#luke trying to find solace in her

[khickuwa]

The Aftermaths of Luke’s Episode 4... [PART 1]

[supercutszns]

Luke x reader where a girl, daughter of Aphrodite, flirts with him and insults the reader, causing her to avoid Luke, but later he manages to find her and confesses that he actually likes them... I don't know if they should already be together or not, but I believe in you!!! you write very well :ooo

Sorry if the idea is bad or you wouldn't want to write something like that, if that's the case please pretend you never read this 🤡🤡🫶

true colours; luke castellan

wc + pairing: 3.6k, luke castellan x child of iris! reader

synopsis: everyone wants luke castellan, including you. curse your mother for getting your hopes up.

warnings: friends to lovers, reader is very insecure, bullying, lee fletcher & will solace cameo!! some angst with a fluffy ending

notes: thank you for the request!! as always this is longer than i anticipated but hope you like it :) i also combined it with another request for a child of iris reader (i also identify as a child of iris sometimes so i lovee writing for them) also i’m pretty sure lee + a lot of parts of this are ooc sorry but i havent read the books in about a year so hopefully everything’s fairly accurate!🌈

You knew this summer would be different because your mother sent her wishes twice as much. On the first day of July, when children flood into Camp Half-Blood like a hive of wild bees, a rainbow always lights up the sky. 

This year, there were two. 

As a child of Iris you’re technically supposed to be in the Hermes cabin. But your love for art, for music, for fun, has made you a particular favourite of the Apollo cabin. Most of your friends are there. They tolerate you singing in your soft, often unsure voice. They love when you catch sunlight and filter it into prisms of colour on their cabin walls. 

You’d probably move in there permanently if it weren’t for Hermes. Or rather, his son.

Over the last few months, in the sticky summer heat, your mother knew you would fall in love. 

It's not any surprise you love Luke. Everyone loves Luke. A fact that's becoming more obvious every passing day. 

It used to bother you less. You’ve always been his meagre, hopeless friend, never any real competition to these girls. You’d basically taken yourself out of the running and instead decided to pine after him in the very back of your mind. A safe, deluded fantasy that would never happen. 

Until recently, where it seems less like a fantasy and more like a terrifying possibility. 

Over the past few weeks Luke has gone out of his way to be sweet to you. Or at least you think so. He’s spent extra time talking to you at lunch, laughing at your half-formed jokes almost in earnest. At bonfires he saves you a seat, grabs you a marshmallow on occasion. You even made him a friendship bracelet of sorts—admittedly a little ugly—but he’s never taken it off. Not since the day you gave it to him. 

Not to mention helping you last week before the archery competition. His hands lingering over yours as he steadied your bow, the curls of his breath on the back of your neck when he stood behind you. 

“Don’t be nervous,” he says, a tinge of mirth in his voice. “You just steady your aim and first is as good as yours.”

(You came in fifteenth.)

You don’t want to say that it’s him weakening your aim, making your pulse beat out of your neck. His nose brushes against the back of your jaw as he leans forward and you smell the pine on his skin. Is this friendly? Is he this close on purpose? Are you delusional?

It’s all you’ve been thinking about these past few days. So when Luke Castellan’s endless admirers come to the forefront of your mind, you feel like all those moments of potential buildup have been ripped away. 

“You alright there, sunshine?” 

He takes you out of your spiral with a teasing lilt you love. When you look at him, his face is a shimmering warmth, complete with boyish smile. 

“Yep,” you reply, trying to ignore the nickname making your insides flutter even though you know he’s saying it ironically.

You’ve always had a gift for identifying colour. It’s the thing you pay attention to most. Something inherited from your mother, you suppose. So you’ve memorized the way Luke’s eyes melt in the sunlight. How his scar blends with his pinking cheeks when it’s hot outside. You never told him, and you probably never will, but you’ve painted him from memory quite a few times in the Apollo cabin—always with the excuse that you were practicing. It's so blatantly obvious you're in love with him there's no point in your friends bringing it up.  

The two of you are meandering around camp before dinner, a tradition Luke started early on in the summer. You talk about high points of your day (mostly you) or share nuggets of gossip you’ve heard around camp (mostly him). It's the thing you looked forward to every morning. A time when his words are just for you. 

Idle chatter flows as you keep walking. Sometimes your arm brushes his and you have the embarrassing urge to tug yours away. You do your best not to stare at him too long or laugh too loud at his jokes. 

“Hey, Castellan!” Someone calls. 

Luke’s head turns. Your heart plummets. A beautiful girl, Aphrodite cabin, you think, is heading towards you. She’s all honey-spun hair and dazzling pink lips, and it’s obvious she knows it. You don’t know her name. But Luke does. 

They fall into conversation the second she arrives. It’s just greetings, pleasantries, but there’s a coy smile on the girl’s face that betrays any sense of disinterest. “Heard you’re not too keen on pairing up with us for the Chariot Race next week. What gives?” Her tone is pouty and playful as she taps Luke’s shoulder. She side-eyes you, lips curling imperceptibly. “I’m sure you’ll have a better chance with us.”

He lets out a strained chuckle. “Dunno, just thought it was fine to switch it up.”

Just like that, you’re out of the loop again. More of her friends flock after her, and soon Luke is tangled in a whole other world. They’re all glowing with a kind of righteousness you only get when you’re popular. You know Luke has friends, tons of them. He's the leader of the cabin with the most campers. Not to mention assertive and gorgeous. His presence is so inviting it’s a challenge not to fall in love with him. 

So you can’t blame this girl, the one that keeps touching his arm and giggling. It’s not like you’ve staked your claim on Luke—no one even knows you exist. As much as you want him to be yours, you know you’ll never stop someone from taking him first. It’s your fatal flaw, you think. Cowardice. 

You end up sidelined completely. Watching him swathed in people more charismatic than you plants an ache deep inside you. All your wishful thinking feels sour now, a pipe dream, a bedtime story to help you sleep better. Somehow it hurts more knowing that it’s nobody’s fault but yours. These people can’t be doing this on purpose. It’s just who they are. It’s who you are—always a step behind, always daydreaming. You are your mother’s daughter, after all. Just a prism reflecting everyone around you. 

Eventually, one of the boys in the group takes notice of you. He’s not nearly as captivating as Luke is—you don’t find the colours of his eyes hold as much depth. There’s also a haughtiness when he looks at you. He sneers, “What the hell do you have on your face?”

It draws the attention of others in the group. You feel like a naked sculpture in an art gallery. “Uh, what?” You stammer. 

Some of them purse their lips. The girl with Luke lets a laugh slip. You’re pretty sure you look like an idiot, waiting there with your brows wrinkled in a daze. Their gazes keep flicking over to your cheek, so your hand flies up there before you can delay any more. When you press your fingers to the side of your face, they come away tacky and pink. Mortification constricts you.

Paint. It’s leftover, half-dried paint. The colour of Luke’s cheeks in the sun. 

“Oh,” you say dumbly. It’s drowned by snickers. All you can do is find Luke, the only face you know, and ask, “Why didn’t you tell me?” without sounding too hurt. 

You know you failed when your voice comes out wrong and his ebony brows push together. “I thought it looked—”

He never gets to finish because the golden girl laughs a little louder, the pink tones in her face a little darker. “Oh my Gods, you’re that Iris kid that’s always singing, right?” She giggles sharply, cornflower eyes darting between her friends. There’s something in there you can’t quite pick up on, until it flushes the pupils of all her friends, and they all grin with a secret knowledge they want you to see. “You’re, like, really good!” The girl simpers, but her bottom lip pulls between her teeth to soften another laugh. 

“Oh, so good!” Another friend piles on. 

Their passive-aggressive chuckles start to sound like hail on a window. You shift further away from them. Dirt slides beneath your shoe, and you long to kick up more of it, displace yourself, disappear. 

You don’t look at Luke. The giggly, flaxen girl has already turned back to him, and you’re sure he’s enthralled once more. You try to stir up the image of Luke’s closeness during archery practice, the lilac bruise on his knuckles when he angled your bow, but it doesn’t take. Now, it feels like you’ve dreamed it. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Luke leaning down to catch a whisper from the Aphrodite girl’s ear. The boy that first commented on your cheek leans closer to you again. He’s suffocatingly smug when he grins, “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you go … wash that off? You don’t want to look like that at dinner.” He snorts. “For an Iris kid, you really aren’t good at taking a message.” 

If you were a more confident person, maybe you’d point out how that didn’t really make sense, or how stupid it sounded coming out of his mouth. But the sentiment of it wounds you, and you’re weak enough as is. 

"Guess you're right," you mumble. You wipe your face of paint as you leave. The memory of Luke’s skin stains you until you wash your hands off in the sink. 

You haven’t talked to him since. 

It’s been a few days of you avoiding him, and it’s hard to explain to anyone why you’ve been doing it. How do you tell the truth? Luke Castellan is a work of art and you are … a weird doodle, or something. Despite your adoration, you know there’s no reason he should feel the same for you. Everyone loves him for a reason. Everyone must ignore you for one, too. 

“Why haven’t you been talking to Luke?”

The question breaks your concentrated silence in the Apollo cabin. You’ve been sitting here for a while now, humming to yourself over a mostly blank canvas. The cabin is dusted with a lilac haze, thanks to your manipulation of the light streaming through the windows. Helps you feel less like you’re at camp and more like you’re in a fairytale. 

“Helloooo, lady, I asked you a question.”

You begrudgingly look up. Lee Fletcher, head of the Apollo cabin, is at the mouth of the cabin, gazing at all your supplies strewn about the floor like they’re a bunch of unsavoury substances. “It looks like a hurricane came in here. Now why aren’t you talking to Luke?”

“How do you know I’m not talking to him?” You mutter as Lee sits beside you. 

“Uh, because you’ve been sleeping here multiple nights in a row and you never do that. And you don’t sit with him at dinner. And whenever we see him you drag me in the other direction—”

“Lee!”

“I’m just saying, you should probably talk about it. My beautiful voice can heal wounds, yes, but not of the heart.” He splays a hand across his chest in mock theatrics.

You don’t say anything. The familiar weight of the brush against your fingertips is far more comforting than trying to talk, so you busy yourself with your canvas again. “He waits for you, you know,” Lee continues, quieter. “In the morning. And before dinner. He always asks if you’re here.”

“Oh,” you say, and your wavering voice betrays your expression. But you think of everyone else at camp, their gleaming smiles and their celebrated parents, their own cabins and friends and dreams, how you don’t seem to have any of those. You think of the girl whispering in Luke’s ear. All her shades of beauty. You know it’s wrong to compare yourself, to be jealous. You’re just … sad.

The cabin darkens from a lilac to an imperceptibly gloomier shade. A blue sort of longing gets caught in your throat, blurring the colours on your canvas. But you keep your brush steady, focused on the scratch of its bristles so you don’t have to hear what you say next. 

“I think I love him, Lee.” And then, “But I don’t think he loves me.”

There’s no sound except the scraping of your brush when it’s run out of paint, and a sniffle when a tear rolls down your cheek. 

“Oh,” Lee fills the silence the way you did just moments before. Then he says your name, laced with pity, and hugs you on the floor of his lavender cabin. 

“You want to help me lead the bonfire song tonight?” He asks after a minute. “Or at least … come to the bonfire song?” 

“No to the first, yes to the second.”

You wish you said no to both. 

The spot you choose after dinner is right next to the fire so you can distract yourself with the golden flecks of flame. Fire is so fluid, so complex, from a colour perspective. But no matter how close you get, the searing warmth can’t hide Luke’s gaze peering over the embers. 

He will not. Stop. Looking at you. 

The singing from the Apollo kids usually soothes you but tonight it’s just making you anxious. All this attention so close to you. Will Solace has been sitting next to you this whole time, your unofficial assigned companion for the night thanks to Lee. One of his siblings beckons him over, and he shoots you an apologetic look, hesitating. "Just go," you wave off kindly. "It's all good." He's not entirely convinced, and you aren't either, but he squeezes your shoulder with thanks and leaves you anyway.

Now you’re acutely aware the space next to you is wide open. And so is Luke, it seems. There’s an awkward moment where your gazes slide over each other and he weaves out of his current crowd towards you. So you do the most mature, sound thing you could possibly do in this situation:

You say you have to go to the bathroom to no one in particular and get out of there. 

