#THREE of them : sons of hermes

[ma1dita]

partners in crime

luke castellan x fem!dionysus!reader [the trouble!verse]

MAIN SERIES MASTERPOST

summary: few things are certain in this life as a demigod, but one thing is for sure— you can’t fight fate when it pulls you and luke castellan together, over and over again. two young people who hate the gods are more like them than they think, for better or worse. annoyances to best friends to lovers

things to know: dionysus!reader's nickname is trouble & most of these can be read as standalones!

here's a playlist (spotify & apple music links now available!)

child of dionysus headcanons!

trouble!verse moodboard 1 & moodboard 2 & college!trouble by the lovely @24kmar

deleted scenes from a different universe (AUs)

play the extended cuts (blurbs from in-between)

character study: luke castellan & trouble

any works, updates, thoughts, musings, etc about this series will be tagged under #trouble!verse !

key: fluff - ☼ angst - ☽ smut - ☆ jo's favorites - ᥫ᭡

[rewind to before] pre-established relationship

trouble always finds me (trouble!reader origin story) 1.7k ☼

The one where he could tell you were trouble from the day he met you. (You're an annoyance, but not an enemy)

entropy 3.6k☼

The one where you both blur the lines between annoyance and admiration. (the promise of becoming partners in crime)

buddy system 4.2k ☼

The one where he comes with you to rescue your younger twin brothers, Pollux & Castor. (this is as close to a real quest that Mr. D will give you--might as well take someone you trust!)

somebody's angel 4.4k ☽

The one where you convince him he’s pretty, even with a scar. (songfic - Die Alone - Finneas)

feed the fire 1.2k ☼

The one where his focus is not on spilled food, but on you. (Luke realizes this is more than playful banter)

bedtime stories 2.4k ☼

The one where night shift with him runs late, but you don’t mind at all. (the both of you have feelings you want to admit, but duty calls!)

crazy little thing 3.4k ☼

The one where he uses all his drachmas to make you smile on Valentine's Day. (the Apollo kids are better matchmakers than Aphrodite, sometimes)

anything you want 1.6k ☼

The one where you and him have your first kiss. (You've always loved teaching the story of Orpheus and Eurydice; except when your Orpheus runs away from you)

said he likes crazy 2.1k ☼ ☽

The one where only he can help you with a bad day, even if he's avoided you since your first kiss. (For being a son of Hermes, he has a way of calming your nerves)

[pause and remember us like this] established relationship

play pretend 5.1k ☼

The one where Mr. D catches you two in the act, but you and him aren’t exactly together yet. (Drunk words are sober thoughts. Your dad just wishes Luke told you instead of him)

a wish your heart makes 1.4k ☼ ☽

The one where you share dreams, burn cookies, and it still reminds him of home. (The dryads will probably ban you from the kitchen after this)

chance encounters ☼

The one where you both daydream about different lives. (You think you'd find him anywhere, by soul alone)

to see the chaos through ☽

The one where he remembers he was never a good guy, just yours. (Luke makes the ultimate deal with the devil in order to save you)

not your goddess ☽

The one where you both know the best of days eventually have to come to an end. (songfic - Goddess - Laufey)

don't blame the kids ☼

The one where you both chaperone a trip to Mount Olympus. (the Olympians are bigger gossips than you thought they'd be)

trouble's coming for you 3.7k ☼

The one where Percy meets his two favorite counselors at Camp Half-Blood. (three times Percy is oblivious (and in the way) and the time he realizes you and Luke are in love)

now that we're older 3.5k ☼

The one where he asks if you can stay the night even if all of cabin 11 makes fun of him. (Luke is tired of the routine. He just needs his girl)

if you need to be mean (be mean to me) 1.5k☽

The one where he leaves before you wake up. (songfic - I Don't Smoke - Mitski )

[fast forward until we meet again] post-tlt

lovers, or partners in crime 2.1k ☽

The one where Annabeth and Percy think you’re guilty too. (the last day leading up to Luke's betrayal)

love like a blister: the five stages of loving losing luke 4.7k ☽

The one where you learn to mourn someone even if they’re still alive. (the five stages of grief after facing a loss)

to catch a thief 3.7k ☼ ☽

The one where duty calls at Camp Half-Blood. Again. (Your reunion with Luke isn't quite what you expected.)

solipsism 5.3k ☽

The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. (the four times Luke uses Backbiter to visit you during college ft. the first time you trust a god to help you)

forever falling: luke castellan & his four great loves (LATEST ADD) ☼ ☽

The one where he falls from grace and still thinks of you. (the four great loves of Luke Castellan’s life and how it will end up killing him)

love me dry 4.5k ☼ ☽

The one where he meets you at his mother's house, though both of you didn't expect the other to be there. (a glimpse into May Castellan's idea of a perfect day)

when the curtains close 5.3k☽

The one where you lose two people in the Labyrinth that day. All strings are cut. (Annabeth and Pollux find out the biggest difference between you and Luke.)

asking for trouble ☽

The one where Luke's final wish is to see you. (He's himself again, and all he wants is to find out if the trouble was worth it all)

as above, so below ☽ ☼

The one where you plead your case with the gods of Olympus. (The one thing the fates didn't expect was how much you'd both be like your fathers; in a way, you and Luke didn't see it coming either)

ask to be added to luke/general taglist 🥹

[floatyflowers]

Dark! Percy Jackson Reverse Harem x Reader|| Chapter One

You look up at the sign that says camp half blood, exhaling and inhaling, trying to calm your nerves down.

Thoughts of doubt encircle your mind, but you finally decide to step into the camp.

However, the moment you step into the camp, you feel something engulf your body.

But, you don't pay any attention to it, thinking that it must be the camp's atmosphere.

You walk around the camp, trying to search for any adult around to introduce yourself.

After three minutes of searching around, you get tired and before you know it...

...you burst into tears.

After all, it's too much for your mentality to feel such pressure.

You are thirteen, got chased by a monster, your mother barely explained anything to you before she dropped you off at the camp.

She didn't even say goodbye as if she was ashamed that your demigod side started to show.

While crying, you don't notice the figure approaching you until you feel someone pat your head.

"You are new here, I guess?"

Looking up, you are met with the sight of a handsome boy with dark brown hair and eyes who looks to be a few years older then you.

"And also your godly parent laimed you it seems"

You look above your head to see a hologram of small pink cherubs flying above your head.

"My godly father is...Eros?" you inquire slowly, amazed by the hologram

Suddenly the hologram switches to a golden sun with 21 rays made of arrows.

"I think it's Apollo"

Luke is confused at what is happening as the hologram changes again and gets replaced with glowing caduceus.

"You are my sister?"

The hologram keeps changing which confused you and Luke more until it stopped at the cherubs.

Once Hermes' son is sure that the hologram is not going to change again before he confirms your parentage.

"You are certainly Eros' daughter"

Luke seems disappointed that you aren't his sister.

"Who are you?" you ask, wiping away your tears.

"I will tell you who I'm once you tell me why you were crying"

You smile at him when you see his warm expression.

He reminds you of your kind stepfather.

"I was crying because I was stressed"

Luke chuckles and guides you further into the camp until you reach the dining pavilion area.

"Don't worry, we are now your family, I'm Luke Castellan, Hermes' son"

Some demigods turn towards you as he pushes you gently to join them.

But someone caught your eyes.

And it seems like the blond demigod also notices you.

His gloomy expression turns into one of shock before smiling brightly.

"(Y/n)!"

He walks up to you and hugs you tightly before pulls away with the same lovesick look on his face.

"You are also like me, a demigod?"

"Yeah...hey, Percy"

Percy Jackson, your school stalker, who has a huge crush 'obsession' with you.

You always remember him staring at you.

And bumping into him by accident in many occasions.

"I'm glad you are here with me"

You chuckle nervously and nod your head slowly.

"Yes, me too"

"You two know each other?"

Luke asks, seeming jealous of Percy.

After all, he already considers you his younger sister.

Percy answers with a confident smile, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"She is my girlfriend"

Chapter Two >>>

[7s3ven]

NOBODY’S SON, NOBODY’S DAUGHTER. luke (pjo) pt 1

PART 1 > PART 2 > PART 3 > PART 4 (last pt)

( master list )

IN WHICH… Y/N L/N, after spending a decade at Camp Half-Blood, still remains unclaimed. Luckily, Luke is there to keep her company as her good friend. And to, perhaps, provide a bit more.

“I’m in the wind, you’re in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.”

( follows the show - kind of just a oneshot bc i’m bored )

Warnings : fighting, violence, a little too much of a description about injuries

—

Nobody had been this excited about a new kid since three years ago, when a H/C-haired girl showed up holding a Harpy’s head. The new arrival had slain a Minotaur, which Clarisse wasn’t too happy about. She was convinced he was a liar.

Y/N sat in the Hermes cabin, closely inspecting her empty juice box. She had waken up an hour ago yet her good friend, Luke, still woke up earlier. She always wondered where he went in the early morning. Perhaps to get some sword training in before the day started. He was, after all, the best swordsman in camp.

The rays of sun poured through the window, bathing the wooden floor in light. A few of the Hermes kids groaned, knowing Luke would burst through the doors any second and force them to get up. He always did when the sun rose.

As expected, Luke kicked the door open. “Good morning!” He exclaimed, as energetic as ever. “The new kid’s coming today so get up and start cleaning! I’m mainly talking to you guys.” Luke sent the group in the corner a stern look and added, “Y/N, you’re fine.” He pointed at her with his usual boyish grin.

Lately, Y/N had been sleeping in Luke’s bed while he slept on the floor. They took turns switching. Lying on the ground for more than a decade now wasn’t good for the back.

After all this time, Y/N was still unclaimed. It usually took a week or less. Y/N was a prime example of the Gods above ignoring their children.

“He’s the one who killed the Minotaur, right?” Y/N questioned as Luke collapsed onto his mattress, partly to annoy Y/N who was sitting on it. The H/C-haired girl scoffed and playfully rolled her eyes, yet she couldn’t contain the amused smile on her face.

“Yeah. He can join your little monster slaying group. Let’s hope he gets claimed because I can’t deal with a boy version of you.” Luke teasingly grinned while Y/N scoffed and slapped his shoulder.

“You love my company.” She uttered, rolling her eyes.

Luke’s friends snickered to themselves. “More like he loves you.” One whispered to another.

“What’s his name again?” Y/N asked, tilting her head to the side. “Was it… Tom?” Luke stared at her in disbelief before lightly snorting.

“You’re way off, Y/N. Stop thinking, you’ll hurt that tiny brain of your’s. Just do what you do best; sit still and look cute.” Luke ruffled her tidy hair, turning it into a bird’s nest again.

Y/N flung a pillow at him, and glowered at the Hermes boy. “I’m going to kick your ass in capture the flag.” She threatened, poking his shoulder. Clarisse, out of all people, was her best friend. So naturally, she teamed up with her.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, princess.” Luke lightly shoved her which caused Y/N to gasp in disbelief.

“Don’t push a lady, Luke!”

The other campers, already used to their antics, just chuckled. “Hey, love birds!” One of the unclaimed kids exclaimed. “Get a room!” With her smart she was, Y/N assumed she was Athena’s child.

Y/N and Luke liked to play a silly game where they guessed which camper belonged to which godly parent. It was fun. Luke was never wrong until the day he tried to guess Y/N’s.

A year ago, he guessed Aphrodite. His explanation? Because she was charming and she had a certain aura that followed her. And because she was pretty. That was the only time he was wrong because Y/N never ended up in a cabin.

“So, what do you think of the new kid? Which cabin?” Y/N asked as she and Luke walked outside. He shoved his hands into his pockets, laughing.

“Tough call. I haven’t even met him yet. Apollo, maybe?” Luke shrugged and frowned. “I’ll tell ya my guess when I see him.”

“I’m guessing… Poseidon.” Y/N uttered, earning a light snort from Luke.

“No way. Is that your confirmed guess? Being a child of Poseidon would mean being a forbidden child.”

The game had a few rules.

One. You can only take a single guess and once you confirm it, you can’t change it.

Two. You can’t ask the kid you’re talking about. Luke considers that cheating. You can only observe them.

Three. No asking Annabeth because she’s always right.

“I guess. It’s not like I ever win, right?” Y/N laughed, grinning at Luke. He stared at her for a moment before returning her bright smile.

“I know we don’t usually make bets, but if your guess turns out right, I’ll willingly give up in the next capture the flag game after he’s claimed.” Luke puffed out his chest, certain Y/N wouldn’t win.

“And if you win?” She asked, arching an eyebrow.

“You give me your strawberries.” Luke had an obsession with strawberries that everybody, even the gods above, knew about.

“You’re on, Luke.” Y/N held out her hand with her lips curved up into a teasing smirk.

“Good luck, princess. Looks like I’ll be taking all your strawberries.” Luke ran his tongue over his teeth, already being able to taste the sweet, red fruit in his mouth.

He walked off, playfully winking at Y/N. Clarisse, who saw the whole conversation go down, hurried over to Y/N. “Looks like you and lover boy have a bet going in.” She smirked, raising both her eyebrows. “You two are cute together.”

“Don’t mess with me, Clari. We’re just friends.” Y/N rolled her eyes at what her friend was suggesting. She had been friends with Luke for three years now and she had known him for even longer.

“Are you just friends… or you want to be more?” Clarisse leaned forward with that taunting glint in her beautiful eyes. Y/N groaned, shoving her away. Clarisse simply laughed. “Come on, princess.” She mocked.

“Oh, come on, Risse.” That was a horrid nickname given to Clarisse by an Apollo boy who seemed to be obsessed with her.

“Shut up!” Clarisse exclaimed, eyeing Y/N up and down in disgust as if she was the Apollo boy. “You know how I feel about him!”

“And you know how I feel about Luke.”

“Yeah… but do you?” Clarisse tilted her head to the side before her gaze flickered to something, or rather someone, behind Y/N. “The Minotaur kid is out.” She grumbled and sharply clicked her tongue.

“Great. I can see if my stupid guess was correct.” Y/N glanced over her shoulder, watching the boy walk beside Chiron. His hair was curled, much like Luke’s, and blond. Clarisse had wandered off in the midst of Y/N’s staring, but she didn’t mind.

Suddenly, the boy lifted his head. His eyes clashed with Y/N’s, and he almost jumped at how intensely she was staring at him. Y/N merely smiled before turning away.

“So, what do you think?” She asked Luke as they walked towards the Hermes cabin side by side, their shoulders brushing against each other.

“Hard to say for now.” Luke replied. Y/N looked at him and he stared back before the pair burst into quiet laughter. Just locking eyes could make two friends find anything hilarious.

“I assume you’ll take him under your wing? Good luck.” Y/N nudged him with her elbow, which seemed to be a normal gesture between them.

“Thanks, princess. See ya.”

Y/N turned around, almost crashing into a disoriented Percy Jackson. He seemed jumpy and panicked. Of course, how couldn’t he be? He had just unknowingly killed a monster and his mother had been taken.

“Hi. The first day is always rough. Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Y/N muttered to him before she passed by.

She didn’t stick around to hear Chiron announce him. She sighed, wandering aimlessly around the camp. She saw Clarisse talking to her siblings. Y/N had always wondered what it was like to have siblings you could relate to. What did it feel like to understand each other? To go through the same difficulties?

The Hermes cabin was comfortable and friendly enough but it wasn’t the same. She wanted to feel what a true family felt like, or at least was supposed to.

As Y/N had expected, Luke was the first to talk to Percy.

“I’m Luke.” He introduced himself to the boy after the rocky start to their conversation.

“Percy. Hey, uh, who was that girl before? The H/C-haired one?” He questioned, clearing his throat.

“Y/N. She’s nice most of the time the time but a pain in the ass during capture the flag.” Luke chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah. I’m just kidding. Don’t tell her I said that, though.”

“You guys seem close.” Percy uttered, remembering the way Luke looked at Y/N when they talked.

“Yeah. She’s my best friend. Unfortunately for me, her best friend is an aggressive Ares kid.” He grinned, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Feel free to lie down anywhere. Just don’t get too close to Y/N. If she’s having a monster dream, she kicks in her sleep.”

