your tuition in full. Do you have any idea who it could be?”

“I…no…” You said, hoping the blush wouldn’t creep onto your cheeks.

You knew exactly who it was. There was only one person in your life that had that much money. Ivy League schooling wasn’t cheap, after all. You wouldn’t tell the dean who it was, though. That wouldn’t be good for a number of reasons.

“Enjoy your time here at Columbia, Y/N. You’re free to go.” the dean smiled, nodding towards the door.

You stood on shaky legs and walked out of the room, trying to process what you had just heard. No more student loan payments, no more living paycheck-to-paycheck, no more working at your shitty fast food job until 2 am. You pulled your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans and typed out a message as you walked out of the building and stood on the steps.

You: was it you???

Luke: Was what me, darling?

You: you know exactly what i’m talking about

You sighed, deciding to walk the half a block to your favorite cafe while you waited for Luke’s response. Your relationship with the blond was complicated. He wasn’t quite your sugar daddy, but he also wasn’t fully your boyfriend. It was never meant to spiral into a relationship, but Luke made you want more. Being a Columbia graduate himself, you had met him at a philanthropy event last spring. You had shared drinks and dancing, before he took you back to his large penthouse for a hook-up.

Ever since then, Luke had made it clear that he enjoyed your company. He spoiled you beyond belief, both with material things and with a very active sex life. Being a Wall Street investment banker had given him the attitude that he would take what he wanted, and you were no exception. As much as you were an independent woman in your studies, having Luke in your life took some of the stress away. Going over to his place after a long day of classes, only to receive a mountain of physical affection and usually a gift or two, was just what you needed.

Just as you finished ordering your chai latte, your phone pinged with a new message. You sat down at a cozy table in the corner and pulled out your laptop while you waited for your coffee, looking over the text.

Luke: Come over. You’re done with classes for today, right?

Luke: I’ll order dinner.

You smiled, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen loose from your braid behind your ear. You quickly typed out a message, thumbs flying across the screen. Even as frustrated as you were at the possibility of Luke paying off all of your tuition, you couldn’t help the way your heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing him.

You: getting coffee, then i will<3

You smiled when Luke typed back three red hearts. He was never one for emojis, mostly because of how professional he was. Every now and then though, you were the lucky one to see that softer, less-professional side of him. As soon as your coffee was placed in your hand, you dashed out the cafe door, walking towards the nearest subway station to catch the train to Luke’s apartment at the southern end of Central Park.

Your heart was absolutely racing as you got closer and closer to the blond. Luke was unlike anyone you had ever met. He had an almost electric pull on you. Luke bore a striking resemblance to a prince, or maybe a king. The way he commanded his office and then carried that dominance home to you was probably the hottest thing you had ever experienced in your twenty years of life.

As soon as the subway pulled up to your stop, you were leaping off the train and up the stairs to the sidewalk. As soon as you got out of the tunnel, you couldn’t help but to crane your neck. No matter how many times you came to Luke’s apartment, you couldn’t help but to be in utter awe when you came upon Billionaire’s Row. The sky-high buildings made of glass and steel were highlighted so beautifully by the rest of the city lights.

You hurried your pace a bit, eager to see Luke inside of one of those penthouse suites. Eventually, you came upon the building that you knew all too well. Walking inside the lobby, the man at the front desk smiled at you, his name tag reading Randy.

“He’s home,” he smiled. “Right over here.”

“Thanks,” You smiled. “I don’t mind taking the regular elevator, y’know.”

“Oh, please. Take this one.” he unlocked the private elevator that would take you directly to Luke’s apartment.

“Thank you,” You smiled as the doors began to close when you stepped in. “I’ll see you later?”

“If you leave tonight.” Randy chuckled.

As soon as you were on your way up, your heart began to flutter faster. You hadn’t seen Luke in a few days because the stock market had been picking up and so had your classes, which made you so beyond eager to be around him once again. The elevator dinged and the doors to Luke’s apartment opened.

You stepped out onto the plushy, white carpet, looking around for the blond. “Luke?”

“Hey baby,” he hummed, coming out of the kitchen and wrapping you in a hug. “Miss me?”

You giggled when he buried his face in your neck, his stubble scratching your neck. “I did.” You said sweetly.

As soon as Luke pulled back, you looked up into his deep blue eyes before speaking again. “Luke, were you the ‘anonymous donor’ that paid my tuition?”