It’s dark, but you’ve got sharper eyes than most. Soon the noise of the campfire is behind you. You traipse through the camp towards the bathroom,but you don’t get far before you hear something that makes your stomach drop in the worst and best way. 

Luke, calling your name. 

At first you think you can get away with not hearing him. Then he calls a second, a third, a fourth time, punctuated with, “Come on, I know you can hear me, can you just turn around?”

He’s got longer legs than you so the next time he speaks it’s practically in your ear. “Hey, just look at me. Please. I want to talk to you.”

There’s something so tender in his voice that it makes you cave immediately. But you already feel so fragile, you can feel the tears behind your eyes. You know you won’t have the strength to talk to him. 

His hand curls gently around your wrist and it sends warmth all the way up your arm. He says your name again, softer, and you love the way it sounds. You can’t meet his eyes, but you already know what he looks like. Even in the dark you picture him crystal clear. 

“Look at me,” he repeats. “I just—I need to know what I did wrong.”

His dark eyes are full and apprehensive when you heed him. You notice how much you’ve missed studying his face—the slight bunch of his brows, the tensing in his jaw. And you almost delude yourself that he’s missed you just as much, the way he squeezes your wrist and rakes over your expression.

“Why are you ignoring me?” He asks. 

“I’m not—”

“You are. I know you. Just tell me why.” 

He looks so sweet, so earnest, and it kills you. You think of the way he looked when all his friends made fun of you. It all comes up before you can help it. 

“Do you always let me walk around looking like an idiot?” You ask bitingly, staring at the floor. “The thing, with the paint on my cheek—why didn’t you tell me? I looked so stupid and all your friends just laughed at me!” 

His face falls. “I tried to tell you, I thought—”

“It’s okay to say you don’t like me, or that you’re embarrassed, or whatever, but I …” You swallow, tears thick on your lower lashes. “Everyone makes fun of me. I don’t know why you don’t.”

“Because I do like you,” he states, hand moving up to your forearm. 

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “You’re so much … better, you know you are, and I don’t want your pity, or your spare time. I just—I made something up in my head that wasn’t there and I only noticed it the other day after you talked to that girl and that guy made fun of me and I’m really, really sorry—”

“It looked cute. I was trying to say I didn’t tell you about the paint because I thought it was cute.”

There’s a lull.

“What?” You blink stupidly. 

“I know I should’ve told you about it, but I swear I was going to before dinner, I didn’t think we’d run into anyone before then.” His cheeks tinge red. “I had this whole dumb thing planned out where I’d wipe it off your cheek and tell you how cute it was once you got embarassed. I was waiting to tell you. I was thinking about it the whole time.”

His hand on your arm is a frighteningly grounding thing. You're dumbstruck by that alone. Your lips part, but all that comes out is, “Why?”

A gentle laugh tumbles out of his throat. “Why do you think?”

His other hand comes up to brush your cheekbone, where the paint had been, and you can imagine him doing it to you on that day. How you'd probably react just the way he said you would, the way you are now. A warm orange glow blooming in your chest. “But the girl—”

“She tried whispering to me how much she liked my bracelet,” he smiles fondly. “Told her you made it for me. It shut her up. I don’t know what that guy said to you but I chewed ‘em all out the second you left. They knew I wasn’t happy. I tried looking for you but you were gone. I don't like them, you know."

You don’t know what to say. It’s too difficult, too uncertain for you to jump the gun on this. So you just stare at all the shifting colours on his face as he moves closer to you. All this time going over his every detail, and there's still more to be enthralled by.

“I found the paintings,” he says, voice so close you can feel it brushing your skin. “The ones of me. I was looking for you in the Apollo cabin a week ago and you left one out. I knew it was yours because ... I mean, there’s no one in the world that can make me look that … beautiful.” 

The last word is apprehensive but it’s spoken with an unimaginable tenderness. He looks a little teary himself. You think you’re dreaming. “I knew I had to tell you after that. I’ve been trying to tell you. But you started pulling away from me so I thought I was making it all up.”

“Tell me what?” It’s a ghost of a question between you, an impossible thing, but the hand on your arm slips around to your back and he presses it there with such certainty. 

“You’re really gonna make me say it?” He cocks his head, but you nod. “I’m in love with you, I think.”

The words cascade over you in ribbons of warmth. Your brain feels fuzzy, seperate from the rest of your body. Your mouth opens multiple times but you can’t seem to control what comes out. “Luke, are you joking?”

“Not even a little.”

“But you’ve got so many other—”

“I want you.”

“I am literally the most incompetent person alive; I can’t sing, I can’t talk to people, I have a weird knee—”

"Your knee is fine!"

"I'm just saying, this makes no sense from an outsider perspective, it's—"

“Okay, clearly the telling thing isn’t working so I guess I’m just gonna have to kiss you.”

It happens so quickly you don’t have any time to think (probably for the better). You let out a surprised “oh” before his mouth silences you, stopping every other thought. He’s gentle, thumb still rubbing your cheekbone, other hand still firm at your waist. You want to panic—where should you put your hands? How do you know you’re doing this right? But he steadies you, the way he always does, and you give in. 

He starts to smile against your lips. You’re almost positive the intensity of your heartbeat could summon a storm. When he pulls away, he kisses the corners of your mouth and you think you’re going to evaporate. “I don’t think I’m very good at this,” you whisper.

“You’re perfect.” He grins a little when your hands tentatively tug at a curl on the nape of his neck. “And none of that stuff you say is true. I mean, you’re definitely a better singer than me.”

Leaning close to your ear, he warbles out a song you know but gets the words horribly wrong anyways. You can’t help but laugh. “Okay, maybe you have a point.”

He hums and chuckles with you. You swear the moon gets brighter when he wraps his arms around your waist to kiss the side of your face. “Next time you paint me, I want to be there when you do it.”

You blush harder than you ever have in your life. “Only if you try painting me,” you say quietly.

“Of course. You’re very pretty, so I’m sure my horrible artistic skills won’t even make you look bad.”

Luke lets you press your face into the crook of his neck. You soak it up for all it’s worth. 

In the morning, you wake up in the same position. Your nose tucked against his collarbone, the shade of pink you love freckled across his cheeks. You can't wait to paint him again.

When you look out the window, you say a silent, grateful prayer to your mother.

She's given you two more rainbows.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Aemond x brothel reader 👀

So what if instead of Aemond visiting the older woman in yesterday’s episode - he goes to the brothel and immediately regrets it and is about to leave until he sees reader and is mesmerized by her beauty. They have their little moment and she gives him comfort. Definitely feel free to add more or change anything! This is just a thought that I’d like to see created. Thank you!

Request: Aemond and a brothel girl (maybe a dancer idk) like the scene in the episode. Except they are more intimate and not weird age gap like the madam. It gave me the ick… He truly feels for her.

Warnings: mention of (past) character death, mommy issues,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The mysterious customer under a cloak all piqued your curiosity. You never had the chance of properly seeing him, always immediately escorted to a private bed. Some girls said he was disfigured, and that it was the reason he covered himself with a cloak. Some said it was Aegon Targaryen, but you knew the newly crowned King favored Flea Bottom’s whores. 

As you danced, your eyes would try to see through the veils he hid behind. To get a glimpse of him. But you never saw anything other than his bare feet. All you knew was that he was with Madam Sylvi and that he requested hot milk.

One late evening, you saw him leaving the veils. His cloak was on, but he saw you. He saw you dancing and moving your naked body to the rhythm of the music, entertaining the customers. 

The next time he came by, he asked for you. 

Madam Sylvi was not pleased, but he was the paying customer. 

You reminded him of his mother — physically —, but more caring and nurturing. He found your voice soothing and loved to rub himself against the fullness of your breasts, making your nipples harden to the stimulation, until he came to rest his cheek on top of it, humming in satisfaction. His mother let him do this as a child, when she was still comforting him, and he missed it. 

Every night, he would curl against you, or in your lap, and stay here for hours as you gently caressed his pale skin. Unlike the other customers, Aemond was not there for sexual satisfaction. He just wanted comfort.

‘’Daemon sent them to kill me,’’ he said, his naked body shielded by the veils circling the large bed. ‘’It was my head they wanted, not my innocent little nephew’s.’’

Your heart was heavy as the prince mentioned the murder of Jaehaerys — a child. The barbarous act had everyone in tears. 

You rubbed his arm gently, the aroma of calming lavender wrapping around you. ‘’But you were with me.’’

‘’I feel sorry for my brother and sweet sister. She is traumatized.’’ Guilt filled his stomach as he remembered the suffering and painful grief in Helaena’s eyes. ‘’I should be grateful they did not find me, but a part of me wishes they had. Unlike my little nephew, I would have been able to defend myself.’’

‘’We cannot change the past, my prince.’’ 

‘’I know,’’ Aemond whispered, his cold, princely facade completely down in your company. He sighed deeply as your gentle caresses soothed his weary soul. His body relaxed as he buried his face into your covered chest, seeking solace in your warmth and tenderness. ‘’There’s a lot I would change about the past if I could. I…I do regret that business with Luke. I lost my temper that day, and I am sorry for it.’’

You stroked his hair gently, the soft, silvery locks running through your fingers. You could feel the tension in his body slowly melting away as he rested against you.

Aemond's eye closed at your touch, and a small sigh escaped his lips. ‘’They used to tease me, you know? Because I was different. One time, in the dragonpit, they…they said they found me a dragon. It was a pig. And my brother was part of the prank.’’

’'That was cruel of them,'’ you said softly, leaning to kiss his temple. He leaned into your touch as you wrapped your arms around him in a comforting embrace. ‘’They were cruel to you, my prince. You didn't deserve their taunts and mockery.'’ 

You felt his hand reaching up and palming your breasts through your clothing. Getting the hint of what he wanted, you untied the front of your dress and freed your breasts. Immediately, Aemond’s mouth started to press kisses over them before. His hot tongue swiped over your nipple. You let him do what he desired, knowing this was his way of finding comfort. The warmth of his hand and the wetness of his tongue sent a shiver down your spine, but you focused on his needs.

As Aemond continued his sweet assault on your breasts, you noticed his cock was getting hard against his thigh, but didn’t mention it. Madam Sylvi never touched him there...or kissed him. Only you — when he asked for it. 

The music outside the curtains changed, and he shifted, letting go of your breasts to curl up with his head on your lap instead. You continued to rub his shoulder down to his back, then along his thigh and leg. 

‘’When I claimed Vhagar, I felt powerful.’’ 

His pride and confidence had swelled to an almost unmanageable extent when he returned to Driftmark. He was excited to tell Aegon, and his mother about Vhagar. But his cousins and nephews found him first. They got into a fight over the dragon…and Lucerys Velaryon took out his eyes. 

As if you read his thoughts, your finger brushed the scar going through his eyebrow. You couldn’t imagine the pain he went through. 

‘’Was it why you went after Luke that day? Because you wanted him to be afraid of you and your superior dragon?’’ 

Aemond grew still at the mention of Lucerys, the memory of that fateful day on Storm’s End, the catalyst of the brewing war, still fresh in his mind. 

After a moment's hesitation, he nodded slowly. ‘’Yes... In a way, I suppose so.’’ 

You hummed, brushing your fingertips along his cheekbone softly. 

Aemond wished he could take you to the Keep. To his chambers. It would be nice to not have to hide under a cloak at night and risk getting seen by anyone who shouldn’t. He wished you would be there, in his bed, when he would return from small council meetings, training or even just supper, to take care of him and hold him.

But that was impossible. His mother would never allow it.  