One of the campers across the cabin groaned. “I know how that feels. The bruise lasted for weeks!” The others burst into laughter while Percy hurriedly made a mental note.

Avoid the pretty girl when she sleeps.

Percy was lucky that Y/N, who lay on the floor a few feet away from him, wasn’t having one of her infamous nightmares. He couldn’t say the same for himself, though.

Percy sat up, panting and sweating. He looked around, realising where he was. Birds chirped in the distant and he could hear the faint sound of chatter through the wooden walls.

“You okay?” Luke asked.

“Super.” Percy sarcastically responded.

“We all have them here, you know.” Luke clicked his tongue and sighed. “Intense, reoccurring nightmares. That’s normal here. Take Y/N for example. When she first came here, no one wanted to get near her while she slept. Girl’s a bloody good kicker.”

Percy lightly chuckled while Luke smiled. “The daydreams and ADHA and dyslexia are normal too. Demigods just process reality differently than humans do. For the first time in your life, you’re just like everyone else.”

“So, are you also…” Percy trailed off, not wanting to sound rude to his first friend at camp.

Luke found his hesitation amusing. “Am I unclaimed? No. Hermes is my father.”

“And Y/N? Is her father also Hermes?”

Luke scrunched up his face like he had just eaten a sour lemon. “Oh, no. Heck no. Y/N’s unclaimed… still. She has been for a while.” The brunette pressed his lips into a thin line as he gazed at Y/N, who was laughing with Clarisse.

“Why hasn’t Aphrodite claimed her? I mean, she looks the part.”

“That’s what we’re all asking ourselves. We all thought she’d be Aphrodite’s kid.”

Boys and girls flocked towards Y/N like she was a muse. It was no secret that out of all the campers, Y/N stood out the most. There was something unique about her, how she always hung around the aggressive Ares kids like she wanted to be one of them.

She was a tough opponent but a little too soft for Ares’ liking.

Too gentle for Ares but too angry for Aphrodite. She was constantly stuck in the middle. It almost seemed like no god or goddess wanted her in their cabin because she had proved herself over and over again.

“How long has she been unclaimed?” Percy inquired. Kids before him had asked that very same question and every time, they were never ready for the answer.

“A decade.” Luke replied, “She’s been here for a decade. Last year, there was a stupid rumour going around that she was fully mortal but that doesn’t make sense. If she was, she wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

“Why so long?”

“Nobody knows.” Luke shrugged. He had wondered that too. And he could see how it was weighing down on Y/N. The unclaimed kid was what campers referred to her as. They used her as an example of what not to do.

“Will she ever get claimed?”

Luke hoped she would. For her sake. He knew how she felt about not having a related family of her own. For now, she was satisfied laughing over silly tales with the Hermes kids.

“So, where does she go during the day? She disappeared yesterday and today.” Percy tilted his head to the side, not being able to spot Y/N anymore. Luke paused. It was uncommon for him to not have an answer to everything.

“I… don’t know. I assume Clarisse and her go somewhere.”

“Probably swimming in the lake.” Grover said, overhearing the two’s conversation.

It was scorching during Summer at Camp Half-Blood. Most stayed in the shade while an occasional kid or two tended to the plants. So it would make sense that Y/N would go to a lake to cool off.

Luke left Percy in the company of Grover and made his way towards the Lake in the middle of the forest. As Grover guessed, he found Y/N and Clarisse and a few other Ares kids swimming in the water or sitting on the nearby rocks.

“Hey, Y/N, your lover boy is here!” One of them exclaimed. Y/N, from her spot in the middle of the lake, glared at him. She huffed before swimming over to Luke, easily heaving herself onto shore.

“Hey, Luke, ready to make your guess yet?” She asked, grinning up at him. “Or do you wanna swim?”

“My guess is definitely not Hephaestus.” Luke said as he sat down in front of Y/N. His gaze flickered to her new swimsuit. “New bathing suit?”

“Yeah. Miya got it for me.” Miya was a child of Aphrodite and favored Y/N quite a lot.

“Ah. No wonder it’s so…” Luke hesitated, “Revealing.” He tried to act like a gentleman but his cheeks flushed every time he even looked at Y/N.

“One more day until I kick your ass.” Y/N laughed as she sank back into the water, returning a moment later with her hair dripping wet and her face shining in the sunlight. She looked effortlessly angelic.

“Are you sure you’re ready to handle Y/N again, Luke? She almost beat you last time.” Clarisse snickered as she floated on her back.

Luke scoffed. “Keyword. Almost.” It was true that Y/N had almost beaten him in his own game of sword fighting but that was because she was becoming increasingly more distracting.

Gone was the shy and quiet kid who always trailed behind Clarisse. With every passing year, Y/N became more headstrong and, well, beautiful. That’s why it was so hard for Luke to keep his feelings to himself now. Even Clarisse could see through his facade.

“I’m ready to make my guess.” Luke finally announced, catching Y/N’s wavering attention. She arched an eyebrow, intrigued. “My guess… is Demeter. I met the kid and he seems gentle. A soft and kind soul.”

“Nice. I guess we’ll find out soon.” Y/N’s guess was nothing but a joke and she’d end up laughing if she was actually correct.

“Join me for a little swim?” Y/N asked, reaching out to tug on Luke’s shirt. He sighed while Y/N merely smiled. A moment later, he gave in. Luke lifted his shirt over his head while Y/N stared at him a little too shamelessly for her liking. Some of the Ares boys teasingly wolf-whistled which made Luke chuckle.

He jumped into the lake, practically tackling Y/N and taking her under with him. “Luke!” She yelled, hitting his shoulder when they resurfaced.

“Oh no. The married couple is fighting again.” Zyra, Clarisse’s half-sister, said. She and Clarisse shared a knowing grin.

“They’re so whipped.” Clarisse whispered, subtly swimming away to give the two more space.

It was the day Y/N had eagerly been waiting for. Perhaps her favourite day at Camp. Capture the flag day.

Clarisse handed Y/N a spear. “I got it fixed for you.” The brunette said. During the last game, Y/N’s spear had broken. She was forced to fight with half of it after that.

Y/N adjusted Clarisse’s armour, ensuring that it was tight enough before putting on her own helmet.

“You’re gonna love this.” She overhead Luke say to Percy as they passed by. “Camp-wide mock warfare. All glory to the victors. Annabeth’s the head counsellor. She’s led our team to three straight wins.”

Y/N looked away, giving Luke the perfect chance to gaze over at her. “Y/N and Clarisse lead the other team. Clarisse is rather… impulsive, though. Y/N’s come up with some good plans but Ares kids always go off the rails.”

“What’s the deal with you and Y/N anyway?” Percy suddenly switched the topic, much to Luke’s surprise. “I mean, you guys say you’re just friends but you’re always looking at each other. And talking. And you stare at her like she’s your world. Sometimes I wish I could look at someone like that.” Percy sighed while Luke was left speechless.

Luke cleared his throat and shook his head. “Let’s just… focus on the game.”

The conch shell blew. Y/N stood side Clarisse, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Heroes, it’s time.” Chiron announced. “The game begins. The first team to retrieve the opposing flag and return it across the river shall be the victor. As always, there will be no maiming and no killing. I trust these rules will be respected.”

He subtly glanced over at Clarisse and her cabin.

“Let the games begin.”

There was twenty minutes until the next conch shell, which meant game-on. Normally, Clarisse and Y/N would pair up and hunt through the woods for the first few hours. But Clarisse had a different idea this time.

“Good luck.” Y/N said to her friend, slinging her spear over her shoulder. Y/N split up with the rest of her team, taking with her small portion of campers.

“We follow Clarisse’s plan this time. We’re the last defense meaning that if the blue team manages to get through, we fight like our lives depend on it.” Y/N said as she gripped her spear tightly.

“What are going to do?” Someone else asked.

“I’m going to…. look around.”

Luke grunted as a sword piercing his upper arm. He easily disarmed his opponent and kicked them to the ground.

“We give up.” The red leader grumbled, wincing as their brushed their fingers over his cuts.

“I wanna move quick. Straight through the woods for their flag.” Luke uttered.

“Y/N and Clarisse hunt in those woods for the first few hours, you know that. They’ll cut us down.”

Luke grinned, shaking his head. “Annabeth has a plan for Clarisse. And Y/N, as always, is mine. Don’t worry about her.”

“Last time I didn’t worry about her, she almost chopped my head off. By accident!” Chris loudly exclaimed, shoving Luke. Unbeknownst to the pair, Y/N was watching from above in the trees, hidden by the thick leaves.

She skilfully hopped from branch to branch, sliding down in front of her teammates. “The blue team is coming. They got past the other defences. Get in position.” Y/N hid behind a thick tree branch, panting and listening carefully for the sound of Luke’s voice.

She heard a twig snap and peeked her head out slightly to see Luke, Chris, and the rest of their small team. Y/N looked up, signalling to her friends above that it was almost time.

The moment Luke, who was leading the pack, stepped right where Y/N wanted him, she revealed herself. “Now!” She shouted, raising her spear and striking Luke. He easily blocked her attack.

“Thought you could ambush us, princess? Nice try.” Luke chuckled, pushing Y/N back.

“I’d say that it worked just fine.” Y/N retorted, lunging at Luke again. She pinned him to a nearby tree, holding the blade of her spear to his throat.

Chris grabbed Y/N by her shirt, pulling her back. Luke swung his sword at her but Y/N simply ducked to avoid the blow.

She tried to run off to help her teammates but Luke blocked her path. “Where do you think you’re going?” He uttered, playfully furrowing his eyebrows.

Y/N scoffed, kicking his ankles. She pointed at spear at his chest, poking it ever so slightly. “Ready to give up, Luke?”

“In your dreams.” He rolled over, latching onto Y/N’s arm and pulling her down with him. Y/N yelped, quickly scrambling up before he could grab her again.

She looked around at her surroundings, finally understanding what Luke’s plan was. It was to keep Y/N away from her team so that Luke’s could take them down. That left Y/N solely alone, standing between the flag and the blue team.

She panted, glaring at Luke. “Bring it on, Luke.” She muttered, holding up her spear. Luke was the first to make a move. He jumped at her, swinging his blade. Y/N dodged it and blocked another attack from Chris.

She quickly lowered her head, tackling another Hermes kid. Y/N rolled across the floor, swiftly standing up. “You won’t be getting near that flag on my watch.” She kicked Luke and whacked Chris. One of the Athena girls launched herself at Y/N, gripping onto her leg.

Y/N shook her off but the girl’s weight caused her to topple over. The bits of debris grazed at her skin. Chris swung his sword, slashing at Y/N. The blade cut her lower arm and blood welled up from the slit.

Quietly groaning, Y/N heaved herself up. She lightly swayed, unbalanced and a little weak. “Like I said,” She murmured, “You aren’t getting that flag.”

Y/N blocked every attack and blow aimed her way but she was getting slow. She could barely lift her weapon fast enough to stop Luke from successfully landing a hit.

Everything was becoming too overwhelming as she struggled to keep up. It was all a fast blur filled with weapons violently clashing against each other and shouting.

Up above, thunder crashed and lightning flickered through the darkening sky. Rain poured down, drenching the campers.

The thunder got louder and the lightning brighter as the seconds passed until nobody could ignore it. A harsh flash of lightning hit a tree nearby, setting it alight.

“Y/N, watch out!” Luke shouted, reaching out. Strings of electricity rippled around Y/N as a burning tree branch fell towards her. Luke sprinted towards her, dropping his sword in the process. He tackled Y/N, shielding her from harm’s way.

She groaned as she hit her head, black dots swirling around in her vision. She felt numb and her head lolled to the side as she heard shouts of victory followed by gasps of surprise.

“Y/N L/N has been claimed by Zeus, the king of Gods and the God of thunder and ruler of the sky.”

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Pride ! PJO or Time Travel drarry if you please ? Thank you !!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5

Poseidon hadn’t known what to expect, when he’d found Sally near hysterical and their son’s empty room, when he’d gone to the armory and found a sword missing from the armory with comical IOU scratched in it’s place. He had thought Sally’s mortal mind simply did not have an appreciation for scale, that a teenage demigod was far enough from a seven year old one as to appear closer to a god than a mortal.

He'd underestimated Sally. Not the first time. Hopefully the last.

Percy, nearly fully grown, tips his head back and meets his gaze evenly. He understands why Sally mistook them at first glance.

He doesn’t know if he’s ever had a demigod child take after him quite this starkly before.

“Your mother is beside herself.”

Percy winces, pulling a knee to his chest. “Yeah. The Mist is taking care of the mortal stuff, right? No one’s blaming her for anything.”

Poseidon’s lips thin. “No. Your lack of presence is simply being – ignored.”

Demigod children die young all the time. It wouldn’t do for mortal law enforcement to look into it to closely.

“That’s good,” Percy says. “I should call her. I just don’t know what to say.”

“Why did you call me?” he asks, instead of any of the other questions he’s burning to know the answers to. Just meeting him has been enough to answer some of them.

Persephone’s influence lingers around him so powerfully that if he didn’t know better, he’d be questioning if Percy was his son rather than hers.

He resists the urge to ask after the child version of his son. Sally has already said that Percy doesn’t know, and besides, the difference is not as jarring for him as it was for Sally. He has very little to compare him to.

Percy shrugs. It’s insolent and leaves Poseidon wondering what type of relationship they have in the future that Percy is both this easy in his presence and that Poseidon allowed his son to do something this monumentally stupid in the first place.

Then again, with Persephone’s hand in this, it’s likely he had very little say in it.

“You and Mom are the only ones who know who I am,” he says. Percy couldn’t have known that he’d spoken to his mother before calling him, but he supposes that’s irrelevant. He knows his blood. Barring that, he knows his own eyes. “I guess I just – will you look out for them? If something happens to me?”

Poseidon looks over at the cliff’s edge, at the three sleeping children huddled around a dying flame. Athena, his enemy. Hermes, who he’s never called a friend. Zeus, who’s child shouldn’t even exist, although he acknowledges the irony there. “Is she the child of prophecy, then? Is that what all this is about?”

“She’s a child,” Percy says, voice suddenly hard. “They all are. Isn’t that enough?”

Ah. There’s Sally in him.

“Are you not also a child?” he asks gently.

He snorts. “No. Technically, barely, but not really. This isn’t about me.”

Poseidon thinks it is. He doesn’t see how Percy can be this impossible and this powerful and have this not be about him.

He thinks he knows exactly why Percy has traveled to the past. He doubts it was Persephone’s intention, because she knows better than to believe this is a plan that could work, but maybe it doesn’t have to. She’s clever enough to account for Percy’s choices.

Instead of saying any of that, he rests his hand on Percy’s shoulder. He’s gratified when he leans into it. He must not have been too terrible a father. “You are my child.”

“Dad,” he sighs.

Poseidon squeezes before letting go. “Alright. If something happens to you, I’ll look out for your strays.”

“They’re my friends,” he corrects, but Poseidon is already leaving.

Athena’s child is stirring. It would be just like her get to see something she shouldn’t and wreck his son’s plans, foolish as they may be.

[solangelotus]

she’s thunderstorms

luke castellan x reader (MDNI)

beautiful patterns on the window pane

summary: you and luke agreed to be friends with benefits, but that all changes for you after a climactic moment together. luke knew his feelings before this agreement, but yours are a sudden revelation.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: zeus!reader, talks about greek tragedies/violence, angst if you squint, smut MDNI! (warnings under the cut). clarisse x silena. reader wears a bikini. percabeth mentions. reader has long enough hair for two braids

author’s note: this is based off of this post i saw! also, this is my first time writing something creatively in a whopping FIVE years! so please be kind <3 this will be a small series that i have planned out, but i want to see how this is received before committing!

masterlist | series masterlist

previous | next

smut warnings: oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (don’t do that), p in v, slight breeding kink maybe, praise, pet names. little bit of dom reader and sub luke but nothing too obvious

a forbidden child. gods and monsters alike all wanted you to pay for a life you didn’t even ask for. you had tried leaving camp occasionally, opting to try and live a somewhat normal life but it wasn’t possible as a child of the king of the gods. you always made your way back to camp half-blood, and back to the only place that feels like home.

this summer the heat is overwhelming. any day where you weren’t forced to teach combat or how to make friendship bracelets meant taking advantage of the empty beach that overlooked long island sound. your reprieve from the heat was typically spent with other campers. silena beauregard and clarisse la rue joined you today, and all three of you rested on towels underneath the bright sun.

