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kamaluhkhan · 3 months

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THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

read part two GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you want revenge on luke castellan)

pairing: luke castellan x child of nemesis!reader (gender not specified)

word count: 8.5k

summary: luke hated your guts. he really did. he just hoped that no one could tell how, even after all this, you're still everything to him.

warnings/disclaimer: luke's POV. spoilers for the lightning thief and season 1 of pjo. some heated make-out sessions but no actual smut - MDNI / 18+. mentions of blood + death + alcohol. luke is 19 during tlt but i wrote this with him + reader being 21 by the end of this (this is important for the next part lol). anyways, luke + reader share clothes and lots of intense emotions they maybe possibly don't process in the best way. lots of ANGST - it's a greek tragedy fr!

author's note: welcome to my new hyperfixation! this fic is LONG but i hope she's worth it ♡

♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo

(i. you have a sharp tongue)

fourteen year old luke was overwhelmed when he first stepped into the hermes cabin. it was loud and overcrowded and no one really seemed to care that they had a new cabinmate. the head counselor showed luke to an empty bed at the back, told him to get settled in, and left without another word. luke dropped his backpack before collapsing on the mattress. it was so thin that he could feel the springs dig into his back.

"you'll get used to it."

luke sat up to see you climbing through the window.

you had a band-aid stuck on your chin, chipped nail polish the color of blackberries, and leather combat boots that looked way too heavy to be wearing in the heat of summer.

“the shitty mattress?”

“i meant the whole chaos of cabin 11, and the way things work around here in general. if you can get used to the shitty mattress, all power to you.”

your tone was friendly enough, playful even. you smiled at him so comfortably it made luke nauseous.

“good to know.” he tried to smile back at you, but his heart wasn’t in it. “i’m luke, by the way.”

“yeah, i know. i’m —”

“y/n!”

you seemed entirely unfazed as the blond who called your name stormed over to you. you rolled your eyes, something only luke could notice, before turning to her.

“someone stole my candy.”

“i’m very sorry to hear that, maddy. gotta be careful around here.” your voice dripped like poisoned honey, deceptively innocent and sweet.

maddy was not having it. she huffed at you. “it was you, wasn’t it?”

“that depends. did you cheat at poker last night? again?”

some of the chatter throughout the cabin paused, heads turning to listen in.

“what? n-no!”

“then you have your answer, maddy.” you exaggerated a sigh, as though you had already won the fight and were annoyed that she came back for more. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a new camper to show around.”

chiron had already given them a tour, but luke didn’t protest when you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the window with you. your hand was warm in his as you dragged him along to the corner of the cabin where a poorly made ladder waited for you.

“come on.” you started climbing, and only stopped to look down when you realized luke wasn’t following you. “best view of camp. trust me.”

a shiver passed through luke. trust didn’t come easy to him. he also didn’t particularly want to return to a stuffy cabin where all he would do was count reasons he did not want to be there.

so, luke followed you. he sat down next to you on the roof and looked out at the sun shining on his new home, but he couldn't help but be slightly bitter. the gods had gotten all of you into this life of endless danger and battles and monsters, and this was all they had to offer in return: a summer camp.

it just didn't seem fair.

there was something else he noticed then. what was it that chiron had said? camp half-blood was supposed to be a safe haven for all demigods.

“i don’t get it. there are only twelve cabins, but aren’t there, like, a million other gods?”

you straightened your posture then, and turned to luke with a newfound interest.

“camp half-blood only has cabins representing the twelve olympians. apparently, they’re the only ones important enough to have children worth recognizing, and they can’t even do that half the time,” you explained, impertinence laced throughout your words. it seemed like something you could never quite get off your chest.

every demigod knew that the gods didn’t appreciate sarcasm. they didn’t particularly like being called out on their bullshit, either.

you didn’t seem to care; you even rolled your eyes up at the sky, as if challenging zeus himself.

“anyways, that’s why the hermes cabin is so crowded. it takes in campers who are unclaimed or whose parent doesn’t have a cabin at camp. like me.”

“so, who’s your godly parent?”

you fiddled with the leather cord on your neck. it held a few clay beads like the other campers, but there was one silver charm he noticed only you wore — scales, by the looks of it. you clutched onto it.

luke realized that, despite your own advice, maybe you resented having to get used to the way things worked around here, and having to hide your resentment. maybe that was worse than having to sleep on an uncomfortable bed for the rest of your life.

"nemesis. goddess of revenge."

"that's....hardcore."

you scoffed and moved on to twisting the silver ring on your index finger. "a lot of people take it that way, and i think it scares them a bit.”

“so that’s why you’re extra nice to new campers, huh?”

“no, i was just in a good mood today.” you smirked.

“guess i was just lucky, then.”

luke couldn’t help but smile at your laugh — sharp, biting. you nudged your boot against his sneaker, which shifted you closer to him, shoulders practically touching.

“what people don’t understand is that it's more about balance, you know? you do good things, and good things happen to you. at least, they should. you do bad things and….” you pulled out an outrageously big bag of candy, dropped it between you and luke, and winked at him. “you face the consequences.”

“that makes sense.” luke leaned over to grab a handful of gummy bears. “like karma.”

“yeah. exactly.”

you bit the head off a red bear, both of you chewing in silence before you added:

“by the way, i’m sorry about your friend.” you swallowed and caught luke’s gaze.

chiron warned him that word would travel fast around camp about what happened to thalia, and luke had prepared himself for anything — anything but your reaction. there was no pity in your eyes; instead, there was a hint of rage, as though thalia had been your friend, too.

“she deserved more.”

luke’s eyes caught the glint of a knife strapped to your belt. he took another handful of the candy you stole, and he thought about the fire and fearlessness behind your words, and, despite everything, it felt right to be with you then and there.

“yeah,” he finally whispered back. “she did.”

we all do.

neither of you said those words, but the suggestion was there, and it felt like a promise.

(ii. you hold on to every stupid, little detail)

“slow down, tiger.”

your voice echoed throughout the arena, and if luke had been fighting a real opponent, it might have gotten him killed. instead, he just stopped mid-swing, sparing another straw dummy from losing its arm.

“left hand,” you noted as you walked past him towards a bench. “you, my friend, are in need of a break.”

luke loosened the grip on his sword. the only time luke fought with his non-dominant hand was when he had overworked the other. he must have switched an hour ago, but judging by how heavy his arm felt, it could have very well been two.

his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his shirt soaked through. he could feel a dull pain behind his eyes, and luke was worried that if he stopped to catch his breath, he would pass out. or, even worse, have to face the reality of the shitty news he’d gotten early that day.

“come sit with me,” you urged. “you’re exhausted, tiger.”

luke bristled at your nickname for him.

sure, luke loved that there was something only you called him, a secret kept between you in plain sight, but it was also a reminder that it was harder to hide behind the hero act when you were around.

everyone else at camp figured the nickname was a playful attempt at calling him strong and charismatic. the truth was that luke once told you that his favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes and that he would dream of playing sports as well as tony the tiger. for better or for worse, like most things, you wouldn’t let it go.

case in point: if it was anybody other than you trying to get him to take a break, luke could have just brushed them off with a charming smile and continued swordfighting until his arms fell off, but in the two years since meeting you, luke had never met anyone as stubborn and convincing. like him, it seemed you were willing to fight and shed blood to get your way. luke was never really in the mood to make you bleed, even when feeling like he could burn the entire world down, so he usually gave in to your demands.

as soon as he sat down next to you, you handed him an orange flavored energy drink — his favorite. anything other than water was hard to come by at camp without the enchanted goblets in the dining pavilion, or the right connection in the hermes cabin. he ran out of his stash the other day, but you must have noticed and gotten one of the stoll brothers to smuggle more in.

“thanks,” luke said, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through him when your fingers brushed together briefly.

the two of you looked out at the sword arena, and all the straw dummies that luke had destroyed. you wait for him to take three big gulps of his drink before speaking again.

“i guess chiron and your dad decided you weren’t ready for a quest.”

luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”

“the only time you’d skip out on capture the flag is if something really shitty happened.” you looked down at luke’s clenched fists, and that seemed to be all the confirmation you needed. “you promised annabeth you'd be there, and it's not like you to let her down."

fuck. he had completely forgotten that tonight was annabeth's first time as team captain. this entire week, she had been prepping a winning strategy. it wasn’t like annabeth needed him to win, but luke was her big brother, and he should have been there. you were right — he had let her down.

the realization made luke’s day go from bad to worse.

"i told her you were helping a new camper with an emergency. she didn't believe it, but she adjusted her strategy and we still won.”

“well, thank the gods everything worked in the end,” luke grumbled.

“don’t thank the gods,” you quipped. “thank annabeth chase for her brilliant mind, and me for covering for your sorry ass.”

when luke didn’t indulge in your usual playful banter, you moved closer to him and brushed some curls away from his eyes. your skin warmed his forehead, and the small gesture made him feel better than he had all day.

“look, i’m not going to give you some bullshit inspirational speech about how the gods don’t get to define what a hero is, or how you don’t need a quest to prove that you’re worthy of being one. we’ve each been through that before, and i have a feeling this won’t be our last time, either.”

“then why are you here?” the question came out harsher than luke had intended it to.

“because she’s trying her best to hide it, but annabeth is really hurt that you didn’t show up for the game. i figured the least you could do is suck it up, come to the campfire, and make her those signature luke castellan s’mores. you could probably use one, too, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”

you were right, again. luke was exhausted, he was furious, but most of all, he was starving.

later that night, luke sat next to annabeth and vowed to make her as many s’mores as she wanted. you’d gone to sit with the hephaestus kids, trying to convince beckendorf and nyssa to join your cabin’s post-campfire party at the beach, even though they had to work in the forges early the next morning.

when chiron made his weekly speech, congratulating the winners of capture the flag and thanking the gods for keeping everyone safe, you and luke caught each other’s gaze from across the fire. you rolled your eyes and luke bit back a smile as you turned back to beckendorf. he noticed your knees were practically touching. did you sit that close to everyone?

luke was looking at you for so long that the marshmallow he was roasting fell into the fire, despite annabeth’s warnings. she handed him another one.

"you should tell her how you feel," annabeth said. "stop being a coward."

whether it was the smell of burnt sugar, the heat of the fire, or annabeth’s comment, luke started to feel dizzy. he did his best to shake it off, asking annabeth for a play-by-play of her strategy earlier that night, but he couldn’t quite get rid of the thought of you.

(iii. you don't care if your clothes are stained with blood)

“i just….i can’t fucking believe you, luke.”

“i don’t get why you’re so upset — you’ve never cared about quests before.”

luke was hoping to break the news to you after capture the flag. unfortunately for him, word travels fast around camp.

annabeth had the two of you scouting the east side for the flag, while she and some other athena kids took the west. you hadn’t found anything so far, which meant that you’d spent the better part of an hour bickering over luke’s choice of companions for his quest. a choice that included charles beckendorf and chris rodriguez, and purposefully did not include you, much to your fury.

before you could continue arguing, luke heard the sound of footsteps approaching. he looked over to you, and you already had your shield and sword at the ready.

a few red defenders emerged from the trees. one charged at luke, but you stepped in so he could deal with the other two. one of his opponents went down fairly easily, but the other put up much more of a fight. metal clashed behind him as you kept fighting as well. you might not have been as skilled a swordfighter as luke, but he knew that you could hold your own, at least until he was finished with the person in front of him.

luke parried his opponent’s strike, causing them to take a step closer. he was preparing to disarm them, just as he heard you yelp and stumble to the ground. it only took a millisecond of his attention, but it gave his opponent the opportunity to elbow him in the face. luke felt a crack upon impact, and pain radiated from his nose; he powered through.

he had to finish this fight, and he had to do it fast. you needed him.

his ears were ringing as he finally knocked over his opponent, kicking away their sword and keeping his foot on their chest. luke turned around to see you having turned the tides, the blade of your sword dangerously close to your opponent’s neck.

you locked eyes with luke, and you both understood — it was time to go. the two of you ran through the forest, as far away as you could before having to stop and catch your breath.

luke removed his helmet to get some air, and dropped his weapons. you did the same. you looked at him, brows furrowed.

“your nose.”

luke licked his lips, tasting blood. the triumph of winning that last fight overshadowed the ache of his potentially broken nose. in fact, he liked the image of a ruthless warrior emerging from the glory and gore of battle, that even though he did not bleed ichor like a god, he still had power.

you, on the other hand, didn’t look impressed. instead, you stepped forward and offered the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away the blood.

“you don’t have to —”

“i know you think you’re a badass walking around all broken and bloody, but you shouldn’t deny your admirers your pretty face,” you teased.

it was no secret that luke had numerous admirers around camp, a fact you loved to tease him about. he was sure that you relished in how flustered that made him. all you had to call him was pretty boy, and luke could be reduced to a blushing mess.

it was pathetic how much power you had over him.

“besides, i wouldn’t have gotten out of that last fight if you hadn’t taught me that disarming technique earlier. i owe you. it’s what we do. we take care of each other, right?”

he couldn’t argue with that.

a few moments of silence passed as you cleaned his face. something shifted as you worked, the flirtatious grin fading away. when you pulled away, your sleeve was stained a dark crimson.

“just tell me honestly,” you finally murmured. “why don't you want me to join your quest?”

luke was genuinely taken aback by the softness of your voice, now devoid of its usual fire. you wouldn’t meet luke’s eyes, but being that close to you, he noticed they were slightly glazed over.

he had expected you to be angry at his decision. he expected you to yell and argue and try to change his mind. luke hadn’t expected you to be so hurt. so broken.

he hadn’t planned on it, but luke decided to tell you the truth then.

“look, karma, if you come with me, my heart wouldn’t fully be in the quest. i’d be so caught up in….well, you.”

a pause.

“is that a bad thing?”

“not usually, no.”

you smirked a little at that, and luke’s heart skipped a beat. it also made his decision even clearer.

“but i need to be focused for this. i need….” he let out a deep sigh. “i need to prove myself. this is my first real chance, and i can’t fuck it up.”

you met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, your signature spark of confidence returning.

“you won’t.”

you reached a hand up to play with his necklace. luke hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten until your fingers started tracing over those four clay beads. it made his entire body burst into flames.

“i’ve been wanting to do something for a while. and, aphrodite save me, it might be really stupid, but —”

luke took a lucky guess as to where you were going, and crashed his lips against yours. aphrodite knows that he'd been wanting to do that for a while, too.

he often got drunk on the adrenaline of battle, the glory of winning, but nothing was quite like the rush of kissing you for the first time.

it was messy and urgent, both of you aware that, at any moment, you could be interrupted. your noses were bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. the metallic tang of blood lingered on luke’s tongue, but neither of you seemed to care. you even bit his lip slightly, as if you wanted more. armor sat heavy and cold between your chests, preventing you from getting closer. luke had never loathed the protective gear more.

he made up for it by lodging one hand underneath your jaw, and snaking the other beneath the celestial bronze, beneath the cotton of your shirt, admiring how your pulse quickened under his thumb when he grazed the soft skin of your stomach. you tangled your hands into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. he groaned and felt you smirk against his lips.

luke had kissed a few people before, sure, but never like this: like a knife to the gut, and if you pulled away, luke would surely bleed out and die.

it wouldn’t be a hero’s death, in the traditional sense, but at least he’d die happy.

how many heroes could claim that?

when luke ran out of air, feeling like his lungs were burning, he had to pull away.

you glanced down at luke’s kiss-bitten lips, then back to his eyes. luke flushed under the intensity of your gaze.

“just promise me something, tiger,” you whispered, voice hoarse.

“anything.”

“come back alive.”

luke leaned forward and placed another kiss on your lips, this one much gentler than before.

“i promise.”

(iv. you love like a scar that won't fade)

the nightmares were getting worse.

luke woke up in a cold sweat, taking gulps of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“luke.”

your whisper did little to quell the pit of dread growing in his stomach, but it did enough to bring him back down to reality.

he was at camp half-blood (fuck the gods of olympus), in the hermes cabin (fuck you, dad), in a bed next to yours (fuck, if he could tell you what — who — was going through his head, he would).