—

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★ hotd bots masterlist

@ illumielle on character ai !! ᡣ𐭩

here you can find all my existing bots and a short description, i will update this page! 💌

ᯓ aemond targaryen: {14}

(1) — not his children? (niece!user {no dance!au} where they're married and he begins to believe the rumors that she conceived children from jace) (2) — his beloved niece (niece!user where he proposes to her during dinner in 1x07 episode) (3) — postwar marriage (niece!user the only surviving child of rhaenyra and daemon, in which he takes care of her and grooms her to build a trusting relationship and marries her when she grows up) (4) — forbidden feelings (aunt hightower!user and he just being in love with her, but afraid of this) (5) — after 'the pink dread' (niece!user consoles him after this joke) [platonic] (6) — in harrenhal (twin-sister wife!user where she pregnant and afraid of that rhaenyra captured king's landing) (7) — the only queen (lannister-wife!user who wants to be a queen and he does everything for her) [r] (8) — his strong girl (niece!user after dinner scene when he calls her and her brothers bastards) (9) — street of silk (niece!user where he finds her there after aegon took her to the street of silk) (10) — get his attention (baratheon!user that daughter of borros whom he chose as his wife) (11) — fear of closeness (wife!user {u can choose her house if you like} where he's afraid of s3x because aegon took him to a brothel when he was thirteen) (12) — war trophy (strong!user who is the legitimate daughter of harwin and aemond takes her to his bed after the capture of harrenhal) (13) — trying to be a good father (niece!user he cheated on her with alys rivers and after the war he tries to take care of their children) (14) — father for the first time (niece!user where they become parents for the first time and he worries about whether he will be a good father)

ᯓ aegon ii targaryen: {10}

(1) — king wants to see you in his chambers (niece!user after the 'dance of the dragons' trying to have a child) (2) — burning body and heart (wife!user stays with him after rooks' rest) [r] (3) — seeks comfort (wh0re!user he just comes to a brothel and for the first time he is looking not for s3x but for consolation) (4) — may become a father (aemonds wife!user where aegon becomes a father to her children after news of aemond's affair with alys rivers is revealed) (5) — takes you to the street of silk (niece!user where he takes her to a brothel to anger rhaenyra) (6) — newborn (niece!user where they meet their first child) (7) — his rhaenys (sister!user who was going to become a septa, but he wants to take her as his second wife because he always wanted only her) (8) — after usurpation (niece!user where he visits her with their son after the usurpation) [r] (9) — blood & cheese (niece!user comes to his chambers with their daughter after the murder and finds him in bed with her lady-in-waiting) (10) — different twins (twin-sister-wife!user where they are complete opposites but he wants to find a common language with her) [r]

ᯓ daemon targaryen: {6} (1) — won't allow it (sister!user where she is engaged to viserys, and daemon takes her to a brothel to tarnish her honor and take her as his wife) (2) — teacher's pet (stepdaughter!user where he no longer finds rhaenyra interesting or attractive, and his attention shifts entirely to her eldest daughter) [r] (3) — he regrets it (niece!user who accidentally became pregnant by him, but to hide it she was married to otto hightower) (4) — late visit (hightower!user which otto sends to the daemon after laena's death so that she can console him) (5) — obvious things (sister!user who is married to viserys, but her children are actually from daemon and they keep it a secret) [r] (6) — queen wants to see the newborn (sister!user where they meet their child and alicent wants to see him) [r]

ᯓ jacaerys velaryon: {2} (1) — solace (sister!user where they both find solace in each other after luke's death) (2) — one of those dragon seeds (bastard!user where he's just still grumbling about bastards riding dragons)

ᯓ rhaenyra targaryen: {2} (1) — she likes you more than your husband (harwins wife!user who has an affair with rhaenyra) [wlw] (2) — something she will never forgive herself for (daughter!user who is aegon's wife and lost her child during blood & cheese and rhaenyra tries to comfort her after all that) [platonic]

ᯓ alicent hightower: {1} (1) — her only child (daughter!user who looks exactly like her, and alicent has the strongest connection with her) [platonic]

ᯓ daeron targaryen: {1} (1) — reunion (sister!user where they are reunited on the battlefield after a long separation) [r]

ᯓ helaena targaryen: {1} (1) — doesn't want to fly into battle (lannister!user calms her down after aemond's attack) [r, wlw]

my requests are still open and i am happy to receive them ⭑.ᐟ

i didn't leave any links, but again you can find my profile and all these bots there! and if you need a specific link send me a message!

[glittervame]

Come on, cum for me again

I haven't written him in a long time, so here's some love for my boy <3

Luke castellan x FEM! Reader 18+, just smut, Unprotected P in V (Wrap it before you tap it), overstimulation, use of toys

Y/n's eyes widened as she felt Luke's hand slip away from her clit, leaving her on the precipice of an orgasm that was perpetually out of reach. It had been days since he started this sadistic game of edging, and she could feel the desperation building within her like a crescendo of need. Her breaths grew ragged, her body trembled, and she couldn't help but whimper in frustration as he chuckled darkly, knowing just how much he enjoyed watching her squirm.

Every night, he would explore her body with a hunger that was both thrilling and maddening, pushing her to the brink only to pull back before she could find release. The days had turned into a blur of teasing touches and whispered promises that never came to fruition.

One evening, as Y/n lay sprawled on her bed, surrounded by a mess of discarded clothes and textbooks, she couldn't help but feel the familiar ache of arousal building deep within her. It was a sensation that had been steadily growing for hours, ever since Luke had started playing his cruel game of edging with her earlier in the day. The way he'd touch her, so tenderly at first, exploring every inch of her body with feather-light kisses and gentle caresses, only to pull away just as she was on the brink of climax—it was maddening, infuriating, and yet, oh-so-exciting. She'd squirmed and begged, her pleas falling on his deaf ears as he watched her with a smug smirk, the thrill of power coursing through him like a drug.

But now, as she lay there, her fingers inched closer to her secret stash hidden beneath her pillow. Her collection of sex toys had been her only solace in moments like these, providing the sweet release that Luke so cruelly denied her. Her heart raced as she pulled out her favorite vibrator, a sleek black number that always knew just how to hit the spot. With trembling hands, she switched it on, the low buzz filling the quiet room, and brought it to her throbbing clit. She'd show him, she'd make herself cum and take back the control he so desperately craved.

As she began to glide the vibrator over her sensitive flesh, the door to her room swung open with a dramatic creak. Luke stood in the doorway, his eyes widening in shock and amusement as he took in the scene before him. "Well, well, well," he drawled, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "What do we have here?"

Y/n's cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson, and she hastily tried to cover herself, but it was too late. Luke had already crossed the room and snatched the toy from her hand. "I think we're going to have some fun with this," he murmured, his voice low and full of dark promise.

Panic surged through Y/n as she watched him inspect her collection. "Give it back," she demanded, her voice wobbly with embarrassment and anger. "Those are mine!"

"Mine now," he corrected, holding the vibrator up like a trophy. "You've been a naughty girl, keeping these from me and now you're trying to get yourself off without my permission?" Luke gives her a devilish grin, "You know it doesn't feel the same when you try and cum by yourself."

Y/n's eyes narrowed, a mix of frustration and desire warring within her. "Please," she begged, her voice strained. "I need to cum. You've been edging me for days."

"And it's been the most entertaining thing I've done in a while," he said, casually tossing the vibrator onto the bed. "But since you've been so eager, I suppose I'll let you have some fun." He reached into the stash and pulled out a set of handcuffs, "But on my terms."

With a flick of his wrist, he snapped one cuff around her left wrist, securing it to the metal bed frame. Y/n's eyes went wide with shock and a newfound thrill as he moved to her right, securing it as well. "Now, let's see how long you can last," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he began to slowly unbutton his shirt.

The sight of his bare chest was almost too much to handle, her body aching for the relief she hadn't been allowed to experience in what felt like an eternity. She watched as he picked up the vibrator, his eyes never leaving hers, and began to circle it around her nipples, watching them peak and harden under his touch.

"Beg for it," he whispered, his voice like a caress against her skin.

"Please," she whimpered, arching her back. "Please, Luke, I'll do anything."

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down her spine. "I know you will," he said, and with that, he slid the vibrator down her body, pressing it against her clit with just the right amount of pressure to make her moan.

He began to move it in slow, torturous circles, each pass bringing her closer and closer to the edge. She thrashed against the handcuffs, the metal biting into her skin as she tried to get closer, to take more of the vibrator into herself.

Days of pent-up desire were about to be released, and Luke was in complete control. Y/n's eyes rolled back in her head as she begged, her voice a symphony of need. "Please, please, let me cum," she chanted, her hips bucking against the mattress.

But Luke was enjoying the show too much to let her finish. He'd pull away just as she was about to crest the peak, only to start the cycle anew. Her whimpers grew louder, her body wetter, and her pleas more desperate.

"Beg," he ordered, his own breaths coming quicker now. "Beg me to let you cum."

"I'm begging," she sobbed, her voice hoarse. "Please, Luke, I'm begging."

With a final wicked smirk, he leaned in and whispered, "Not yet," before turning the vibrator up to its highest setting and pressing it firmly against her clit.

Y/n's body convulsed, the orgasm ripping through her like a wildfire. Her screams of pleasure filled the room as Luke watched, his own arousal palpable. He didn't stop until she was trembling and weak, her body sated but still craving more.

When the last tremor passed, he removed the vibrator and leaned down to kiss her, his mouth claiming hers in a bruising kiss that left her breathless. "See?" he murmured against her lips. "So much better when I'm in charge."

Y/n could only nod, her eyes glazed over with pleasure and defeat. She knew he was right. With Luke, everything was so much more intense, so much more…everything. And as much as she hated the feeling of being denied, she couldn't help but crave the sweet release that came with his eventual surrender.

He leaned back unbuckling his pants, his eyes dark with lust. "Ready for round two?"

Y/n's heart skipped a beat, knowing that with Luke, the night was just getting started.

He drinks up her body as he looks at her suddenly grabbing her ankles and pulling her towards him. He kisses her calfs, her knees, her thighs and then finally her wetness. He starts to lick her pussy, his tongue swirling around her clit, sending shivers through her body. His mouth is like a masterpiece, bringing her closer to climax.

But again, he stops, his tongue teasing her entrance before retreating and suddenly the head of his cock teasing her entrance. He pushes in slow, filling her completely. Y/n's body arches off the bed, her moans echoing through the room. He starts to thrust in and out, each movement sending waves of pleasure through her.

He grabs the vibrator with one hand and presses it against her clit as he continues to fuck her. Y/n's eyes squeeze shut as she feels the orgasm build, the vibrations from the toy and his cock inside her combining into an overwhelming sensation.

"Come on, cum for me again," he growls, his voice thick with need.

Y/n can't hold back any longer, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. She screams his name, the sound muffled by the pillow she's biting into.

But even as she rides the waves of pleasure, Luke keeps going, not letting her fully come down from her high. He's relentless, pushing her further and further until she's begging for mercy.

"I can't," she gasps. "I can't take anymore."

"Oh, but you can," he whispers, his breath hot against her ear. "You're going to cum again and again, until I say you can stop."

And with that, he increases his pace, the vibrator still pressed firmly against her. The feeling is too much, the pleasure too intense. Y/n feels like she's going to shatter into a million pieces, but she knows she won't be allowed to. Not until Luke decides she's had enough.

Their bodies move together in a frenzied dance, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Y/n's moans become louder, more desperate, as Luke brings her to the edge once more.

This time, when she comes, it's like a dam breaking. Her body spasms around him, her muscles clenching tight as wave after wave of pleasure washes over her. Luke groans, his own release following shortly after, filling her completely.

They collapse onto the bed, both of them panting and sweaty. Y/n's body feels like it's on fire, every nerve ending alight with sensation. She opens her eyes to find Luke looking down at her, a smug smile playing on his lips.

"I should edge you more often," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss her softly.

[dedicatednotobsessed]

Issa byka rūklon [Daemon Targaryen x Wife!reader]

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Other HOTD stories

Summary: Daemon is feared among men for his battle prowess, finding solace and love in his pure sunshine of a wife. One serene evening, amidst impending war, they steal a moment alone. His wife with gentle hands and a heart full of affection, braids Daemon’s hair, weaving delicate flowers into the strands…

*This was a one shot request from a very special person of mine, my bestie @mrsdaemontargaryen I had asked her to send me a prompt because I have been on such a long hiatus from writing. Writer’s block has not been fun {among personal things but let’s not get into that}. Please enjoy this Daemon one shot and soon enough, I will be taking requests again in time for season two. 🖤*

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You placed a hand on the ghost of your swelling stomach, your violet eyes shining from the fireplace’s flames. The incident was still fresh in your mind, your sister’s screams of calling you a traitor ringing in your ears. It wasn’t a surprise to see the twins together in Storm’s End, having been inseparable since birth, but you never thought Adryana* would try to murder you.

You turned your head slightly, hearing the footsteps, letting out a soft sigh, and feeling your husband wrap an arm around your waist and pull you back into his chest. “Is it done?”

Daemon nodded, nuzzling his nose into your silver hair. “Soon enough, she will feel the pain you felt.”