“where’s luke?” clarisse asks, handing you a bowl of strawberries from the picnic basket you three had packed at lunch.

“oh, him and chris are stuck on dish duty,” silena explains with a shrug, not caring about the fact she’s to be blamed for their absences. “their cabin was a big mess this morning, and it was the nicest job i could give them. cabin nine is on stable duties right now. can’t have charlie thinking i’m soft on him. lee’s at an infirmary shift i think.”

“you are soft on him,” clarisse teases and silena scrunches her nose at her taller girlfriend. the latter shoves a strawberry into the former’s mouth with a laugh. “what? it’s no different than my friendship with chris, and i am not afraid to admit i’m soft on him. they're our exes.”

“y/n’s not soft on her exes, she’s only soft on her boy toy,” silena points out, and you lift your sunglasses to rest them on the top of your head. you narrow your eyes at the daughter of aphrodite.

“i don’t have any exes, and he is not my boy toy.”

“no, he’s just your best friend who you occasionally fuck and are completely in love with.”

“but you’re not denying that you have a soft spot for him?” silena smirks. of course, you are soft for luke castellan.

the son of hermes was the first person you met at camp and had been your best friend since you were fifteen. no matter how prideful you were, there was no chance of denying your loyalty to the boy who had been at your side for the last four years.

“it’s not like that,” you say to clarisse, ignoring silena’s question. “it’s strictly platonic. we have an agreement.”

“yeah, yeah, we know you don’t do relationships,” silena interjects, stating it as if it’s the biggest sin someone could commit. you suppose it may be to her; she was a favorite of her mother, and everything she did and said was full of love.

“no fighting, you two.”

“rich coming from you.”

“y/n!”

“what? i was joking!”

“it’s so funny,” clarisse deadpans, and the three of you begin to laugh. you put your empty bowl back into the picnic basket and pull your band tee off before pushing yourself up to stand.

“can we swim now?”

“give me a second,” the daughter of aphrodite says and takes your hand to stand. covering her swimsuit is a floor-length pink sundress that you’re certain was the reason she and clarisse happened to be late to the beach.

silena may have inherited desire from her mother, but clarisse inherited passion from her father. you never would have pinned clarisse to like fashion, but anytime silena wore a sundress it was bad news for anyone around them. once she sheds the dress, clarisse grabs her hand and runs towards the water. you trail behind them, enjoying the sight of two of your closest friends' love for each other.

truth be told, you did envy them to some extent. the average demigod's lifespan was already short, and yours was even shorter. making it to nineteen was a miracle in and of itself.

it didn’t seem fair to rope someone else into a romantic greek tragedy. you would only do it if you were the one left behind. but as a forbidden child, that was and will never be an option. you are the eurydice, the hyacinthus, the daphne, and the achilles. in every version of your story, death would be your only option. grief would be a privilege.

by the time the boys finished their chores, they came into view with a few stragglers behind them. “oh, great. i thought the point of beach days was that they were childless.”

“who even is it?” you ask after silena splashes clarisse for her comments.

“looks like that fucking new kid.”

“you stay away from him, clar.”

“no promises, love.”

“oh, are you talking about percy jackson?”

“yeah, he failed his cabin inspection too,” silena answers you. if you had a soft spot for anyone, it would undoubtedly be the only other forbidden child at camp (sans your pine tree sister). luke spent a lot of time training percy, and you spent a lot of time voicing your experiences and frustrations with each other.

“he’s the only one in his cabin.”

“so is y/n, and she hardly ever makes it in the top five,” silena points out and you splash her. the boys set down their stuff, and you notice percy getting pushed by another girl. you make your way onto the shore as percy sprints past you with annabeth right on his heels.

“hey, stormy,” luke greets you. you swat at his hand which tries to touch your hip and push him away from you with a laugh. he gets his hands back on you and pulls your back flush against his chest. his hand snakes around to rest on the lower part of your belly. “can you blame me for wanting to get my hands on you when you look this good?”

“luke!” you chastised. before summer started, you both had snuck out of camp to go shopping with the money your mom had sent you. when you tried on the royal blue bikini, luke’s jaw had gone slack and you knew you had to buy it. he looks at you with a smirk once you spin around, and you stand on the tip of your toes to whisper in his ear. “you can do that later.”

“gods,” he mumbles and watches as you run back into the water. you cup a handful of water and throw it at percy who retaliates by sending a wave of water down on top of you.

luke feels like he can’t breathe when he sees you laugh and squeeze the water out of your soaking braids. he watches your hands and feels his heartbeat race as he sees you adjust the bottoms of your swimsuit.

“stop staring,” lee fletcher nudges him with a smile, and chris nods from beside him. the boys relentlessly tease luke at every chance they get. they knew to keep the information about you and luke to themselves but he was a loudmouth. he had trouble keeping it in when you were such a beautiful person to love on.

“i need to go help lena with clarisse before she tries to kill percy,” chris groans and runs into the water when percy accidentally splashes her in the process of trying to get annabeth. beckendorf follows him to help, but silena successfully stops clarisse’s anger with a kiss. luke wishes he could be so open with his affection for you.

he pulls his shirt off and sets it down beside yours. he catches your smile when he begins his descent into the water, and your eyes dip down to his v-line that pokes out from his swimming trunks. gods, he is going to kill you someday.

“y/n,” annabeth drags out your name and tugs on your arm, “play chicken with me and percy, please?”

“sure, you want castellan in on it?”

“luke,” she calls out and wades over to him. he smiles at her and tries to shake his head, but the young girl tugs him over until you are face to face with his pout.

“this feels unfair, stormy. why did you say yes?”

“just bend down,” you instruct and he blushes. he would be lying if he said he doesn’t love when you order him around.

“yes, ma’am.”

you push yourself up onto the lithe boy’s shoulders, just as a wave pulls annabeth out of the water and onto percy’s shoulders. she squeals in surprise, and he latches onto her hands to keep her balanced. you smile at the two, and look over at silena who sends you a silent message: percy is trying to impress annabeth. he likes her, and you know the daughter of athena well enough to recognize those feelings are returned.

annabeth calls your name, and you find yourself tugging and pushing against her to try and knock her off of her perch. luke’s grip on your thighs is distracting, especially as you feel him move his hands higher up at each opportunity. your heart speeds up in your chest and you can’t tell if it’s from the hands teasing the flesh on your legs or from the excitement of pushing the girl into the water.

percy groans and dips under the water to find her, while you and luke cheer. you try to coax him to look up at you but fail to move his head and feel a sharp, pleasurable pain on your thigh. you smack his chest, and he looks up at you with a wide grin. your heart drops to your stomach when you see the deep red mark presenting itself on your thigh. you splash water at his face when you hop down from his shoulders and he winces. “did you fucking bite me?”

“that,” he pauses and pulls you flush against him, “is payback for annabeth wanting me to go to the infirmary last week for the hickeys you left.”

“oh.”

it wasn’t very often that luke was able to make a mess of you in public. usually, you force him to keep it behind closed doors. he stares down at you with a smirk, enjoying the pink dusting your cheeks.

he spins you and wraps his arms around you from behind. you were familiar with this dangerous dance of his, one that he does when he wants you. “it would be a shame if a storm were to ruin our beach day, and we had to go back to your cabin.”

“a shame indeed,” you agree, and feel a tug in your stomach as you hold your hand towards a faraway point of the rocky shore. lightning strikes down, and a scream comes from percy as rain clouds begin forming overhead. annabeth laughs at her boy’s antics and runs with him as he tries to get to the shore as fast as possible. “you’re going to have to work a little harder than that to get what you want.”

“y/n, luke! come on!” silena calls and luke whines as you push off of him. he watches as you saunter out of the water, one hand behind you as you wield more storm clouds into camp. he slowly follows you and dies when you pull your tee shirt over your head. your ass pokes out from the bottom of the arctic monkeys shirt he had gotten with a five-finger discount at a concert you had snuck into. he would do anything you want right now if you were alone on this beach.

you turn around and toss him your towel, which blinds him as it lands directly on his face. you and percy laugh together, and luke just stands in defeat until he feels the fabric fall off his face. you move and stop yourself in front of him to wrap the towel around his neck as if it’s a cape. the smile on your face as you dry off his shoulders and chest makes him fully believe you were made for him. he says a silent prayer to zeus. he finds himself praying to your father more than ever. only the king of the gods could bring such an ethereal being to life. he’s sure that you were more divine than human.

“you like this, don’t you?” you ask. luke leans his face into your hands as you dry his hair off.

“hmm?”

“me taking care of you,” you add, causing him to blush. he takes the towel from you and covers his face again. “nothing to be embarrassed about, pretty boy. you know i like it, too.”

“stormy,” he groans and you rip the towel off his face.

“c’mon guys, we need to get back to our cabins before the storm starts,” lee ushers everyone off the shore.

“it just came out of nowhere,” percy pouts, saddened by the rain ruining his swimming.

“yeah, super weird, perce,” silena agrees and narrows her eyes at you. you tug luke with you as you run off into the tree line with him. far enough away from both the beach and the cabins is when you find yourself pushing luke against the trunk of a tree. he smiles down at you, his cheeks red, and he reminds you vividly of the first time you decided to sleep together.

bruises litter his skin as you kiss a path up his chest back to his neck. his hands grip your thighs and you let out quiet sighs when he squeezes them ever so slightly. you sit up, your core resting lightly on him, and grind down on him. his eyes close at the movement and he lets out a low groan, his grip becoming tighter. it feels more intimate than anything you have done. your best friend squirms underneath you, and you feel a love and desire unlike any before.

you cup his cheeks and instruct him to open his eyes. he looks at you with heavy lids, and a heavy, warm feeling erupts in your chest. his cheeks are flushed, and he has a small content smile on his face. you feel like the most important person in the world; you feel like more than just a daughter.

you dip down and kiss him hard, a moan surprising the both of you from the back of his throat. you roll your hips against his again and open your mouth in surprise at how hard he is. his head falls back against your pillow, and you begin to kiss along his jaw, “is this okay?”

“yeah, that’s — that’s okay, y/n,” he speaks through gasps and you smile against his skin. he feels your teeth against his adam’s apple and murmurs your name again. “please, keep going. don’t stop.”

luke’s mouth on yours brings you out of your reverie. his hands toy with the end of your shirt, and he slips his tongue into your mouth when you gasp. his fingertips trace lightly over your core on your bikini bottoms, and your hands grip his arms tightly. you can hear your friends closing in from a distance. “we can’t be doing this here, luke.”

“i want you,” he whines when you circle his wrist with your fingers to pull it away. you let go and walk backwards in the direction of the camp with him walking slowly towards you, like a predator to prey.

“come get me then,” you tell him and turn to sprint towards your cabin. he has an advantage in sword fighting, but you will always be faster than him. he gains ground on you with his long legs, but you run into your cabin before him. his chest heaves by the time you let him lay you down on the bed.

luke likes you in control of him, teasing and teaching him where you like to be touched. he enjoys you teaching him new things about himself, where he’s most sensitive, and what makes him cum fastest. he loves when you relinquish control once in a while and you let him divulge and enjoy every part of your body that he can.

what luke castellan enjoys most is when your body shakes as he eats you out. he knows you love it, too, by the eagerness with which you allow the bottoms of your bikini to be removed.

he applies light pressure to your clit with his tongue and pushes your hips down to prevent you from squirming away from him. fervent moans leave your body, and your thighs squeeze his head. the way his tongue quickly switches from kitten licks to lapping makes your head spin until his name comes out like a mantra, like a prayer. luke, luke, luke. you’re tempted to give gratitude to the gods for blessing you with such a lover.

when he kisses you, you wrap your legs around his waist and rake your fingers through his hair. he pulls away and nuzzles his face into your neck. you wrap your arms around him, in a tight hug, and a contented sigh leaves his lips. he enjoys moments where you let him love you too.

his feelings remain unknown to you, but each time he finds himself touching you, tasting you, and feeling you around him is reason enough to enjoy your friendship as it is. although, truly, he feels this is something that even friends don’t do. you confirm his suspicions when you manage to flip him and remove his swim trunks. no friend that he knows of could ever touch him so easily, get him to breathe so heavily, and make him nearly cum with just a few strokes.

“leave your shirt on,” he breathes out, his breathing heavy from you guiding him inside you. he fills you completely, and a sigh escapes your lips. your eyes meet each other and luke believes you look like royalty with the soft glow of the sunset in the background creating a halo around your head. your hair is in two braids — something he was sure clarisse did for you — and he toys with the ends, trying to steady his breathing as you remain reluctant to move.

“why?”

“truthfully, you look stunning in nothing but that shirt?”

“this shirt?” you laugh, and he groans as he feels you tighten around him. his head falls back against his pillow, and you move your hips in slow, languid circles against him.

it’s hard to keep serious, to act like he doesn’t press against your walls in the most perfect ways. like he doesn’t make you feel better than any person before him. you rest a hand on the nape of his neck and push lightly so he is forced to look at you. you try to remain calm, despite the building pressure. “clarisse always goes crazy when silena wears sundresses. you feel that way with these shirts?”

“yes,” he sighs. you often find yourself being asked to keep the band tees on during sex that he has stolen for you. luke can’t explain it, there’s just something so electric about something he has gotten you adorning your body. the bands, and the music, brought you much passion and you when you were passionate was something that drove him up a wall.

he couldn’t deny that your frame adored by the graphic band tees was something he thought about while fucking his fist when he failed to have you. now that he has you, he tries his best to share what turns him on the most. “you look like royalty.”

“i am,” you retort, and increase the pace of your hips. you groan and lean down to rest your forearms on either side of his head. he looks at you, eyes full of bliss, and he sits up enough to smash your lips together. you moan into his mouth, struggling to keep your wits when it feels so good. “what do you want, pretty boy?”

luke takes a second to comprehend your question. he’s whimpering and gripping your sides hard enough to leave bruises. sometimes you wonder if you are made for each other when he fucks you this well. he tries to take a deep breath, but his breath comes out in shutters. “can i mark you up?”

“f-fuck, yeah,” you mutter, and he sits up, his confidence increasing from the stutter in your words. he wraps his arms around your back, pulling you tight against him. he nibbles at your neck, running his tongue over the marks to soothe them. you are sure you have reached elysium; his teeth on your neck, and his hands guiding your hips as you rock against him. “luke?”

this is the most control you have ever granted him. he relishes the opportunity to make you fall apart and wonders why it all suddenly feels so different as you struggle to keep up your pace. on the other hand, you found yourself experiencing similar thoughts. you are more relaxed this time, more comfortable with allowing him to do whatever he wants with your body. it’s true intimacy, you finally allow yourself to relinquish what led you to sex in the first place: control.

“yeah?”

“i-i want, um, i want,” you pause, taking in a gasp of air. he feels so good, so godly. you feel pathetic but fail to care. you know luke would never use this vulnerability against you. it’s hard to focus when he fills you so perfectly to the point where you are nearly knocked over the edge.

“what do you want, princess?” he asks, and you blush at the near-pornographic moan that leaves your throat. you rest your forehead on his shoulder, trying to hide your flushed cheeks. he reaches between your sweaty bodies and begins to rub harsh circles on your clit, causing a high-pitched whine to leave your throat. “c’mon, princess, you're doing so good. tell me what you want.”

“fuck,” you cry, biting down on his shoulder to prevent another loud moan from escaping your mouth. he groans and quickened his pace on your clit, causing another string of whimpers to leave you. you are entirely sure that you have never remained on edge for so long. you want to scream, to shout his name to anyone who will hear. you don’t even care if the whole camp hears. the praises, the nicknames, it’s all so new and so invigorating.