“i’m…i’m fine,” he murmured back, voice catching slightly on the lie.

like clockwork, you shifted from your bed to his, slipping under the covers. it didn’t matter that it was a hot summer night, and the minute your legs touched his, he could feel himself starting to overheat.

your thumb brushed over the thick edge of his scar, up his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. it had been a year, living with this reminder. a reminder that he had failed, just as much as his father and the olympians had failed him.

luke tried to pretend that he didn’t come back from his quest as a shell of who he once was. after all, it was meant to be his shining moment as a demigod, meant to gain him all the glory and father’s praise he once wished for.

what a fucking joke.

every morning, luke would crawl into a different skin. he welcomed new campers and taught sword-fighting. he laughed with chris and his other siblings and strategized with annabeth for capture the flag. he would be the easy-going, charming, skillful senior counselor who respected the gods and honored them in everything he did.

again: a fucking joke.

nights were different, though, with you so close to him, you who could always see right through him.

every night, luke was a fourteen-year old boy again, with so much rage and resentment he didn't know what to do with it.

of course, you were always you - a bleeding heart underneath layers of armor. you didn't care about fate, or the gods, or the titans. you cared about justice, you cared about what was right and fair.

most of all, you cared about luke.

“you were screaming,” you told him, voice barely cutting through the soft snores and sleeptalkings of your other cabinmates.

“sorry,” he managed. looking at you in the dull moonlight, luke noticed the deep shadows under your eyes.

“it’s fine. you just….you scared me, tiger.”

your hand still rested on his cheek, and for a second, luke hoped you would kiss him, but you didn’t. instead, you told him to try and get some sleep, and sank further into his bed before closing your eyes.

for the hundredth night in a row, luke hoped you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest as you fell asleep next to him.

since coming back from his quest, luke didn’t have it in him to suggest being anything other than friends, and you didn’t push it. there had been a few....moments between you, sure, but nothing more.

luke thought you might have changed your mind, because who would want to be with a bitter, worthless, wannabe hero? then again, that voice haunting his dreams…. luke could change that.

but, at what cost?

(v. you protect people as ruthlessly as a starving dog)

luke could hear you talking to percy jackson outside. though he couldn’t quite determine what was being said, as much as he tried.

you entered the bathroom and instantly caught luke’s eyes in the mirror. you were wearing your faded pyjama shorts with cartoon crows, and a flannel shirt that luke had a sneaking suspicion might have been his. you smiled at him before setting up at the counter, one sink between you.

“what was that about?” luke asked after spitting out a mouthful of minty toothpaste.

“oh, nothing.” you were searching through your toiletry bag for something, and seemed to come up short. “hey, do you have any extra dental floss?”

luke threw some over to you. as you effortlessly caught it, he noticed your knuckles, bruised and bloodied.

“what happened?”

you finished flossing and briefly examined your hands before pulling out your toothbrush.

“it’s not a big deal,” you assured. “some ares kids were picking on percy, and then they started pushing him around, like, really pushing him around, so….”

“....you decided to send them to the infirmary.”

you squeezed some toothpaste on your brush before continuing. “i don’t need you to lecture me about how i shouldn’t be fighting with other campers because i’ve been here longer and i should be a good role model. you know what a good role model does? not let kids beat up other kids and think the worst punishment they’ll get is no dessert for a week.”

luke watched carefully as you jammed the toothbrush in your mouth and brushed with such force, he was worried your teeth might dislodge. he knew that you would shed blood for someone you loved, and that you didn’t particularly care if you had to break rules in doing so, because you believed that what was written was not necessarily what was right.

in fact, luke loved that about you.

no, it wasn’t the fighting that luke cared about — it was who you were fighting for.

percy was a good kid, he really was. luke just didn’t want you getting attached.

“i wasn’t going to lecture you. i’m guessing chiron already did?”

you nodded and spat out what looked like a combination of toothpaste and blood. you rinsed your mouth until the water lost its pinkish hue. once you were done, luke continued his train of thought.

“i just didn’t realize you cared so much about him.”

“about percy?”

luke could tell that he didn’t have your full attention. you were packing your stuff back up, accidentally tossing luke’s dental floss into your bag, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

“yeah. the kid’s only been at camp for three days, and you’re already acting like his guard dog.”

you finally turned to luke and glared at him.

“maybe. but percy’s sweet and he doesn’t seem like the type to put up with bullshit. he’s been through a lot, and annabeth seems to like him, too. as far as i’m concerned, percy’s one of us, and i’m not going to let anyone push him around.”

luke raised an eyebrow at you. “he’s sweet?”

“yeah. like, just now, he gave me some blue raspberry jelly beans as a thank you. said his mom used to work at a candy store. he also wanted me to apologize to you for him. he feels bad about beating you in sword-fighting earlier.”

you scoffed, like you resented luke for having to apologize to him on percy’s behalf. you definitely did not appreciate that guard dog comment. luke clenched his jaw, seething over what you had just said.

satisfied with his reaction, you gave luke that nauseating smile of yours, tilted your head towards the exit. a truce, because you never liked to fight with luke for too long, and a order, because you knew luke would always follow.

the two of you began walking back to your cabin in the warm mid-june air.

“i wouldn’t say he beat me,” luke huffed. “it was beginner’s luck.”

“sure, tiger. it was beginner’s luck that disarmed the best swordsman we’ve had in the last 300 years.”

you nudged luke’s shoulder with yours, but he recoiled from your touch.

“are you trying to make me feel worse?” luke tried his best to avoid snapping at you, keeping his tone measured.

“i’m just saying that maybe the kid has natural talent and that doesn’t make you any less talented. there’s no need to get jealous.”

luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion.

to be clear, he was not jealous. it’s just that luke had spent years of blood, sweat, and tears getting to where he was then, and percy jackson had just gotten to camp.

and, to be even more clear, luke was not jealous of how you were already defending percy with your whole body and your whole heart, the way you did for him.

by then, you reached the front of the hermes cabin. luke could already hear the commotion of what he would need to deal with as soon as he walked in. the burden of being head counselor, one he approached with an elastic smile that could snap at any moment.

you tugged on luke’s sleeve before he could open the door.

“hey. are we okay?”

luke looked down at your fingers grasping the fabric of a sweatshirt he was just realizing was yours. your nails were painted a dark red, now chipped after a week of wear. you had begged luke to paint his nails then, and once again, he gave in. he even started to like the purple you had chosen just for him, so deep it was almost black. the same color you were wearing the first time you and luke met.

he smiled at the memory — a real smile, no plastic — and then smiled back up at you.

“we’re fine, karma.” and he moved to enter the cabin. luke could hear the threat of an argument bubbling up, what sounded like a petty one over a prank gone wrong.

“wait.” you tugged at his (your) sweatshirt once more. “there’s something i wanted to talk to you about, about tomorrow night—”

“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”

“yeah, i know, it’s just —”

“she’ll run through strategy for capture the flag then.”

“one of the aphrodite senior campers asked me to the campfire,” you blurted it out, and luke decided to ignore the sound of a fight breaking out from behind the wooden door.

what in the name of hades were you talking about?

“they asked you out? like…like a….” luke didn’t even want to speak the word, scared it would make it real.

“a date,” you said casually, as if that one word didn’t rip luke’s heart in a million pieces. “i said yes.” an admission that took all those pieces and set them on fire.

sure, in the seven years since you and luke met, you’d each talked about boys, about girls, about dating and kissing them and going further. but there was something about this one that felt different. something about the way you told him.

“but, listen, i wanted to let you know it’s not —”

“good for you,” was all luke said through gritted teeth before someone started calling his name again, louder and more urgently, and he had to duck inside.

(vi. you taste like burning cherries and righteous anger)

your team had won capture the flag, of course. the biggest news of the evening, though: percy jackson was the son of the sea god.

he was a forbidden child, the hero of the great prophecy.

everything was falling into place.

all luke should be thinking about is kronos’ plan, and his role in it, and how a world without the gods of olympus was that much more in reach.

unfortunately, for the time being, he was so consumed by you.

you, from across the campfire, sporting cutoff denim shorts and fresh wounds from the game earlier. you, who had wrapped your knuckles in gauze, concealing their bruising, fixed the chips in your nail polish and stacked rings on your fingers. (for the record: luke had gifted you the one on your left thumb.) you, with dark lips that whispered too closely and laughed too loudly with a child of aphrodite— jordan li.

you hadn’t so much as looked at luke since congratulating each other on another win. when chiron announced his weekly gratitude to the gods at the start of that night’s campfire, you didn’t punctuate your resentment with your usual eye-roll or biting remark. you were too busy giggling at something jordan said.

luke wanted to be the one to whisper jokes in your ear. he wanted to be the one you left lipstick stains on later, along his jaw and down his neck. he wanted to be the one who kissed the blade mark on your shoulder and the bruises on your knuckles.

and yet, hours passed and it seemed that the thought of luke had never so much as crossed your mind. he found himself at an after hours party with a few senior campers on the beach. a lethal recipe: a poorly crafted bonfire, some contraband drinks and you in jordan li’s lap, playing with their hair and pretending luke castellan did not exist.

meanwhile, luke had katie gardner’s full attention. she was talking to him about the strawberry season, potentially leaning a bit too close into luke’s personal space, definitely flirting with him.

luke could have done a lot worse than the head counselor of the demeter cabin, who always smelled like fresh lavender, whose eyes were the bright green of spring grass and whose lips tasted like golden honey.

the problem was that luke only wanted you, and his eyes kept sliding over to where you were kissing jordan’s cheek, and he accidentally called the girl he was kissing by your name, which did not make her happy.

katie threw her drink in his face, told him to wake the fuck up, and walked away.

a chorus of gasps and chuckles erupted as luke stood there, diet coke and vodka seeping into his shirt. the commotion seemed to capture your attention, because you suddenly appeared next to luke, an empty bottle of cherry soda in your hand.

“rough night, tiger?” your voice, that nickname, made luke sick, his face twisting into a frown. you don’t seem to notice or care. instead, you switched your bottle with luke’s and took a sip.

“looks like you were having a pretty good time,” luke practically sneered. “where’s your date?”

“they went to bed.” you swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimacing at its bitterness. “gods, this is terrible. you and i should go on the drink run next time — we have better taste.”

“so, are you and jordan like a thing now?”

you gave luke a smile he didn’t quite understand, but made his stomach churn in ways only you could. “would that be a problem?”

“of course not.” he answered way too quickly for that to be true.

“let’s get out of here,” you suggested. “i think katie is about this close to strangling you with a tree branch.”

luke glanced over your shoulder to where green eyes glared back at him.

nowhere could luke find it in him to care. he wasn’t even sorry. he just shrugged, took the bottle back from you, took his first sip all night. luke almost gagged (because of course you were right, and the stoll brothers had better fake ids than they had taste) but he suppressed it.

“no. i’m good.”

biggest lie he ever said. like there wasn’t anger caught in his throat and jealousy swelling between his ribs.

“go find jordan,” he taunted. “kiss them, show them a good time! isn’t that the reason why you got all pretty?”

you narrowed your eyes at him carefully. your nostrils were slightly flared, and luke took a bit of pride in being able to rile you up.

“look, we haven’t really talked lately, and i think we should.”

“go find jordan,” he mocked once more. “almost all the aphrodite kids are here, and i’m sure you can be quiet enough to sneak into their cabin and if you want a quick fu—”

“luke.” you clipped his name, obviously getting to the limit of your patience with him. “if you want to stay here all night and be an asshole, you’re welcome to. you should know, though, that your happy-go-lucky hero mask is starting to crack and i don’t know if you could deal with the fallout from it shattering completely.”

you leaned in close and whispered that last part, very aware of the chattering that stopped and the eyes that watched the pair of you anxiously. luke was usually good at hiding that part of himself who wanted to burn the world down.

in ways you didn’t realize, you were right: he couldn’t risk revealing it, not now.

not yet.

“do whatever you want, castellan,” you spat out his last name, the combination of letters foreign in your mouth.“i’m leaving.”

luke should be proud of himself. he waited a whole two seconds before following you like a stray dog.

luke didn’t know if he’d ever felt you that enraged by him, and it horrified him. it also made him hungry for more.

“i’m not sure that jordan would want the two of us alone together at night,” he shouted after you, words echoing into the starless sky.

“gods, enough about jordan!” luke practically ran into you with how fast you turned around to confront him. “i was helping them with that stupid aphrodite tradition!”

“you….” luke faltered, all the snark leaving his body. “what?”

luke remembered silena beauregard once explaining the rite of passage to him: to prove themselves, a child of aphrodite had to make someone fall in love with them, and then break their heart.

“why…why would you agree to do that?”

you had reached the dining area by then, and you sat on one of the steps leading to the pavilion. luke stayed a few feet away, looking at you cautiously.

“jordan and i are already friends, and they figured a fake relationship would be the way to avoid anyone from actually getting hurt in the process.”

“you seemed so…so into it, though,” luke stammered, the memory of you in jordan’s lap, laughter bubbling from your lips, still fresh.

“it’s called acting, dumbass.” the camp didn’t rely on electricity, but there were enough torches around that luke could see you roll your eyes. “anyways, i was trying to give you a heads-up last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” you took a deep breath. “and, honestly, i didn’t push it because….i figured i should test a hypothesis.”

a hypothesis? you’d known annabeth for too long.

“what hypothesis?”

you hesitated.

“it doesn’t matter. fuck, this was stupid,” you muttered, and without another word, stormed through the dining pavilion, a short cut to the hermes cabin. your footsteps fell heavy against the marble, and luke’s not far behind.

“what hypothesis?” he asked again.

nothing but rushed footsteps.

“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.

third time was the charm, because you stopped in your tracks and faced luke once again. a fire burned in the bronze brazier, where campers were forced to offer up portions of your food to the gods at every meal. its roaring seemed to captivate you, and the flames danced across your face, illuminating all your curves and edges.

“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated.

this caught luke off guard. from the day the two of you met, luke knew you shared that feeling. you’d gotten quieter with your rage as you’d gotten older. luke supposed he got better at hiding it himself, as well.

“i’m angry at the gods for letting bad shit happen even if they can stop it, and for building this world in the fucked up way they did. i’m angry at your dad for the way he’s treated you, but — you, luke castellan.” you finally met luke’s eyes with a gaze so sharp, luke almost felt himself bleed. “i’m also angry at you, and not just for your bullshit tonight.”

your admission felt like a punch to the stomach, and luke was left with no air to breathe.

did you know?

“you haven’t been the same since your quest,” you continued, words slow and deliberate, the way you spoke when you were worried your voice would shake. “and i’ve come to terms with that in the past few years, but you….you’ve never tried to ice me out before. you’ve been acting distant since december, and it’s been driving me insane. do you realize how much i miss my best …..” you swallowed the word friend. “how much i miss you?”

luke hesitated, because what could he say? i know i’ve been distant, but i’ve been busy trying to start a war between the gods. sorry babe!

would you hate him, if you knew?

you had to have known that, despite the distance, luke missed you. for tartarus sake, in the last two days, he’d driven himself mad at you calling a fourteen year old boy sweet, and he was about to combust at the image of you dating someone else, with little care as to the collateral damage.

"you can't just avoid me, makeout with katie fucking gardner, and then….” you trailed off, hiding your face in your hands. whether it was to hide embarrassment or tears, luke wasn’t sure.

a smirk spread across luke’s face at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one jealous at the bonfire that night. it lit luke up with the confidence he needed to not completely fall to his knees in front of you, beg for your forgiveness for everything he’s done.

“why do you care if i make out with katie fucking gardner?”

as he waited for a response, luke walked towards you until your back hit one of the marble columns.

“why do you care if i’m with jordan fucking li?” you clenched your jaw and looked right through luke. a clear indication that you wanted him to break down first; it wouldn’t be you who yielded this fight.

“because i want to be the one you’re with.” at that point, luke was so close to you that he swore he could hear your heartbeat. he reached out and played with the hem of your shorts. “why do you care if i make out with katie gardner?”