“I was. What? I can’t spoil my girl?” he led you into the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his white button-down.

“Luke,” You insisted. “I never said that, but that’s hundreds of thousands of dollars. You don’t need to do that.”

“Watch your mouth, princess.” Luke gave you a stern look as he poured you a glass of Merlot.

You blushed, shrinking under his gaze. Even when it wasn’t sexual, Luke had a dominant aire about him. Maybe it was because he worked in such a high power industry, or maybe it was just the way he was, but the blond made you want to submit to him, clinging onto his every word.

“I just want to make sure we’re, y’know, equal. I want to make sure you feel loved, too.”

Luke slid the wine glass across the island to you, where you had taken a seat at the bar. “I don’t need that.”

You snorted. “Contrary to popular belief, you like feeling loved too.” You craned your neck and placed a kiss on his cheek.

Luke rolled his eyes, walking around the island and wrapping his arms around your midsection. “So you wanna know how you can make me feel appreciated?”

“If you wanna call it that, sure.” You shrugged.

“You can be my little toy for the next week. You’re free use for me,” he smirked, growling softly in your ear. “You think that’s equal?”

You nodded quickly, knowing Luke was going to take free advantage of the week, but not caring. “I think so.” You giggled.

“You know I love you, right?” Luke asked. “I don’t want you worrying about your tuition anymore. It’s done, it’s taken care of. You’re going to relax and let me make you feel good, darling.” he hummed, massaging your shoulders.

You blushed under the subtle dominance of Luke’s words, relaxing into his touch. You nudged your head into Luke’s chest and he chuckled softly, knowing exactly what you wanted.

“You’re so cute when you need me, baby girl.” he picked you, holding you under the ass and abandoning your wine glass on the counter so he could carry you to his large master bedroom.

You laid your head on his shoulder, speaking out a soft ‘I love you’. It had been a long day between classes and the stress of the news you’d received and now you just needed Luke to take care of you so you could relax for a little while.

Luke placed you down on his soft, silken sheets when you reached his bedroom, humming softly. “On your knees, honey.”

You did as he asked, kneeling softly and looking up at your dom with soft doe eyes. You were practically reeling with relaxation and happiness over Luke’s validation. You watched him softly while he bustled around the room, taking off his watch and getting things ready for the night.

“Good girl, baby,” Luke praised you. “You’re doing perfect, honey.”

“Thank you.” You said sweetly, knowing Luke enjoyed it when you responded verbally.

“Go wait in the bathroom for me, honey. I’ll be there soon.” Luke told you, looking at you sternly but speaking softly.

You scampered off to Luke’s luxurious bathroom, wondering what he had in mind. Usually, he would dom you in bed. You wasted no time on kneeling on the bath mat beside the jacuzzi tub, still fully clothed. If there was one thing you loved to do, it was be Luke’s sub. Something about letting someone else take the reins and guide you, sexually or not, helped you relieve your stress from attending such a demanding university.

Luke didn’t make you wait long. He came into the bathroom and saw you kneeling, giving you immediate praise. “Look at you, honey. Waiting like a good girl.” he cooed, flashing that million-dollar smile that had been on the cover of Forbes magazine last month.

You blushed, giggling softly. You could feel yourself slipping into subspace, that floaty feeling taking over your head as Luke fussed over you and took care of you. You leaned into his touch as he ran a hand through your hair, before moving to start the bath water.

“Nothing like a nice bath to help you relax, right love?” he smirked. “Arms up.”

You did as the blond asked and Luke pulled off your sweater. He left your glasses on, but reached for the button on your jeans. Luke slowly helped you stand up and then pulled your pants and your panties off, trailing little kisses from your collarbone down to your pubic bone. You could feel the way your body had completely relaxed into your subspace, molding like jelly at whatever Luke told you to do.

The blond fiddled with the settings on the tub, turning on the jets and adding the red lights, which were his absolute favorite. Luke put your favorite, rose-scented bath bomb into the tub before speaking. “Get in the bath, honey.”

You stepped into the large jacuzzi tub, holding Luke’s hand and sinking into the warm, fizzy water. “Thank you.”

Luke smirked, enjoying the way your face was tulip-pink at all the attention being showered on you by him. He wasn’t going to push you today; he had seen the stress lines that had burrowed their way deep onto your face. Besides, you two still needed to have the tuition conversation and he didn’t want you to be totally fucked out for that. Just enough to help you relax.