“please, talk to me.”

“i’m so close.”

“me too, baby. where do you want me to finish?”

“luke,” your voice comes out as a whine again, “cum in me.”

few words escape either of you, they are replaced with lewd sounds loud enough to only increase your arousal. he channels his unraveling with fast, rough movements on your clit, and with his mouth sucking on your neck.

you cum first, squeezing him within an inch of his life. he removes his fingers from your core, and places them on your hips, lifting and slamming you down on his cock. you nearly scream, the feeling so overstimulating after two orgasms.

when he finally cums in you with a groan, you clench around him, milking every last drop you can get. when you first slept together (and every consecutive time following), you felt embarrassed at the idea of him cumming inside of you being so hot.

he assures you each time that he feels the same, but you never have the confidence to let it happen. now you couldn’t care less at the idea as he collapses onto his back with you falling on his chest.

both of you are unsure of how long you lay there, but it’s long enough for him to soften inside of you. every movement leaves you whimpering, so spent from the activities of the day. he holds you tight, and you trace shapes and letters on his chest as he tries to guess them.

when he finally falls asleep, you pull yourself off him and admire the soft, kind boy beside you. you trace the scar on his face, and lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth. he doesn’t so much as stir in his sleep, and you catch yourself tracing three letters on his chest: I, L, Y.

luke is clueless of this as he sleeps, which you thank the gods for. love was never something you thought you would experience, but this surely had to be it, right? this was something so spectacular and ground shaking to you.

there were parts of yourself that he knew of that you would never tell anyone. you were fucked, you knew this the first time he made you cum. all of that pent up tension was more than sexual frustration, it was desire and blooming feelings you tried to hide from the moment you met him.

no one matches the feeling in your chest when he smiles. no one matches the butterflies in your belly when he pays you attention. no one ever has and ever will receive the same love you give luke, and maybe this is the moment where you finally will accept that it’s okay to love the son of hermes.

[keerysfreckles]

hey bby 💕 said you were looking a luke castellan plot so here’s one :) so like luke is actually exhausted coming back from a quest that didn’t go super well and he can’t sleep at night because he keeps having nightmares (maybe of the reader dying?), so he starts coming to the reader at night asking if he can sleep in their bed because he feels safer and can feel that they’re alright and then it’s just the evolution of the routine and how they get closer :) no worries if you don’t want to do it btw !

hope ur ok — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x demeter fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, like one mention of blood/wounds, angst if you squint

a/n: I LOVE THIS ITS SO- UGH

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

luke sat upright in his bed. a thin coat of sweat covered his forehead. for the past three nights, ever since he got back from his quest, he's been having nightmares. the first two weren't special. they were the same as the others he normally got. tonight however was different.

he was in a desert, the sky was dark. there was a low wind, causing the sand beneath his feet to move slightly. a yellow fog spread throughout the desert, and suddenly, y/n appeared. at first he thought his dream self imagined it, almost like a hallucination. but no, y/n was surely there.

y/n was made out of sand, the wind blowing past her, making luke see her features more clearly.

"y/n?" luke calls out. he tries to walk closer to her, but the wind picks up and the sand starts covering his feet, halting his movements.

the wind starts to get stronger, pushing luke and y/n away from each other.

"luke!" she yells, trying to get closer to him.

a low growl is emitted from behind y/n, making her turn.

"y/n!" luke calls again, his voice becoming dry from the sand in the air. luke's eyes widen at the sight of a beast fully appearing behind the struggling girl.

luke's dream self continues to call for y/n, until his voice gets caught in his throat at the sight in front of him. he watches as the beast brings his clawed hand up, about to attack y/n.

luke looks out his window, trying his best to forget about the dream he had moments ago. yet it was worthless. he rubbed his eyes before throwing his blanket off of his lower body.

he grabbed his jacket, knowing it got cold at night, and made his way out of his own cabin and towards y/n's.

was the idea risky? yes.

but the hermes boy couldn't care. he was in risk of getting caught by a patrolling harpy. or he could get caught by chrion or mr d. (that was even worse in his opinion) or he was worried y/n wouldn't even want to see him at this time of night. but he just had to make sure the girl was okay.

luke stopped in front of cabin four, staring over the greenery around most of the wood planks and columns.

he didn't bother knocking, and as quietly as he could the boy opened the door covered in moss. it only creaked slightly. luke was quiet again as he shut the door.

the greenery theme followed throughout the cabin. it wasn't as prominent as it was on the exterior. green vines hung on the walls, and small purple and yellow flowers bloomed wherever grass patches were on the hardwood ground.

luke was hoping y/n wouldn't be mad at him for sneaking into her cabin. the two were friends, but don't talk much outside of archery.

there were seven beds in the cabin, none of them being bunk beds like the hermes cabin had. luke made it to the sixth bed and saw y/n asleep. her back was turned to luke, making her face the window.

luke nudged her shoulder. no response.

he did the motion again, hearing a small gasp come from the girl. "luke?" she turned around after rubbing her eyes, making sure they weren't playing tricks on her.

"what are you doing here?" her voice was soft, in order to not wake up any of her half sisters. (there weren't any sons of demeter, no one had really questioned it).

luke stammers, "i uh, couldn't sleep. had another nightmare."

y/n was full sitting now, with her blanket pooling around her waist. "what happened? in the nightmare?"

luke shakes his head, "i'd rather not talk about it." the more he thought about it, the more he only wanted to protect y/n.

y/n looked around her bed, before getting an idea.

"do you want to sleep here? with me?" she offered, quickly catching luke off guard.

"are you sure? what if someone catches us?"

y/n smiles and pulls her blanket down for luke to join her. "then we worry about it tomorrow. you need to get some rest. you have to teach archery tomorrow."

luke reciprocates a smile before sliding in the bed next to y/n. he tosses his jacket on the ground, now getting comfortable under y/n's dark green blanket. it reminded him of grass, but it wasn't itchy like the greenery in the door.

after a few moments of silence, luke turns to y/n, seeing she was facing the window again.

"can i hold you?" luke's voice is raspy and soft. he was worried y/n didn't hear him, until she turned again to face him.

she only nods, making the two maneuver in the bed. y/n is closer to luke now, as she's laying on her side to face him. he rests his head on her chest. both of his arms are wrapped around her waist gently, pulling the girl even closer to him.

luke can hear y/n's heartbeat, which instantly calms him down from the nightmare he had that night. a gesture she didn't even know she was doing, would calm him down more than she knew.

as luke started to fall asleep, he felt y/n's finger in his hair. her nails were lightly scratching his scalp, and her fingers played with his dark curls. she kisses the top of his head, before she whispers, "goodnight luke."

[wlntrsldler]

THE PROPHECY | LUKE CASTELLAN

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

series masterlist | previous | next

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

"Do you think Thalia knew I loved her?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Maybe."

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

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

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

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

"In a few hours."

"Oh."

"Are you upset?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are more than what your father thinks.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[love-that-we-were-in]

Let All Your Damage Damage Me

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader Summary: There's something to be said for patching up Camp Half-Blood, especially when you end up seeing more of Luke Castellan than you thought you ever would. Or 3 times Luke starts a fight and 1 time he doesn't. Word Count: 4.6k Warnings: smoking, mentions of low-grade drugs and underage drinking, implied sexual content and more teenage dirtbag luke because @initialchains was kind enough to let me steal him for evil!

a/n: this is the most brainrot i've ever brainrotted and again, all credit for this version of luke to noli. enjoy!!!

There’s this weight that carries the name Luke Castellan across Camp Half-Blood. Once, it was a new camper - years on the run with a young daughter of Athena and a fatality at the borders that drew interest. In the time since, it’s become something different, reshaped and frayed. A promising young demigod lingering on the outskirts where possible, creating his own tethers to the mortal world like it’ll detach itself from him if he doesn’t. 

It confuses new campers at first, the dichotomy between how Luke is spoken of and who he is. The best swordsman in almost three centuries, a once favorite son of Hermes. To look at him then, take in his scuffed shoes and the cigarette tucked behind his ear - it makes them wonder what it took for him to fall so far out of alignment. 

No one ever asks. 

1.

The conch sounds from your left and the rest of your campmates spread out across the land with a battle cry. You know how this evening goes, too many of them spent alone in the quiet of the med-bay. There’s three of you as it stands, all waiting for someone to show up with a cut to tend to as the game gets underway. Will stands outside, eyes wandering over the edges of the forest as if he can see through the trees to what’s happening within them. It’s his first summer, the thrill of camp yet to be lost on him, and you’re glad he can find excitement in being on the sidelines. Lee has already tucked himself into a corner, technically a part of the medical team but mostly waiting to tag into the game. A back-up player. 

You know that within the hour, you’ll likely lose both of them to the game. It’s not something you mind, dealing with the minor injuries alone. There’s an element of peace to it, tending to everyone else’s wounds and sending them on their way. It’s what you’re best at, a healed knife wound last year the reason you were claimed. Still, it makes capture the flag last for eons - every hint of action happening further than you can see, often too far away for you to even register until someone pushes their way through your door in need of help.

So you settle in, let the peace of the evening wash over you. When one of the younger Demeter kids rushes into the room, you observe Will treating the deep cut on her arm. Disinfectant, gauze, a small bandage. When he’s done, he looks at you and you’re all too familiar with it. The longing to be part of the action. At your nod, he takes off, hot on the heels of the young girl and into the thick of battle. 

Eventually one of Clarisse’s siblings bursts into the room, fire in his eyes and you can hardly blink before Lee is standing to attention. It’s the way of the game and you wave him off lightly, lowering yourself back into a chair and letting your head fall against the cool surface of the wall. 

Another hour. 

If you had to guess, you would say there’s less violence on the field today. It’s Annabeth’s first time leading a team, you know that, and you’re aware of the way her mind works - lower injuries, higher soldiers. There’s little doubt that she’s ran the numbers, with backup plans for her backup plans to find and steal the flag. You know you should be rooting against her, Apollo partnered with Ares this time around, but you want this victory for her. 

There’s a flurry of movement from outside moments later, a groan followed by a muttered “I’m fine, Annabeth” before the girl is in front of you, frown pulling across her features. 

Beside her, or rather resting his weight on her, is Luke Castellan, eyebrows scrunched together and arms covered in thin cuts. 

You don’t really have much of an opinion on Luke if you’re being honest. You know the basics - a crash course given to you by Silena when you arrived at camp, actual information littered between rumors. Son of Hermes, incredible swordsman. Snuck out of camp two years ago to get a tattoo because he was drunk. Bribed Katie to start growing weed in one of the rarely used greenhouses.

Now, faced with him in a bloodied camp t-shirt and lacking his usual cigarette, you sort of want to know what’s true. 

“What happened to him?” There should be more urgency to your actions, you know, but you help Annabeth guide him into one of the beds at the side of the room slowly. 

“He decided to pick a fight with a bunch of kids near the lake,” Annabeth says, rolling her eyes. Even as she does, there’s this adoration that seeps out of her, the same one you’ve always known her to carry where Luke is concerned. “Three on one.”

Luke groans as you shift his position, glaring at the girl in front of him. “They deserved it. The shit they were saying.” 

Part of you wants to ask, desperately. Annabeth chuckles, nudging his shoulder and says, “Yeah, I know. I already thanked you so stop fishing for compliments.” 

He laughs lowly and you almost forget that there’s a real reason Annabeth would’ve brought him here. You’ve only seen Luke in this room once, late last winter, so it’s odd that he’d be here now. He tilts his chin at her, and then at the door. “Go win that flag.”

She starts to protest, talking about having faith in her team and how making sure he’s safe is more important. Still, she glances towards the door. 

“He’s in good hands with me, Annabeth,” You say when she stops to breathe for a moment. She bites her lip. “I promise.”

“She promises,” Luke repeats from behind you and apparently, that’s all Annabeth needed. With a final glance between you, she retreats, working her way back into the game. “Just me and you now, Angel.” 

There’s some sort of shift with Annabeth’s absence, thicker in the air and not completely unwelcome. Maybe it’s the nickname, too familiar for people having their second conversation, but there’s this way Luke says it, no intention twisting around the letters but settling warmly into your system anyway. You ignore it. “Where are you hurt, Castellan?” 

He grimaces and it’s the first time you notice his hand clasped at his side. It drops and you take in the darker color of his camp t-shirt there, the way it sticks to the area damp with blood and probably a lot of sweat. 

“Holy shit.” 

“It’s not that bad,” he jokes and you raise an eyebrow at him. He shrugs. “I’ve had worse.”

You shake your head. “Come on then, let’s see it.” 

It’s something you don’t do often, this informality with a patient. Bedside manner means something in healing but right now, you can’t think of the right way to channel it. To be gentle with Luke would feel awkward, restrictive almost, and to be too formal would just be rude at this point. What you’re doing now seems to work, if the way he grins is any indication, and you excuse yourself to the supply cabinet as he does as requested.

When you turn back around, Luke has his shirt off, legs still hanging off the side of the bed. You almost want to tell him to lay down, for your own peace of mind. Make it so you can simply treat the wound without having to look at him properly. Because Luke is…

Luke is really fucking pretty. 

You’ve known he was attractive - everyone knew that. It wasn’t something openly spoken about, not with how he exists on the outskirts of camp most of the time, but it was mutually understood. For all his faults, Luke was incredibly attractive. 

Now, though, even with blood covering half of his torso, he’s really fucking pretty. 

“I’m just going to clean it first,” you say when you reach him and it comes out quieter than you intended. You stand in front of him and his head tilts back slightly to look at your face properly. “Do you mind if you just- I need to get a little closer to look at it.”

You expect him to turn to the side, let the wound face you a bit better. Instead, the space between Luke’s legs widens enough for you to take a step closer, almost like a challenge, and you take it anyway. 

You work on instinct, wiping the blood away, pressing gentle fingertips into the skin. Habits formed over months, usually steady hands shaking just slightly as you wipe the cloth against Luke’s torso, his even breaths hitting the side of your neck at this angle. 

It’s not as deep as you expected, the skin still open, completely raw but not as ugly as it could be. As what you expected it to be. Gently, you press the gauze to it, lifting your head to be met with Luke’s eyes. They’re brown. They’re brown and completely relaxed and you kind of really want to find out how wide they could get in the right situation. 

“I told you it wasn’t that bad,” Luke says and you feel it more than you hear it. It shoots through your veins and you distantly remember Silena telling you that she once caught him with a line of coke. They rattle together before falling silent and you can hear your own breathing again. Luke’s too, slower than yours but close enough that you can count the length of each one. 

“You still should’ve come to me when you got injured.” 

“I’ll remember that next time.” It drifts across your cheeks, warming the skin there and you look back down at your hand pressed against Luke’s side. Pulling the gauze away, you quickly replace it with a clean square, sticking it in place carefully.

You run a finger across the edges before muttering, “All done.” 

There’s a right thing to do. Take a step back, give Luke the privacy to redress and send him on his way with instructions for looking after the dressing. That’s what you’re supposed to do. It’s what your brain is screaming at you to do, actually, but Luke’s skin is still so warm under your palm and each breath makes you more aware of the dip in his collarbones and you can’t think of a single good reason to move away.

When his lips part, you think he’s going to give you one. Instead, he whispers, “Tell me no,” and it just makes more sense to meet him halfway than say yes. 

Turns out, Luke Castellan is a really good kisser. It matches him, the blase way he leans into the action, tilts his head and adjusts the pressure to match whatever you do. Distantly, you remember to move your hand, dropping it from the gauze and resting it on his thigh instead and there’s this noise Luke makes in the back of his throat as you do so that makes you want to do it again.

He breaks off in the end, drawing in deep breaths. To see him disheveled isn’t entirely new, not with the lack of care he puts into maintaining his camp uniform, but to see him like this - dark curls run through, cheeks flushed red and lips swollen - is something else entirely. Without thinking too hard, you dip your head and place a kiss to the skin where his neck meets his shoulder. He shivers and you take it as an invitation, pressing another to his shoulder and then one to his right collarbone. 