“because.” you drew in a sharp breath when luke’s fingers brushed underneath the denim, across the warm skin of your thigh. you closed your eyes. “don’t make me say it, tiger.”

the desperation in your voice made luke want to do unholy things with you, to you. luke knew you didn’t think of him as a saint, and you never expected him to be one. the reality was that you weren’t much better, either. what was essentially an altar to the gods burned bright next to you, but it seemed neither of you had ever cared less about it than in that moment.

luke would watch olympus fall. he would dethrone the gods and watch their glass castle shatter and find glory in a new world. in the grand scheme of things, he was willing to lose this battle.

in fact, he would have rather betrayed the titan lord himself than waste another second not kissing your lips.

so, he kissed you, and you kissed him back with such force, such hunger, it was ungodly.

no, you certainly weren’t a saint — but you were divine, in the most brutal, intoxicating way. in the way you shuddered when luke lodged a leg between your thighs; in the way you threaded your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans to bring him closer; in the way the metal of your rings burned through the skin of his hip, right to the bone, which made him shudder, and you smile triumphantly against his jaw.

the more he tasted your smirk flavored by cherry soda and the ashes of nearby flames, the more he felt your feral teeth against his neck and your wicked nails digging into his shoulders, the more you tugged on his curls, the more luke thought: maybe.

maybe you would give into your seething resentment, live up to those eye-rolls and snarky comments that got you in trouble with chiron, on the edge of hot water with the gods. maybe you would join the titan army. maybe, just maybe, this time, you would follow luke.

and yet — maybe wasn’t enough if it meant he could lose this. luke wouldn’t risk it, not until he kissed every battle scar and bruise on your body, and you did the same to his.

“wait.”

it was the last thing luke wanted to do, but he complied. he took the opportunity to appreciate the chaos he created: your shirt in disarray, your lipstick a mess, your chest heaving and desperate to catch a breath.

“i promised jordan that we’d keep up our charade for a week, two at the most. do you think we could keep this…” you tightened your fist around the fabric of his shirt. “a secret until then?”

luke responded by pressing his lips to yours once more, because there were definitely worse secrets to keep.

(vii. you wouldn’t hesitate to make him bleed)

luke had just left percy jackson to die.

he should be leaving camp, now, but he needed to see you one last time.

the universe works in mysterious ways, because you were out on a run through the forest, and you crossed paths before he even had time to wonder where you were.

“hey, tiger.” you smiled as if this was a regular afternoon. the two of you would teach your afternoon activities, sneak away during dinner so luke could kiss you in that spot that made you gasp. “wanna join me? i was just wrapping up, but i could be convinced to go longer.”

for a second, he was tempted to. very tempted.

“i don’t have much time.”

you seemed to notice luke’s sullen mood and you dropped your playful demeanor.

luke explained: the messages from kronos in his dreams, him stealing the lightning bolt and helm of darkness to start a war between the gods and framing percy. the plan to destroy olympus that luke had pledged his life to.

percy was surprised at what luke had done, and luke could imagine that the rest of camp would be, too. luke was the golden boy of camp half-blood, everyone’s big brother.

you, on the other hand, didn’t express any sense of shock.

“luke.” you said his name like you weren’t quite sure it was poison. “i’m going to give you five seconds to tell me that you’re joking.”

five seconds of silence passed. you took a few steps back from luke.

“i….i should have told you sooner.”

“yeah,” you scoffed. “you should have. but, you didn’t. did it feel good, having the titan king whispering sweet nothings in your ear? all the lies about how this war is the only way to get the glory you so desperately want? it’s fucking delusional.”

“it’s not delusional—”

“yes, it is!” you glared at him. “you’re on the wrong side of a war you made the mistake of starting.”

luke straightened his posture, thinking about how hypocritical you were being.

“isn’t this what you’re all about? revenge, karma. your mom will probably join us, too. don’t you want to see the gods finally get what they deserve?”

“not like this. i can’t believe how desperate you are, to believe that kronos is going to make everything right. it’s pathetic,” you spat. “i’m not saying the gods don’t deserve to be taken down a notch. their fucking obsession with power and glory….it’s sick and twisted, but i don’t think your titan king is any better. i don’t think you are any better.”

“it’s time that the gods fall. this is the only way, even if it isn’t perfect,” luke countered. his voice was firmer now as he absorbed your anger. your mother was the goddess of revenge, but you clearly didn't understand the sacrifices, pain, and blood that was required to make the world a better place.

luke just needed to convince you.

“we’ve talked about this for years,” he continued. “nothing is balanced! there’s no justice here, for anyone. we can build a better world where we don’t have to burn our scraps and throw ourselves at monsters to get attention. we can fight together like we always have. y/n, i love—”

“don’t,” you snapped. “don’t you fucking dare. you should have died on your quest.” your voice laced with venom. one hand gripping the knife you always kept on your belt. “that dragon should have fucking sliced through you and saved us all the trouble.”

something pricked in the back of his throat, down to his stomach.

“you don’t mean that.”

“i do,” you promised. “at least you would have died with all of us thinking you’re a hero instead of the traitor you really are.”

you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance.

“i’m not going to fight you,” was all luke could say. he noticed your hand tremble, and you tightened the grip on your knife to prevent emotion from slipping through your invisible armor.

in that moment, you have could slice through luke, and it would hurt less than everything you just said, less than the murderous look you were giving him, like he was just another monster you wouldn’t think twice about sending to tartarus.

luke didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword before you charged at him, but he quickly had you pinned to the ground, the tip of your own knife pointed at you. he hesitated. the blade pressed harder against your cheek than he intended, enough to break the skin and let a few droplets of dark crimson escape.

“please come with me,” he pleaded. you didn’t answer, but you did seem surprised by the softness of his voice.

a few moments passed, the celestial bronze still between you. luke waited for you to see his way, to yield to his proposal.

you didn’t. instead, you took advantage of the situation. you wrapped your leg around his and flipped your position. in the process, you regained possession of your knife. without the hesitation that held luke back, you sliced through his cheek, deep. luke bit his lip to suppress a groan, tasting blood. your gaze set his whole body on fire as he waited for your next move. that was when you glanced down at his camp necklace, and the new clay bead added to commemorate this summer.

a turquoise trident.

“percy told me he was on his way to see you,” you realized. “what did you do?”

luke didn’t answer. he knew then that a choice ran through your head.

and it stung, just a little, watching you sprint away through the trees in a last ditch effort to save percy’s life.

there was a small, pathetic part of luke that wanted you to choose him, even if it meant you would have plunged the knife into his chest.

#this is my baby fr #really feeling the tragic hero vibe down to my core #will prob do a part 2 from reader's POV!#ofc inspired by get him back! bc nemesis!reader....#percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #luke castellan angst #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan smut #saf writes #Spotify

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letoasai · 3 months

Text

Will work for food

DP x DC An idea that's probably been done before but... here it is again.

It was not an ideal setting for this. Out in the open, debris being their only cover. An unnatural storm closing in. The area had been evacuated but there was still no telling how many civilian eyes could be on them at this very moment.

The League was scattered, making this current group a touch at odds while away from the majority of their normal teams.

Batman stood with Red Robin, Flash, Superboy, and Raven. It wasn’t a bad lineup, but things were getting dicy.

A monster had appeared, a creature foreign to most of them. With it came storms of all kinds, winds, hail, rain. It was a mess but there was nothing natural about it. The hail shattered the pavement. The winds were picking buildings up off their foundations. The blue lightning went without saying. The ice was changing the terrain. The temperature changes were disorienting to most of the heroes.

Worse was the fact that this creature seemed to be able to duplicate itself, spreading the chaos out to a much wider area. They were having trouble even touching the thing let alone capturing it.

“Are you sure about this?” Batman asked, a deep frown etched into his face as he watched Raven mark out a summoning circle.

“It’s the only idea i have.” She said bluntly, shivering from the sudden chill. “That thing is not of this realm. We need something else not of this realm to subdue it.”

“I hear what you’re saying but summoning a demon to deal with a demon still leaves us with a demon.” Flash said, seeing the flaw in this plan.

“Unless you know this one personally or something.” Red Robin offered, his voice exhausted.

“It’s not a demon.” Raven said, tone irritated but it wasn’t like any of them were having a good day. “Depending on how you want to look at it, it’s far worse than a demon. That thing came from the Infinite Realm.”

Superboy just grunted once, watching her put the finishing touches on her spell circle. “You said that in a tone that said it was in capital letters. What’s the Infinite Realm?”

“Bad news and something we shouldn’t freaking touch.” Raven answered swiftly. She stood, eyes going over her work.

“Then what the hell are we doing?” Flash asked quickly, all of them tensed as the wind started to pick up again. If a hurricane was thrown at them, there was little they’d be able to do about it.

“Raven.” Batman’s voice was serious. “You’re sure?”

“It’s all i’ve got.” She repeated. “This is not a problem this realm was meant to handle on short notice. We need help.”

There were several things in that one statement he didn’t like. “Who are you summoning?”

Raven was looking rather pale herself. “The Ghost King. The King of the Infinite Realm. I’ve heard word that he can be bargained with so… we’re gonna give it a shot.”

She didn’t wait for permission from anyone else to throw in their two cents on the matter. She threw her hands out, alien words no one else understood on her lips. The chant repeated and the summoning circle began to glow a green that the present Bats didn’t care for.

It crept up the walls of the summoning circle in oddly pretty patterns before a gaping void opened on the ground. Silently, a figure rose into the circle from that same void. The king was smaller than they’d been imagining the last minute or two. He was human shaped and sized, a black crown floating several inches over his head. He was a wispy figure, face hidden by a large hood but there were strands of white hair floating around their shadowed face. He’d had nothing but a smoky looking tail when he’d first appeared but that had now split into solid looking legs.

Given his size, he seems like a young adult, but it was hard to say for certain without seeing his face.

“Woah.” Red Robin muttered, Superboy agreeing with the sentiment.

“Heroes?” The Ghost King wondered, voice soft and lethargic. “Interesting.”

Raven bowed her head in a show of respect. “Your Majesty. I apologize for the abrupt summons. We have a dire situation and are willing to make a deal for your help.”

“A deal…” His voice echoed gently. He spoke as if raising his voice would shatter the very air around them. “That’s not something to choose lightly. What do you want from me?”

Raven swallowed, her body rigid with nerves. She was almost relieved when Batman took over.

“As i understand it, we have a being from your realm here in ours. We are underprepared to deal with such destruction and-”

“Of my realm?” The King interrupted softly, head tipped a little as his attention turned to Batman. “Who?”

Flash laughed nervously. “We’re not on a first name basis or anything but the guy seems to control the weather.” He pointed up and the sky above them was darkening the longer they spoke.

The King made a noise like he’d clucked his tongue and it struck all of them as a very human kind of gesture despite his title.

“I can handle that. Your deal?”

Raven inhaled again, this obviously being the part she was dreading. “Blood, i have the blood of the Demon Lord Trigon-”

“Pass.”

That drew everyone up short. The others didn’t exactly understand the significance of Raven offering her blood but it clearly wasn’t something she’d expected to be declined so quickly.

“My soul then….” Raven muttered.

“Raven, no!” Superboy hissed. “The fuck!”

Batman was also eyeing her unhappily. “Absolutely not. You are not Constantine.”

Fortunately for the heroes, each of which was ready to revolt for such a barter, the Ghost King waved the thought away.

“Nah.” He tugged on his hood a little and Batman realized he was likely brushing away one of those white strands of hair from his face. “That’s the thing about being the King of the Infinite Realm. Souls come to me one way or another in time. No need to preorder them.”

Raven’s shoulders sagged, eyes shifting as she rapidly tried to think of something else she could offer.

“What do you want?” Red Robin asked before anyone else could say something stupid. “You’re the one that’s going to fight this threat for us. What’s a good deal?”

The King turned to him and stared. They could only assume he was contemplating his answer when he hummed quietly. “Food.”

“Wha…” Flash muttered.

The Ghost King just nodded. “Food from your realm. It’s been…a long time since i’ve eaten.”

“Really? Like we could go grab you a burger and that would be cool?” Superboy asked, a touch suspicious, but the King just nodded.

“Deal.” Raven said before anyone would make it worse. “A meal for returning this threat back to your realm.”

The King nodded again, and each of them backed up several paces when the walls to the summoning circle broke apart and the King stepped out. For the briefest of moments he seemed to nearly stumble under the gravity of actually ‘walking’ but he got over it quickly enough.

“Can we offer you any assistance?” Batman asked.

The King shook his head. “No.” He wandered off towards the storm, the floating crown on top of his head seeming a little larger. He moved confidently and with purpose. “Oh Vortex…” He called, walking into the winds.

He sounded young, but all of them agreed immediately that they never wanted to hear him beckoning them the same way. His tone was dangerous, and he walked right through a car that had been flung in his direction.

“Cool.” Red Robin muttered.

“Simmer down, Red.” Superboy muttered. All of them wanted to follow, but with the unstable weather and a literal Ghost King wandering about, staying out of the way felt like the best option. Of course that didn’t mean they weren’t dying of curiosity.

Flash moved to stand beside Raven, making sure she wasn’t about to topple over because of the power it must have taken to summon a king from another dimension. “You good?”

“Yeah.” she breathed out a sigh. “Honestly, this was an unforeseen best case scenario. You should really go get that food for him.”

Batman moved to her otherside, hearing the voices over comms noticing a shift in what was happening. “You think it will be over that fast?”

“Yes.”

“Well-” Flash looked up at the sky that was rapidly clearing. “Yep. I’ll be right back.” He was gone in a blur but it was hard to believe a change was happening so quickly.

“Has it even been a full minute?” Superboy asked. “I mean, damn…”

“Someone better have been recording visuals.” Red Robin muttered. “We are absolutely missing something amazing.”

“He’s the King of the infinite Realm.” Raven said. “It’s the realm that connects every other realm and it is as the name implies… infinite. He rules it. I don’t even think Trigon would dare mess with him.”

Batman had his arms crossed, still listening to the amazed chatter over comms. “Should it be suspicious that all he wants is food?”

“He made the deal.” Raven shrugged. “He could have asked for anything. Literally.” She stopped speaking when the hooded king returned. He was floating this time though only a foot or two off the ground. He didn’t look tired or dirty or anything.

Just the same ethereal otherness he’d arrived with. “Done.” He announced.

“What uh- happened to the guy?” Superboy asked, pointing vaguely at where the storm had been raging.

The Ghost King just dug into his cape and pulled out…a thermos. “Souped him. He’s gonna have a little time out.”

“Oh my god, i have so many questions.” Red Robin whispered.

The thermos was put away and Batman was suppressing his own urge to ask a dozen questions over what just occurred. They’d been struggling with the Infinite creature for hours and countless lives had no doubt been altered. Clean up would take weeks if not months and this Ghost King handled it in minutes.

“My food?”

“On the way.” Raven said immediately. “Flash is one of the fastest men on the planet. He’ll be right back.”

The King nodded and looked around before moving to a pile of bricks that had once been a fence. He sat down and waited, somehow looking regal among the wreckage.

“So… I’m Red Robin.” Batman looked up again when his son was sliding closer to introduce himself. “Superboy, Raven, Batman.” He gestured and the King’s hood shifted as he followed Red Robin’s introduction of them. “Is there something we can call you or is your Majesty the most appropriate?”

The Ghost King sat in silence for a moment before reaching up to lower his hood. The shadows that had hidden his face disappeared revealing a young man only a little older than Tim. Maybe around Jason’s age. His hair was indeed white, and was braided down the nape of his neck save for the tufts of hair that floated around his face.

His skin was pale, and Batman thought it might have been gray or even blue in different light. His ears were pointed and his eyes were a haunting green.

With the hood out of the way, the crown lowered to sit on his head.

“Phantom.” He finally answered. “You can call me Phantom.”

Raven bowed her head again and Red Robin beamed. “Thank you for helping us! We literally couldn’t have done it without you.”

Phantom nodded again but without his hood to shield him there was something shy about the action.

The Flash reappeared in a cloud of dust, two bags of fast food in one hand and a collection of drinks under the other arm. “I got a little of everything!” He announced. “Got some burgers and some chicken nuggets and fries and onion rings. There’s one of those little apple pies in here somewhere too.

Phantom took the bags with a small smile and set them beside him so he could go through them. Superboy helped with the drinks, setting everything down so Phantom could have his pick. There were three different sodas, a lemonade, and a water.

It wasn’t fancy and probably wasn’t a fair trade of a meal for his services but he didn’t seem disappointed.

In a flash of rings made of light, Phantom transformed. The otherness of him was still there, but instead of a noble king of a realm, a young…very living human was in his place. Black hair instead of white was still braided down his neck and the strands around his face hung limp instead of floating.

Those eerie green eyes were now blue but that– oddly enough– was not the most startling thing about his transformation. He wore a large hoodie and jeans but his feet were bare.