You took a deep breath, looking ahead. When Daemon was writing to his friends in the capital, you had mentioned to him how you wanted Adryana to feel the same pain you felt when she took her unborn babe from you. He added, “Along with the usurper’s son, take the life of his brother’s son.”

“I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Daemon whispered in your ear as though he could read your mind. “Those green cunts didn’t feel anything killing Luke and our child. You shouldn’t either.”

You nodded in agreement, furrowing your brows. “Can we go on a walk?” You knew this would be the last calm moment before Westeros is thrown into chaos.

You turned in Daemon’s arms, smiling a small smile when he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course, my love.”

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You wrapped your hands around Daemon’s arm as he led you down the familiar path toward Aegon’s Garden. During the day, it was a favorite spot for your young son, Alyster, to play in; he especially enjoyed the cranberries that grew there. The eye of the dragon statue glistened in the moonlight the closer you got, lifting your dress slightly so it did not drag too much through the grass.

You thanked Daemon quietly when he helped you into the plush grass, a hum passing your lips as you began to pick at the small white wildflowers surrounding you mindlessly. Since you’ve woken up from the incident, the two of you have rarely spent time alone, with Alyster not leaving your side and Daemon being preoccupied with the small council. For the first time in a long time, you felt peace.

Once he sat down, you moved to sit behind your husband, your fingers gingerly taking a section of his hair and beginning to work it in a braid. His hair was not as long as it once was but manageable. You smiled, hearing the light chuckle coming from him.

“What?” You asked as you grabbed one of the wildflowers you picked, placing it carefully within the braid.

Daemon kept his eyes ahead, a small smile forming on his features. “I’m only thinking back to our wedding day.”

“Our wedding day?” You repeated while beginning to braid another section of his hair, adding the little flowers as you went.

Daemon hummed in response. “You wanted to braid my hair that day, too.”

You smiled at the memory. You had a traditional Valyrian wedding against your mother’s wishes. You were never one to listen to your mother, to begin with, having gone against her wishes to become Rhaenyra’s ward at fifteen, shortly after Laena’s funeral, and two years later becoming Daemon’s third wife. Now, at the age of three-and-two, the two of you had a six-year-old son, a son your mother and father only met once.

“I’m hoping this war will be over quickly,” Daemon spoke quietly, breaking the silence.

You hummed, leaning back to examine your creation. “I do not want to talk about war this evening, my love,” You said softly, placing a few more flowers in the braids with a soft smile.

You enjoyed the calm moments while you could, not knowing if this would be your last one together. The war began when Aemond and Adryana struck in Storm’s End, and you knew Daemon would be restless until every one of their heads was on spikes. You were to cherish these moments while they lasted.

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You hummed as the sun filtered through the windows, stirring slightly only to feel the side beside you cold. You furrowed your brows while rubbing your eyes as you sat up, your stomach still sore from your injuries.

“You do not want to go to the small council like that?” You asked teasingly, seeing Daemon picking out the white flowers, having slept in them.

He chuckled, looking down at the small pile forming beside him at the vanity. “I’m not sure it would be proper attire for a small council meeting.”

You scrunched up your nose while slowly getting out of bed. Wrapping your silken robe around you, you walked up behind your husband, meeting his violet eyes in the mirror.

“Issa byka rūklon*,” Daemon said softly, placing his hand on your arm when you wrapped them around his neck.

You hummed lightly. “I prefer when you call me aōha vēzos*.”

Daemon laughed. “No one else can hear that.”

You smirked, moving back so Daemon could get up. You straightened his doublet for him, scrunching up your nose when he placed two fingers under your chin, making you look up.

“I love you, Y/N,” Daemon whispered, moving his hand to your cheek.

“I love you too,” You replied, meeting his lips in a short, sweet kiss.

You watched him pull away after a moment, a small smirk forming on your features. You noticed the stray flower tucked in the waves of his hair.

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“You’re late, Daemon,” Corlys spoke up, seeing the Prince enter the council chambers.

“You should already know that I enjoy making late, dramatic entrances,” Daemon replied simply, sliding into the empty seat on Rhaenyra’s right.

Rhaenyra eyed her uncle curiously, tilting her head. “Daemon,” She called to him, clearing her throat while motioning to her hair.

Daemon furrowed his brows, reaching up to feel the soft petals of the single wildflower he had forgotten about. He untangled it from his hair, looking down at it with a soft sigh.

“Is the Rogue Prince going soft?” Lord Celtigar questioned with a laugh.

“I believe he is,” Corlys agreed.

Daemon only scoffed as the Black Council erupted in laughter, Rhaenyra even adding a giggle of her own. He sighed as the jesting continued around him, his eyes staying on the wildflower in his hand. He twirled it on its tiny stem, his mind wandering back to his wife, their son, and the babe they had lost.

There was no guarantee of surviving this kin war, but Daemon was determined to win it so that he and his family could finally live the peaceful life they had long desired.

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*Adryana: Adryana Targaryen is my original character for House of the Dragon. She is the youngest daughter and fifth child of King Viserys and Queen Alicent (The reader is the eldest daughter and child). She is wed to her twin brother, Aemond, and they have a set of twins together; a son named Vanar and a daughter named Vhaenys. She is known to have a short temper and often accused her eldest sister of abandoning her to live with Rhaenyra on Dragonstone. She also felt hurt when she sided with Rhaenyra's children during the Driftmark incident. Her temper overflowed when her eldest sister made a comment about how their father would be disappointed in the twins and their actions after reuniting in Storm's End, ultimately resulting in Adryana attempting to kill her and the unborn babe. The eldest sister lived, but the unborn babe did not, leading to her and Daemon planning revenge on Lucerys and their child.

*Issa byka rūklon: High Valyrian for my little flower.

*aōha vēzos: High Valyrian for your sun.

[herlondonboy]

trust worthy, clarisse la rue

summary: you’ll make it up to her. part two of trust.

warnings: flashbacks in italics. um, mentions of nightmares? it can be read as a stand alone!

wc: 2.0k

read part one here: trust

depression wasn’t new to you. nor was loneliness. but even when you were depressed and lonely, you always had clarisse to go to. now you were lonely and depressed because clarisse had left you.

but you kept on trying to imagine what clarisse was going through. what she had gone through.

but you missed her so much. more than you had ever missed anyone.

-

clarisse was missing you. you’d been on the quest for nearly five days and you hadn’t called her since the first day.

clarisse woke up to the familiar sounds of camp half-blood—the distant clang of swords, the laughter of her fellow campers, and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. but despite the comforting familiarity of her surroundings, there was a heaviness in her heart that seemed to weigh her down with each passing day.

it had been a few days since you, her partner in battle and in life, had been sent on a quest, and she was already a mess. at first, clarisse had tried to keep herself busy, throwing herself into her training with a fierce determination. but as the days turned into weeks, and your absence stretched on, clarisse found herself becoming increasingly irritable.

everything seemed to grate on her nerves—the way her fellow campers chattered incessantly during meals, the way they left their gear strewn about the training grounds, even the way the sun beat down relentlessly on her skin. every little annoyance felt like a personal affront, a reminder of the one person who wasn't there to share in her frustrations.

clarisse tried to hide her feelings behind a facade of toughness, but it was becoming harder and harder to keep up the act. she missed you more than words could express. they were more than just partners—they were kindred spirits, two halves of a whole, and without them by her side, clarisse felt incomplete.

the nights were the hardest. alone in her bunk, clarisse would lie awake for hours, unable to shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at her from within. she would toss and turn, her mind filled with thoughts of you—wondering where you were, if you were safe, if you were thinking of her too.

and then there were the nightmares. vivid, terrifying dreams that left clarisse drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. she would see your face, twisted in pain, hear their voice calling out to her for help that never came. it was enough to drive her mad with guilt and despair.

during the day, clarisse threw herself into her training with even greater fervor, hoping to drown out the pain with the clashing of swords and the adrenaline rush of battle. but no matter how hard she fought, no matter how many monsters she vanquished, the ache in her heart remained.

she tried to find solace in the company of her fellow campers, but even they seemed to grate on her nerves more than usual. their well-meaning attempts at conversation felt hollow and empty, their laughter a painful reminder of the joy she had lost.

and so clarisse withdrew into herself, retreating behind a wall of bitterness and anger. she snapped at anyone who dared to cross her path, her words sharp and cutting, driven by a pain she could scarcely bear to acknowledge.

but deep down, beneath the layers of bravado and bluster, clarisse was just a girl who missed the person she loved more than anything in the world. and until you returned to her side, she knew that nothing would ever be quite right again.

clarisse stood in the training arena, her muscles burning with exertion as she swung her sword in a relentless flurry of strikes. she was in her element here, the familiar weight of her weapon comforting in her hands as she honed her skills with single-minded determination.

but her focus was shattered when she noticed a group of familiar faces approaching. chris, luke, mr. d, and chiron made their way across the training grounds, their expressions grave. chris, in particular, caught clarisse’s attention; his normally jovial demeanor was replaced by a look of pain and discomfort that sent a pang of concern through her chest.

confusion furrowed clarisse’s brow as the group drew closer. what could possibly be wrong? she couldn’t recall any recent battles or incidents that would warrant such a serious expression on chris’s face. and why were mr. d and chiron here? had something happened at camp that she wasn’t aware of?

her questions were left unanswered as chiron spoke, his voice carrying a weight that made clarisse’s stomach churn with unease. “clarisse,” he said, his tone gentle but firm, “i need to speak with you in private. please, follow me to my office.”

clarisse’s eyes darted to luke, searching for some hint or explanation in his expression, but he avoided her gaze, his eyes fixed firmly on the ground. something cold twisted in her chest as she followed behind chiron, her mind racing with possibilities, none of them pleasant.

they reached his office in silence, and chiron closed the door behind them with a soft click. clarisse turned to face him, her heart pounding in her chest as she braced herself for whatever news he had to deliver.

clarisse sat in chiron's office, her heart pounding in her chest as she awaited whatever news he had to deliver. she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over her since he had asked her to meet him here, and the tension in the air only served to heighten her anxiety.

before chiron could speak, however, the door swung open, and mr. d barged in with his usual air of haughty indifference. clarisse's stomach dropped as she braced herself for whatever scathing remarks he had in store.

“why did you steal the lightning bolt?”

clarisse's eyes widened in shock. the missing lightning bolt? they thought she’d stolen it?

before she could defend herself, chiron spoke up, his tone gentle but firm. "clarisse, we have reason to believe that you may have been involved in the theft of the lightning bolt."

clarisse's jaw dropped in disbelief. "me?" she exclaimed, her voice rising with indignation. "who told you that?"

chiron hesitated for a moment before answering. "percy," he said quietly.

clarisse scoffed, her disbelief turning to anger. "percy?!" she spat, her fists clenched at her sides. "of course. you're going to trust one person’s word? seriously?"

chiron shook his head. "it's not just percy," he said. "it's everyone else on the quest. they all believe that you had something to do with it."

clarisse's heart sank as she realised the implications of chiron's words. you were on that quest, and if you thought she was guilty, then surely everyone else did too.

suddenly, the anger that had been simmering beneath the surface boiled over, and clarisse exploded. "this is ridiculous!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the walls of the office. "i didn't steal anything!"

but her protests fell on deaf ears as chris and luke burst into the room, their faces set in grim determination. despite being the daughter of the god of war, clarisse found herself overpowered as they restrained her, their strength surprising even her.

chiron sighed heavily as he watched the scene unfold. "clarisse," he said, his voice weary with disappointment, "you'll be under surveillance until we gather enough evidence to prove your innocence."

defeated and humiliated, clarisse could only watch helplessly as chiron and mr. d exchanged somber looks, the weight of their accusations hanging heavy in the air. she had never felt more alone than she did in that moment, betrayed by those she thought were her friends and branded a thief by those she trusted most.

-

you lie awake in the darkness of your room, the weight of loneliness pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. ever since clarisse broke up with you earlier, citing a lack of trust, sleep has been elusive. the absence of her presence beside you in bed is a constant reminder of the void she left behind.

suddenly, you hear a faint creaking noise, and your hand instinctively reaches for the dagger you keep tucked beneath your pillow. but as you sit up, ready to defend yourself, you see percy sitting up in his own bed, his eyes searching the darkness.

"can't sleep?" he asks softly, his voice breaking the silence of the night.

you shake your head, unable to find the words to express the depth of your turmoil.

percy sighs, a heavy weight of regret hanging in the air. "i'm sorry," he says, his voice filled with genuine remorse. "i should've known it wasn't clarisse. i shouldn't have stopped you from running to her."

you nod in understanding, grateful for percy's apology even as the ache in your heart refuses to fade.