“I think you need some entertainment while you’re in the bath, hmm? Wouldn’t want you getting distracted…” he smirked, running his ring-clad pointer finger under your chin.

You immediately rested your chin on the ledge of the large tub, watching Luke with expectant eyes. He pulled back for a moment, just enough to make sure you were fully paying attention, but not enough to make you panic. Luke began to undo the buttons of his white shirt, smirking at you as he teased you so fucking slowly, ringed fingers pulsing as he worked.

Letting out a few soft, sensual moans didn’t seem to phase the blond. He simply continued to slowly undress, making sure you were watching the whole time. He wasn’t not not acknowledging you, but he also wasn’t giving you the attention you were oh-so-craving. Finally, Luke came to his gray, Calvin Klein boxers. He slid them off slowly, smirking at you as he did so.

“Mmmm, want you to dom me, Luke. Please. It’s so big.” You whined.

“Ahh ahh, we don’t whine, honey. I think you forgot to ask nicely, hmm?” Luke stood towering over you, completely naked, but in all his godlike authority.

Even in your fuzzy subspace, you could see why all of Luke’s female assistants fawned over him. He looked like something sent straight from Mount Olympus with his blond curls, perfect nose, and regal body type. He had a commanding aura about him, no matter what he was doing, and despite his multiple (yes, multiple) PhDs from different Ivy League universities, it was easy to understand how he did so well in the New York Stock Exchange.

“Sorry sir,” You whispered out. “Can you please dom me?” You asked in a sultry tone.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Luke planted a kiss on your head as he stepped into the tub with you. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

You giggled and blushed, still kneeling even in the bath. You kept your eyes trained on Luke, which proved a difficult task from here. Luke’s master bathroom was made up of crystal clear glass windows that allowed for a view of practically the whole city since he lived on the 69th floor. With the sun starting to fade into a hazy dusk and the lights of the skyscrapers popping on one-by-one, it was hard not to get distracted, but you wanted Luke’s pleasure much more than you wanted to enjoy the view.

You and Luke sat face-to-face, and he watched your eyes intently, wondering what joys he would unlock tonight. He began to rub your thigh up and down with his hand under the soapy water, keeping his eyes trained on you.

“Relax, pretty girl,” he whispered. “Just let me take care of you.”

You began to relax under Luke’s touch and gaze, that is, until he began to sneak his fingers closer and closer to your opening. You unconsciously clenched your thighs around Luke’s hand, your nerves sensitive. You began to whimper, wiggling your hips closer to meet his fingers.

“Oh god.” You whined.

Luke smirked, running his fingers along your wet slit and trailing it over your clit. He smirked as he did so, scooting closer to you. “I want you to cum all over my fingers, princess. Get all that stressed properly fucked out.”

You moaned, thrusting your hips against Luke’s pulsating fingers. The blond began to make small, raindrop-like pulses on your electric spot, enjoying the view as you squirmed under him, practically riding his fingers.

“Good girl, honey. Takin’ it like the slutty little school girl that you are.” he coached you.

Your climax was beginning to build up, and you couldn’t help the moans and whimpers that escaped from your mouth as Luke finger-fucked you. As he tapped near your clit, he used three fingers on the other hand to slowly slide them in and out of your pussy.

“That’s it, baby. That feel good? Yeah?” he smiled, knowing you were entirely too close to say anything other than small ‘yes’’s and ‘uh huh’’s.

You were nearly crying as you tried to hold yourself back from clenching and cumming all over Luke’s fingers until he told you to do so. Your sex was absolutely throbbing with the way Luke was touching you, and the warm water from the tub was not making it any easier.

“Luke,” You nearly screamed out. “Making me need to cum.”

The blond gave one last time of really working up your rhythm, before kissing your chest. “Go ahead and cum for me, baby. Cum all over my fingers.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You quickly released, and your walls began to clench around Luke’s fingers, coating them in your cum. The blond coached you through your climax, offering lots of praise and compliments.

“You are so pretty when you cum, princess,” he cooed when you had finished, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Takin’ my fingers like a good girl.”

You blushed under Luke’s words, leaning your head against his shoulder when he pulled you into his bare chest, hand running up and down your side. Luke had an almost intoxicating way of making your orgasms one of the most exhausting, but best, things you did.

“I think you need one more for good measure. Make sure all that stress is properly fucked out, yeah?” he asked you.