His hands and feet were almost skeletal, and his face was gaunt and starved looking. His eyes were slightly sunken and his skin was a sickly kind of pale.

He looked emaciated, but there was the smallest of smiles on his face when he ate one fry and then another. He took a sip from every drink offered to him and then took a bite out of the burger.

They couldn’t help but stand there and watch, all of them transfixed over what they were seeing.

Phantom took two more bites before wrapping up the rest of his burger and placing it back in the bag.

“Not to your liking?” Flash asked, voice small.

Phantom licked his fingers and shook his head. “No, it was good. I’m just full. I’ll take it with me and eat it later when i’m hungry again.”

Batman could only imagine the size of his stomach. Stopping now was probably the healthiest thing he could have done if he wanted to keep the food down. He cleared his throat. “Are you alright?”

“Mhmm.” Phantom nodded, the rings of light appearing again. He was back in his healthier looking ghostly form. That was an oxymoron, wasn’t it? A healthy ghost form…

“You’re still alive.” Raven whispered, stuck in her shock. “The living shouldn’t… The Infinite Realm isn’t…”

Phantom’s lips tipped up in a smile. “You’re right, but wrong. I’m both. I’m dead. I’m alive. I’m balance.” He paused for a moment. “I haven’t been in a living realm for a while… guess i’ve been neglecting that side of me. Thanks for the food, it was a good deal.”

He was gathering up the bags he clearly planned to take with him.

“You should come back.” Red Robin spat the words out, likely before giving them any real thought. “I’ll take you to lunch. I’ll take you like… all the time. I am not going to pretend to know what you have going on but… shit, Agent A would disown me if i did not offer to feed you.”

Phantom looked cold briefly. “Agent… A…?”

Red Robin winced, “Code name for my grandfather. He’s an amazing cook.”

“Red Robin.” Batman scowled at him.

“Oh, what? He’s gonna give you the look for you not being the one to offer.” Red Robin said unapologetically, but the explanation had Phantom softening again. “What do you say? Lunch? Do i have to summon you?”

“Jesus, Red. Let him actually decline or accept.” Superboy was snickering.

Phantom looked between them, the confusion on his face clearing up after a beat. A piece of paper appeared between his fingers. It had some kind of squiggle on it none of them could read at a glance. He handed it over to Red Robin.

“Have that on you, say my name. I’ll find you.” Phantom said. “I should…eat again.”

“We…appreciate you helping us.” Raven added quickly, determined that they make a good impression.

Phantom’s look grew warmer again. “It was fun.” With his bags and drinks in his arms, he wandered back over to the summoning circle. “I don’t mind helping when the trouble is severe and you were right. This particular problem was mine to clean up. Sorry about him, by the way. Vortex is an asshole.”

Superboy and Flash both snorted. “Thanks anyway.”

Phantom nodded at them again, floating in the middle of the circle before his eyes glowed that bright, toxic green again. He slipped inside the void and disappeared as quickly as he arrived, the remains of the summoning circle erasing itself.

“So… That happened.” Flash muttered, not sure how they were gonna put this in a report to the rest of the League members. Batman wasn’t so sure either.

“I can’t believe you were just hitting on the Ghost King, Red.” Superboy laughed. “I mean… Lunches?”

“What?”

Raven was on her phone. “I am already telling Nightwing.”

“What!? Hey!” Red Robin was looking between them. “I wasn’t hitting on him. You leave Wing out of this!”

“No way.”

“You asked him on a date, man!” Superboy grinned. “All the titans are going to know about this in the next hour.”

“You guys suck!” Red Robin growled, his face a flame.

Batman just sighed. “There’s clean up to do. Get to work.”

He definitely did not need to think about his son’s audacity, coming onto a King of an entire realm. Where did he even learn that kind of behavior?

Masterlist

#dpxdc #dc x dp crossover #danny phantom #Danny Phantom x Red Robin if you squint #Batman #Red Robin #superboy #conner kent #Raven #Flash

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saksukei · 7 months

Text

simon ‘ghost’ riley has a crush on you

masterlist | subtle things he does for you | simon my love

simon’s feelings hit him like a truck, as if he's a deer caught in the headlights. he only comes to realize it in the heat of the battle, chests heaving up and down as the two of you hide behind a wall for cover. you tell him to reload first and it's something so insignificant, so minute and yet it pieces things together for him. so he does what his first best. swallow the lump in his neck, ignore the swelling of his heart and focus on what’s next.

except

he sucks at it and boy is it evident.

it is so subtle though, subtle enough for it to slip under everyone’s radars including yours. except, captain price is no fool. he's known simon long enough to see the little change in his demeanor when you enter the room. how simon immediately sits up right, in his best posture, giving you a firm nod of acknowledgment.

how simon always looks your way, always. even when you’re not looking, he’ll still check what you're doing, where you are. it’s not intended to be creepy, it's just a form of reassurance that you’re alive, that you’re okay, that he has another chance to confess. (also the type to lean against the door frame and observe you)

what’s shocking is that even during his infamous cigarette breaks, he chooses to hang out with you. he adores the fact that it’s comfortable silence between the two of you. and more importantly, it contains the two best things he needs, silence and you. “what a view” he thinks to himself.

moreso, the lieutenant’s eye for detail is insane. simon is incredibly nuanced, he can notice when your mood is off, when you’re hurt, irritated or whatsoever. he tries to deal with the issue silently, like handing you a bottle of water, leaving a seat for you beside him, ensuring that he does most of the paper work and so on.

simon reacts at the speed of lightning if he notices you’re hurt or in range of fire. he remembers the one time he ran, grabbing you by the waist to make sure you don’t get shot. your small frame clinging against his, your body weight almost nothing to him and he felt lightheaded. he desperately wanted to keep you in his arms but he settles for asking, “you holdin’ up fine?” as he lets you out of his grip.

he enjoys bantering with you so much. such snide and snarky remarks all the time. from “what? can’t handle a little teasing from your superiors?” to “you know it's bad manners cussing behind your lieutenant’s back,” to “thought you were tough?” to “all that back talk, why don't you come and prove it?” he absolutely loves the reactions you give him.

moreso, when he begins getting more and more comfortable, he invites you eat lunch with him as opposed to with the rest of the soldiers. adores the fact that you both can converse without having eyes on the two of you. “plans for lunch?”

oh and of course, the most difficult moment of his life, when you reached forward on your tippy toes to fix his balaclava, simon thought he’d have a heart attack. took all of his strength to not lean forward and press a kiss to your forehead. “looking alright now?” he jokes, you can almost hear his smirk.

he hates the vulnerability, he does. but what he doesn't hate is the fact that it's you. it's you he’s being vulnerable with. and he repeats it to himself every night that you’re the best choice anyway.

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marvelfilth · 3 months

Text

The mustache

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Natasha crashes your date

Masterlist

You let a fake laugh bubble out of your mouth for what feels like a hundredth time this evening. Your date looks smug, her eyes trailing over your form, almost leering. She takes a sip of her wine and licks her lips slowly, daring you to look.

You don't.

You can almost hear Natasha say I told you so.

You clear your throat and take another bite of a perfectly made steak - the only saving grace of this disastrous date.

You mentally cringe, closing your eyes briefly. Objectively, the date is going well - she showed up on time, held the door for you, helped you to your seat and made perfect small talk, occasionally throwing in a joke or two. You can excuse her wandering eyes, knowing you've been throwing mixed signals all evening.

You nod along to whatever story she's telling, smiling and chuckling when it's appropriate. You barely resist the urge to excuse yourself. You chew on your lower lip, wondering how you allowed yourself to get in such a mess.

Your phone chimes once, screen lightning up with a new notification.

Natasha.

Yep. Here's your answer.

You look at your date, hating how different her smile is from your best friends. It's too large, too open and not even half as genuine. Natasha's smiles are small, barely noticeable, but they're enough to make your breath come short.

You sigh. You need to stop comparing your every date to Natasha.

“Do you mind if I take a look? It might be important,” you ask, reaching for your phone. She nods happily, waving the waiter over for another glass of wine.

How bad is it?

You snort, coughing immediately to cover up the sound and reaching for your glass.

Another message appears right in front of your eyes.

That bad?

You choke on your wine, discreetly looking around, but coming up short.

Six o'clock, dumbass.

You wait a moment and look right behind you, mouth falling open when you finally see her.

She's sitting three tables down, wearing your favorite hoodie and a black cap. With sunglasses covering her eyes. In a dimly lit restaurant. What makes you let out a strangled laugh, though, is a perfect old fashioned mustache glued right under her nose. She twirls both ends around her fingers, curling them up, before lowering her glasses and sending you an exaggerated wink.

The best spy in the world, the woman who made entire governments collapse, is sitting right behind you, looking like a child playing dress up.

You whip around, your face red, and wave off your date's concerned look. “I'm alright.”

She nods, all too happy to continue talking about all of the famous people she's met through her job.

You hide your phone under the table and shoot your best friend a text.

You're ridiculous

Her reply comes instantly.

And yet you love me.

Her words hit a little too close to home.

You are hopelessly in love with your best friend.

Another message comes through.

What's wrong?

You frown, eyes darting around. You didn't even do anything to warrant the question.

And don't even try to lie. I can tell something's wrong.

You sigh, tell Natasha everything is fine, and place your phone face down on the table, your date still recounting a story of how she met some actress.

The next half an hour is tense. You can feel Natasha's eyes on you. You can hear her plotting a way to get you out of here, but you know you have to at least try to make it work, if not with… Connie? Courtney? Then with someone else, before you go completely mad.

Your phone rings. You can't stop yourself from picking it up.

“Sorry, it’s an emergency.” Your excuse sounds bad even to your own ears, and you wince when your date pointedly looks away with pursed lips.

“Do you want me to throw her out of the window?” She starts without a preamble. “If not, I have a knife in my boot and you know how good I am with knives.”

“Can't you handle it without me?” You ask, knowing Natasha will play along. Your date reaches for her purse, dejected. Guilt swirls in your chest, and you contemplate your next words. Maybe you should stay and-

“Don't feel bad, she's been looking at the blonde to your right since she came in,” Natasha drawls, “and no, I can't handle it without you. I need you back home.”

You blush, biting on your lower lip.

“I'm sorry, but there's been an-”

“Just go,” your date cuts you off, “I'll handle the bill.” Her eyes are on the blonde girl before she's done speaking, and you leave with your conscience clear.

Natasha catches up to you outside and leads you to her corvette - her sunglasses and cap are gone, but that ridiculous mustache is still in place.

“What do you think?” She asks as she opens the door for you before going around the car and taking a seat behind the wheel. “I like the look.”

You snort and shake your head, amused with your best friend's antics. “It's… something.”

She rolls her eyes, starting the engine. “I know you love it.”

You hum, relaxing against the soft leather, your worries stoved away by Natasha's calming presence.

“Why do you keep going on dates if you hate it so much?” She asks when you reach Compound gates.

You sigh, think of an answer that would get her off your back without making her suspicious.

“I just… I-” you stutter, wincing.

Great.

She raises an eyebrow, looking absolutely ridiculous, but so, so beautiful, it makes your entire chest ache.

The car comes to a stop, and Natasha focuses all of her attention on you.

“I need to get over someone.”

There, you've said it.

“Who?” She asks, and for the first time in all the years you've known her you can't read her at all.

“You don't know them.”

She looks ahead, her jaw clenched tight. “How long?”

You blink away the tears. “A few years.”

She looks down at her lap, her fingers tapping against her thigh. “Who?” She asks again.

“Natasha…”

“Is it Carol?” Her voice is tight, her eyes dart around the street.

“God no,” you chuckle, thinking about your blond friend. Valkyrie would kill you on the spot if you even looked at her the wrong way, not that you're interested anyway. They need to get over themselves and finally admit their feelings to each other. Anyone can see their pining from a mile away.

“Kate?”

You shake your head. “You don't know them.”

“Then tell me. What would it matter?”

“Nat, can we just-”

“Tell me.”

You groan, and turn to open the door, but Natasha’s hand landing on your thigh stops you. You swallow, freezing on the spot.

“Please.”

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for the inevitable. “It's you,” you whisper.

The hand on your thigh clumps tight. “What?”

“It's you,” you repeat, feeling braver after the admission. “Always you.”

She lets out a deep, shaky breath, before reaching for your face with her other hand. “Look at me, please.”

You face her, eyes still closed, a few tears sliding down your cheeks. They're wiped away a moment later, and your face gets enveloped in the softest warmth.

“Open your eyes.”

You swallow, and do as she asked. She looks at you like you're the most precious thing in the world.

“I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat at her words, lips falling open. “What?”

She smiles, her thumb tracing patterns on your wet cheek. “I love you.”

You look at her for a long moment, taking in her features - her forest green eyes, tender and soft, the slope of her nose, so kissable. Your eyes trail lower and then suddenly a loud laugh makes its way out of your chest. You bend, clutching your stomach, happy tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

Natasha looks delightfully confused.

“I'm sorry, it's just…” you giggle, pointing at her face, “the mustache.”

She groans, tearing it away. “I've been going crazy all this time, you know.”

“Yeah?” You grin, head spinning.

“Yeah,” she says before claiming your lips. She's soft, so soft it makes your toes curl and your chest get warm and fuzzy. The kiss is gentle, loving. You mewl against her, opening your mouth and welcoming her tongue.

The kiss grows heated.

“I,” you gasp between the kisses, “I love you. So much.”

You can feel her blinding smile in the next kiss, and the one that comes after.

#natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff #black widow x you #black widow x reader #black widow #the mustache

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emiliehornby · 4 months

Text

i beg you (and you don’t understand)

pairing luke castellan x fem! child of athena! reader

synopsis luke knew you loved him enough to fight a war for him, but you should have known that history would eventually write you two against each other

warnings MAJOR spoilers for the lightning thief

author’s notes turns out i can’t go too long without writing angst!! so after listening to history of man by maisie peters, i had an idea and completely ran with it. writing this literally had me kicking my feet!! happy first fic of the year!! woohoo!! apologies in advance though lol

Luke had once asked you, “Do you ever think about what our lives would look like if we weren’t here?”

“Like at camp? Maybe a little too much. It’s not like we can do anything about it, but if I get the chance to be with you in every lifetime, it can’t be too bad. Right?” You smiled.

“To Tartarus and back?” He placed a hand on your cheek.

You leaned into him, “To Tartarus and back, baby.”

“Luke. Luke is the traitor.”

Percy’s words swam in your ears. You should have known it when he barely came back alive from his quest and looked for someone to blame. Heck, just last week, Luke had admitted he imagined a future with you, away from the burdens of being demigods. For the first time in forever, he had felt at peace. The signs had been right in front of you…yet you still didn’t see them coming.

Some daughter of Athena you were.

The campers occupying the infirmary came to a stop at Percy’s declaration. As the boy went on to explain how he’d been poisoned by a scorpion and exposed Luke’s vendetta, they hung onto every word. The question as to how the golden boy at camp came to be so angry at the world lingered in the air.

And you hated it.

You stood from beside Percy’s bedside, “Chris…go get Peter, Maisie, and Delilah. If anyone else wants to help, they can. But we have to look for him.”

“On it.” Chris nodded.

“You guys, stay here.” You told Percy, Annabeth, and Grover.

Percy failed to follow your orders. Instead, he staggered outside the infirmary while his friend’s pleas for him to stay were ignored. The son of Poseidon fell into step with you and screamed, “Didn’t you hear what I just said?! Why would you wanna find Luke after what he’s done?”

You turned around, “Because he would have done it for me!” Percy’s body bumped into yours. You reached over at his sides to stabilize him. An ounce of doubt in your own words sparked a slight burn building in the back of your throat. You tried to bite it back, only for it to be replaced with a heavy weight falling onto your shoulders.

“Then if anyone gets to look for him, it should be me.” Percy demanded.

You patted his hair, “And if anyone can get to his head, it’s me, Percy.”

“Where do you want us?” Chris cut your conversation short. Delilah came from behind him, handing over your daggers.

“You guys head towards the North Woods. I’ll be near the border. We’ll circle back at the Big House.” You placed one in your holster, nodding in the direction they were supposed to take. Your friends wished you luck and ran straight through the trees while you pointed a dagger at Percy, “I mean it. Stay here, you’re safer that way.”

You left without another word.