His loose grip on your hip tightens and you wonder how far you could take this before you would have to stop. Based on the low curse Luke lets out when you repeat the motions on the other side of his neck, it’ll probably take until another camper comes to find you. 

Dragging your gaze down Luke’s frame, you come to the reasonable conclusion that it’s a risk you’re just going to have to take. 

2.

You expect it to happen sooner, staring at the door each evening willing it to open. A week of counting the hours, locking the med bay every night and still no sign of Luke. He’s back from his quest - Will had rushed in with the news when he’d crossed the border back into camp - but you’re yet to see him at all. Silena tried to tell you about his quest, about his failure really, and you’d shut her down before she could give you anything more than that he’d been badly injured. 

Lee had been on duty the day he’d returned. Written the notes and left them filed away. 

Deep scarring on the face. Nectar and ambrosia required on arrival. Patient refused monitoring. 

He doesn’t offer any further insight when he catches you reading over them the next morning, just shrugs like he expected Luke to refuse his help. Like he’s surprised the other boy even showed up for treatment at all. It’s moments like that, where there’s this judgement surrounding Luke’s mere existence, that remind you of the weeks before his quest. The five hectic weeks of bruised knuckles and how soft they could be against your skin. Of how nice cigarette smoke could be coming from Luke’s lips instead of just lingering in the air. 

So it catches you off guard when the knock sounds on your door, the same familiar quick raps of knuckles on the wood that you grew accustomed to hearing late into the night. He’s there, when you pry the door open, and he’s nothing like you expected. 

He’s still Luke, from the ragged tee to staggered breathing, but there’s blood covering half of his face, dripping from the stretch of open skin running down his left cheek and a dip in his spine he never had before. 

“Do you want to berate me first or can I just come in?” 

Stepping out of the way, you gesture into the empty room. There’s a familiar routine to this now, despite the week without it, and Luke takes his usual path to the bed near the cabinets. It’s wrong, the way you attach yourself to the casualness of it, to the comfort of having him back in this space with you, instead of rushing to do your job. 

But it’s Luke, a little broken maybe, but still Luke. 

“Who’d you fight this time?” You ask as you dig through drawers for everything you might need. You tell yourself it’s to be prepared - you both know what it really is. “Don’t tell me the foxes are back.”

“If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy.” 

It’s a running joke, borne of concern the first time Luke showed up here after curfew with a cut on jaw and nose a little more crooked than before. Something to reassure you, to stop you shifting yourself into professional mode. A way of assuring you that there was no rush. 

“You didn’t have a healing scar before,” you mutter regardless, slotting yourself into the space between his legs like normal. There’s an overhead light and, from directly in front of him, you can make out the length of it, the shape of the raised skin. It’s still raw, a little puffy, but on the right track. “Or did you forget?” 

“It’s not exactly easy to ignore, is it?” He shrugs, sitting straighter. “Besides, Ares kids are never all that.”

Finally, you think, lifting your hand to touch the taut skin there, there’s the bitterness you’ve heard in his voice so many times before. It’s one of those things you’ve come to recognise in Luke’s tone, the cadence of it when he actually cares, pitching lower than usual, burying itself under nonchalance. 

He watches as your thumb swipes across his cheek, pulling back to observe the way it stains red. You’re used to seeing him a little damaged, easily put back together by your hand. This is something else, a reflection of how everyone else sees him - bloodied and broken and damn near unapproachable for fear of spilled blood - and you want to capture it in your brain for the future, maybe forever. 

“I’m starting to think you might like me,” Luke says, hands moving from where they sit on the bed to rest on your waist. Your eyes stay locked on the pad of your thumb, watching the blood begin to seep into your skin. A beat, the brush of his warm thumb against the skin on your waist, and then, “It doesn’t hurt that much.” 

It goes against so much of who you’ve always sworn to be, finding him so pretty in this moment. Taking in the red of his cheek, the way it stretches down his neck and drips onto his t-shirt. Short of taking a medical oath, you’ve promised yourself to heal. To mend. To treating the injured, regardless of your own feelings on the matter.

Of course it would only take Luke Castellan, dark eyes and tender hands, to challenge that. 

“Tell me if it does,” You whisper and he licks his lower lip as he nods, wiping away some of the blood staining it as he does. The end of his quiet “promise” catches itself between your lips, mingling with the metal on your tongue and making it sweeter than you could’ve ever anticipated. 

This part of Luke is all too familiar, the taste of him to the comfortable weight of yourself on him. You’d learnt on that first night what made him tick, what made its way through him and he would return to you tenfold. In the weeks since, you’ve studied them, picking them apart until there’s been nothing to do but follow them into freefall. 

Now, you use them to guide you. Those small hitches in his breathing, the clearing of his throat, the slip of his palm when you press your lips to the skin above his pulse on the left and let them stain the right to match. It’ll all fade when you come back to yourself, cleaning the wound and stitching him back up, but it’s there when you lean back to look at him again, the undeniable mark of you on Luke Castellan’s skin. 

“You’re really fucking pretty, you know that.”

Luke tilts his head, squinting a little to focus his gaze. It’s this thing he does whenever you get like this, observant and a tad shy, waiting for the ball to drop. You keep silent, arms still wrapped around his shoulders and knees digging into the mattress either side of his hips. It’ll pass, always. 

When it does, the air changes. Not quite the same heated urgency as before, less hazy and with Luke realising the inch he’s been given, taking the mile you’ve offered in the inbetween. He’s still broken, still stained despite your best efforts to remove it, and he settles a hand in the hair at the nape of your neck as you push closer to him. 

3.

Silena told you once that it only takes twenty-one days to form a habit. She was talking about finding cigarette ends scattered around the training centre, a sure sign of Luke’s presence there each day, and how his habits had become too ingrained in him after years for them to be broken. It wasn’t true, you’d known that much, but it stayed in the back of your mind with every new one you attempted to build - daily runs, the correct amount of sleep, offering help to someone you didn’t know too well at camp. None of them ever stuck, lasting a few days at most, but it strikes you again now, Luke pushing his way through your door.

Eight weeks. More than enough time to form an alleged habit. You think, observing the flex of his arm, the thin section of ink peeking out from under his camp tee when he does, that you’ve fallen into a habit with Luke Castellan. Possibly even the habit of Luke Castellan. 

It’s different this time, however. The lack of visible bruising on his own skin, for one. There’s hints of it, smatterings of black and purple stretching across his knuckles, the skin peeling slightly, but his face is unmarred save for his usual scar. You don’t often see Luke mean. Based on the clench of his fists, so tight you’re sure it must hurt, you’re not entirely sure you want to.

“Did you know that he was summoned?” He says through gritted teeth. Sometimes, you wonder if Luke knows how to start a conversation properly. It’s not something you’ve known him to do, never a hello or goodbye, just a topic spoken into the space around you both. Neverending. “Claimed while I was away getting my ass handed to me by a dragon and then summoned for a discussion with Hermes.” 

You understand, then, why his entire body is tense. A carefully curated reputation tumbling down around him after years. The fallen son of Hermes finally getting some comeuppance for his impudence. Being replaced, in spite of dedication given to people who couldn’t stand to be around him. It’s not the first time you’ve been upset for him, but it is the first time it’s made you ache for justice. 

“I heard he got back this morning.” 

Luke hums and you watch as his cheek hollows, knowing how his teeth are indenting on the skin inside. “Came to find me first thing. To tell me all about it.”

“He came to rub it in.”

“Good girl,” he smiles, the first since walking in, and the combination burns low in your gut. A habit takes twenty-one days to form and it took Luke seventeen to understand the effect those words had on you. “I swung for him before I even realised I was doing it.” 

You perch yourself on the edge of one of the beds, keeping careful track of his movements across the room. “This might be the first time you’ve come here and the other guy is actually going to look worse.” 

It does what you wanted it to, drags a chuckle out of him and releases the tension from his shoulders. “I bumped into Will on my way here. Sent him to patch him up and keep him far away from me.” 

“Are you telling me you planned to get me alone in the med bay, Castellan?”

His nose scrunches, stealing the last of his rage from the air and twisting it into something different. “You were already alone in the med bay. I just planned to take advantage of it.”

The change in dynamic isn’t lost on you, so unused to starting in these positions, but you let it linger for a moment anyway. Ground yourself in the knowledge that Luke knows you, knows your breathing and your movements and your heartbeat. It doesn’t take twenty-one days to build a habit, and you’re far from breaking this one.

“Tell me no,” Luke says and it echoes in a way it hasn’t before. Joins the dust in the air and settles in the sunlight from the high windows. You take a breath. He releases one. “Tell me yes.” 

It’s something you should think about more, letting him ingrain himself in your space the way you have been. Patching him up is one thing, borne from consideration and oath and demanded by a higher power than yourself. In the dark nights of camp, you can pretend the time you spend with him doesn’t count for much - that it barely exists if you want to. That’s how you’ve navigated it so far, pretending not to know the calluses on his hands during demonstrations, brushing it off when Silena points out how he’s been getting into more fights these past few months. 

You should leave Luke Castellan in the shadows, a boy mended in dim lighting and known through hushed conversations. 

But you know the taste of smoke from his lungs, the press of his lips on your skin. You know his blood and his sweat and his mumbled curses. You know more about him than anyone in this camp, maybe in this world, and you’re the only one who cares to trace it over again and again until you can recite him line by line. 

“Yes, Luke,” It comes out louder than intended, completely defined. “Please.” 

Whatever it is about it, the assuredness or the plea, it’s what he needs, crashing into you like it’s all he’s ever wanted to do. There’s an easy confidence to the way he touches you now, swallows the sounds you make to keep them for himself, keeps you half-hidden from the daylight peering in like it’ll protect you both. You bury yourself under his skin, nails and teeth and take parts of him with you when you let go. 

It’s risky, slightly too hurried for how important it feels, but it makes sense with each breath you share. Fits itself to the bitterness that frays your edges, hems them into something more palatable. Luke’s mumbles are half-formed against your skin and yours are incomplete in air and they stick together as something no one else could translate. 

You can’t define this, not with a theory or a diagnosis, but you think it could fall neatly into your notes as a categorised addiction. 

With Luke’s soft curls between your fingers, you kind of forget how to care.

+1

“You know, I could probably beat you in a fight.” 

Luke chuckles, flicking the ash from his cigarette to the ground behind your cabin. It’s a new thing, hiding yourselves away in new locations, and you’re sort of fascinated with the way he chooses where to go. No rhyme or reason. “You think?”

“I would bet so much money on it if we actually got paid here,” You nod, rocking back on your heels. He’s nicer like this, bathed in moonlight and at peace with his surroundings. It’s something you’ve become accustomed to, the casual dichotomy of Luke at night, unburdened by rumours. “I would bet your chain on it.” 

You’re not serious, he knows that - the silver necklace is one of the few things he actually treasures - but it’s funny to see his face lift in disbelief as you say it. He presses the end of his cigarette out under his shoe and you bite the inside of your cheek to stop the smile threatening to come out. 

“You really think you could beat me in a fight?” 

You take a step back with each one he takes forward, only to find yourself pressed against your cabin seconds later. Luke’s smile changes, twists a little more into a smirk, and you let yourself relax into it. Instead of an answer, you hum lightly. His hands land either side of your head and you feel yourself smile before you remember to stop it. 

“Take it back,” he whispers and it drifts across your cheekbones. You drop your gaze to the peek of silver above his camp shirt, curling a finger underneath the metal so the charm dangling from it drops into full view. You glance back at him, his gaze dropping from your face to hand on his chest. “Please.” 

Wrapping your hand around the cool metal, you tug him the short distance between you and it feels like the better response when Luke smiles against your lips.

[mrkeatingsblazer]

The Prophecy [Oh, Was It Punishment] Part Two

Apollo x Child of Hermes! Reader

Part One Part Two Part Three

It has been six months and seven days. Six months and seven days since the war against Gaia. Six months and seven days since Rachel has made a prophecy. Six months and seven days since Lord Apollo has been missing. Not even his children have heard a whisper from the God, not even a glimpse in a dream and while Demi-Gods are used to being ignored by their parents, it is never to this extent; it is never with this God.

You’ve found yourself with the three Apollo campers a lot, trying to comfort them during such a peculiar and unknown time. No child should have to worry for their parent. Will Solace especially has taken the blunt of the hardship. Being so young and taking care of both the wounded from the war and his cabin since the Battle of Manhattan has taken a toll on the kid. You find yourself relating to the younger boy immensely. When Luke left and you were finally claimed, Chiron made you the head of the Hermes cabin. Though unlike you, who has been out of camp more often than not and was allowed to appointed the Stolls the title of Co-heads, Will has been burdened with being alone with his responsibilities since he was 13. You watch him now, folding and unfolding bandages repeatedly out of a nervous habit. The frown on his face was subtle but still there. He could have been finished up with inventory an hour ago but chose not to.

“I think we’re done Solace,” you say from atop the infirmary counter, letting your feet swing back and forth.

“You can head to dinner, I’m fine here. Thanks for the help,” his tired voice mumbles in response.

“Kid, you’ve rewrapped that one bandage like 8 times now, I think it's been wrapped enough,” you say quirking your brow.

Will sighs, placing the bandage down before turning to you, “will you stop it with the kid thing, you’re only 2 years older than me.”

“2 and a half,” you point at him with a scalpel that was lying beside you and smirk, “and I’ll have you know I’m a legal adult William.” He looks you up and down and snorts. His expression quickly converts back downtrodden, as if that momentary joy was a mistake. Along with the fact that his father is gone M.I.A, camp has been more depressing than usual. Kids were going missing, and no one understood why; one of these kids being your little brother and Will’s best friend, Cecil. You watch as he shuffles around like a stray kitten, you’d never pity him not when you can relate. Hopping from the counter, you walk over to him and seize his arm, yanking him towards the door. It was a comical sight, with Will being almost 2 heads over you.

“[reader]- Hey!” he gently tries to get out of your grasp but fighting two wars made your grip nothing less than steel. You continue to push the boy towards the door

“Don’t even Solace,” you scold as he tries again to get away from you, “we will be going to dinner and after that we will be going to the campfire whether you like it or not.” you yank open the infirmary door and shove him out, “and hey, maybe a certain son of Hades will be there,” you smirk as the blonde turns bright red. He grumbles, rubbing his arm but compiling and following you to the dining pavilion. It was adorable to see the kid with his crush, especially due to who it was on. You’ve known Nico since he was an annoying but excitable little 10-year-old and Will even longer, neither of them have had a good childhood, most demi-gods never do. In a way, you were living vicariously through them. You did that a lot. With Annabeth who got with Percy, your old crush, Piper and Jason, Hazel and Frank. You couldn’t help but wish you had what they had or in the case of the former, who they had.

You remember your days on the Argo. When there were no battles or group meetings, you were subjected to sit and watch the love emulating around you. For a while you thought the countless couples around you meant something, that because they were all members of the crew and got together, that for sure meant you were to get with the last single member, Leo. He thought so too. After his little thing with Hazel, that even now you don’t try to understand, you felt as though something was forming between the two of you. At one stage you found yourself hanging off him more than you were around Percy and Annabeth. You couldn’t help but be attracted to his mind, his creativity, his light. Your two best friends encouraged the blooming relationship between the two of you, even with Percy not liking Leo a whole lot, and so did the rest of the crew.

Everything changed after he came back from Ogygia. He came to you first after he returned, making you feel special in a sort of pitiful way. Expecting a grand reunion, you were instead greeted by his starry eyes as he spoke about another girl- no not a girl, a Goddess, who had him returned to you utterly smitten. Your heart broke as he told you he was planning to find her again. When you were given the truth by Eros, it made sense in the end. Leo being sent to Calypso was the Fates way of ensuring you remained loveless and killing him was just a way for them to remain cruel.

You sat through dinner at the Hermes table, which was smaller than it ever has been in years. Connor was beside you flinging peas at Clovis who would jolt at the impact before dozing off once more. Nico Di Angelo was sitting at the Apollo table, next to a blushing and, surprisingly, flirting Will Solace. You sighed looking around at all the missing campers, be it they left for college, died during the wars or as of late, were lost to Gods knows where. Even the rising moon seems dimmer than it should have been. You wonder if that was on purpose, was it Lady Artemis’ way of showing her sadness for her twin brother? Was she also in the dark as much as all of us?