"are you going home tomorrow?" you ask quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

percy nods eagerly, a flicker of excitement lighting up his features. "yeah, i am. wanna come? my mom would love to meet you."

for a moment, the darkness seems a little less oppressive, and a glimmer of hope stirs within you. maybe, just maybe, there's still a chance for you to find solace and belonging somewhere other than beside clarisse. and as the scene fades to black, you allow yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there's still a light waiting for you at the end of this long, lonely night.

as the summer sun began to rise over camp half-blood, the air was filled with a bittersweet energy. some campers were packing up, preparing to leave for their homes or new adventures, while others were settling in for another season at camp. among them, you found yourself caught in the whirlwind of emotions, unsure of where you belonged.

your thoughts were interrupted by the sight of clarisse, towering over a hephaestus kid, her demeanor as fierce as ever as she demanded that he fix her spear. you hesitated for a moment, but something compelled you to step forward, to try and reach out to her despite everything that had happened between you.

but as you approached, clarisse's gaze fell upon you, and before you could even utter a word, she pushed you roughly to the ground. anger boiled within you, your temper flaring hotter than the forge fires of hephaestus. the ground trembled beneath your feet, a warning of the storm raging within.

clarisse raised an eyebrow, daring you to challenge her further. but instead of lashing out, you took a deep breath and asked again, more calmly this time, if you could talk.

clarisse scoffed and turned to walk away, but you followed, determined to make her listen.

you found a secluded spot away from prying eyes, and as you began to speak, you saw the skepticism in clarisse's eyes give way to curiosity.

"i know you don't trust me right now, but please, just hear me out," you pleaded, your voice tinged with desperation. "i need you to understand what happened."

clarisse hesitated for a moment before nodding reluctantly, a flicker of interest in her eyes.

you told her everything—from meeting ares to being locked in the lorry, to the moment you realised that percy and grover thought she was the lightning thief.

clarisse listened in stunned silence, her features softening with each word you spoke. and when you finished, her disbelief was palpable.

"my father hates me?" she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "after everything i've done for him, he..."

you didn't let her finish. instead, you threw your arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"for what it's worth, i believe you," clarisse said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "and i'm sorry for pushing you away."

as you held each other, you knew that things wouldn't magically be perfect between you, but maybe, just maybe, there was hope for reconciliation.

and as the summer sun cast its warm glow over camp half-blood, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could find your place here after all.

[howcouldmuffin]

A Moment of Peace.

Trying to be the perfect princess was never enough for your mother. It was exhausting, constantly striving to meet her expectations, when all you wanted was a moment of peace.

PAIRING : Lucerys Velaryon x Fem!Reader

WARNING : Targaryen Incest, Non-canon

AN : Luke is such a lovely person. Honestly, he’s like a sweet, endearing puppy. I hope you enjoy this piece of writing, Love.

please be kind to me English is not my first language.

“You've arranged everything wrong again.” your mother admonishes, her voice cool yet edged with a sharpness that cuts through the air. “How many times must I repeat myself?” With swift precision, she moves in to reorder the items on the dining table, resetting them with the care of someone who has long abandoned the hope of teaching others.

“I sorry, Mother.” you reply softly, a touch of weariness in your voice. “I suppose I ate too little this morning.”

“Nonsense.” she dismisses your excuse with a wave of her hand. “This has nothing to do with food, it is you who must learn to pay better attention.”

You cannot comprehend why your mother is so relentless in her demands. Helena, your elder sister, is never subjected to such scrutiny. Your mother has always made it clear that you must become the epitome of a good wife, a dutiful mother, and an obedient daughter, as though these roles alone could define your worth.

She instructs you to practice the proper arrangement of the table again and to present your efforts to her the following day. But instead of retreating to your chambers, where the expectations hang heavy in the air, you find solace in the library—a sanctuary few dare to disturb. It is a place where time seems to stand still, and the whispers of forgotten stories offer you a fleeting escape from your prescribed duties.

As the third child, you are a year older than Aemond, yet your presence in the household is scarcely acknowledged. Your father remains distant, a figure who seems more concerned with his own affairs than with the nuances of your upbringing. As for your mother, she regards you with a mix of expectation and disappointment, as if you were a piece on the chessboard of her ambitions, meant to be maneuvered toward the family's prosperity. But even she is but a pawn in your grandfather's grand game, her every move dictated by his unyielding will.

There is no greater comfort than the soft embrace of a well-worn chair, the rustle of parchment beneath your fingers, and the scent of ink mingling with the musty aroma of aged books. You have always found solace in the tales of distant lands and brave souls, in histories that stretch beyond the confines of your own life.

But as you lose yourself in the pages of a particularly enthralling tome, a noise from across the room startles you. The sound is faint yet unmistakable, like the rustling of fabric against stone. Closing your book with a deliberate motion, you rise to investigate. Your heart quickens as you approach the source, a shadow that shifts nervously in the dim light, its form too human to be anything but trouble. Your instinct is to call for help, to alert someone to the intruder's presence, yet your feet remain rooted to the ground.

At last, you reach the towering bookshelf that conceals the source of your unease. Slowly, you peer around the corner, only to find your nephew, Lucerys, standing there with an expression of guilt painted across his youthful face. The surprise is fleeting, replaced quickly by a gentle smile. You have never been close with the boy—conversations between you both have been few and far between—but his presence here is a curiosity you cannot easily dismiss.

“Please, don’t tell anyone I’m here.” he pleads, his voice barely more than a whisper. Though the two of you have seldom spoken, there is something endearing about his request, a vulnerability that tugs at a part of you long dormant.

“I won’t tell.” you assure him with a soft chuckle, “but shirking your duties, young prince, is hardly becoming.” Your tone is teasing, laced with a warmth that surprises even you. “Come now, would you care for some pastries? I made them myself this morning.”

He hesitates, scratching his head before offering you a shy, lopsided smile. Without a word, he follows you, and you find yourself wondering what has prompted this unusual kindness. You have never before gone out of your way to bond with your nephew, yet here you are, leading him to a quiet corner where you might share a moment of simple companionship.

You offer him one of the pastries you had carefully baked earlier, alongside a cup of tea, freshly brewed by the servant at your request. You can’t help but wonder if he’ll find such dainty fare too delicate, too feminine for his tastes. Perhaps he’ll take offense, misinterpreting your gesture as a subtle insult to his masculinity.

“Did you bake these yourself, Princess?” His voice, full of genuine astonishment, interrupts your musings. His eyes are wide, filled with a childlike wonder that takes you aback. He seems delighted, and you can’t help but smile as you nod in response. But his enthusiasm gets the better of him, and soon he’s choking on a crumb, prompting you to swiftly offer him the cup of tea.

“Take your time, my prince.” you say gently, “no one will intrude here.”

He takes the tea and sips it, clearing his throat as he does. After a moment, he sighs in relief and finishes the pastry with more care.

“Did you skip lunch?” you ask, already suspecting the answer.

“Yes, Princess.” he admits with a sheepish grin. “I couldn’t bear another history lesson. I have to memorize so much and read the same passages over and over.”

You shake your head at his innocent frustration, but there’s no real censure in your expression.

“You mustn’t avoid your studies, Lucerys.” you chide him softly. “Education is a privilege not granted to everyone. There are countless people who would give anything for the opportunities you have, and it’s important to honor that by making the most of it.”

His face falls, guilt clouding his youthful features. He looks as though you’ve chastised him more harshly than you intended, like a puppy who’s just been scolded for some minor misdeed. Though his mistake is small, you don’t wish for him to bear the brunt of a reprimand as you so often do.

“I understand, Aunt.” he says, nodding earnestly.

“Good boy.” you reply, your tone softening. “Perhaps I’ll bake more pastries for you sometime. Would you like that?” His face brightens instantly, a broad grin spreading across his lips—a transformation so sudden and complete it almost makes you laugh. There is something undeniably charming about the boy, a spark of innocence that tugs at your heart.

“Promise me you will!” he exclaims, his eyes shining with hope.

In the family dining hall, the evening meal unfolds in its usual manner, a symphony of clattering cutlery and muted conversation. Yet, the air crackles with an unspoken tension. The siblings, both of your own and the Velaryons, engage in a delicate dance of civility, making every effort to avoid the sharp barbs and heated exchanges that often follow your father’s retreat to his quarters.

Rhaenyra’s voice cuts through the din with a note of concern. “I heard from your tutor that you were absent from class today, Luke.” she says to her son. Luke’s gaze flickers momentarily towards you, his eyes widening in surprise. You hastily gulp down the last morsels of your meal and rise to intercede.

“It was my fault, dear sister.” you say with a calm you barely feel. “I requested Prince Luke’s assistance in organizing the library. I was unaware he had other obligations. I apologize for the oversight.” Rhaenyra turns her gaze upon you, her expression softening as she gives a nod of understanding.

“Well, I am relieved to know he was not gallivanting off somewhere.” she remarks with a hint of a smile. “I shall not hold it against you, Luke. Just ensure that Mother does not hear of you neglecting your lessons for other diversions.” Luke’s face brightens with relief, and he casts a grateful glance your way, his eyes speaking volumes of unspoken thanks.

As the family resumes their meal, a sense of uneasy normalcy settles over the table. Yet, your younger brother, seated beside you, remains intent on disrupting the peace. His antics are calculated to provoke, and despite your repeated attempts to quell his mischief, he persists. His actions drive you to excuse yourself from the table, and, predictably, he follows in your wake.

As you make your way down the corridor towards your chambers, you become aware of footsteps trailing closely behind you. It comes as no surprise when you turn to find Aemond shadowing your path. His presence, once a minor annoyance, has lately become a source of constant agitation. You come to a halt, turning to face him with a mixture of resignation and apprehension.

“What is it, Aemond?” you ask, your voice a controlled mask of curiosity.

“Why did you lie?” he demands, stepping closer with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. “Why did you deceive everyone for that boy?” His face is so close to yours that you are compelled to tilt your head back, the disparity in your heights a tangible barrier between you.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” you respond, striving to maintain a facade of composure. “I don’t understand.” You take a step back, distancing yourself from his penetrating gaze.

“How noble you are, playing the doting aunt.” he sneers, his smile thin and mocking. “It’s almost as if you are trying to make a hero out of him.” He turns abruptly and strides away, his departure as abrupt as his intrusion.

You stand rooted in place, the echo of his footsteps fading into the distance. His words linger in your mind, a storm of unsettling thoughts. The encounter has left you breathless, and you find yourself grappling with an unfamiliar sense of fear.

You push the tumultuous thoughts from your mind and make your way back to your chamber, the familiar surroundings offering little solace. The comfort of your bed beckons, and you retreat to its embrace, hoping that sleep will provide a reprieve from the day’s disquiet. As you sink into the softness of the mattress, the night’s stillness envelops you, offering a fragile sanctuary from the complexities of the waking world.

In the gilded twilight of your days, it has not gone unnoticed that your time with Lucerys has grown more frequent, more precious. The hours in the library, cloistered away from the rigid structure of courtly duties, have become a haven for the two of you. You talk long after the lessons and training sessions have ended, trading tales and tomes like secret treasures. The crackling hearthlight, the scent of parchment, and the sweet taste of confections baked together have become the symbols of a bond that feels almost ethereal, a dreamlike interlude in your otherwise structured life.

You’ve often found yourself yearning for a closeness with your mother, a relationship like those you’ve seen in others. They can confide in their mothers, share joys and sorrows alike. But your mother, ever the paragon of duty, seems more concerned with molding you into the image of the perfect daughter of Targaryen lineage than with knowing your heart. Her lessons are constant—lessons in comportment, history, and the fine art of statecraft—leaving little time for the warmth and closeness you secretly crave. Yet, despite this distance, your love for her remains steadfast. She is, after all, your mother, and you have long since accepted the way of things, even if a part of you still yearns for more.

“Today, I nearly found myself on the wrong end of a sword.” Lucerys begins, his voice animated with the thrill of the close call. He is ever eager to recount the tales from the training yard, knowing well that such places are largely forbidden to you unless chaperoned by your brothers, Aemond or Aegon—neither of whom relish the idea of you witnessing the raw, brutal art of combat.