Amidst your search, you bumped into your siblings, who shared sympathetic looks, and other Hermes kids, who offered to accompany you. You insisted on treading this alone, a sense of obligation clouding over you to do so. Luke had been it for you since the beginning, and a twisted part of you didn’t want that to change. If you could just get a moment alone with him, maybe you could convince him the impending war wasn’t worth it. Maybe eventually, the Gods would get their punishments…

You didn’t realize how long you’d been wandering the forest. You dreaded coming back to camp without Luke, taking your time while the sky settled into a warm orange to guide you through your last round of the forest outside the border. You twisted a dagger around your wrist to keep you occupied, coming to a halt when a pile of leaves crunched from behind you. Slowly, you turned around to seemingly nothing, but the tracks in the dirt told you a different story.

You scolded your sister, “It’s not safe out here.”

“Then come back to camp with me.” Annabeth removed her cap.

You shook your head, “I- Look, I can’t.”

Annabeth tried to convince you, “Luke probably left as soon as Percy was poisoned. But the Gods will find a way to deal with him-”

“The Gods shouldn’t have to deal with him! If they didn’t just abandon us, we wouldn’t even be here right now!” Your sister’s face fell as you couldn’t help but raise your voice. When she failed to look at you, you shut your eyes and took a deep breath.

Gods, you just wanted Luke to come home to you. Was that too much to ask?

You waved her over, “Annabeth…come here.”

She listened and you wrapped your arms around her, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I just want to help. Luke was my family too.” Annabeth gave you a squeeze.

“I know, but you have to listen to me. Okay?” You pulled away to place your hands on her cheeks. For a second, you saw the shadow of your sister at seven years old, the age she was when she first came to camp. You looked her in the eyes to clearly instruct her, “Go back to the cabin. I just need a second.”

“I’m not leaving you here-” Annabeth frowned.

“I’ll be right behind you. I promise.” You reassured her.

Annabeth refused to take no for an answer, “Then I’ll wait for you by the border.”

You pat her head and gently pushed her towards camp, “Go.”

You had barely reached the border when you felt someone staring at you.

“When you said you’d wait for me by the border, I thought you meant you’d be behind it.” You joked around, thinking it was Annabeth.

Instead, a voice replied in the distance, “You know how Annabeth can be with loopholes.” You tightened a grip on your dagger, circling around to pinpoint where the echo came from. When you felt a rustle in the wind, you turned around sharply. The tip of the blade hovered just centimeters away from Luke’s throat.

Your stare hardened, “What’s stopping me from turning you in right now?”

“Easy. You’d never do that to me.” Luke cracked a smile.

You couldn’t even argue with him.

You feared to ask, “So it’s true…what you did to Percy?”

His silence was enough of an answer.

Luke tapped the edge of the blade and moved closer to you. His mere presence rendered you defenseless as you let him take the dagger from you and drop it into the dirt. You faltered when he tried to hold you close, one hand holding his wrist while the other punched at his chest.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re okay.” He took the blows with ease.

You looked up at him, “Luke.”

He couldn’t stop himself from kissing you. His hand cupped at your jaw while you placed your hands on his neck. Like it was muscle memory, he took two steps forward to gently pin you up against the nearest tree. You deepened the kiss, feeling his pulse quicken against your fingers, savoring the moment. Luke was the first to pull away, but he only leaned further into your touch.

“Come with me.” He begged.

“Luke…” You whispered.

He tried to explain himself, “You have to understand…I wanted to give us a chance in this new world that’s waiting for us. I did this for us. So come with me.”

You forced yourself to face reality. You may have stood in front of your past and present, but you had to think about the future. This wasn’t Camp Half Blood. You weren’t playfully sparring for bragging rights or working on strategies in the Hermes cabin to win capture the flag. You lived in a world where a war between the Gods was imminent because of the boy you loved. This is what you had been training for, but you couldn’t do anything to convince him it was wrong.

So you pushed him away.

You yelled, “Annabeth! Chiron! Anyone?!” He spared you a glance before narrowly escaping between the trees. When he was nothing but a shadow, you will yourself to run off as fast as your legs could carry you. You didn’t care that your body felt like it was burning in the pits of Tartarus. You didn’t want to stop until you found a familiar face.

You turned around in case he followed you, even though a feeling in your gut told you that was it. You yelled again, “Annabeth- umph!” You collided straight into the girl, falling just behind Thalia’s tree. You groaned, rolling off of her and wiping your face. Annabeth sat up to check on you, making sure you came back unharmed.

“Annabeth?! Y/N?!” Percy ran in with Riptide in his hand and Grover at his side. You couldn’t help but laugh at the look on their faces.

“Are you okay?” Grover sat himself next to you. His gentle touch on your back turned your laughter into tears. They slowly fell down your face, burying yourself into your hands as you sobbed. Your sister and the satyr were patient while you worked through your emotions, both of them sharing a look before glaring at Percy. Silent expressions were thrown between the trio until a pointed look from Annabeth made Percy sit down in defeat. He used Riptide to draw shapes into the dirt while they comforted you.

You finally lifted your head up, confessing, “Luke asked me…he asked me to join him.”

Grover only asked what everyone hesitated to, “What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t- I can’t believe he would even ask that in the first place. I didn’t know what to do, so I just…I ran. I shouldn’t have run.” Your voice faltered when Annabeth gently wiped under your eyes. Afraid to go deeper into the subject if it meant accepting Luke’s fate, you nodded over at Percy instead, silent “You didn’t have to come in full force, you know. Thank you.”

Percy only shrugged, “Hey, you’d do it for me.”

“I’m sorry, Percy.” You apologized for snapping at him before you left. You apologized for Luke poisoning him. You apologized for the universe that brought him, a child, into this path he didn’t choose to take.

“Yeah, me too.” Percy was sorry it turned out like this. He was sorry for Luke hurting you, the one he loved the most. He was sorry about the Gods, who could have prevented this if they just loved their children a little more.

You broke his thoughts to beckon him over, “Come over here.”

Hesitantly, Percy obliged. When his feet touched yours, you yanked him down and brought the kids under your arms. They couldn’t help but lean deeper into you, hoping the love you had for each other would get you through the idea of a war you’d have no choice but to inevitably partake in. You pressed a kiss to Annabeth’s head, unaware of Luke, who silently watched you take the kids back to their cabins and turned to leave you behind.

One day, you’d find it in yourself to heal from the betrayal that blindsided you all. But you were his weakness, and it would only be a matter of time before someone took advantage of that. It wouldn’t be long until you met again.

After all, history had its eyes on you two.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson imagine #luke castellan #annabeth chase #grover underwood #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #stevie writes!

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flseur · 4 months

Text

꒰ 𐙚 started it — suguru geto ꒱

⟡ synopsis : when you can't seem to fall asleep, it's a good thing that your boyfriend suguru can distract you!

⟡ content warning : nsfw ( 18+ ), fem!reader, kind of brat!reader and brat tamer!geto, fluff to smut, teasing, cunnilingus, fingering, praising, edging, blowjob, deepthroating, overstimulation, standing missionary, standing doggy

౨ৎ note : i was going to write more to be honest but i also didn't want it to be too long because it's 2.2k words, so if anyone wants a part two let me know! ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

when it rains, it pours. and nights like these, with the down pouring rain accompanied by thunder and lightning, you’ve always had a hard time trying to fall asleep.

maybe it’s your nerves, or maybe it’s just the sound of the hard droplets of water hitting the windows of your bedroom.

either way, you can’t sleep.

which is quite the opposite of your boyfriend right now.

you can make out the outline of suguru’s sleeping form in the dark, as well as hear his light snores. he had always slept better with sound, and this storm is allowing him to catch up on the rest he oh so deserved.

you sigh, sitting up from your bed and bringing up a hand to rub your eyes. at least one of you was able to sleep.

quietly moving your comforter, you slip out of bed and try to leave the bedroom as quietly as possible then make your way into the kitchen.

while starting the kettle for a cup of chamomile tea, hoping it will help with your restlessness.

at first the only thing you were able to hear was the whistling of the tea kettle and the pitter-pattering of rain, then you heard the sound of heavy footsteps and you whip your head around to see the cause of the sound.

“suguru? what are you doing out of bed?” you ask, thinking that you were quieter when leaving the bedroom.

“couldn’t sleep…” he yawns sleepily, walking closer to you. “heard you get out of bed.”

“oh, i’m sorry.” you rush out, turning back to pour the hot water into your tea cup. “i thought i was being quiet. you can go back to bed without me, i can’t fall asleep right now.”

not hearing a response from your boyfriend, you go to turn around to look at him. instead, you feel his arms wrapping around your waist, and his head resting on your shoulder.

“suguru? are you okay?” you ask, feeling his hair tickle your neck.

“come back to bed with me.” he mumbles against the bare skin of your shoulder, where his shirt that you were wearing sagged. his lithe fingers playing with the bottom hem of it.

you let out a light laugh at your boyfriend’s behaviour. “i’ll come to bed in a bit, okay?”

“why not now?” he pouts.

“‘cause i can’t sleep, suguru.” you tell him. “i might work on one of my papers or something.”

“i’ll stay up with you.” he says, flipping you around. the small of your back now pressed against the granite of the countertop with his arms caging you in.

“are you sure? you don’t have to.”

“i want to. i’ll keep you company.” he tells you.

“okay…” you respond, not entirely believing your boyfriend due to the fatigue that shows in his brown eyes.

suguru gives you a quick peck on your lips, “i promise, i’ll stay awake.”

“i believe you.” you giggle.

“no you don’t.” he kisses your temple, then the corner of your mouth, then on your neck before resting his head on your shoulder again. “you think i’m going to fall asleep.”

“if you do fall asleep i don’t mind, honestly.” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“but i’m not going to.” suguru noses against your skin, intaking the scent of your shampoo and conditioner from the shower with him the night before.

“promise?” you ask.

“i promise.” he tells you. “i’d never leave you alone.”

“good.” you kiss his lips.

“go sit at the table,” he says. “‘m gonna make you a snack.”

“‘kay.” you reply, pouring your cup of tea before making your way over to a chair. “are you making yourself some too?”

“of course i am. woke up without my beautiful girlfriend beside me and an empty stomach.” he jokes.

“ha ha.” you reply sarcastically. “what’re you making?”

“apples.”

“apples?”

“yeah, having some sort of fruit always helps with studying,” he replies. “my mom used to do this for me in highschool.”

“that’s sweet of her to do.”

“yeah, i appreciated it a lot back then.” he tilts his head back and looks at you.

“thank you.” you smile at him. “i really appreciate it.”

“‘course,” he smiles back. suguru grabs the plate of sliced apples and places it down on the table in front of you. “here, make sure to eat them all. you need to energize your brain.”

you pat the chair beside you, “come and sit with me. i want you to have some too.”

suguru lets out a light chuckle before sitting down in the chair, “i don’t want to distract you…”

“it’s okay, i like being near you. besides, weren’t you hungry too?”

“okay, if you insist.” he jokes before popping one of the apple slices in his mouth. he then leans over and then pecks the side of your mouth.

suguru grabs the edge of your chair, and the wooden legs scrape against the floor as he pulls you closer to him.

“why’d you do that?” you laugh.

“just wanted to be closer to you” he replies coyly, leaning in and pressing another kiss to your lips. the act is sweet but his intentions were anything but. his soft lips press into you more, making your head spin.

just as you were about to pull away, his large hands come up to the side of your head, deepening the kiss.

suguru bites at your bottom lip before running his tongue over the stinging flesh, asking for entrance into your mouth but you pull away quickly, hoping to catch your breath.

“sugu,” you sigh his name, your forehead resting on his. “i need to work on my paper…”

and though you protest, you don’t fully mean your words because when you catch his eyes zeroing in on your lips, you find yourself leaning in for more.

suguru pulls you out of your chair by your waist, making you sit on his lap. you can feel his growing erection in his grey joggers through your sleep shorts. the harder he kisses you, his hands pressing you impossibly closer into him, the more you squirm in his lap.

suguru groans against you then pulls back, smiling slightly seeing how you chase his lips.

“shit,” he gasps, looking down at where you continue to grind against him. your flimsy cotton shorts doing nothing to hide the arousal pooling at your core. “y’can’t keep doing this to me baby, you’re driving me crazy.”

“you started this…” you reply, continuing your ministrations.

“don’t be a fucking tease.” he chokes out. “i’ll make sure nothing else comes out of that bratty mouth of yours.”

“then do it.”

and before you can get another word out, suguru has manhandled you into bending over onto the dining table and removing your sleep shorts, internally groaning about your lack of panties.

god, you looked so fucking good like this. bottom half of your body bare, your ass on display and your arousal was dripping down your inner thighs.

“stop staring and do somethin– oh…” you start then being cut off by a moan, feeling suguru’s large hands grab at your ass and his tongue slither its way to your pussy.

his wet muscle runs between your folds, circling your clit before his lips wrap around it and he begins to suck it into his mouth.

you let out a desperate moan, pushing your hips back further into his face. you didn’t want to beg for more, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’s making you feel so good.

so when you feel one of his hands leave your ass and his lithe fingers dance up your inner thighs, you bite back a small smile.

“fuck! oh m’god!” you sob as you feel him push one of his digits into your sopping cunt.

suguru smirked against your pussy, feeling your walls twitch as he pistons his fingers deeper into you. he angled his fingers to hit your g-spot, making sure to hit it with every thrust.

he could tell you were going to cum soon, your moans were becoming more high pitched and airy while your body writhed above him.

“i-i’m gonna cum… fuck! suguru–!” you cry out, ready to tip over that peak until the pleasure your boyfriend was giving you was ripped away. “what? why?”

you whip your head around, glancing over your shoulder to see the shit-eating smirk suguru was wearing on his face. “ah… i guess you really wanted to cum right?” he teases, one of his hands rubbing soft circles on the globe of your ass.

“no shit, suguru.” you groan, rolling your eyes until you feel him pull you up and turning you to face him.

“aw… m’sorry baby,” he coos at you, his hands coming up to rest on your jaw. “but brats don’t get what they want, now do they?” he says, the grip on your face tightening.

“suck my cock.” he tells you, hands moving to your shoulders to gently push you to your knees.

and you oblige, sinking to your knees and your fingers dance at the waistband of his grey joggers before rubbing him through the material.

“don’t tease.” he groans, throwing his hand back.

you begrudgingly pulls down his pants and boxers at the same time. suguru’s cock sprung out and hit below his belly button, it was flushed pink and had precum oozing from the tip.

you kitten lick the head, feeling it twitch against your tongue and tasting the saltiness.

“baby…” he moans, his breath hitching when he finally feels you wrap your pretty lips around it.

you take him as far as you can before wrapping one hand around the rest and squeezing lightly, while the other one massages his balls.

“fuuuck, so good for me…”

suguru’s hands frame the side of your head, using them to guide your spit-covered lips up and down his cock. he fucking loved it when you gave him head. always taking him as deep as you could, sputtering around his cock and swallowing every drop of cum down your throat.

and as much as suguru would like to cum down your throat right now, he’s already decided to save that for when he’s fucking the bratiness out of you.

“‘kay… baby, shit, i’m gonna cum… you gotta stop.” he warns you, but you continue on and quicken your ministrations. you take him as deep as you can, gagging around his dick and you feel it twitch in your mouth.

you knew he was going to be annoyed with you, but you continue to take him further until you finally feel the stutter of his hips, his melodic moans, and his cum down your throat.

“f-fuck! y/n!” suguru groans, his chest heaving until he pulls you off him. “you’re going to regret that.”

though the look on your face held little to no remorse. you grinned up at him, licking your lips then leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to the sensitive head of his cock.

“y’sure? i doubt that i am.” you taunt him.

next thing you knew, suguru is pistoning his thick cock into you unforgivingly, your arousal coating his length. he had you pushed up against the wall in the dining room, your legs wrapped around his waist tightly.

you looked so beautiful. tits bouncing, tears lining the waterline of your pretty eyes and your skin was hot to the touch. his hands grabbed at the plush skin of your hips, grinding you down further on his cock and you sob at the feeling.

your nails scratched at the skin of his broad shoulders before you wrap your arms around his neck. your breasts pressed against his chest and his breath hitches as he feels your nipples brush against him.

“you about to cum, princess?” he coos at you, leaning forward to press open mouth kisses to your neck. “do it… cum on my cock, i want to feel you…”

he could feel your pussy clench around him tightly. he was hitting all of the right places in you, your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you swore you seen stars.