By the time the campfire rolled around, you just wanted to retire to your cabin, but chose not to, for the sake of your sibling, Will Solace and yourself. As Austin was doing his cover of ‘My Sweet Lord’ by George Harrison, you heard rustling coming from the forest behind you. At first you passed it off as nothing more than a noisy nymph. It was when you heard a yell did you twist your ring, transforming it into your sword. The object was gifted to you before you even knew of your parentage, by an original member of the Argonauts, Atalanta. You recall the words of the swift footed women, who aided you during your mission to save both Lady Artemis and Annabeth; “never let a man take you unless he can keep up,” she winked before racing off. Many other campers joined you in seizing their weapons, Nico and Clarisse come to either side of you, swords ready. Two figures stumbled out of the forest, neither were recognizable. The taller seemed to be giggling and relying on the smaller to carry their weight. As they came closer you could make them out. A small Asian girl with black coke bottle glasses was cursing the taller brunette boy. He was gangly and average; you deemed him instantly not a threat.

“Hold! Who goes there?” Chiron boomed.

The boy gave a wobbly grin along with a shaky wave and replied, “oh, hi! I’m Apollo!” before collapsing to the ground

[zarnzarn]

1/2/3

reverse Odyssey au where polites is still on the ships when Poseidon arrives, and that last bit is enough to push Odysseus to beg him to stop, to spare the men he spent ten long years fighting hard and bitter to save. 593 men is no less amount after all, not for a small island like Ithaca, only three generations old. he'll do anything, anything at all, blind him, torture him, kill him- just let his men go; they were not the ones to blame.

Poseidon considers, staring down at the king with the odd grey eyes that he knew the origin of. Athena would be furious, after all- so why not take away the one thing her favoured pet was known for?

the crew rushes towards their captain, their king, as shouting emerges from the other boats, as he hits the deck convulsing, grasping at his throat. the cries of his men rend the air as his legs melt into oceanspray, remerging as a fish's tail, Odysseus gasping for air wildly, his tongue a mess of mangled flesh on the main deck, unable to talk or breathe.

they have no choice but to pick him up and tip him into the sea, and they watch in horror as he falls beneath the waves and with a flick of the tail, disappears.

six hundred men chase their king down, following the odd silver glint that appears once in a while above the blue water, following the strange cursed monster that Elepnor sees when he falls drunk into the ocean one day. follow him all the way back to Ithaca, where the people gather on the shore to cheer their arrival.

telemachus is all of ten and untameable at the return of his father's ships, running past the guards and the priests to the dock, where the soldiers and heroes are all setting down the ramps, strangely quiet, unsmiling in the face of ten years of gore and bloodshed being done. Penelope catches up to him, laughing as she cranes her head up, scanning the ships to see which one- which one had-

she only has to time to see euroluchus' shame-filled tears and polites guilty devastation, feeling her heart slowly sink to the ground, when there's suddenly a splash and an outburst of screams and propped up on the dock is a man with a fish's tail and familiar curls and razor-sharp teeth and eyes that are solid grey. the soldiers cry out in horror and thunder down the ramps to them as the monster reaches out- and Penelope can't do anything, frozen, as it reaches out and places a webbed hand with deadly claws on her son's cheek, caressing almost; and her breath catches when it looks back up to her, and she knows the face as well as her own, knows the grief and fear and knows it is her husband-

Then the pounding footsteps from the closest ships and the guards behind reach them, and Penelope only has time enough to scream to stay their weapons, already shoving Telemachus behind her and reaching out to shield off any spears or arrows from battle-strung men who'd shoot first and ask questions later-

Instead she only feels the brush of cold skin under his fingertips for the briefest of moments and then she's caught up in a fisher's net, tangled and alone. More nets are thrown, men crying out for their captain with desperation and fear, Polites running straight past her and leaping off the dock to swim after him-

But her husband is a descendant of Hermes, and Odysseus is gone.

Penelope listens to the story that night and does not cry, sitting straight-backed in the face of her family sobbing around her, of the five hundred and ninety-three men staring at her with grief and guilt alike, of being the only widow in the kingdom. Pets Telemachus' wild hair and remembers his father's, and thinks.

"You have told me much," She says finally. "But I'm still to hear a single, solid plan."

The room rustles as all the heads swing to her.

"Plan?" Eurylochus says finally. Anger burns as soon she looks to him, but she pushes it down firmly- rage will not win her anything.

"Yes. A plan," she says, "To bring my husband back home."

Telemachus unfolds at her feet and stares up at her with a hopeful grin, echoed slowly on the faces of the men around the room. Penelope smiles back.

"My husband spent ten years fighting for his people to make it back home," She proclaims. "Let's wait at least that long before we give up on him, yes?"

The answering cheer shakes the walls of the palace and echoes through the streets of Ithaca.

[viperixsworld]

GUTS, luke castellan x oc(prologue)

summary: where an aphordite daugther falls for this lying hermes boy.

disclaimer: english is not my firt language.

We don't get to choose who we fall in love with.

Arianne knew that. She believed it to her core. Love was something magical and illogical. Her own father, said it when he told her about her mom. Apparently, she was a beautiful young woman that crossed paths with Nicholas Deveraux (her father) during his travels in Europe before officially settle down in the family business in Chicago.

Everyone expected that Nicholas would come back from Europe with a bad tan and a few souvenirs, not a freaking newborn baby daugther.

Nicholas was a loving father, but not a really smart man. That is It's one of the reasons she didn't question when a man showed up at her Chicago home, offering her only daughter a scholarship to a prestigious boarding school.

Arianne came to camp half-blood when she was thirteen years old. After some encounters with several monsters, Chiron himself went to her doorstep in Chicago to get her to camp.

Nevertheless, during her arrival there was an incident. An incident involving three more demigod, a satire and a cyclops.

Arianne was claimed a few weeks after the attack, same as the two demigos that survived. Luke Castellan, son of Hermes, and Annabeth Chase, daugther of Atenea.

And let me tell you, Arianne Deveraux didn't choose to fall for the son of the Traveler. It was fate, or maybe was her mother ? She wasn't really sure. They started off as friends, adapting to camp at same time, being the same age, having the same friends.

Arianne was a nice, generous and beautiful girl, she was the perfect definition of an Aphordite daugther. Everyone that knew her personally (and even those who didn't) held her close to their hearts. Knowing that if you had to trust someone, you could trust Arianne Deveraux.

It was also a flaw, being the goodie older sister of Camp Half-blood.

At sixteen, she was named captain of Aphordite cabin. At the same time, Luke Castellan was named captain of Hermes cabin. They started to spend more time together, attending bonefire together, sparring together... Then the gifts started, Luke liked how her eyes would shine everytime she opened a present, no matter how stupid or simple. He would get her little details, It was his way of showing love, his love language, and her siblings would beg her to ask Luke to please, please, get them things for the cabin.

On the othet hand, Arianne would be (even without her knowing) the best of the presents for Luke. She was kind and beautiful, and gave him all the attetion he craved. And even Annabeth liked her, and would let her do her hair when she was tired. She was a part of their little, broken family.

Sometimes, Ari would cover up for Luke, when he sneak out to get things for other half-bloods and for himself. Like a PlayStation or some chess board for Annabeth, or his little presents for Ari.

Sometimes, Luke would sneak her in the Big House, to use the phone to talk to her father.

Every friday night, the would sit in the shore of the lake, to talk about everything or to be completly silent. Every time the scar on Luke's face hurt, Ari would stay by his side and try to ease the pain. Every time Ari felt like the stress of carring everyones problems and her owns, Luke was there to relieve her.

They were partners in crime, always there for each other.

That, until an enemy emerges from the shadows and resentment.

That, until one betrays the other.

Until Arianne Deveraux feels love and hate in her guts.

[jgracie]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ BASKETS OF STRAWBERRIES AND BIRTHDAY GIFTS

luke castellan x demeter!fem!reader

warnings (not really a warning but) pre tlt/no betrayal au whatever u prefer, luke is implied to be taller than reader

an i have awful writers block so i thought now is the time to finally write smth for mr castellan!!! and then i realised i haven’t written a demeter reader in SO long despite being a member of cabin 4 and so here we are. i also cannot stand this but i can’t tell u why so soz in advance

“petals,” you heard a voice - luke’s voice, you could recognise it anywhere - say from behind you. rolling your eyes, you chose to ignore him. he was probably here to bug and tease you like he usually does, and you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of a reaction

unfortunately for you, luke was persistent, “petals, c’mon, don’t ignore me!” he said. from the tone of his voice alone, you could imagine the look on his face: a wide smirk and mischievous eyes you knew all too well. what luke didn’t know is that you were just as persistent, so you simply continued picking strawberries and putting them in your wicker basket

luke waited for a second, then two, then three. after three, it was made pretty clear to him that you weren’t budging. however, he wasn’t a quitter

“hey! give that back!” you exclaimed, finally turning around to face him. luke had one arm behind his back and the other in the air, with your wicker basket clutched tightly in his hand. at the pout on your face, luke couldn’t help but smile. you were really cute when you were frustrated

“why hello there, ms petals! it’s nice to see you today,” luke said before taking a strawberry out of your basket and eating it, “wow, these are really good, did you plant them yourself?”

as soon as luke uttered those words, you began raving about all the hard work you’d put in with the strawberries, and he listened intently. he loved asking you questions about your plants, since the way you seemed to immediately fill to the brim with excitement as you explained every detail never failed to brighten his day

right as you were about to tell luke about how you wanted to grow other berries, you caught yourself, "wait, you're doing this just to distract me from my work, aren't you?" although that wasn't the reason why he asked, luke's grin couldn't help but widen as you crossed your arms over your chest

"just give me back my basket, luke," you said, your brows furrowing in annoyance

"fine," he began, "but first, i'm gonna give you this." luke then revealed what he'd been hiding behind his back: a potted plant. more specifically, your favourite plant in a lovely little pot

you took it from him suspiciously, your lips parted in a mix of shock and confusion. surely, this had to be some prank. luke castellan would never gift you something just for the sake of it. however, as you examined the plant, you immediately could tell it was real

"why're you giving me this?" you asked, trying to squeeze any ulterior motives out of the son of hermes

putting a hand on his chest, right above his heart, luke feigned heartbreak, "wow, petals, i'm hurt. can i not just gift you something out of the goodness of my own heart?"

when you simply raised your eyebrow at him, luke dropped the act and explained himself, "last week, i found out from travis who found out from katie that it's your birthday today, so i wanted to do something nice! y'know, petals, you shouldn't be hiding this information. i wouldn't have been able to grow this thing in time if it weren't for your sister's help."

you blinked at this, not fully believing the alternate reality you seemed to have entered. since when did luke castellan want to be nice to you? ever since you’d arrived at camp, he made it his personal mission to be a nuisance. still, you couldn’t help but feel your face heat up at his explanation - no one had ever cared about your birthday that much, which is why you never really mentioned it

looking down at the plant, then back up at luke, you mumbled, “thanks, luke; that’s really sweet of you.”

he gave you a smile - one that actually looked quite friendly - and said, “you’re welcome,” before walking away like nothing ever happened

you stayed put, unsure of how to feel as your brain conjured up new ideas of luke, ideas that involved friendship and maybe even an eventual romance? you’d never thought of him as a friend let alone a boyfriend before, but there was always a first time for everything, right?

when you set down the plant and decided to get back to work, you finally noticed that luke had taken your basket of strawberries with him

“damn you, luke castellan!” you muttered, huffing as you ran in the direction he left

[readychilledwine]

Kissed by Fire pt 2

Summary - Amelia Archeron, the oldest of the made sisters, sacrificed more than her sisters would ever understand, and more than she would ever allow them to know. Now, they want her to sacrifice her one chance at happiness, too.

Warnings - talks of sex work, beron, implied abuse, Lucien getting to be the smartest, person in a room.

Series Masterlist Eris Masterlist Master Masterlist

Eris sat at a silent family breakfast. Per tradition, no one spoke. No one had spoken at breakfast since Lucien's exile.

Beron no longer allowed casual conversation between his sons. No discussion of how their days were laid out, of who was covering which territory for the day, of how they slept.

Beron no longer allowed brotherhood. At least, not in front of him.

The note casually passed under the table started at their mother. He soft elegant script gracing the page. It had gone to the now youngest Hermes, his red hair was shaved on the right side with an intricate pattern and then curled on the top. He showed no reaction on his face before waiting for the next opportunity of Beron Speaking down to a servant over the quality of something she had no control over to pass it to Ares. The smug idiot also controlled his face as he continued eating and scratched his facial stubble that he had allowed to grow for much too long. He then waited for Beron to look away, passing the note to the second oldest whom Eris immediately shot a look. Apollo had always been the diplomatic one, the scholar interested in music and arts much more than any throne. He played his part well, but the male was easy to read. He kept his face cold and indifferent, waiting for the chance to pass the note To Eris.

Eris was the riskiest pass. He was constantly sitting at his father's right hand. A testament to his efforts and the cruelty he'd inflicted for the sake of his mother, his brothers, himself.

Lunch and tea at noon? Your father is going to the Winter Borders Today.

It wasn't even a question in Eris's mind. His mother could ask him to carve his own heart out and he would say yes.

Walking alongside Beron was something Eris longed to end. He always felt an almost slime growing on him when he had to. He listened carefully as Beron's spymaster, an undereducated ruddy looking male who hardly could gather anything worth knowing, handed him a folder.

“Rumor has it the King of Hybern got a hold of the 3 older Archeron sisters and threw them in the Cauldron,” he paused as Beron did. A look of disbelief flashes in his father's eyes as he opens the Report. “All three of them emerged fae.”

“And where did this rumor come from?”

The male looked at Beron, a small smirk forming, “Ianthe. She's currently in Spring with the curse breaker. Tamlin and the boy witnessed the whole thing.” The simple mention of Lucien had Eris looking up. “One of the sisters is evidently his mate.”

Chill set over Eris at that thought. It settled when he looked at his father's face. In place of the normally stone cold mask was a smile, not one of joy or happiness. One that promised if he ever got his hands on that poor girl, she would suffer, just so Lucien did. Just so his mother did. “Find out if this is accurate and let Eris know as soon as possible. Then find out which sister.” Beron slapped the report on Eris's chest. “Ensure your mother does not learn of this until it is convenient for me.”

Eris went to the tearoom his mother and brothers sat in, stress lining his every muscle like a heavy coat as he did. “I have news,” he watched as they all sighed heavily. “Lucien has a mate,” he threw the papers down. “I am guessing these three are why Azriel came to me a few weeks ago.”

Andromeda held the papers tight, reading each line over and over. “This changes things,” her voice was soft, breaking slightly at what this could mean. “You four need to be ready.”

Hermes leaned back, nodding as he did.

Ares took the reports next, Studying them hard. “You said the shadowsinger made you a deal right? Can you use it to force Rhysand into a bargain?”

Apollo sighed heavily, having dealt with Rhysand the most in the 50 years they were all trapped together. “Rhysand isn't going to bargain for his assistance unless his family is at risk. That's his sole motivation in his world. Not his court. Not himself. His family.”

“We need more,” Eris concluded. “Helion might not be enough. Tamlin is an unstable support. Kal is unknown. Thesan is going to hand his support on a platter just because he hates Beron. Rhysand-”

“Has no hound in the race,” his mother finished with a distant look over her shoulder towards the window. Towards the sunlight she could never fully bathe herself in. “Find one.”

Amelia hated Rhysand. She leaned across a table from him, blinking at him like he was an absolute idiot. “If I could access it, I could learn to control it, Rhysand.”

The High Lord sighed. “And when you open a gate to Mother knows where, Welcoming Mother knows what into my court and home, what then Amelia?”

It had taken Amren the better part of three weeks. Three long weeks Amelia had spent on constant faebane.

She hardly ate anymore, not that she really was before.