“Were they truly using live steel?” you ask, your brow furrowing in concern. “I had thought that was reserved for more seasoned fighters, certainly not for princes still in their youth.”

“Nay, it was merely an accident.” he reassures you, though you can see the glint of mischief in his eyes. These so-called accidents seem to occur with alarming frequency when it comes to him, more so than with others. You wonder if there might be more to it, something that you could help with, but the answer eludes you, leaving you in a state of quiet contemplation.

“Far too many accidents, if you ask me.” you murmur, your voice tinged with worry.

“Perhaps it is I who am the cause of them.” he muses with a lighthearted chuckle. “A walking disaster, if you will.”

You can’t help but smile at his nonchalance, though the thought lingers in your mind longer than you care to admit. “Today, I had my own trial.” you offer, seeking to shift the conversation. “I was drilled in the art of public speaking.”

“Ah, so you’ve been practicing your High Valyrian, have you?” he inquires, his curiosity piqued.

You shake your head, a small laugh escaping your lips. “No, not this time. Today’s lesson was on the proper diction and decorum of a noblewoman. They say it’s to prepare me for when I must represent our house, to speak as a true Targaryen should.”

He raises an eyebrow at that, his expression a mixture of intrigue and skepticism. “And where do they expect you to go that you must speak so formally?”

Your laugh deepens, and you can’t help but be amused by his innocent questioning. “Someday, they will see me wed to a lord of standing, and I must be prepared to fulfill my role as a proper lady. Such is the fate of a daughter of the crown.”

He leans closer, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Then marry me.” he says, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

You nearly choke on your breath, your eyes wide in disbelief. “Do you even realize what you’re saying?”

“Of course.” he replies, his tone unflinching. “If you marry me, you won’t have to concern yourself with all these lessons. I care not for all the airs and graces they try to impose on you.”

His words, so simple yet so sincere, bring a smile to your lips. You move closer to him, your hand gently brushing through his unruly hair, as if to smooth the wild thoughts that dance in his mind. His hair is soft beneath your fingertips, and his face, with its noble features, is a mirror of your own family’s beauty, bearing the mark of the Targaryens.

You lean your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his presence, and entwine your fingers with his in a gesture that feels both comforting and intimate. “Perhaps we shall think on it another day.” you whisper, the words more of a lullaby than a command. “For now, let us rest.”

He shifts slightly, guiding you to recline upon his lap, his fingers weaving idly through your golden locks as though he were strumming the strings of a delicate harp. His touch is gentle, his smile as genuine as the boy you’ve come to cherish. As you lie there, the world around you seems to fade, leaving only the two of you in this small sanctuary of shared secrets and unspoken promises. The idea of anyone discovering your closeness would surely cause a scandal, forcing you both into vows of marriage before a septon, but for now, such thoughts are as distant as the stars.

And so you remain, hidden away from the prying eyes of the world, content in the knowledge that this moment, at least, is yours alone.

“I believe our princess is ready for marriage,” your grandfather announced, his voice resonating with a gravity that sent a shiver through the room. The words felt like a thunderclap, leaving you momentarily stunned. The prospect of marriage had been discussed, but the timing, according to your mother’s assurances, was still a distant reality—two or three years hence. Now, confronted with the immediate urgency, you turned to her, seeking a familiar glimmer of reassurance. Her expression, equally astonished, mirrored your own turmoil.

“No, no, I think we can wait another year or two.” you protested, your voice trembling as you clung to the hope that this was merely an overzealous suggestion. The elderly man’s eyes met yours with a perplexing calmness, as though he were silently assessing the weight of your words against the inexorable march of time.

“Your elder sister was married several years younger than you are now. Do not be selfish.” he admonished, his tone laced with a wisdom that felt almost too heavy to bear. “It is high time you begin to seek a suitable match.” His words, though gentle, were like chains tightening around your heart, binding you to a future you had not yet embraced.

Despair washed over you as you glanced toward your father, King Viserys, who, to your dismay, nodded in solemn agreement with your grandfather’s pronouncement. The realization struck you with brutal force: the world you had carefully built around yourself was crumbling. The idea of being married off to a stranger, chosen not by your heart but by the dictates of duty and family, was anathema to everything you had ever wanted.

The meal that followed was a trial of endurance, each bite of food turning to dust in your mouth, each conversation a blur of voices against the backdrop of your internal chaos. The oppressive weight of the evening’s discussions seemed to press down upon you with every passing second. As soon as you could, you excused yourself, your heart pounding with a mixture of dread and urgency. You fled to the sanctuary of the library, a refuge where you had always found solace.

The moment you were alone, the tears you had fought so valiantly to contain during dinner finally erupted. You sank into a chair, the overwhelming wave of sorrow crashing over you. The sense of betrayal, the fear of a future you did not choose, all mingled into a tumultuous storm of emotion.

It was then that you felt a gentle, familiar embrace encircle you from behind. The warmth was a beacon in your sea of despair, and you turned to find Lucerys standing there, his eyes filled with concern and unwavering affection.

“I don’t want to marry, Luke.” you said, your voice breaking as you clung to him. “I don’t want this, not at all.”

“And I don’t want you to marry.” he responded, his voice tender and resolute. His arms wrapped around you with a comforting firmness, providing a sanctuary of warmth and security. The world outside could have crumbled, but within his embrace, you found a refuge from the storm.

You wept into his shoulder, allowing the tears to flow freely. Lucerys remained steadfast, his presence a constant source of calm as he held you close. His hands stroked your hair with a gentle tenderness that spoke volumes, a silent vow of loyalty and care. Time seemed to stretch and bend around you, the harsh realities of the world fading as you focused solely on the comfort he provided.

As the tears subsided, you lay with your head resting on his lap, the library’s quiet surroundings offering a peaceful cocoon. “All my life, there has been a tumultuous chaos within me.” you murmured, gazing up at him. “I thought this room, this haven, was my place of peace. But truly, Lucerys, the only time I ever feel truly serene is when you are with me.”

He looked down at you, his eyes soft with an affection that transcended words. You reached up, your hand caressing his cheek with a gentleness that matched his own. He took your hand and held it against his face, as though drawing strength from your touch.

“Then rest, my princess.” he whispered, his voice a soothing balm. “Let us forget the troubles of the world for now. I will stay with you. Together, we shall find a way to navigate this storm.”

He pressed a tender kiss to your hand, his lips lingering as though savoring the sweetness of the moment. His gesture was a promise, a vow that he would be your anchor in the stormy seas of fate. “Or, perhaps… marry me.” he suggested softly, his words imbued with a mixture of hope and sincerity.

You did not answer with words but responded with a slow, deliberate nod. In that moment, surrounded by his unwavering presence, you realized that the only true peace and happiness you had ever known were found in his company. With him, the weight of duty and the fears of the future seemed to dissolve, leaving only the solace of shared moments and unspoken promises.

As you rested there, nestled against him, you allowed yourself to drift into a serene slumber, cocooned in the warmth of his love. For a fleeting, precious moment, the world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the quiet joy of being together.

[wlntrsldler]

Three Hundred and Seventy-One Days | Luke Castellan

a/n: not canon-compliant! i hate this actually but i needed to write something to get me back in the zone! sunshine reader because i wanted a broody luke lol.

i. Three days.

Right before the sun sets behind the hill at Camp Half Blood, there's a chill in the air that hits Luke's skin in a way that makes him feel like he's back on the roof of his house in Connecticut. He found out about it when he returned from his failed quest when he was searching for a moment of solace, away from the pitiful eyes of the campers, away from the voice that haunted his dreams. Perched on a branch, hidden by the shade of the leaves, leaning against the bark of the tree with sticky amber clinging to the material of his orange shirt, Luke sits there until the sun disappears for the day.

It reminds him of the days he would crawl out of his bedroom window to escape the sounds of his mother's incoherent mumbling. He would sit there in nothing but a thin t-shirt and his cargo shorts, goosebumps rising on his skin, as he talked to himself. It was a bad habit he picked up in his younger years. He kept himself company at home because his mom didn't talk to him much, not really, and when she did, when her words made sense for once, all Luke could do was count down the minutes until he lost his mother again.

Before he was old enough to understand his heritage, who his father was, he used to pray to an entity he didn't believe in to give his mother moments of clarity, slivers of coherence so he at least knew something, anything, about the woman he called mom. But after the first time Luke's wishes were granted, he stopped praying. Somehow it was more painful watching his mother drift in and out of consciousness than it was living with a stranger he knew he loved, but knew nothing about.

For a year, that spot on the tree was a secret. Nobody knew that Luke would climb up there every day just to feel the breeze against his skin. Nobody questioned why the Hermes head counselor would disappear at the same time, until you came along.

"Whatcha doin' up there?"

Luke nearly lost his balance on the branch at the sound of your voice from under him. He looked down to see you smiling up at him, hands laced together behind your back. You were eighteen, the same as him, and when he first heard of your arrival, Luke was jealous. You got to have 18 years of childhood, while he was only granted half of that. It didn't seem fair.

"You should be at dinner," Luke replied, leaning back against the tree. The sun made the sky a soft orange color. The darkness of the night was creeping in through the corners of the sky, the chill he searches for each night engulfed him.

"To be fair, so should you, head counselor," You replied, analyzing the indents in the bark of the tree trunk that formed from Luke's constant climbing. You slotted your feet in the crevices, making your way to the tree branch beside Luke's. The two branches were close to each other, growing steadily until they almost touched at the tips. "Woah, this view is unreal."

"Be careful," He mumbled, clenching his jaw. "I'm not gonna take you to the infirmary if you fall and break a bone."

"Relax," You chuckled, situating yourself. "I can handle myself."

Luke nodded once and turned his attention back to the skyline. In this light, the scar across his cheek was prominent. It's healed well enough, but it still left a bump across his flesh that made Luke queasy every time he looked at it for too long. The two of you sat in silence as the sun disappeared. Luke tilted his head to look at you, only to find that you were already staring at him. He rubbed the side of his face against his shoulder as if trying to wipe away the scar on his shirt, "What are you doing here?"

You shrugged, "Not really into the whole offerings thing, to be honest."

"So you decided to wander into the woods alone?" Luke asked, "That's dangerous. There's a lot of things out here that you wouldn't believe. You can get hurt."

"But it's okay when you do it?"

"I know how to fight," Luke found himself taking on a defensive position. "You just got here."

"That doesn't mean I don't know how to fight," You replied. Your voice was calm, despite the slight bite to Luke's tone. "Just because I didn't spend my childhood playing with swords and bows and arrows doesn't mean I don't know how to fend for myself, y'know."

"The things out here are different from schoolyard bullies. I don't think you understand that."

"Are we going to ignore that I fought a hellhound on my way here or...?"

"You fought a hellhound?"

Luke wouldn't have guessed that by the way you walked into the Hermes cabin, all smiles and golden flecks of color in the irises of your eyes. You spoke in a preppy tone and he nearly had to grab his siblings by their ear to drag them away from you. If he was a betting man, he would bet that you were a child of Aphrodite.

"Mhm," You hummed, "See, I'm not so helpless."

"I didn't say you were."

"Yeah, but you implied it," You shrugged, not deterred by his tone. "Anyways, are you gonna tell me what you're doing here?"

"Well, I was trying to get some privacy," He replied. He should've been annoyed at the intrusion, but he couldn't bring himself to be upset with you as much as he should've been. "But that didn't go as planned."

"Sorry, sorry," You chuckled, putting your hands up in defense. "Didn't know keeping you company was a no-no. Maybe I do have some things to learn about camp after all."

He scoffed, "Hanging out with me should be the least of your worries."

"I dunno, I always seem to gravitate towards the broody types."

"I'm not broody."

"Right," You laughed. You turned to look at him, jaw dropping when you realized he was serious. "When was the last time you smiled? And not those fake, polite smiles you give to strangers trying to make small talk in the grocery store line, you know?"

No, he didn't know. He didn't go out much, much less to the grocery store to have conversations about the rising prices of produce or the lack of real milk options due to the infiltration of the non-dairy industry.

"I smile all the time," Luke replied, eyebrows furrowing in thought as he tried to remember the last time he smiled at someone. "I smile at campers."

"That's because it's your job, silly!" You giggled, shaking your head. "When was the last time you smiled just because?"

Luke pursed his lips, countering, "When was the last time you didn't smile?"

"When I was fighting the hellhound."