“su-suguru! oh my fucking god! m’cumming!” as you cum, your pussy squeezed his cock impossibly tighter and your vision blurs from the intensity.

suguru rarely gave you enough time to recover before he sets your feet to the ground and you nearly feel your legs give out. his hands grab at your hips once again, manhandling you into turning around to face the wall.

as you feel his cock sink into you, you moan out once more and you ball your fists against the wall.

“feeling alright?” he whispers in your ear, wanting to make sure you were okay before starting again.

you nod your head, mumbling a quick ‘mhm’ then try to fuck your hips back onto him.

“words, baby.” he tuts.

“yes…now move.” you say, still being able to give him attitude while being fucked out.

“still being bratty, huh?” he scoffs, thrusting up into your cunt abruptly, making you cry out. “the only thing that's going to come out of your mouth is going to be those pretty, little moans, alright?”

“yes, suguru...”

"that's my girl."

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bokutosbiceps · 4 months

Text

don't be afraid to catch feels

eustass kid/monkey d luffy/roronoa zoro/trafalgar d water law/usopp/vinsmoke sanji x gn!reader | fluff | ~2k words

warnings: some suggestive/18+ themes but nothing explicit

a/n: idk i just really wanted to write so THIS was born !!! how some of the one piece boys realize they have feelings for ya !! might do this for other fandoms too…actually yeah i will LOL probably if i don’t forget

NOTE: i end them after their confession on PURPOSE so you can choose your own adventure 😆 also there’s more dialogue for luffy’s + usopp’s so they’re a bit longer !!

18+ MDNI | under the cut for length

eustass kid is angry. he's angry that he developed a crush on you. it's so stupid, he thinks. so outta character.

everyone on the victoria punk knows it, including you. and much to kid’s dismay, so does killer. killer talks to him about it everyday, trying to coax a confession out of him in the most gentle yet firm way he can. he wants his captain to be happy, and he knows that you can make him happy, because you already do without knowing it.

kid is completely docile in your presence, and protective. he’s more quiet, because he wants to hear what you have to say. he’s around more, because he wants to keep an eye on you. and maybe because he likes being in your presence.

kid tells (threatens) the rest of his crew that, even though they’re like brothers to him, they’ll be ripped to shreds if any of them so much as glance at you the wrong way.

luckily for you and unluckily for him, you’d heard his very public threat to the kid pirates, save for you.

you ask kid what the hell all that was about and he simply shrugs, rolling his eyes and trying but failing to keep his cool. you scoff and chuckle at his indignance. you continue to press him till he finally gets annoyed and locks eyes with you, his pupils dilated and his lips spread out into a crazy grin.

“jus’ claiming what’s mine.”

monkey d luffy is seeking out the smartest person he knows, and once he sees her, he’s barreling toward her at lightning speed. hands appear, arising from the wood of the sunny’s deck and forming a net right in front of robin, effectively catching luffy and recoiling him flat onto his butt.

“robin! what was that for?” luffy whines, adjusting his straw hat and tilting it back so that he can look at robin.

“i’d prefer to not be crashed into, captain.” robin shuts her book and gives luffy a gentle, almost maternal smile. “now, what has you so excited?”

luffy is thoughtful as he opts to lay back down on the deck, tilting his straw hat over his face to shield his eyes from the sun. he’s not excited, kinda confused, actually.

he’s good with his feelings, because he knows his feelings. he's familiar with them. but these feelings—the ones he's been feeling for the past couple of weeks or so—are new. he doesn’t know them, but he wants to learn about them. so here he is, ready to learn with the smartest person he knows.

“well…i wouldn’t call it excited, ya know?” luffy stretches his arms overhead before folding them behind his head. robin chuckles quietly, already aware of luffy’s feelings before he'd even realized them himself.

“what would you call it then?” robin asks patiently.

“like…i dunno! it’s different! it’s different with ‘em…” luffy trails off, sinking back into his thoughts.

“different with who?”

“y/n!” luffy chirps, feeling himself smile at the mention of your name. “i’m really happy they’ve joined the crew!”

“happy like…you’re happy that i joined the crew?”

“nuh uh, like…i always wanna be near ‘em. i like when they laugh, when they’re happy. their smile’s real nice, too.” luffy pauses. “it’s a lot of fun to be alone with ‘em! makes me feel good…”

robin takes her time explaining what these feelings mean, that that bubbly, queasy feeling in his stomach was not, in fact, indigestion. once robin’s words seep into luffy’s thick, rubber skull, he jumps up off the deck and wraps robin in a tight hug, grinning the whole time and whisper yelling i gotta go tell ‘em!

luffy finds you instantly, almost like his body contains a homing device that always leads to you. you notice way too late that you are in the direct path of the tornado that is luffy, and he tackles you, causing you to fall back. luffy is quick to catch you, stretching an arm around your waist and bringing you to his chest, looking at your face with such intensity you can’t keep your face from heating up.

you’re breathless. due to the adrenaline from almost cracking your skull against the wood of the ship, and from the i’ve got feelings for ya! robin says they're love feelings! do you feel the same? that rushed out of luffy’s mouth.

roronoa zoro is confused. honestly, more confused than he’s ever been in his life. then he’s annoyed. why did he have to develop feelings for a crewmate, let alone you? it would just get in the way of everything. he wants to focus on his dream, on luffy’s dream, and sometimes even on sanji’s dream.

he doesn’t consider himself a particularly selfish person, but he wanted to focus on himself first.

but then he sees you smile. he hears you laugh. he watches you work and hone your craft, a look of ecstatic determination on your face and the tip of your tongue peeking out between your pursed lips as you focus. suddenly, he realizes it’s really not about him anymore. it’s about you.

he starts to avoid you like the plague—he figures that if he can’t see you, you can’t see him. but he’s oh so wrong.

when you decide you've had enough of this, you stop zoro, your hand gripping his shoulder and pulling as hard as you can. zoro raises an eyebrow at you and turns around, crossing his arms and waiting for you to explain yourself.

“you’ve been avoiding me.” you state, leaving no room for disagreement or excuses.

“says who?” zoro is very good at playing dumb.

“says me. and luffy.” you huff a bit as you remember your encounter with your captain. how his lips had twisted to the side and how his eyes had shot up to the sky when you’d asked what zoro’s problem was.

“luffy doesn’t know—”

“know why you’ve been avoiding me?” you step closer to zoro, your eyes locked on his and staring into his soul, searching for answers. “i’m sure we’d both love to know.”

zoro scoffs and rolls his eyes, taking a step back from you and turning his face to the sea. the cool ocean breeze feels nice against his burning face. he grimaces as he turns back to you, figuring he might as well get this over with.

“ilikeyou.” zoro mumbles, the words rushing out of his mouth and stopping quickly as they had started.

you shake your head and lean closer to zoro, turning your head to the side so his lips are inches away from your cheek.

“can you repeat that, please, roronoa?”

“i like you.” zoro says the three, short, quipped words. he’s frowning and his arms are crossed and pulled tightly against his chest, in hopes to dampen the hammering of his heart.

trafalgar d water law is no stranger to stuffing his feelings deep inside of his chest and leaving them there to rot. so he’s wondering why in the fresh hell these annoying feelings for you keep resurfacing. they crawl up his esophagus and reflux into his mouth, leaving a bitter taste behind and making him scowl every time he feels them.

and to you, it seems as though every time the two of you lock cross paths, he narrows his eyes at you and stalks away. he rarely talks to you anymore, although the conversations you'd shared before were usually very short, yet somehow still meaningful.

you decide to confront him about it, byway of bepo, who happened to know exactly why law was seemingly scarce around you.

“c-captain? our captain?” bepo stutters, bringing his paw up to his mouth and feigning surprise. “wow! i have no clue why he’d do something like that!”

you frown at bepo. it’s painfully obvious he knows everything about the answer to your question. “spill it, bepo.”

bepo starts to make gestures with his hands and little struggle noises with his mouth. he has no clue how to get out of this one. so he does, indeed, spill it.

a few minutes later, after bepo was done with his rambling and law’s confession, you approach law with a smug smile on your face.

it doesn’t take a genius to be able to tell why you’re smirking like that, and law immediately pinches the bridge of his nose and tilts his head down.

“that damn bear…”

usopp is sweaty. he’s sweaty, he’s wringing his hands, twirling his hair around his fingers, readjusting his goggles on top of his head. he can’t sit still. he’s been thinking about how on earth to deal with his feelings: does he just shove 'em deep down inside or does he shout 'em from the crow’s nest? he hasn’t had romantic feelings for anyone since he left kaya, and he simply cannot deal.

“usopp…” nami says softly, touching usopp on the shoulder. he jumps, then flinches at his overreaction to his best friend’s simple and gentle gesture. “can you just tell them, please?”

“n-no! why should i?” usopp frowns at nami and furrows his eyebrows, knowing full well that it’d be best for his health and the crew’s sanity to just come out and tell you.

“if you don’t…” nami grins at him, slowly and mischievously, “i’ll tell them myself.”

usopp immediately springs up from his chosen sulking location and mutters an okay, okay! behind him as he leaves nami. he’s back to sweating, wringing his hands, playing with his hair, and fidgeting with his goggles.

you notice usopp looking particularly dreadful and wait for him to get closer to your position on the deck. you reach out and catch his hand, giving it a light tug so that he’s moving closer to you. he seems so deep in thought that he doesn’t even notice.

“usopp?” you tug on his hand twice, trying to get his attention. usopp meets your gaze and stares at you blankly before shaking his head and becoming aware of the situation. he tries to withdraw his hand from your grip but you’re holding on tightly, and he realizes he’s trapped.

“y/n! fancy seeing you here!” usopp laughs loudly, trying to mask the way that he’s absolutely crumbling and melting.

“what’s on your mind, usopp?”

“you.” usopp covers his mouth with his free hand immediately after the words come out of his mouth. what was he thinking, being so forward? he quickly looks away from you, directing his eyes to the clouds above. “i mean, nami was talking about you earlier. that’s why i’m thinking about you. no other reason!”

a small smile spreads across your lips. “oh, yeah. she told me something super interesting about you earlier today…” you say, drawing out the last few syllables and relishing in the way usopp looks at you in utter horror.

“nami told you that i like you?” he breathes.

“no, but you just did.”

vinsmoke sanji is aware that he actually likes you. that you're not just another pretty face he admires. he’s always known you were gorgeous, the apple of his eye, the object of his affection. you never noticed that it different, though. thinking back on it, you’re glad that you didn’t notice, because you might’ve thought it meant something bad. quite the contrary, in fact.

sanji knows he loves you when he feels calm in your presence. when he’s not acting like a fan boy and when he spends hours talking with you while he cooks or does the dishes or plans the crew's next meal. you’re always around, and yet, he’s never nervous.

when he really realizes it, though, it’s when he catches a glimpse of nami’s naked silhouette through the crack in the bathroom door and he doesn’t even flinch. not a tingle, not a single palpitation. it’s not you, and his heart knows it, so he’s calm. this is when he knows he has to confess.

“y/n…darling…” sanji says, grasping your hands in his own and looking you in the eyes. “i have to tell you something—something i’ve never told anyone before.”

you look at him, an eyebrow raised in skeptical curiosity. sanji looks worried, and he almost never looks worried. your mind is going a mile a minute, your brain flipping through pages and pages of things he could possibly say to you within the next minute. because of this, you miss the way sanji squeezes your hands, and the way he sucks in a deep breath.

“i’m in love with you.”

taglist: @usoppsstar (i literally can’t remember anyone else rn lolol, i just knew i wanted to surprise ya coco) | @kingofthe-egirls | @pileofmush | @anemptypuddingcup

#one piece #one piece x reader #kid x reader #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #law x reader #usopp x reader #sanji x reader #eustass kid #monkey d luffy #roronoa zoro #trafalgar d law #trafalgar d water law #vinsmoke sanji

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kneelingshadowsalome · 5 months

Text

Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 5.2 k Summary: Yup it’s König with a Virgin!Nun!Reader folks. This is all @wordstome 's and @melancholic-thing 's and their König & religion post's fault! :( Tags/warnings: PINING. Eventual smut, eventual blood & minor injuries. A cute, sweet, silly story with undertones of religious despair. Watch out for possible mistakes concerning Catholicism, I was more interested in the forbidden love trope.

Part 1

You don’t know how it even happened, but you became friends with a foreign man visiting your city.

You bumped into him one day. Literally bumped into him, or then he bumped into you; you’re not entirely sure who’s to blame here, but you would’ve fallen to the ground had he not grabbed you by the arm and hauled you back up and against him.

It was just to prevent you from hurting yourself, but your mind short circuits for a moment when you’re pressed against the broadest chest you’ve ever seen. The man is tall, so tall you have to crane your neck to see who has such lightning-fast reflexes.

Worried eyes look down at you from above, but the man’s expression softens when he sees how frightened you look.

“I’m so sorry. Are you ok?”

“Yes… Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

He starts to fuss about being in such a hurry without any particular reason and asks if he can make this up for you somehow.

Could he offer you a lunch or something? No, how about a drink? He’s truly so sorry.

His accent is charming, and the genuine regret and worry make you quickly judge him as a safe enough person to grab a coffee with. Accidents happen, and it’s not illegal to sit down with a man you just met, right?

You tell him you don’t drink drinks, but a coffee would be nice. The man raises an eyebrow when you reveal to him that you’re not only a teetotaler, you’re also a nun.

“Ah… So you prefer a simple life?”

He takes you to a dark, cosy cafe around the corner. His inquiry leads to a conversation on the joys of silence and simplicity, then on philosophy, faith, and the cons of modern life. By the time he grabs you a table for two, you’re already discussing how people are always on their smartphones nowadays, looking for instant gratification and pleasures and how it wrecks their brains. You both gush about how nice it is to steer away from all that.

You find yourself talking to him with ease about your life choices. How the anxiety reached a point where you wanted to get away from all the fuss, and how much peace this solution has brought you. How you have meaning and purpose these days, and how you doubt you’d be able to adjust into a modern society anymore. He gets what you mean immediately, saying he only feels at home when he’s alone in the mountains. How he’s been alone his whole life, really, and that it doesn’t scare him anymore, on the contrary.

You feel warm and safe with him, lost inside a soft bubble you quickly create in the corner table of a cellar cafe. Perhaps it’s the dimly lit environment or perhaps it’s just him, but you have one of the deepest conversations ever with this mysterious man.

He’s attentive and curious without being your usual pervert on the sly. You’ve had enough of men looking at you like you’re the forbidden fruit after hearing about your life choices.

This man doesn’t try to seduce his way into your pants; he listens to your insights and agrees with you on how silence does you good, especially in times like this. You wonder what he does for work and why he’s here because clearly, he’s not local. You never get to ask him because the conversation ends far too quickly.

He receives a message on his phone, cruelly reminding you that the magical bubble has burst and you’re back in the modern world. He looks crabby about the interruption too, especially when he says he has to go.

You both agree that you had a nice talk and should continue it sometime – why not tomorrow? Same time, same place.

So you meet him again.

And again… And again.

You find out he’s in town for at least two weeks, but when he finally reveals what he does for work, your stomach sinks. He tells you he’s working for some private military contractor and can’t really share any details about his work. When you ask him does this mean that he kills people for money, he falls silent.

“I guess you could put it like that.”

He’s looking at his shoes when he says it, somewhat embarrassed or sad. His feet barely fit under the table, so he has them stretched out, leading to a waitress almost tripping on them one day. Your heart is squeezing inside your chest when he rises immediately and apologises like the perfect gentleman, helps the lady up and never gets insulted by the murderous glares the woman shoots at him.

He gives you his codename, König, and that he comes from Austria, but then refuses to share any other personal details. You don’t even get to know his first name. You do talk about your childhood, you talk about your schools and what you were supposed to become when you grew up. He tells you about his love for hiking, and you tell him about your dance hobby.

The usual “Oh? Nuns are allowed to dance?” comment has you laughing.

“Well… I don’t do twerking, but yes, nuns are allowed to dance.”

“What’s ‘twerking’?”

It’s so funny how you seem to know about modern trends more than him. You know about Tinder and TikTok through your friends; it’s just that these things are really not for you. Still, this König knows even less about dating apps and internet challenges than you.