You quickly nodded, never saying no to Luke pleasuring you. The blond ran his fingers through your hair and down your face and upper body, making sure to keep you fully relaxed in subspace. Because you were essentially sitting on his lap, you could feel Luke’s cock hardening under you and you couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks.

“Turn around on your knees, honey,” Luke coached, moving you off his lap. “Right over the jet.”

Doing as Luke asked, you had to bite your lip at the sensation of the rushing water tingling your clit. “Oh.” You moaned.

The blue-eyed man chuckled, caressing your upper back. “Feels so good, doesn’t it, princess?” he whispered in your ear.

You nodded, gripping the edge of the tub to keep yourself steady. Luke grabbed his white button-down that he had oh-so-conveniently placed on the tub ledge. He quickly used it to wrap your hands around the faucet.

“I want to make sure you enjoy this in the right way.”

You moaned at Luke’s erotic words, angling your hips back so that your ass would meet Luke’s boner. He pulled you back by the hips slowly, offering you lots of praise as your body melted like butter in his hands, allowing him to touch where and however. The blond told you to stay on your knees and lean forward into your bond, angling your back, and you whined as you felt the pressure placed on your already sensitive pussy, even without Luke’s dick.

Luke was practically a sex expert, and he knew your anatomy almost better than you did. That being said, he knew he needed to take you from behind in order to hit your G-spot. Your second orgasm was always faster than the first, and he wanted to make sure that he would get the pleasure of you cumming not only on his fingers, but on his dick as well.

He slowly straddled you from behind, his hips pushing into your ass, before inserting only his tip into you. The pleasure on the blond’s face was evident as he heard you release tiny moans and pants, already nearly overstimulated, just from an inch of him inside you.

“Someone’s eager,” he chuckled. “Did studying all day wear you out? Made you nice and needy for my dick, baby?”

You moaned, nodding your head and straddling against your restraints. “Yes…” You breathed out. “Yes sir.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Good girl.” Luke slid more of his dick inside of you, painstakingly teasing you.

You pushed your ass further against him, trying to take as much of him into you as possible. Luke was a big fan of doggy style and you had gone through this many times before; Luke didn’t give in to what you wanted right away, but nevertheless, you always tried. You tried desperately to distract yourself by looking out at the scenic cityspace in front of you, but the view was no match for the magic that was Luke.

“You are so fucking hot when you listen to me, Y/N,” Luke growled, tugging on the ends of your hair slightly. “Obeying just the way you’re supposed to like a good sugar baby.”

You moaned, craning your neck back and arching your back as the jets overstimulated your clit and electric spot and Luke’s dick teased your hole. “Uh huh…oh god, Luke.” You whined.

Finally, after what felt like forever to you, Luke slammed all eight inches of himself inside of you, bucking his hips so that you could feel his shaft pulsating. He began to ride you at an almost frenzy rhythm, slamming his hips into yours so that the sound of skin hitting skin and jacuzzi water splashing echoed around the room. The blond knew that if people in other high-rises looked hard enough, they could see him riding you doggy-style within an inch of your life. He didn’t care, though. You wanted to act like a good sub that was practically begging with your eyes for a slutty fuck, that’s what you would get. Besides, billionaires were too scandalous themselves to speak about their colleagues’ sex lives.

“Luke,” You nearly sobbed out, overstimulated by the jets rocking your clit and Luke railing you from behind. “Need to cum.”

Your second orgasm was always faster than your first and you could feel the tight ball building up in your lower stomach, begging to be released. The overstimulation from pressure on your clit and penetration from Luke was having tears running down your cheeks. Luke wasn’t letting up though. He wanted you to be so worn out that you could just relax and let him take care of you.

“You can cum, honey,” he hummed, fucking into you one last time before slapping your ass. “Cum all over my dick.”

You immediately did as told, crying out and straining against your bond as you released your climax. “Uh uh…feels so good.” You panted out, walls clenching around his cock.

Luke rubbed your back as you did so, gently guiding you through it. “That’s it. Good girl. Cumming all over my dick.”

You moaned loudly, thoroughly exhausted. “Thank you.”

“Ah ah,” he tutted. “You’re not done yet, baby girl,” Luke slowly untied the shirt that had bonded you. “Turn around.” he huffed coldly.

You did as he asked, looking up at him through your lashes. He had a smirk on his face, body radiating dominance and power as he lifted your heads above your head and tied them once again to the faucet with the shirt, only this time, you were facing him.