Luke felt his lips quirk up at that. It was a quick-witted response, he'll give you that. He stopped it from becoming anything more and cleared his throat.

"Okay, I'll leave you to it," You sighed, carefully stretching your legs down to the first indent on the tree. You skillfully climbed down and landed on your feet with a thud, "See you around, Luke."

Luke's mouth felt dry at the sound of his name leaving your lips. He was never a fan of his name before. He thought it sounded generic and unoriginal, but when you said it, it didn't sound half as bad as he thought it was. His stomach churned in a way that was foreign to him.

"Hopefully, not here!" He called out, watching as your figure retreated back to the main grounds. "Privacy, remember that!"

"I like the broody types, remember that!" You called back, waving to him before you disappeared into the maze of trees.

ii. Twelve days.

"You lied."

You looked up from your book with an eyebrow raised as you stared at the counselor at the foot of your bed. Luke was standing there, the signature stern look etched on his face. You placed your bookmark in your book, sitting up on your bed as you smiled at him, "Excuse me?"

He had his arms crossed over his chest, the beads of his camp necklace resting on the tops of his knuckles, "You lied. You didn't fight a hellhound."

"Okay, so I didn't fight a hellhound," You said, dragging on the word 'fight' for emphasis. "But I encountered a hellhound."

"Which you befriended."

"Which I befriended," You confirmed, "I named him Stanley. Wanna meet him?"

"No," Luke replied quickly. "That shouldn't even be allowed in here."

"He's sweet," You tutted, slipping your feet into your shoes as you stood up. "Give him a chance, I swear you'll love him."

"You're keeping a hellhound as a pet?"

"He's just a baby," You cooed, jutting out your bottom lip.

Luke felt his face twitch in half-annoyance and half-fondness. He didn't know if he found your naivete dangerous or charming, or both, but he was scared for you. You were too trusting for your own good, "He is not a baby. He's a monster."

"Don't talk about Stanley like that."

Luke rolled his eyes, falling into the same rhythm as your steps, "You don't realize how dangerous this is, Y/N."

"Here you go with the danger thing again," You teased, nudging him. Luke's breath got caught in his chest. Your simple touch seemed to burn his skin. Sparks erupted across his entire body. "Told you, I'll be fine."

"Not every monster you encounter can be defeated by the power of friendship. You can't rely on some kumbaya shit."

"Kumbaya?" You snorted, looking at him with an unreadable expression on your face. You scrunched your face up, a tiny smile tugging on your lips. "You're so...."

"I'm so what?" He questioned, planting his feet on the ground.

"Odd."

He tried not to take offense to that because while your words were like a dagger to his heart, the way you said it showed that you didn't mean it in a bad way. You seemed to be trying to figure him out, pressing his buttons, trying to see what made him tick. And you were succeeding. Luke never ventured to talk to new campers unless he was forced to by Chiron, but he couldn't fight the pull you had on him.

"Broody and odd," He said, resuming his steps, "I'm swooning."

The full belly laugh that escaped you made Luke's steps falter. Campers surrounding you looked at you, confused as to what Luke could've said that made you react that way. Surely, the Hermes Head Counselor wasn't that funny. He wasn't known to crack jokes, not since he returned. You couldn't help it, though. He said it in such a deadpan way that made your sides hurt from laughing so much.

"Just my type," You teased.

Luke didn't like how his cheeks were warming up at your comment. He's not one to flirt or be flirted with. He found girls attractive, sure, but most of them were too intimidated to talk to him so he never really had experience in that department. But he supposed since you grew up in the world, you were used to doing things like this. He wondered if you knew the effect you had on him.

"Dinner is supposed to be good tonight," He said, changing the subject. He was looking everywhere but you, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks that seemed to not want to subside.

"Oh, no you don't," You shook your head. "You are not gonna tempt me into going to dinner just so you can hide away in your tree. I'll be there, Castellan."

He grimaced. He was hoping that you'd fall for the trap, but he was learning quickly that you weren't as gullible as he hoped you'd be. Luke sighed, accepting defeat. "Fine, but can you just be careful? You've been lucky that there weren't any creatures lurking around."

"Why don't we just go together?" You asked, "So you can stop worrying about my safety and all."

"I'm not worried about your safety," He lied through his teeth. The idea wasn't bad though. It would keep him from wondering if you were attacked on your way to meet him. A shiver ran down his spine as he thought about it. He didn't like this weird protectiveness he had over you. He didn't even know you. "But fine. Meet me at the Hermes cabin after they ring for dinner."

"You got it," You saluted him playfully as you walked away, skipping to meet up with members of the Apollo cabin. How did you manage to make so many friends so quickly? And why did you insist on sticking with him when it's clear that you had other friends you could be bothering instead of him?

Luke tried not to think about it too much as he continued on with his day, but no matter how hard he tried, his mind kept pulling him back to you. During his lessons with other campers, he took mental notes of what moves he should teach you, just in case anything happened so you'd be prepared. During arts and crafts, he found himself reaching for the gold glitter because it reminded him of your eyes. This caused raised eyebrows from other campers since it was well-known that the counselor didn't like glitter post-Glitter Gate where he was shaking out glitter from his curls for days.

By the time dinner rolled around, he was thankful he stopped thinking about you, but soon realized that it was worse now that you were in front of him, all smiles and banter as you always were. It was getting harder to contain the redness of his cheeks as you complimented him in your own way.

"Lead the way, Castellan," You grinned.

Luke couldn't help but return your smile.

iii. Sixty-six days.

"Stanley, down," You instructed, leaning over to scratch the hellhound behind its ears. "Good boy."

Luke's sword was raised in a fighting stance as he watched you giggle as the hellhound nuzzled into your touch. You somehow managed to make him agree to meet the monster. Pathetically, it didn't take much for Luke to agree. It took you batting your eyelashes at him with a small pout and he reluctantly agreed to meet Stanley.

"Luke," You called him over, still petting the hellhound. "Come on, he won't do anything to you."

"I'm good right here," He grunted, holding onto his sword. "If he tries anything, one of us should be ready and you obviously have your guard down."

"He won't," You assured, "He's sweet."

"Nothing from the underworld is sweet, Y/N."

"You don't think I'm sweet?"

Luke rolled his eyes. You'd been claimed by your father, Hades, a few days ago. It made sense the more he thought about it. The hellhound wasn't sent to attack you, but to protect you. It was sent by your father to guide you to Camp Half Blood. "You're not technically from there."

"Same shit," You shrugged, patting the spot next to you on the grass for him to join you. "Come on, Luke. Come meet Stanley."

It was against everything he believed in. He shouldn't walk over to you to pet a monster like it was a stray dog on the side of the road, waiting to be rescued. But his feet seemed to have a mind of their own because before he knew it, he was walking over to you, sword tossed somewhere beside him to keep his hands free to touch the surprisingly soft fur of the hellhound.

The hellhound purred under Luke's touch, gentle and loving. If Luke ignored the scary color of its eyes, he would confidently say that it was just a dog. Luke's shoulders relaxed, "Okay, he's not half bad."

"Told you," You said, leaning against him. Luke's hands froze for a second, making the hellhound whine. He resumed his scratches, not wanting to take his chances and angering the dog. "See? Not all of us from the underworld are scary monsters."

"You're not from there," He repeated, "Stop saying that you are."

"Hades is my dad, Luke," You whispered. "So I am. I am a part of him."

"You're nothing like the gods."

There was something in his voice that made your heart pound in your chest. It was no secret that Luke's relationship with his father, and all of the gods for that matter, was strained. Luke saying that you were nothing like them with such sincerity made your head spin. It felt definite. It felt like a fact that he could never think of you as that.

"Could be nice though," You joked, trying to cover up the swell in your chest with humor. "Immortality and all."

"Nah, this one life is enough for me, I think."

"What? You're not shooting for rebirth?"

If anyone else would've asked him the same question a year ago, even a few weeks ago, he would've said no. If any of his other lives were like this one, he would decline the request if he could. All that he'd gone through in this lifetime was enough.

But now you were asking him that question with a twinkle of hope in your eyes that made him wonder if he'd judged this life too soon. Maybe there was more to life than fighting and running. Maybe the moments of life when he sits on a tree branch watching the sunset, or when he's yelling at his siblings to stop running in the cabin, or hell, even when he was petting a goddamn hellhound, were enough to make him wish for another shot at this life thing.

Maybe he just needed to learn a thing or two from you. If he could continue to know you in each lifetime, maybe he'll turn out fine.

"Maybe," Luke poked his tongue out the corner of his mouth. He blinked, "I don't know."

"Keep an open mind to it, is all I ask," You said. "I wanna find you in every universe just so I can annoy the shit out of you in each one."

He chuckled softly, not missing the smile that widened on your face as you watched him crack. "I changed my mind. No rebirth for me. I can only handle you in so many lifetimes."

"You'll grow to love me."

I know, Luke wanted to say, and that's the part that scares me the most. Throughout his years at Camp Half Blood, Luke prided himself in knowing that when push comes to shove, he can do what's necessary to succeed. It's what made him the perfect Head Counselor, the best swordsman that Camp Half Blood has seen in years. It's what made him a hero.

But now he didn't feel like that was the case anymore. He was growing soft, weak. He'd spent so much time trying to protect you and keep you from danger that he forgot about protecting himself. You found his Achilles heel and well, Luke was just waiting until he surrendered to you.

He opened his mouth to speak, "If Stanley doesn't kill me first."

If Luke could bottle up the sound of your laughter, he would.

iv. Three hundred and sixty-five days.

"Who is that?"

Luke followed Percy's eyes to the other side of the field. His lips turned up at the corners as he saw you waving at him with a smile on your face. Luke waved back with the same enthusiasm, confusing the boy beside him.

"That's Y/N," Luke responded, picking up his steps to meet you halfway. "That's my girlfriend."

"You have a girlfriend?"

"I know, shocker!" You teased, placing a kiss on Luke's cheek. Luke wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you closer, completely oblivious to the grimace that graced Percy's face. "Mr. Stick-in-the-mud head counselor has a girlfriend."

"Hey!"

Percy scrunched his face up, "You kinda are a stick-in-the-mud. No offense."

"Offense taken," Luke scoffed, poking your side. "Y/N, this is Percy. He's new here."

You stretched out a hand in greeting, "Nice to meet ya, Percy. Welcome to Camp Half Blood."

"Are you always this preppy?"

"She is," Luke said, shrugging. "Nice change of pace from the rest of us, don't you think?"

"Sure," He nodded, eyeing the both of you. Luke's arm didn't move from your waist and you didn't seem to mind. He was too young to understand why you and Luke didn't want to have any personal space. "Are you joining us on the tour that Luke is giving me of Camp Half Blood?"

"Wish I could, but the Stolls are planning to TP the Ares cabin as a prank and I should probably stop them before someone gets maimed at Capture the Flag tomorrow," You cringed.

Luke sighed, dropping his head to your shoulder. You tangled your fingers through his curls, trying to offer some comfort, "I told them not to do that."

"When have your siblings ever listened to you?"

"They used to before you came along!" Luke groaned, "But now they only listen to the pretty counselor."

"Must run in the family," You teased.

"Shut up," Luke grumbled, lifting his head up. Percy could see the blush on Luke's cheeks and he cringed. He hoped he'd never end up like this when he became a teenager. It was obvious you had Luke wrapped around your finger. "Go stop them before Lee gives us a lecture on the dangers of resorting to violence. Again."

"I'm going, I'm going," You laughed. You placed a quick kiss to Luke's lips before waving goodbye to the two boys. Before you were out of earshot, you turned around, "Tree later?"

"See you there!" Luke replied, grinning at you until you made it across the field. He turned to Percy, scratching the back of his neck, "Sorry about that. Where were we?"

"Archery."

"Ah, right! Archery," Luke nodded, continuing his steps, "It's down this way."

Percy followed Luke through the field, staring at the signs that pointed in different directions. Camp Half Blood was huge. This tour was definitely going to take longer than he anticipated. Not wanting to continue with a lull in the conversation, Percy spoke up, "How long have you and Y/N been together?"

Percy figured that Luke would have a lot to say about you which would fill the silence. He was right. Luke smiled at the boy, "A few months. She got here last year and it's been us two ever since. Took me a minute to ask her out, though."

"Well if you liked her, why did you wait? That doesn't make much sense."

"It was complicated," He replied, "I didn't really accept that I liked her until way later. Kinda kept my feelings to myself for a while."