It makes you intrigued: he could have dozens of women right now if he wanted to. And not only because he’s attentive and kind: he’s so big and tall that most women would beg him to whisk them away. All he needed to do was go to a hookup site and deal out some likes.

Most of his muscles are packed in the shoulders and chest area, making it challenging for him to fit through a door. You can see he hasn’t skipped a leg day either, and immediately chastise yourself for checking out his butt in the coffee queue. You ignore your filthy thoughts of wanting to get pressed against those pecs again, you pay no attention to the fleeting musings on how good that short stubble would feel against your neck if he ever chose to kiss you there.

A soldier and a nun make an odd pair, but you find yourself enjoying his company more than anyone elses. He seems to wait for your meetings with eager but polite enthusiasm, too. You know it’s an attempt to make you forgive his choice of career when he reveals to you that his best mission was when he saved thirty women from sex trafficking. And it does make your heart crack open a little. Killing is a sin, but he has tried to protect life in his own crude way.

You start to include him in your prayers. First, you ask for the Lord to guide this man away from the path of killing. Then, slowly, you ask him to be protected from harm, you only pray for him to be safe.

And you say nothing of this new acquaintance to the others. You ought to, but your lips remain sealed.

You’re allowed to have friends and visit them, and it doesn’t matter if the friend is of the opposite sex as long as the meetings are purely platonic. Which they are. This man could be your brother, you tell yourself. He could be a long-distance cousin. There’s nothing fishy going on around here, and he’s just visiting, so why would you bother to tell anyone? It would only lead to troubled sighs and concerned questions, and you really don’t feel like answering them right now.

You miss a few midday prayers, and once, your chores. The relationship turns out to be far from platonic.

König can’t even keep his eyes in check.

They travel down your neck and land on the smallest amount of cleavage, barely visible in the loose, dull shirts you wear. They slip further down and stop to admire your breasts next, then quickly rise back to your collarbones as if this was just a mistake, just an absent, wandering gaze. You know you’re wearing a semi-helpless stare by the time he meets your eyes. The blue steel in his is completely swallowed by hunger.

You want to believe it was only a momentary lapse, but then he does it again. Actually, you catch him looking at your breasts, scanning your body and cherishing the tender spot between your collarbones more times than you can count. They’re quick, stolen moments, so harmless that you choose to stay quiet. He usually starts to talk about something trivial right after, or asks you a quick question as if nothing ever happened.

Those stolen glimpses stay with you for the rest of the day though. They give you intrusive thoughts during morning prayers and evening silence. You’ve never felt this… adored.

He has a quiet, commanding presence, and you feel like a mouse under his gaze, a mouse who’s always thoroughly examined. At the same time, he’s so polite and so charming that you can’t think ill of him. He always takes your coat and brings you coffee, always asks how your day or week has been, and actually listens to you speak. He listens to your every word with a softening glow in his eyes, a shimmer that spreads across the table and makes you feel warm all over.

König always softens in your presence... You always tense up in his.

Your face is flushed, and you blame it on the overcrowded cafe. You feel both safe and in danger with him, and it must be the virgin inside you talking. But you sense there’s something more at play here. He’s simply not like other men.

You fear he’s seen hell; in fact, he must walk there every day. From what he tells you, you understand that he has suffered a lot and could use your prayers. But it’s also quite clear that he’s not a victim anymore.

It’s difficult to see this utterly charming teddy bear in front of you, enjoying his large cup of coffee and giving you the occasional husky laugh, then imagine the same man bursting through a door and starting a massacre. Marching in some dark, dirty recess with a rifle or a shotgun in his hands, hunting down screaming people and putting down his already bleeding enemies.

Because that’s what you imagine in your mind when he tells you he’s sometimes used as an insertion specialist; a human battering ram in short.

You look at his hands around the mug, long fingers curled in search of warmth. He has short, trimmed nails and no sign of blood under them… But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

…

"Oh honey. Soldiers are the worst," your friend sighs when you meet her at another cafe, different from where you meet your killing machine. It’s bubbly and lively and colourful, just like your friend; it’s the opposite of König, the special operations soldier who’s dark, intriguing, and intimate, just like the dimly lit cellar cafe you meet him in secret.

"He probably owns a Fleshlight," she mumbles with her mouth full of croissant.

"A… A what?"

She starts to cough at your innocent inquiry, and you know you didn’t hear ‘flashlight’ in the first place, it’s just that you’re not sure if you want to know what on earth she’s talking about now.

When she finally survives the munch she almost choked on, she politely tells you what a fleshlight is, and you find yourself not rolling your eyes, but actually thinking about König using one with need.

Christ have mercy…

"Soldiers are crazy. I once dated this peacekeeper,” your friend continues in her usual chirpy way. “Couldn't hold a conversation for his life. Unless it was about guns... And when I went over to his place, the walls were covered with pictures of naked women. It was so pathetic I had to keep myself from laughing. And oh god, now I remember! He offered me microwaved mac and cheese for dinner…"

You sip your coffee and listen politely to your friend ramble about some guy she used to date. She has a lot of these stories, and all of them are worth hearing. Sometimes you think if you’re living your unlived sex life through your friend, the way you’re so curious about hearing all the different descriptions of male genitalia and the crazy, funny, downright unbelievable scenarios that have happened to her.

Some of the tales are so gross you’re quite happy you haven’t indulged yourself in casual sex. And at times, hearing about all the things your friend has gone through, being an onlooker to all that heartbreak and pining and loss, has managed to strengthe your resolve.

Being a nun isn’t so bad... At least you haven’t wasted your time on shallow men.

"He put so much chili in that shit that my makeup started to run," she continues her story about the poor excuse for a dinner and a date. Usually, the food leads to sex in these tales, and you’re a hypocrite for wanting to hear more.

"Did you sleep with him…?"

"After that? No thanks," she looks at you and raises an eyebrow. "I pretty much fled the building."

Even the most sad, pathetic, crappy tales make you both laugh, especially if enough time has passed. You laugh now, too, both at your friend falling for a man simply because he was a hot soldier and at the poor man who was in obvious need of an interior designer and a cook. Or a girlfriend… Or a mom.

"Look. I'm saying this because you're my friend." She says after wiping a few tears from her eyes, "And because you’re a virgin and a goddamn nun. Like come on, how many years have you been locked up in that dreadful monastery?"

"Convent," you correct.

"Whatever. I'm telling you this man is just looking for some easy pussy while he's deployed."

“I wouldn't call a nun an easy…ugh, you know.”

“Perhaps he likes a challenge then, “ she shrugs. “Men like to hunt.”

"It’s not like that,” you quarrel, trying to ignore the way her lips purse with amusement. “He's been very nice to me and… we have these great conversations. We talk about really deep stuff, you know? He explained the difference between Schopenhauer and Kierkegaard to me last time we met–"

"Ok, that's even worse. That's a red flag."

You look down at your beverage, sullen and beaten. She’s the first person you’ve told about meeting a man over a coffee, and you’re already doing it wrong.

"Does he ever look at your tits?" She asks all of a sudden.

"What?"

Your friend crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head, looking like an overly self-satisfied detective.

"Do you ever catch him staring at your breasts," she rephrases the question as if she’s talking to a lame person.

"Well… Uh. Yes, sometimes–"

"Well there you have it. Man's just bored with his fleshlight."

"Shh! Keep it down, would you…? Good God..."

"Don't take the name of the lord your god in vain," she chimes. “But seriously, it’s no wonder. If only we could get you out of that convent, there would be a line of men at your door.”

“Oh for God’s sake…”

“No, seriously. We’re talking about fistfights and broken bones. Dating apps would explode. People would get killed.”

You roll your eyes - your friend always loves to exaggerate things. If anything, you’re scared of men, and you loathe the dating world. You’re put off by shallow commitments and one-night stands and getting ghosted and God knows what else. That’s why you became a nun: to find something stable in your life. You always told your friend that Jesus Christ is the most stable man you’ve ever met, and you will stick with him. As always, your friend was not on the same page with you.

“Stable? Excuse me, but didn’t he start a riot or something at the temple? Are we talking about the same dude who lead an uprising against the Romans? Hung out with whores, raised corpses from the dead, fucked around and found out until someone nailed him at the cross? Stable my ass!”

“Look, even if he wants something more, I’m not up for it,” you try to convince - both yourself and your friend.

“Mm. What a shame,” she smirks. “Is he handsome?”

“Yes, but–”

“Mmh. Deep voice?”

“Umm… It’s memorable?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” you cry. “Okay fine, it’s nice and deep and I like it. And I love his laugh,” you confess, and your friend does a silent little ‘yay’ and ‘I knew it’ cheer. You know it would be a field day for her if you finally got laid. As cliche as it sounds, you’ve always treated your friend as some sort of devil’s advocate.

You allow yourself to gush a minute, maybe two, about his muscles to your beloved devil. You tell your friend about his broad back, how wide his shoulders are, you tell her about the easy smiles he always sports with you. You describe the tactical pants and the snug black t-shirts he wears in detail, you confess he has a nice butt and that he’s so big he can't even fit the table.

You tell her how König starts to talk with his hands if he gets excited and how you have to fear he’s going to knock something over and make a mess. You tell about his blue eyes and the way they always soften when he looks at you, and looks at you often. All the time, really. He doesn’t even see other women, uh, you mean, other people in the cafe. He’s polite to the waitresses but never fully acknowledges anyone else but you.

Your friend's enthusiastic grin turns into an uneasy, pitying smile when she realises how deep into this man you actually are.

"I'm sorry babe… Someone has to give you the tough love," she reaches for your hand across the table. "Do you understand that if this guy is not working for the regular military, he's probably doing some war crime type of shit?"

The way you rush to defend your steadfast soldier who probably has his hands covered in blood, would make your abbess sigh.

"No, no, actually, he's working against these human trafficking cells–"

"Ok, he shoots human traffickers too, that's great. Good for him. You're still about to step into a pile of traumatised, immature, emotionally unavailable soldier shit. Trust me."

"Just because your soldier was like that doesn't mean mine has to be," you blurt.

Gosh - that was a good old Freudian slip...

"Yours now, is he?"

"No, that was… It just slipped."

"So you've actually thought about banging this guy?"

"What?! No."

"You have," she insists with a widening smile.

"No. No, I–"

"Oh my god. You're about to forsake your vows," she brings her hands together in excitement. "Oh my god, oh my god. This is amazing!"

You feel your lips snap into a thin line.

Just whose side is this woman on? Does she want to protect you from heartbreak or push you into some man's lap just for shits and giggles?

If you're chosen by God, your friend is chosen by the Devil, that's for sure. Nothing exciting ever happens behind the walls of your 'monastery', nothing but endless prayers and boring lectures and monotonous chores. Of course she thinks it's about time you got a round of good dick. She just wants to hear a filthy story when you return from your secret little fling, a fling that could get you kicked out of the convent for good.

"How tall is he exactly...? Does he have big hands?"

Your friend's eyes are shining with excitement - apparently the possible war crimes and atrocities König has committed are forgiven and forgotten.

"What does that have to do with anything…?"

"I can tell you what to expect in the dick department," she smiles with an impish grin.

You eventually leave the cafe with a dirty soul and a skittish heart.

The way your friend described your new acquaintance's probable blessings in the "dick department" left little to the imagination, and now you're actually scared.

This man has been so polite towards you, so kind to you. He's offered you coffee and pastries and cake along with an intellectual challenge, but now it's all ruined because all you can think about is what's inside his pants. How big his hands are, and how they correlate with what's downstairs. How nice it would feel to lay under him, with his chest pressed against yours, how divine it would be to get pinned down by him. How those strong, narrow hips would fit between your legs, broad shoulders eclipsing the view above as he slowly crawls on top of you. How he'd kiss your neck, your collarbones, your mouth, with such hunger that your legs eventually give in and spread wide open.

You return to the convent with a heavy heart and distressed thoughts, but find some solace in your evening prayers.

Nothing has happened, you remind yourself; these are only thoughts. You have seen a man who's interested in you for half a dozen times. You took part in a shallow, mundane, earthly conversation today with your friend, but nothing carnal or wrong has happened. Everything is the way it has always been.

You’re safe now, completely safe here. There’s no chaos and no guns and no tall men with big dicks, no Austrian war criminals trying to seduce you and then discard you after their deployment ends.

There’s only a man with a kind smile, warm eyes, and a nice, husky laugh. Some good coffee with distant notes of chocolate and perfectly civil conversations about European philosophers and the crisis of modern thought.

Sturdy walls support you; they have held you for centuries, and the crucifix above you has given hope to so many people before you. The ever-safe embrace of your faith envelops you, and you can always trust that you are loved, even when you’re flawed and incomplete.

Even with indecent thoughts, you can pray for mercy and ask for forgiveness. Even if you have impure urges towards your Austrian mercenary, you can still pray for him... It’s the least you can do to repay the kindness he has given you.

But the heaviness follows you to your room; it makes your chest feel dark and thick. You don’t say your last prayer before bed. You don’t want His eyes upon you tonight.

You don’t want to draw the Lord’s attention to you while your hand travels down beneath the sheets, your thoughts wandering to a certain god-like soldier with eyes like burning ice.

…

The next time you two meet, he crosses a clear boundary.

König has started to take you for walks, sometimes suggesting you two could visit a museum, clearly wishing you’d show him around the city. In truth, he’s the one parading you around like you’re his cute little lady. He pays for your museum tickets and brings you ice cream while you sit on a bench at a park, grabs your arm to draw your attention to a few swans swimming in a pond. And that’s ok - physical touch like that is ok. Holding hands is not.

Because…

One time, when you’re walking down a hill path, admiring the sunset, a big, warm hand wraps itself around yours.

It finds you in silence, envelops your tiny palm completely, squeezes you softly and emanates so much heat that a cord of fire shoots across your arm and straight into your heart.

You allow yourself to bask in the warmth of the huge, calloused palm for a few more seconds before ripping your hand away. You take a few hurried steps and turn, noticing he has stopped to look at you with guarded hesitation.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise even if König is the one who went off limits, “but this is not appropriate.”

“Entschuldigung… I know. That was out of bounds,” he raises a hand over his heart and bows his head a little, watching you from under his brows. You could keel over from how the gesture reminds you of Arthurian romances, of knights who place their hand on their heart to swear they’ll never disgrace a lady again.

Instead, you nod, your soul saved but your heart sinking like an anvil dropped in the sea. You’d want nothing more than for him to do it again, to grab your hand in his and never let go.

The rest of the walk happens in awkward silence, and you thought he would keep his distance - Christ, you thought you would keep your distance - but he insists on walking near to you, and so you continue down the path with your fingers still touching each other every now and then. You don't even try to move your hand away.

I’m going to die, you scream internally while looking at the bleeding sunset in the distance. You can’t look at him; you can’t even talk to him. It’s like your body is pumped full of some drug these days.

Falling for someone so hard is making you feel faint; your insides are churning and turning and your brain is a mess. Your heart is racing so fast that you’re afraid you’ll end up having a heart attack one of these days.

He’s probably used to this: the thrill and the adrenaline, a world laced with rush and extremes, indulging in things such as guns and explosions and blood and women and darkness.

You only have your safe routines, your sisters, a few friends you meet over coffee, a family you visit thrice a year. You’re not used to being bombarded with hormones and raw emotion like this. You have never, ever lusted after a man like this. The only thing you ever craved for was another slice of cake.

“Do you still want to see me?” He asks apologetically when you approach the convent which has now started to resemble a frigid, uneventful prison.

“Of course,” you hurry to say. “Just… No more holding hands. Ok?”

“Ok,” he chuckles softly, and you stop and turn.

He’s never been this near to where you live, and you’re afraid someone will see you if he escorts you to the door. You can’t be seen with a man in your current state, that would be a catastrophe. Anyone in the building could tell that this friendship is far from platonic.

“I’m sure you’ll find some other girl to… hold hands with,” you say, hating how bitter and self-pitying you sound. You even swallow when you look up into his eyes. They’re so soft now that the ice has almost disappeared, devoured by longing, a thick and sinful darkness.

“What if I don’t want some other girl?”

His voice is so wickedly gentle too.

You can see he’s fighting an inner battle to not touch you again; he’s standing toe to toe with you, towering above you, with his shoulders slightly hunched. If someone walked behind him, they wouldn’t even see you’re there because of how close you two are standing to each other. You can’t back away from him because you’d bump into a tall iron gate - in fact, you’re half-pressed against it now.