All glow and color had left her skin, leaving her pale and lifeless.

Her eyes constantly held dark circles from dreamless sleep.

Rhysand saw the parallel. He was not foolish or blind. It ate at him, nagging loudly in the back of his mind and pounding over and over again whenever he'd shut his eyes.

He kept lying to himself, pretending it was for Amelia's own good.

There had not been a worldwalker since Amren first appeared. And even those thousands of years ago, the walkers were rumors. Ghosts in the wind passed down by busy body gossips who believe they possibly saw a gate open and close.

“And what will you do if I just refuse to take it?”

Rhys looked up at Amelia, a sympathetic glaze to his eyes as he began to hold her mind and force her to drink the tainted wine. “It wouldn't matter,” his voice was flat. “I am sorry Amelia, but until we find out more, this is what I have to do to keep you safe.”

“Safe,” she whispered the word back like it was poisoned. “You all promised us that word before and failed,” she stood ignoring the look of pain that flashed on his face, on Cassian's, on Azriel's. “Hopefully you fail this time too.” She left the room, slamming the door so hard the frames shook.

Amelia walked down the hall, shutting her door Behind her and curled into her blanket, smiling at the familiar scent that screamed Autumn.

Amelia pulled out the map of Pryithian She had ripped out of a book. Studying it hard one more time.

She'd make it out of this damned court.

Even if she had to burn it to the ground to do so.

Lucien read the note over and over again. It had come to him through the hearth. It smelled of roasted chestnuts and a crackling fire.

He wished he could bask in it. He wished he could bottle up the scent and bathe in it, take comfort in it during nights when his dreams plagued him.

The sense of security the scent brought him was almost mocking as he read his mother's handwriting over and over.

“Beron knows. He knows about your mate. Hide her. Run away with her.”

Lucien sat on his bed, sending a silent prayer to the Cauldron. He had planned on running with Feyre anyways. He had been trying to find a way out for them for a week now, but the damn twins went everywhere with them.

Lucien hid the note as his door opened without a knock, “What do you want, Ianthe?”

“There's something in the forest. Tamlin told me to take you to look at it.”

Several days had passed since Amelia and Rhys fought. They had only spoken in passing, the female holding her head high and refusing to apologize. The high lord returned the sentiment. He had started having to have Azriel or Cassian watch her drink the tea, or else she would dump it according to the twins.

She had lost weight. Way too much weight. Her and Elain were walking skeletons. Rhys entered Amelia's room, heart falling at the sight of each bone visible in her back. “Feyre has escaped Spring. Lucien is coming with her.”

Amelia nodded. “Elain's mate. How does your dear Shadowsinger feel about that?”

Her bored tone had Rhys immediately irritated. “Do you not care that your youngest sister is currently on the run?”

She raised a brow, crossing her arms over the sweater that was now much too large for her. “I trust Feyre's abilities to get herself out of anything she walks into. I've had no choice but to do that for years,” she moved towards the window. “You do not know everything, Rhysand, you do not know the extent of my care nor the sacrifice I made.”

He sat in the chair he always took, “Because you refuse to tell me, Amelia. You refuse to tell me what oh so wonderful sacrifice you made while your younger sisters were cold and starving.”

Her mind flashed to that cabin, chopping wood for hours straight, stacking it nicely. To prepare them breakfast and leaving it to warm over a fire. Just for her to leave the house without eating and head to the pleasure house.

She'd leave before they woke, and return long after they slept.

Each night she'd hide money in Feyre's bags. Enough to get them food for the next week, if her younger Sister didn't decide to treat herself to unnecessary paints and brushes, then tuck the rest into another bag.

A bag she hoped to eventually gain enough gold stashed inside of to buy them a home.

One that wasn't one windstorm from falling apart.

“How long did you work there,” his voice broke. “How little were you paid to lay there.”

Amelia's father had lost and gambled away their wealth when Amelia was 15. “The second father was hunted down, so I went there. I was 15. I worked there long after that raging fluff ball decided we were his charity case. That's how Jurian found me. He bought me for the night using enough money that they'd turn a blind eye to whatever he wanted to do to me. The house took 90% of my Earnings. 20% would go towards paying off my debt to them so I could be free. They pocketed the rest. I'd take home a measly 10%.”

She could see the disgust washing over him. “How much was an hour with you?”

She shrugged, "Depended on what he wanted to do. I had a male pay 30 gold to beat me once. I had a male pay 50 to do things I never want to speak about again.”

Rhys nodded. “Why don't they know?”

“Because High Lord, nothing says hold on to your hopes like finding out your sister fucks for coin.”

She watched Rhysand get a distant look in his eyes, “I have to go. She's here.” Amelia nodded. “I will give her your love, even if you won't ask me to.”

She paused, looking at him in shock. He moved to her, kissing her temple softly. “No one will ever touch you without your consent again. I promise. Just give me time for the rest. We are still searching.”

Something soft was in his eyes. Something akin to care. To love.

It made Amelia feel bile set in her stomach followed by guilt.

Despite her anger and insults, he was trying.

And maybe, she should try too.

Lucien sat on the couch across from the oldest Archeron sister. He was trying to process her outfit. “Where did you get that sweater?” His brother's sweater, Lucien didn't say the words after a look from Azriel and Cassian told him not to.

“Az brought it to me,” Lucien hummed at her response.

They were studying each other. Trying to figure out each other's ticks like it was their passion project in court training. “Why do you smell like faebane?”

She countered immediately, “Why do YOU smell like faebane?”

“Poisoned by the same whore of a priestess who sold you out,” Lucien leaned back, raising and nodding for her explanation.

“Being forced to take it because that whore of a priestess had me thrown into an oversized Cauldron and it did something to me.”

“Enough,” Azriel said softly. “This conversation is done.”

“What do you mean?” Lucien pushed despite the warning.

“I can see strings,” Amelia said softly. “They're all different. Different colors, smells, materials. Some sparkle like what they're connected to is active and alive. Some are duller like light can't fully reach the end I can see.”

Lucien felt his face dropping, unable to school a reaction due to his exhaustion. “And these strings, when you touch them, can you hear anything? See anything?”

She nodded. “Between teas when they come back, I can reach them. One was dark, cold, when I touched it I heard a woman's voice. It sounded like someone was singing a dark song as she spoke in a language I didn't understand. Another time there was a string that almost seemed to glow. I could hear laughter, strange music, another language I didn't know.”

The three males shared a look. This was more information than they had gotten from her in a month, "Amelia, the night you followed me, did you pull one of the strings?”

She looked to Azriel, blue eyes sad. “In my sleep, yes. It smelled like fire and apples,” Lucien's stomach fell. “I was drawn to whoever you were speaking with. Like their voice was enough to keep me warm. Like they'd be enough to keep me safe.”

Azriel felt his face pale when she turned away and stood to leave the room.

“I think I already know the answer, but who were you with?”

Cassian sighed, sitting down. “He went to Eris. To get that sweater and a blanket in hopes he would enchant them. Amelia can't hold warmth since the Cauldron.”

“Has she met him?” They shook their heads. “I'd keep her away from him.” Azriel knew what Lucien was suggesting and voiced soft agreement. “Beron can't get his hands on a Realm Walker. It'd be too dangerous for every court and world she got him to.”

Lucien sipped the tea he had staring at the fire. "You should also check resources from Vallahan instead of here. The last recorded Realm Walker was born and trained there. Helion would be able to get his hands on some of their notes."

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes

Kissed by Fire Taglist:

@justdreamstars @coralseacourt @kemillyfreitas @impossibelle @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @believinghurts

[rustic-space-fiddle]

Things I love about EPIC: The Musical

Greek mythology hehehehehhehe (my weakness)

Little Ajax

The slightly different styles in each segment but the overarching cohesiveness

The crew singing choral vocals for Odysseus

POLITES *screaming crying throwing up*

The crew introducing Eurylochus but Odysseus introducing Polites

Odysseus’s ‘Ha ha HA Haaaaa!” What a smug lil $h!*

His whole description of Athena ~ fanboy energy

“Bestest of friends(?)!” “Okay chill kid” ”okay :D”

Polites definitely almost knocking himself out with lotus before Odysseus definitely takes it away like “oh honey no”

POLITES *STILL CRYING AND THROWING UP*

The RUMBBBBLING BOOOOOMS when Polyphemus enters—WOOO YOU CAN FEEL THE FEAR IN HIS FOOTSTEPS (also: heartbeats!)

I’m not a musically intelligent person so forgive me but the way the “take from you like you took from me / gift from you and a gift from me” sounds just makes my brain so happy

If music is math then that is definitely some solid well done math

“Nooooooobody, noooooooooobody, noo~ooOOOOOOOOOOOOH~bodyyyyyy”

“WATCH OUUUUUT!” *AGGRESSIVE CHORUS*

“My brothers-!” yall I’m gonna freakin cry

The visceral death sounds when the club comes out

Polyphemus’s voice slowing like a giant robot powering down to show him falling asleep

The sound slowly fading in as Odysseus takes in the death around him (I imagine he’s looking at the remains of Polites)

The sound Athena makes whenever she appears or disappears (NOTICE SHE DOESNT MAKE THAT SOUND WHEN SHE LEAVES FOR THE LAST TIME! just empty wind…)

“HEY CYCLOPS!”

“The next time that you dare choose not to spare, remember them.” UGH BEAUTIFUL

The growl in “REMEMBER ME.”

Ship sounds!

The entirety of “My Goodbye”. It’s just such a good argument song and I love it so much.

Odysseus’s angry “HEY.” when Athena basically blames the death of his friends on his kindness.

The fact that Odysseus isn’t afraid to absolutely WRECK Athena verbally? She has definitely killed and turned people into spiders for less

You can tell he felt a little bad about it and that she actually was kinda hurt by it too (silence is a heckuva tool)

“Aim for the island in the sky” oh yeah I’m listening to a Greek myth wHEEEZE

Eurylochus slowly getting on Odysseus’s nerves till he literally has to pull him aside and tell him to stfu

No but actually Eurylochus is not being a real one rn he is not being helpful

The wind god ( *0v0*)

“Why are my eyes and my heart and my soul so heavy?” WOW OKAY DANG

Poseidon’s entrance — DANG SON THE POWER OF THE SEA IS PALPABLE

“Ruthlessness is mercy—DIE.”

The crew calling for their captain as they’re taken by the sea

THE AUDACITY OF POSEIDON TO REMIND ODYSSEUS OF HIS OWN WORD—“when does a ripple become a tidal wave/ when does a man become a monster”—DURING THIS CRISIS. WHAT A PETTY JERK (do it again)

Eurylochus try to confess and Odysseus refusing to let him. There three reasons I think this is: 1) he doesn’t know why he wants to confess but he literally does not have time for his #2 to be having a moment rn. 2) he knows what Eurylochus did and is choosing to keep him quiet because he needs the crew not to dwell on this/he’s trying not to punch him in the face. 3) he knows what he did and he’s saying “stfu” as a way of forgiveness. All of these are great options imo

“We couldn’t resist!” “What was it?” “A woman!” “…w h a t. -_-“ my man is fed up rn

“We have to save them!” “NO WE DON’T” EURYLOCHUS WTF IS WRONG W YOU BRO

Hermes’s insane laugh !!!! LOVE

Hermes’s entire song

Rhyming “Be hurt” with “beat her” BRAIN SO HAPPY

Someofthamagic~ BRAIN SO HAPPY AGH

The fight between Odysseus and Circe~ so evenly matched! Wits, power, but she beat him! She beat him even though he didn’t cave.

“I dug the root up w my bare hands!” “Hermes gave it to you didn’t he” “…okay fine yes but rGARDLESS—“

The fact that Odysseus calls Penelope his power

Circe’s empathetic sigh because she’s not a monster, she’s a protector, and her heart has been touched by Odysseus’s earnestness and love for his wife and for his brothers

HER OUTRO WAHHHHHHH

[shurisasthmaticgf]

daughter of hades blk! reader ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

summary: you arrive to camp half-blood and are the only topic of conversation. rumors already circulate catching the attention of one particular cabin which means you now have a problem with one specific girl. everyone is dying to know who your father is but you're trying to protect your identity unsure of what will come when he claims you as his own. what nobody expected was it all to happen on your very first night.

character list: hades daughter! reader, clarisse, grover, percy, annabeth, male oc (briefly)

warnings: swearing, fighting, mentioned parent loss, clarisse is a bitch

You dragged your feet along the dirt pathway that led back towards the open grass training grounds of the camp. The other campers were enjoying their night after a long game of capture the flag you missed by a day. You were slightly appreciative that you got to camp when you did because fighting off a fury and minotaur in one day was enough. The entire idea of this place was just peculiar to you but you’d seen much stranger on the New York subways back home. One minute you were walking home from school half an hour after it began because some girl in your class lied and said you punched her. The next minute some winged lady with a bad pixie cut was trying to kill you. Not even three hours later, a minotaur nearly succeeded in the fury’s failed task. 

Upon your arrival people were interested to know who the new girl was that escaped the minotaur's clutches. Rumors began to circulate that you were a daughter of Poseidon because of the minotaur fight. According to one of the girls in your cabin, a demigod named Percy killed a minotaur on his first night at camp and got claimed as Poseidon's first son shortly after. Since you’d also “defeated” a minotaur in everyone else’s eyes that meant to them that maybe you too were a child of Poseidon. Everyone seemed to like that narrative except one cluster of Ares children that had been eyeing you all day in way that felt a lot less than admiration. It didn’t help that the rumors followed your every step and grabbed more attention the longer you stayed in the open. 

You had only made it a few steps outside of Hermes cabin and the amount of stares you were getting made your skin crawl. Just as you were about to give up on trying to make it to dinner, a familiar face appeared in front of you. The satyr greeted you, “Hey you’re outside again. I was coming to invite you to dinner. Oh and I made you something in arts & crafts.” He pulled a small crown of yellow and white dandelions from behind his back and placed it on your head gently. You couldn’t help but smile at the gesture, “Thank you, Grover. It’s beautiful.” The satyr stuck out his wrist proudly and said, “It matches mine too. Usually Annabeth and Percy are here to match with us too but they’re not coming back until late tonight so you’ll have to wait to meet them.” You weren’t sure if you were looking forward to meeting this Percy guy based on the fact that an entire cabin hated his guts and now you for even being associated with him. 

As you followed Grover down the cabin step you eyed the other teenagers around you before meeting his gaze nervously and he glanced down at your right hand. Grover stared for a minute then said, “I don’t think the axe is helping.” He chuckled and reached for the axe but you pulled away before he could touch you or the weapon. There was an awkward silence before he told you warmly, “You have nothing to worry about y/n. you are safe now okay? It’s just dinner time and it’s taco tuesday. So I’ll take this and you get some food, and we can sit outside on the beach away from everyone else. Deal?” You nodded and swatted his hand away when he reached for your axe again, this time he asked, “Then how about you put it back?” You followed his instructions and closed the cabin door behind you before he led you off to the dining hall. 

You picked at the last taco on your plate as Grover sat beside you and asked, “So do you think you know…” There was no point in letting him finish so you spoke up, “No. Daddy never told me or gave me hints about who he really was..."

Now that was a complete lie.

Truthfully, you did have an idea of who your father could be but there was no tangible evidence. The only lead you really had was poorly remembered dreams from your childhood. The dreams depicted you sitting on a throne of bones guarded by three vicious dogs with countless dead soldiers at your feet. Glittering obsidian and midnight blue marbling lined the throne room and the smell of bakhoor, incense, and spices clung to the back of your throat from your father's timeless cologne. As a child you recall him calling you "my little goddess" and teaching you that darkness and the dead were nothing to fear. As you grew older you realized that you truly were the only thing that mattered to him which is why you stayed out of sight for so long. He gave you the hints long ago but you never wanted to believe they were true. Especially after you arrived at camp to see that there wasn't even a cabin for your suspected father.

Grover continued staring at you prompting you to continue speaking, "Some could say Ares because I was always hot-tempered and starting trouble as a kid but…could have just been the absent father- dead mother thing? The Ares kids here aren’t my type of people.”