“You really thought you were gonna be done without me getting my pleasure off you?” the blond asked.

You blushed under his gaze, unconsciously bucking your hips to meet his. “Use me. I love you, so use me.” You panted.

“Think you need a nice facial to help you relax, hmm sweetie?”

You nodded quickly, knowing what Luke was getting at. “Please.” You said, eyeing his massively-hard boner.

Luke began to pump himself with his right hand, rings still on. It was probably the hottest thing you’d ever seen, with his head thrown back, blond curls wet and plastered to his forehead, and his muscles bulging as he worked himself. You wiggled in the grasp of his white shirt, moaning loudly. You were beginning to get cold in the water without his body on you and you were making it very clear that you wanted him again.

“Gonna cum, baby.” he huffed out.

“Do it. Cum all over me, sir.” You whined in a sultry voice.

Luke didn’t need to be told twice. He immediately came all over your face, coating your eyes and cheeks in white ropes of cum.

“God, baby. So pretty.” he said, watching you blink the cum out of your eyelashes as he rode out his high.

You blushed. “It’s because of you.”

Luke reached for a washcloth in the fine basket beside the large tub and dipped it into the water, slowly wiping your face off with the warm, wet rag. “I love seeing you when you know you belong to me, princess.” he crooned.

You giggled softly, loving the floaty feeling that was coming from being in your subspace. “Thank you.”

The blue-eyed man continued to wash you off with the cloth, removing the stickiness from your face and body. Luke looked over and realized he had left a crystal champagne flute by the tub the night before.

“Do you need your hair washed, princess?” he asked.

You immediately nodded, absolutely loving it when Luke washed your hair. “Please.”

Luke smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead before using the flute as a sort of cup to wet your hair and using his own shampoo (which was vanilla scented, but no one else needed to know) to wash your hair. You melted under his touch, allowing Luke to take full control, directing you to close your eyes and lean your head back so he could wash your hair.

“All done, honey. Sit in the bath while I dry off.”

His words hardly registered in your brain. The wonderful feeling of being totally fucked out and having someone wash your hair had made you so sleepy. Luke quickly stepped out of the jacuzzi, wrapping a plush, white towel around himself and grabbing his phone from the vanity. The view of you naked, fucked out, in his huge jacuzzi and against the background of crystal-clear glass and the lights of Billionaire’s Row in Manhattan was too pretty for him not to snap a photo of.

The blond quickly dried himself off and dressed in a pair of cozy gray sweats with no shirt. No matter how much money he made off of Wall Street, that outfit would always be his pajamas. Luke pulled the plug in the tub, lifting you out of the tub easily and wrapping you in a pink towel with your initials monogrammed that you left at his apartment for hookups like tonight.

“Kneel, honey, so I can dry you off,” he told you. “Good girl.”

You melted under Luke’s touch as he dried you off and lathered you with sweet-smelling lotion. He slipped your red, silken nightie with lace details over your head before picking you up. Being your sugar daddy, he figured it was only fair to spoil you after you had pleasured him so well and that was exactly what he planned on doing. Luke carried you to bed, tucking you in softly. “What are you feeling for dinner, baby?”

You shrugged, feeling so sleepy and out of it. “You pick.”

“Nope, it’s your night, princess.” he chuckled softly.

“You already did, well, what you did today with the money and all. Let me order it.” You said, reaching for your phone.

“No ma’am,” Luke jerked it back. “You’re going to let me spoil you. You have two choices, baby. Seafood or steak.”

“..steak. Thank you.” You blushed.

Even though you had known Luke since the spring, you were still getting used to the whole “sugar daddy” thing. It was still rather unfamiliar to you to let someone else care for you, especially someone as rich as Luke. The blond easily ordered the food from both his and your favorite Michelin Star restaurant, easily curling up in bed with you after.

“Thank you for today. For everything. Are you sure it’s okay?” You asked quietly.

“Princess, I told you. The only thing you owe me is free use of that slutty little body for the next week.” he told you, burying his face into your neck as he spooned you.

You blushed and giggled softly, pushing yourself further into him. “That sounds good to me. But seriously, thank you. Helping me with my education means more to me than you know.”

“I know. That’s why I did it. Besides, smart girls are hot girls.” he smirked.

You happily cuddled into Luke’s side, sighing happily. And if Luke spent the rest of the night being beyond soft and caring for you, no one else had to know.

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