“I’ve enjoyed our conversations,” he continues with a throaty voice. God, how you would melt if he used that voice in bed…

“So have I,” your voice comes out as a wavy whisper. “But there can’t be anything more than that... I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” he laments, but the corner of his mouth curves slightly up. “So sorry you wouldn’t even believe…”

It’s mischief and seduction, darkness and deception, and your insides squeeze into a tight little knot.

“Please… Let’s just keep it the way it was,” you plead with eyes that beg the complete opposite.

“Sure... I will try my best, Kätzchen. Is this your convent…?”

You wonder if he’d pay you a visit if you told him where you sleep. You wonder if your single bed would creak if he tried to make love to you on it... You wonder if you could muffle your cries when you clenched with him inside you. If he’d groan too loudly when he reached his peak…

“It’s just around that corner,” you explain with a frail voice, hating how it betrays every single thing that crosses your mind.

“Good to know,” he replies, with no shakiness to his voice at all. He seems to enjoy making you so flustered; he seems to draw strength from people weaker than him. Which is probably 99 % of the population…

“How so,” you peep, already praying that he wouldn’t come to try his luck with the poorly locked windows. The back door is always open too because some of the nuns are smokers. König wouldn’t even need to use his insertion skills to get in.

“Now I know where to find you if I come to work here again,” he shrugs as if innocent. As if his eyes didn’t betray a few filthy thoughts too.

“Are you… Are you leaving then?”

“Soon.”

Your heart is about to break after two weeks of knowing some random guy, and you feel like the silliest woman in the world.

You try to remind yourself of what your friend said: this man just wants some easy pussy. He’s just bored with his fleshlight. Men like challenges, they like to hunt. You think about Lucky Luke and all the other cowboys who came and went as they pleased, breaking hearts and then riding into the sunset.

This cowboy only got to hold your hand though... And he’s saying he doesn’t want “some other girl”. Of course there’s a chance that he simply visits a brothel after discussing philosophy with you, or goes to a club or whatever, but you don’t want to entertain such horrible thoughts.

“I’ll miss you, then,” you try to sound neutral while he’s looking down at you like you’re his first love.

“Ganz sicher, I will miss you too. Perhaps I’ll visit you, work trip or not?”

“That would be nice.”

“It might take a while. But you won’t forget me, ja?”

“Of course not. I will pray for you every day,” you smile with a good amount of affection. It has the same effect as saying something like “I want to blow you right here on this street” because your Austrian giant gets visibly excited. His breath quickens, and his eyes start to wander again.

“...Are you sure I can’t hold your hand?”

You give him a shy smile, then quickly guide your eyes to the pavement. This König is definitely taking it as some love confession when a girl says she will pray for him. Your insides turn to jello when you see his hand close into a loose fist, then open with a spasmlike stretch. He wants to touch you so badly that he has to physically fight against it.

“No…?” He inquires high above you, so desperate that you’re quite sure he’s not frequenting any brothels in the area. He might stroke his cock to the thoughts of you, though…

You shake your head softly, then raise your eyes back to his. What a silly, silly man. If only you weren’t a nun, you’d let him do whatever he wants with you. Even abandon you after using you in every which way, because to be under that adoring gaze is worth a thousand heartbreaks.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

There’s more desperate hope in that question, and you wonder if tomorrow is the last time you’ll see each other. Soon could mean anything, but you can’t bear to hear the exact time and date when he leaves. Not tonight.

“Yes. Same time, same place,” you agree, then flee from under the dark, adoring stare to the safety of your cloister.

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig x nun!reader #forbidden love #könig fanfiction #konig x reader #konig x you

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laenordeservedbetter · 3 months

Text

Thieves & Prophecies

Words: 2.6k

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader (Daughter of Poseidon)

Synopsis: When your friends accuse Clarisse of stealing the lightning bolt, you make a choice that dooms Olympus.

Warnings: PJO EPISODE VI SPOILERS, r has anger issues, r isn't too fond of the gods, ooc!clarisse, Luke. [Let me know if I missed any.]

A/N: People say you should write to get over writer's block, so here's another Clarisse x reader. The new episode had me stressing out for Clarisse and she wasn't even there. At least we got good Percabeth scenes.

masterlist || previous work

---

You’re leaning against a wooden crate while Grover proceeds to explain why Clarisse is the lightning thief. The pounding of your heart was the only thing you made yourself hear, tuning out of the conversation. You couldn’t believe it. You refuse to believe it. Clarisse wouldn’t do something like that. Something’s wrong. They are wrong.

“Y/n?” Percy stands in front of you, looking apologetic. You meet his gaze, realizing that they must have finished talking. You don’t say anything, figuring that your conflicting emotions are visible to them. “I’m sorry about Clarisse. I know that you think she’s not capable of stealing the lightning bolt, but all signs lead to her.”

The glare that you send Percy makes him flinch. “She didn’t do it.” You claim. Percy opens his mouth to protest, but you weren’t done talking. “I know she didn’t. I’m sure of it.” You say the words with such conviction that Percy can’t help but feel bad for you. You scowl upon seeing his sympathetic look, shaking your head. “Don’t give me that look.”

“Y/n…” Grover interjects, moving to stand beside Percy. “I know that this is hard to hear since Clarisse is your—” Grover cut himself off, “But there’s no other half-blood Ares could possibly want to protect except his favorite daughter.” He says softly, trying to reason with you.

You were far past reason, however. Not when Clarisse is involved. You walk a few steps closer to them, your jaw clenching. They both take a step back, their backs hitting a combination of crates and cages. They weren’t used to seeing you like this. They’ve watched you protect them from monsters, but they haven’t experienced being on the receiving end of your wrath. It was not a good feeling.

“Say one more word about Clarisse being the lightning thief and I will make sure none of us get to the underworld in time for the solstice.”

Grover and Percy merely nodded, too afraid to argue.

You retreated to the corner furthest away from them; feeling more exhausted than you had been since the quest began. A part of you wanted to ensure that Percy completes his quest and that he clears his and your father’s name, another part wants nothing more than to protect Clarisse, but the emotion that overpowers both is your anger.

How could they all just sit there and come to that conclusion without thinking it through? Their accusation didn’t even have that much of a backbone to support it with. You were mad at yourself for not being able to convince them otherwise. You were mad at Ares for taking Grover’s bait and for not ratting out the real thief, which you probably shouldn’t say out loud. Though, at this point, you didn’t care because tomorrow morning, Percy and Annabeth were going to send an Iris Message to camp and there will be nothing you can do to stop Chiron, Mr. D, and the rest of the demigods from going after Clarisse. You needed to act and you needed to act fast.

---

As soon as Percy, Annabeth, and Grover fell asleep, you stood up and silently moved to the truck’s doors. Percy was leaning against one of the cages, his eyes peacefully shut. Sometimes, you forget that he’s still a kid. He should be enjoying his childhood, not going off fighting monsters. But unfortunately, that’s just the way life goes when you’re a half-blood, being in constant danger. Yet another reason to be mad at the gods. You shake your head, trying to ignore the pang of guilt when you think about leaving your brother. If there had been another way, you would have taken it.

You just hope Percy forgives you when all of this is over.

…Or if he survives the solstice.

You stop in your tracks, wondering if what you’re about to do is the right decision to make when Annabeth starts to stir.

It was now or never.

You continue making your way to the door, but something in the corner of your eye stops you.

The bag that Ares gave.

There was something about it that drew you in. You know you shouldn’t, but you grab the bag, opening the top zipper. There was cash, clothes, and golden drachmas, exactly what the god of war said. You had no need for cash or clothes, so you take those out. You scoop a few drachmas and place the rest on the floor, putting the coins inside the bag since it would be handier than putting it in your pockets. You sling the bag over your shoulder and bolt for the doors, the metal making a loud bang the moment you force it open. Before either one of the trio could go after you, you were already a few miles ahead – or behind, depending on which direction you’re looking from – of them.

You don’t stop running until you reach a coast. You wanted to collapse in exhaustion, but you force yourself to keep going until your feet touch the water. Sighing in relief, you close your eyes, allowing the water to give you strength. The wind was chilly tonight, darkness looming above you. The possibility of war was getting closer yet here you were, having just abandoned your brother for Clarisse.

You didn’t know what you were going to do when you reached camp. Would you try convincing Chiron that Clarisse wasn’t the culprit? Would you run away with your girlfriend? Or would you take the blame despite not having the lightning bolt yourself?

You hear a whine before you, prompting you to open your eyes. A creature with the head and front legs of a horse but with the tail of a fish appeared in front of you, tilting its head a little. Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, “Did my dad send you?” You asked.

Yes, my lady.

Your brows scrunch even more (if that was possible) at the term. Your hand reaches out to pet the hippocampus, the creature leaning into your touch. You were still surprised that your father, Poseidon, decided to help you. He did listen to your prayers most of the time, but you thought that he wasn’t your biggest fan at the moment, seeing how you were about to go to camp and possibly ruin his reputation. You guess you were wrong. A small smile graced its way onto your face as you mumble, “Thank you, father.” You get on the hippocampus, the creature making sure you were properly seated before it started moving.

---

The sun had completely risen by the time you reached camp. Being on a hippocampus was by far the best mode of transportation, in your opinion. You got good sleep this time. You get off of Summer (you learned that that was her name when you were trying to make conversation), your feet landing on the shore.

“Thank you, Summer. I promise I’ll give you a snack when I see you again.” You promise, smiling softly.

Summer made a noise of approval before diving back into the water.

You look towards the woods, feeling like something was about to go wrong. “You can’t back down now.” You mumble to yourself. Clarisse needed your help. This is the reason why you came back to camp. You will your feet to move, one foot in front of the other.

This wasn’t gonna end well.

---

Sneaking into camp was easy. Getting past the campers was the hard part. If they saw you, they would bombard you with questions. You can already sense the kind of questions they’d ask, the things they would say. You grit your teeth in annoyance. Everyone seemed to be doing something. Though, the number of campers in the archery practice range and the dining pavilion were smaller compared to the last time you were here. Odd. You shake your head, trudging forward, trying to look for Clarisse.

“You stupid moron! I told you. I didn’t steal the lightning bolt!”

Ah, there she was.

Your heart flutters upon hearing her voice. There was no mistaking that that was her.

You see Luke get out of the armory. You could make out a figure behind him, a girl tied against one of the tables. Your expression hardens as you stare at the Hermes cabin councilor. Before he could meet your gaze, you hide behind one of the cabins.

Anger coursed through you again. Your fists clenched, leaning your head against the structure of the Zeus cabin. You wait for a minute, then another, then another, before you feel your anger subsiding. You use the back part of the cabins in order to get to the armory, rushing past groups of campers before they could spot you.

The armory was unguarded, which was a bad decision on Luke’s part. Like seriously? The armory is the best choice you can come up with to lock up the alleged thief in? There are dangerous weapons in there. If they had caught the real thief and locked them there, it would have been a bloody day. You scowl at their incompetence, but your expression morphs into one of worry when you open the door and see Clarisse.

She glances towards you, squinting her eyes from the harsh glare of the sun. “Y/n? What are you doing here?”

“I don’t have time to explain.” You march towards her and settle yourself in front of her. Her hands were tied. “Gods, what have they done to you?” You mutter, grabbing a dagger from the table above her and using it to cut the rope.

“They’re accusing me of stealing the lightning bolt, which is stupid because I didn’t do it. This must be Percy’s doing.” Clarisse grumbles, an apologetic look crossing her face after she says the last sentence. “Sorry. I know he’s your brother, but…”

“They’re wrong. I know.” You nod reassuringly. Not a second after you finish cutting the rope, Clarisse surges forward to pull you into an embrace. You laugh in surprise, pulling her closer, “Woah, there. Hi.” You close your eyes, inhaling her familiar scent. It was good to have her near you again. You let out a sigh of relief, placing your hand on her hair. “I missed you.” You say.

“I missed you too.” Clarisse replies before reluctantly pulling away. She places both of her hands on your face, as if memorizing it all over again. Her brows were scrunched as she looks at a scar that wasn’t there before you left and you found yourself wanting to ease her worries.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

She scowls. “You got hurt.”

“I’m okay now.” You insist. Before she asks follow-up questions, you try to state why you were here in the first place. “I tried to convince Percy, Grover, and Annabeth that you didn’t steal the lightning bolt, but they wouldn’t listen. So, I jumped out of the truck when they were sleeping. I got a few drachmas in case of emergencies. Then, I went to a beach, where a hippocampus appeared and brought me here. And now I’m realizing I didn’t think too far ahead because I don’t know what to do now. If I can’t convince Mr. D or Chiron that you’re innocent, I… We can run away. Yes, that we can do.”

“You did all of that for me?” Clarisse had an unreadable expression on her face. She looked like she wanted to kiss you, yell at you, and cry all at once.

Your brows furrow. “Of course I would. Why wouldn’t I?”

“You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“But I didn’t.”

“That was really stupid.” She says.

“I know.”

“You jeopardized the quest.”

“I know.”

“You could’ve experienced your father’s wrath.”

“I know.” A small laugh escapes you.

Clarisse shakes her head, “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Yes, so I’ve been told.” You roll your eyes.

“Gods, I love you.” Clarisse mumbles.

You sport a teasing grin, “Aww, you do?”

“Shut up.” She punches your shoulder playfully.

“Ouch!”

“What are you doing?”

Your playful banter came to an end when you hear Luke enter the front door, two of the kids from the Athena cabin standing behind him. You turn, stepping forward to stand in front of Clarisse. You’ve been in similar positions in the past, except she was the one protecting you. Now, it was time to return the favor.

Both Athena kids step forward on Luke’s signal, dragging both you and Clarisse outside, where there was a cluster of campers watching you.

Great, a show. Just what you needed.

“What were you doing with the lightning thief?” Luke questions.

It took a shake of Clarisse’s head to stop you from attacking him. You settled for “accidentally” stepping on his toes instead. “Clarisse is not the lightning thief.” You state. Around you, there stood at least two dozen campers. You spot Chiron and Mr. D amidst the campers and your eyes light up. “You don’t even have proof that she stole the lightning bolt, so how can you be so sure that it’s her?”

Luke ignores your question entirely. “Just give up, Y/n. Stop protecting her. You know that she stole it. We all do.”

“She didn’t steal it!” You yell, meeting Luke’s eyes. It felt like having a staring contest with a statue.

“Yeah, well, how do you know?!” His voice raises to match yours, his cold gaze almost scaring you. Almost.

You fall silent, not having a proper answer to that. Truth was, you didn’t. You could just feel it. But making choices based on feelings isn’t a good enough reason for anyone in this camp. You turn towards Chiron for help, but he doesn’t say anything. The entirety of the Ares cabin is quiet as well. That’s when it occurs to you that if they don’t speak up, there is a zero percent chance that anyone else will.

Luke appears smug, as if he had proved his point. “Exa—”

“Because I did it.”

You shock even yourself at your words, but you do nothing to take them back. You weren’t able to see any other option left. You were surrounded. If you’d try to escape with Clarisse, you weren’t making it out of camp alive. This was your last resort.

“What?” Clarisse says beside you, her voice barely above a whisper. You force yourself not to look at her. You wouldn’t be able to stand the look of betrayal on her face. You’d rather have her hating you than have her punished for something she didn’t do.

Luke scoffs, “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

You don’t break eye contact with Luke as you say the words, ignoring Clarisse’s screams of protest.

For once, Luke was taken aback. He keeps shaking his head, “No, you’re lying. Just give up already. You can’t protect her anymore.”

“I stole the lightning bolt.” You say, louder this time around.

“Miss L/n, that is a serious admission.” Chiron says, his tone grave. You could see the apprehension in his eyes. “Are you sure you stole the lightning bolt?”

“She’s bluffing.” Luke announces, but he sounds unsure.

Your bag grows heavier, as if someone placed a boulder inside it while you were talking to Luke. It was too much to carry. Naturally, you removed the bag from your shoulder, setting it down on the grass. You open the backpack’s zipper, your breath hitching when you see the thing that has been weighing it down. You pull it out of the bag, hearing gasps and words of alarm from the campers.

The bolt crackled in your hand, the color mesmerizing you. You tilt your head with a sly grin, your eyes fixed on Luke.

“Do you believe me now?”

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #percy jackson series #percy jackson and the olympians

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