Grover nodded along and asked curiously, “Where’s the axe from?” You shrugged and answered, “I found it in my house as a kid. My grandpa was a huge nerd about that kind of stuff and used to collect and sell things like swords and knives and my grandma said it was probably just another collectible he didn’t sell before he died. As a kid I always thought daddy left it behind for me, kinda like a gift.”

The sound of a twig snapping drew both of your attention to a boy who was cautiously making his way to you both. Grover beamed and waved him over, “Ezra, hey!” The satyr turned to you and continued, “Y/n this is Ezra, son of Demeter.” You gave a genuine smile and the boy who looked around your age relaxed more and responded, “Nice to meet you.” The young demigod was fairly tall around 5’11 and his thick black locs with their puffy roots added an extra inch or two. Assorted colors of beads adorned each loc on his head right at the ends or the middle. He smelled of earl grey and cucumber in a subtle way that complemented the shades of green in his outfit and headscarf. Ezra stuck his thumb back towards the rest of camp, “Percy and Annabeth are back, and they’re looking for you.” Grover lit up and said, “Thanks man, I’ll be right over.” The demigod waved to you before disappearing down the path back towards camp. The satyr beside you excitedly stood up, “Percy and Annabeth are the ones I told you about. I know they’ll wanna meet you let’s go- wait. On second thought I’ll bring them to you, just stay here and I’ll be right back.” Before you could even say that you didn’t want to meet anymore new faces, Grover was already running back towards camp leaving you alone looking over the beach once again. 

The peace and quiet lasted no more than three seconds because through the lapping of gentle waves a chorus of amused whispers and snickers behind you. The same group of Ares kids that had been eying you like a meal since the moment you arrived crowded around you. The ringleader of the pack you’d recognized as Clarisse, pushed you with the blunt end of her spear. The thick, chocolate brown ringlets that framed her face swung back and forth with her laughter as she looked at you laying on the ground with food spilled on your t-shirt. She laughed along with her cabin siblings and murmured, “Pathetic.” The end of her spear pressed further against your sternum making it slightly harder to breathe in. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips when you remained silent, “What? Cat got your tongue? ‘Cause you sure had a lot to say a minute ago.”

Clarisse kicked the retracted bo staff that you owned, in its current form it was no longer than a roll of quarters. Your fingers reached for it, opening and closing them desperately but stopped immediately when her foot pressed them into the dirt. one of her brothers mocked you in a whiny tone, “You think Daddy weft you a widdle gift?” He high fived Clarisse and laughed before she crouched down and grabbed you by the collar so your faces were merely inches apart. Clarisse hissed with words laced of venom and hatred, “Nobodies like you don’t get gifts from the gods. We all know you’re not one of the big three so why lie to everyone about it?  You think you’re all special because you lied about fighting a minotaur and killing a fury? Lying about being Poseidon's kid?” You rapidly shook your head, “I never lied because I never said any of that.” She let out a laugh and continued, “Gods this is too good, too easy…let’s get one thing straight right now though. You’ll always just be a lonely little nobody. And I know for a fact your Daddy will never claim you as his own because you’re weak. That’s why you hide behind that little satyr all day, your little protector. But where is he now? Huh? Nobody’s here to protect you now.” She plucked the flower crown from your head and threw it aside allowing one of her siblings to stomp it into the dirt. 

Anger coursed through your veins and your eyes filled with a fiery rage you hadn’t felt since your family fell apart when you were eight. You gritted your teeth together and tightened your jaw then without thinking, you leaned forward and spat directly into her face. The crowd of siblings had grown to a larger group of nosey teenagers that oo’ed as as Clarisse let go of your t-shirt and let your head fall back onto the ground with a thud. The young demigod flipped her prized spear in her hand and pointed it directly beneath your chin by your throat. The very tip of it electrified and glowed a fiery red only a millimeter from touching your skin which made you swallow thickly. For only a second pure fear flashed across your face which was enough for Clarisse to know she was winning already. A sinister smile crept onto her face and you pressed your head back further into the earth, begging to the skies above for someone, anyone to help.

Your eyes fluttered closed and you heard a deep voice in the distance, “Hit the ground.” The voice was familiar of someone you knew but couldn’t quite remember. Nevertheless, you followed the command and balled your free hand into a fist before bringing down against the hard dirt and gravel covered earth. The force of your fist fractured the ground beneath Clarisse and her siblings' feet causing them to stumble back. The retracted bo staff rolled back into your grasp which you held in one hand. with the other, you reached for her spear and snatched it from her grip whilst spinning it back so the pointed end now faced her and her siblings who were lying on the ground. You took a step back and twirled the spear in your hands for show then threw it to the side which she immediately scrambled to pick up.

Of the six Ares blood teenagers, three of them were on the ground unconscious while the other two staggered to their feet ready to fight back. You quickly extended your bo staff and whipped it across your body knocking one of the boys back before swinging it quickly in an X formation knocking out the girl beside him. Bringing the staff once more across your torso then over your shoulder and around your head, you knocked the boy out as well leaving Clarisse the only one standing. 

Clarisse stood more angry than before now knowing that you were stronger than you looked, proving that she now had competition. Her cheeks felt hot as other campers watched the two of you standing before one another clearly questioning if she was going to be the one that walked away tonight. One of the smaller kids you recognized from Hermes cabin threw you the shield he owned. You nodded to him as a thank you and took a step back. Clarisse watched as you brushed one of your thick twists out of your face and raised an eyebrow which pissed her off more. Why weren’t you struggling? Why weren’t you afraid?  The idea of you winning pissed her off the more she stood there which was enough for her to lunge forward with her spear. You held up the shield and caught the body of the spear in your hand and turned around to try and slip it from her grasp. The girl pushed you trying to shake it from your grip and when you held on tighter she huffed and threw you forward not realizing her most prized possession would be thrown with you. Crackling and hissing sounds filled your ears the moment your back hit the ground and knocked the wind from your chest. Clarisse looked at the half of her spear left in her hand while the pointed end was still lodged into the shield in your palm. Blood curdling screams echoed throughout the entire camp and everything seemed to still around you as the teenage girl stared in horror. You walked over to her and pushed her back with your shield before she could run up on you. She hit the ground once more and you snatched the other part of her spear from between the arm hold. All of your thoughts were clouded with anger as her words rushed back through your memory once more. 

You climbed on top of her with each of your legs on a side of her waist so you were hovering above her torso with a smile far from friendly. You held one of her arms down with your knee while the other was trapped beneath her torso but she didn’t even try to fight you back anymore. She watched with her eyes now full of fear as you held the sharp end of her broken spear beside her face, dragging the tip of the blade on her skin but not hard enough to cause harm. You placed the tip underneath her chin so she was forced to meet your gaze, but a sudden cloud of darkness fell over you both. The curtain of shadows engulfed the two of you which took your focus from Clarisse long enough for her to free her arm and push you off of her. The shadows rose as you made your way onto your feet and stepped away from the crowd that had formed. The feeling of your heart pounding in your chest seemed to be the only thing you could focus on as the dark clouds fell from your head to surrounding your feet. When you could finally see ahead of you all that was there was the ocean, same as before. 

“Y/N!” Grover’s voice broke through the crowd as he manuvered through campers and stared at you with darkness and shadows pooling at your feet. A girl with deep umber skin and black waist length box braids stood beside him and a pale, freckle- faced boy with a mess of blonde curls that brought out his ocean blue eyes. The three of them along with every other camper and Chiron who followed the crowd stared up above your head. You looked up to see a long royal blue and obsidian bident, a black snake coiling up the body with two navy prongs pointed towards the sky at the top. A glow of midnight blue surrounded the bident and illuminated around you. It lowered into your hand and the weight brought a smile to your face as you felt a wave of pride in knowing what this meant. 

Chiron’s voice bellowed, “You have been claimed by Hades. King of the Dead. God of the Underworld. Y/N L/N.”

You turned to face Grover and his two friends with a sweet smile on your face as if you didn't just kick a whole cabin of demigods asses. "Hey I'm Y/N, daughter of Hades. Nice to meet you both." The blonde boy you knew to be Percy just stood with his mouth agape until the girl elbowed him. He scratched the back of his head and said, "Hi, I'm Percy." You smiled and shook his hand while the girl gave you a head nod, "Annabeth." Grover looked past you and motioned to the Ares kids on the ground, "You did all that?" Looking over your shoulder you saw some of them were now coming back to and you turned back unfazed, "More or less." Annabeth slung her arm over your shoulder and led you along with her two other friends away from everyone else, "Yeah I like you. We're gonna get along well I think."

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

authors note: i saw a lot of people posting their own fics about pjo so i thought i'd give it a try. i'm new to this franchise and i've only watched the show and movies. but i'm starting to read the books now so this is what i've come up with using the stuff i've seen, read, googled, etc. please be kind if there's something 'inaccurate' bc im still new to this!

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

María Félix (Doña Barbara, La Mujer sin Alma, Rio Escondido, La Cucaracha)—Maria Felix is still possibly the most well-known Mexican film actress. She turned down multiple-roles in Hollywood and a contract with Metro-Goldwyn-Meyer in order to take roles in Mexico, France, and Argentine throughout the 1940s, 50s, 60s. She was so famous and so respected as a dramatic actress that she inspired painters, novelists and poets in their own art--she was painted by Diego Rivera, Jose Orozco, Bridget Tichenor. The novelist Carlos Fuentes used her as inspiration for his protagonist in Zona Sagrada. She inspired an entire collection by Hermes. In the late 1960s Cartier made her a custom collection of reptile themed jewels. She considered herself to be powerful challenger of morality and femininity in Mexico & worldwide--she routinely played powerful women in roles with challenging moral choices and free sexuality. But even still, years after he death, she is celebrated with Google Doodles, and appearances in the movie Coco, and holidays for the anniversary of her death.

Maureen O’Hara (The Parent Trap, The Quiet Man)—They called her the Queen of Technicolor. That right there should help introduce people to the fiery, wonderful, stunning Maureen O’Hara. She was from Ireland, born in 1920, and started in theater at the age of ten. At 15, she was winning drama awards, including one for her performance as Portia in the Merchant of Venice. At 16, she was the youngest pupil to graduate from the Guildhall School of Music. By 18, she transitioned to film, starting off with a bang alongside Charles Laughton in Hitchcock’s Jamaica Inn, and proceeded to work steadily up through the early 1970s. She was in adventures and comedies and romances, spent a lot of time in westerns giving merry hell to John Wayne (and less merry hell to the indomitable John Ford — she held her own even when he was verbally abusive and demeaning to her). She was in The Quiet Man, which was the first American-made film entirely filmed in a foreign country. She helped make American Christmas what it is with Miracle on 34th Street. She played a lineup of headstrong, forthright women second only, perhaps, to Katharine Hepburn. She was married three times, lived for a while with a boyfriend in Mexico, sued for custody of her daughter in the 1950s, AND sued a magazine for libel in the same era. After mostly retiring from acting, she edited a magazine. She eventually sold the magazine to spend more time with her grandson, but even then ran a ladies fashion store. She was an outspoken, brilliant, passionate lady, with amazing red hair, a career to envy, and — well — that face!

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

María Félix:

She's Thee Hot Vintage Movie Woman of México. She's absolutely gorgeous and always looks like she's about to step on you. you WILL be thankful if she does.

"María Félix is a woman -- such a woman -- with the audacity to defy the ideas machos have constructed of what a woman should be. She's free like the wind, she disperses the clouds, or illuminates them with the lightning flash of her gaze." - Octavio Paz

María Félix is one of the most iconic actresses of the Golden Era of Mexican Cinema. La Doña, as she was lovingly nicknamed, only had one son, and when her first marriage ended in divorce her ex-husband stole her only child, so she vowed that one day she’d be more influential than her ex and she’d get her son back. AND SHE DID! María Félix rejected a Hollywood acting role to start her acting career in Mexico on her own terms with El Peñón de las Ánimas (The Rock of Souls) starring alongside actor, and future third husband, Jorge Negrete. She quickly rose to incredible heights both in Mexico and abroad, later on rejecting a Hollywood starring role (Duel in the Sun) as she was already committed to the movie Enamorada at the planned filming time. Of this snubbing she said, quote: “I will never regret saying no to Hollywood, because my career in Europe was focused in [high] quality cinema. [My] india* roles are made in my country, and [my] queen roles are abroad.” (Translator notes: here the “india” role means interpreting a lower-class Mexican woman, usually thought of indigenous/native/mixed descent —which she had interpreted and reinvented throughout her acting career in Mexico— and what abroad was typically considered the Mexican woman stereotype, with the braids, long simple skirts, and sandals. This also references the expectation of her possibly helping Hollywood in perpetuating this stereotype for American audiences that lack the cultural and historical contexts of this type of role which would undermine her own efforts against this type of Mexican stereotypes while working in Europe) She was considered one of the most beautiful women in the world of her time by international magazines like Life, París Match, and Esquire, and was a muse to a vast number of songwriters (including her second husband Agustin Lara,), artists, designers, and writers. Muralist Diego Rivera described her as “a monstrously perfect being. She’s an exemplary being that drives all other human beings to put as much effort as possible to be like her”. Playwriter Jean Cocteau, who worked with her in the Spanish film La Corona Negra (The Black Crown) said the following about her, “María, that woman is so beautiful it hurts”. Haute Couture houses like Dior, Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, Balenciaga, Hérmes, among others, designed and dressed her throughout her life. She died on her birthday, April 8, 2002, at 88 years old, in Mexico City. She was celebrated by a parade from her home to the Fine Arts Palace in the the city’s Historic Downtown, where a multitude of people paid tribute to her. Her filmography includes 47 movies from 1942 until 1970, and only two television acting roles in 1970. She has 2 music albums, one recorded with her second husband, Agustín Lara, in 1964 titled La Voz de María y la inspiración de Agustín «The voice of María and the inspiration of Augustín», and her solo album Enamorada «In Love» in 1998. Her bespoke Cartier jewelry is exhibited alongside Elizabeth Taylor’s, Grace Kelly’s and Gloria Swanson’s. In 2018, Film Director Martin Scorsese presented a restored and remastered version of her film Enamorada in the Cannes Classics section of the Cannes Festival and Google dedicated a doodle for her 104th birthday. On august 2023 Barbie added her doll to the Tribute Collection.

Maureen O'Hara:

I thought she was one of the most beautiful women in the world when I was a kid and I have yet to really change my mind. Always loved her temper and her red hair. Plus she was kind of a MILF in The Parent Trap

Haughty, red hair, hot.

I would have to give up my passport if I didn't submit Maureen O'Hara but also have you seen her? Not only did she look like that (she was called the Queen of Technicolor, though she wasn't a big fan of that sobriquet), she was also very funny and tough as nails. She faced off against Walt Disney in a contract dispute and the legend goes that when someone mentioned her at his deathbed, he sat up and said 'That bitch!'. Her comment on that story is "At least he didn't think of me and say, 'That wimp'." She struggled to get serious roles for a time, saying ""Hollywood would never allow my talent to triumph over my face," so she plays the sexy princess/pirate/harem girl in a LOT of early movies that she referred to as "Tits and Sand" films, she being the tits in question. She also turned down so many leading men and studio bosses (Errol Flynn and Howard Hughes are among her rejects) that there were rumours spread that she was a lesbian. Many egos were battered it seems. I'm including the infamous Lady Godiva scene in the photo propaganda for the sheer Moment of it [link] . It was a bit of a flop critically, but it was one of Clint Eastwood's first film appearances and she said he told her later that he was very glad of the money at the time.

She was a very proud Irish woman and when she went for her American citizenship they insisted on referring to her as British (the timeline of Irish independence is a bit wibbly wobbly, we won't get into it here). She refused to accept American citizenship under that condition and argued her way through every level of US immigration she could find, supposedly saying "I'm not responsible for your antiquated records here in Washington", until a judge finally gave up and said "Give her what she wants, just get her out of here". This made her the first ever person seeking US citizenship to be proclaimed Irish on the record!

The hair. The accent. The figure. The acting chops. The perfection.