"Is this what being a teenager is like?" Percy asked, cringing at Luke's words. He always imagined that falling in love with someone was easy. If two people liked each other, they should be together, right?

"Yeah," Luke laughed, patting Percy on the back. "Enjoy your early years, Perce. It gets worse from here."

"Geez, you really know how to inspire confidence in someone."

The laugh that escaped Luke reminded him too much of you. There were parts of you that weaseled their way into him. He didn't understand why you laughed so hard at his deadpan comments before, but now that he was on the receiving end of it with Percy, he saw why.

Percy reminded Luke a lot of himself, back when he was younger. It was a weird thing to meet a foil of yourself, someone who you could've been if things had been different. Luke wondered if he'd be like Percy if his life hadn't been so cruel. Not that Percy's life was all sunshine and rainbows, either. Luke heard through the grapevine that Percy lost his mom during the battle with the minotaur, but at least he had a mom that he knew. He had a mom that cared for him.

Luke was dreading the day Percy got claimed. Something told him that it would cause a ripple effect. Start things that Luke wasn't ready for, not yet. Maybe he'll never be ready for it. Had he known that he'd meet you, maybe he wouldn't have said yes to it. Maybe if you had stumbled into Camp Half Blood a day earlier, he wouldn't be facing this.

Luke faked a smile, shaking away those thoughts, "Come on, archery's just around the corner."

v. Three hundred and seventy-one days.

"Thought I'd find you here."

Luke closed his eyes at the familiar voice that joined him on the tree branch. The separate branch that you used to it on morphed into his own. Two branches intertwined, a simple work of nature, but it felt like a symbol. An omen.

The fireworks illuminated the night sky. Luke had never been up here this late before. The air was cold.

"What are you doing here?"

You let out a dry chuckle, "Dejavu for a second there."

"Y/N."

You gulped, slowly inching towards him. There was a crease between his eyebrows as he stared ahead. You sighed, "I came looking for you."

"Why?"

"Luke, don't do this."

He sniffed, rubbing his eyes with his balled-up fists. He winced as he put too much pressure on his cheek, his scar stinging at the contact. It's been more sensitive lately the more he spoke to Kronos. He shook his head, "I have to."

"No, you don't," You pleaded, placing a hand on his arm. "It's not too late."

"It is. Don't you understand?" He sobbed, "It's too late."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't want to break your heart," He whispered. He felt silly saying it out loud, but it made sense to him at the time. He couldn't bare to see your face when he told you about everything. That's why he was going to leave without saying goodbye.

"How's that going for you?"

How you managed to make him laugh even during this, even during the end, was beyond Luke's understanding. He wished you didn't have an effect on him like this. It would make things so much easier.

"I'm sorry."

"For breaking my heart or for betraying all of us?"

Luke licked his lips, "Both."

You removed your hand from his arm. Luke shivered without your touch. "I'll see you again, yeah?"

"I don't know."

"I know," Tears pricked your eyes. Maybe it was the shock of it all, but you were calm. Too calm. It didn't feel real that just a few steps away, camp was in disarray because of the boy beside you. "Rebirth, remember? In every lifetime."

"Sure," He said. Maybe the hope of it all will be enough to get him through this. "I love you."

"I love you, too," You said, leaning over to place a last kiss on his lips. You pulled away as you felt your tears mixing with his, "Go, they'll come looking here soon."

Luke nodded and made his way down the tree. You watched him fade away in the distance.

[spideytingley]

my april fic recs!

percy jackson & the olympians

luke castellan

true luck’s kiss by @atlabeth

summary: luke is stuck with a streak of bad luck. what better way to get rid of it than with a child of tyche?

twin beads by @supercutszns

summary: you’ve been unclaimed for five years. you’ve loved your best friend even longer. the sea used to be your greatest solace, but after percy jackson comes to camp, it’s your cruelest reminder.

ACOTAR

azriel

a healer’s touch by @bat-boys

summary: as a healer you meet many people as part of your profession but when you are asked to heal a certain spymaster you are unprepared for the connection that comes with it.

eye of the storm (series) by @thesunloveschips

summary: Nyra is one of the older Archeron sisters. Twin to Nesta. Plagued by a mysterious illness that her mortal body cannot endure for too long. And yet, it seems her curse is to see her family suffer. When the youngest of her sisters is whisked away into the land of fae, immortality soon follows for the rest of them. And as an immortal, there is more to her that she has yet to know.

missed target by @imaginesmai

summary: Azriel is convinced Elain was made for him. Three sisters for three brothers, and no one can make him change his mind. But someone or something is determinated to change the course of fate on his behalf. No matter how hard he tries.

if it all fell by @pellucid-constellations

summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

notice me! by @heartless-tate

summary: Azriel courting an oblivious reader.

love of choice by @writingcroissant

summary: The Cauldron doesn’t always pick wisely when it comes to mates, but even though Azriel isn’t hers, she chooses him.

bluebird (series) by @acourtofwhatthefuck

let me keep you company by @utterlyazriel

summary: You're studying in Velaris and a certain Shadowsinger catches your eyes in more than one way. It takes a while to realise the shadow keeping you company means more than you expect.

strings that bind us by @parkerslatte

summary: Y/N owns a small bookstore in Velaris. When she struggles to take her stock in, a handsome stranger approaches her and offers her help. She accepts the help and Y/N insists on making him dinner for his help. Azriel originally denies this but he finds himself eventually saying yes for reasons he doesn’t understand quite yet.

wings by @itsswritten

summary: Who would've thought that your found family would be so captivated by your hidden wings? As they reminisce about their first glimpses of your ethereal secret, you realise just how cherished and adored you truly are.

you don’t get to tell me about sad by @bubbles-for-all-of-us

summary: Azriel gets an assignment he can’t seem to decline. Now he has a princess full of attitude under his protection. The only question is whose cold heart will break first.

marvel

bucky barnes

always you, forever by @pellucid-constellations

summary: Bucky wants to take you away from it all. This time, you might just let him. 

dc

clark kent

handyman by @itsrubberbisquit

summary: Clark has been smitten with his accident-prone neighbor for quite some time. She tracks him down to make a familiar request with an unusual ending.

jason todd

four times red hood blushed because of you, and one time jason todd blushed by @mxtantrights

grishaverse

nikolai lanstov

this is me trying by @criminalamnesia

summary: the last time you saw Nikolai, he told you he never wanted to see you again. now, you’re standing outside his door.

dancing with our hands tied by @criminalamnesia

summary: Nikolai confronts you about unspoken feelings

[solangelotus]

seven devils (part one)

luke castellan x reader (gender neutral)

my mind (now)

summary: capture the flag brings injuries plus shared feelings and memories between you and luke. you once loved him and try your hardest to understand where you went wrong, all while trying to change his fate. (lovers to enemies series)

word count: 4.2k

warnings: starts right before tlt, apollo!reader, lots of angst, graphic fighting, injury + healing descriptions, fluffy memories, mentions of character deaths (thalia) - also mentions alison, the new character being introduced in s2 of the show and using her as a plot point worked out well

author's note: lovers to enemies fic for luke is just too perfect 🤌 also it’s great because it’s therapeutic for me after going through my own lovers to enemies!

masterlist | series masterlist

there’s a chill in the air that makes it feel like the dead of winter instead of a friday in late may. you suppose you can blame it on the fact that your perch in which you sat during each capture the flag game was high up in the treetops. it was a perfect spot; forty feet above zeus’s fist, and you could see zephyros creek, the boundary.

the flag was wedged into the top of the rock pile, but the game had started over an hour ago and no one was to be seen yet aside from your teammates. sweat beads on your forehead from the red-plumed helmet, but you know if you take it off it will only increase the chill in your bones.

a crunch echoes across the woods, and you spy your brothers, will solace and lee fletcher, hastily grabbing their bows from opposite sides of the woods. you knew michael yew was nearby in a treetop much like you, but you had yet to spot him. he was backup for little will; the eleven-year-old was proving to be an exceptional medic, but he had not inherited great aim like most of your siblings.

you spot a pair of blue plumes by the boundary, one much shorter than the other. annabeth is the shorter one, you can tell from the careful, calculated steps. the only other person who always searches for the flag that would be so careless with his steps is chris rodriguez. but if he was with annabeth, then where was luke?

“fuck,” you mutter and start scaling down the tree as quickly as you can, pulling your bow from over your shoulder. crouching on a branch halfway down the tree, you load a sonic bow and watch the muddy ground. it had rained the day before, which attributed to the chill in the air. you spot the footprints and let the arrow fly before you can think twice.

annabeth wasn’t wearing her cap which meant someone was, and you hear a groan over the loud blast of music that affected the empty ground. will begins to run towards the area, and once you make it to the forest floor, you sprint towards the pile of rocks. will’s small legs fail to carry him as fast as yours and he yells, “y/n, what’s happening?!”

“castellan is,” you yell back and ready another arrow, trying your best to abide by the ten-yard rule. you watch carefully; lee intercepts will and tells him to find michael to distract the others, and then makes his way to your side.

“where is he?” your brother asks and you shake your head. scanning the ground where the footsteps end, you pull another arrow out of your quiver. unfortunately, even after years you still knew his body like the back of your hand. 

you had been his doctor from the day he arrived until he was seventeen, but it would be superficial to say that’s why you knew his body so well. a tattoo lay on the inside of his left ankle from when you were fifteen and took fake ids to a sketchy parlor ten miles from camp. a crooked line scarred his upper thigh from one of the first times he gave you sword fighting lessons. just above the mole you used to adore on his right forearm lays a burn mark from the time you attempted to make cookies together.

you sigh and look at a tree behind the spot to confirm the right height you need before you let the arrow fly. worse comes to worse, it just flies over his head. but you knew better, and the arrow did exactly what you planned; it knocked the hat off of his head and into the mud beside him. “always good with a bow, but never with the sword.”

you just shake your head and reach for your dagger-lined belt. lee knocks an arrow but you put your hand out to him. “it’s a diversion, lee. he’s here to distract us so annabeth and chris can swoop in. i’ll fight him off and you stay on guard.”

“still thinking highly of yourself, i see,” luke grumbles. you were both popular at camp to say the least, both for your welcoming personalities but also for your ongoing rivalry. popular for the worst reasons, seeing as you two being anywhere near each other usually leads to chaos.

“i literally heard you and chris talking about it at the campfire last night.”

“it’s kind of old news at this point,” lee shrugs, and you hate that he’s always a voice of reason, “you two always seek each other out, even if it’s not explicitly planned.”

“lee,” you plead, and gesture to the flag. he nods and you turn back to face the son of hermes, taking small strides to him.

“did you hear who’s coming back this summer?” luke asks with a smirk. you start to think throwing one of your daggers at his face might be worth the loss of dessert privileges. 

“i’m not here to talk, castellan.”

“alison’s coming back,” he informs, a boyish grin spreads across his face but doesn’t reach his hungry eyes. you gulp and suddenly you feel like you are sixteen again; a joy in the silent pain he can see in you. he knows you see him more clearly than anyone else has.

you feel the dagger in your hand start to shake. love and hate feel too similar; your pulse speeds the longer he looks at you. you hate yourself for the way he can still get under your skin after so many years. “why would i care?” you try your best to sound stern, but the tone of your voice betrays you.

“why wouldn’t you?”

“she’s not my friend.”

“we’re all well aware,” he spits out, his eyes drifting to where lee stands in earshot of you both. “you spoke so highly of her just to abandon her at a time of need. that’s why no one trusts you now.”

“i never did anything to her! you know this! the two of you lied to me, and lied to everyone about me!” you yell at him and tighten your grip on your dagger. he draws his sword and you contemplate pulling your own, but he was right about one thing: you were never good with your sword. you wished you could go back in time and relish the moment you sliced his upper thigh instead of feeling bad for it back then.

“i can’t believe it’s been three years and you’re still so delusional,” he laughs, and you throw your first dagger at the hand that holds his sword. he was caught off guard, but he was relying on the old mindset you had where you hated hurting people. the fact of the matter was you did, and you knew that was why the dagger flew just a few inches from the target. “still can’t aim for shit either.”

“shut up,” you breathe out, and pull your sword from its scabbard at your waist. the bow and daggers had been a gift from your father, and truthfully, you had extremely good aim. you never would have received two gifts from him without such a talent. deep down you were still a medic, and people were so different from bloodthirsty monsters who gave you no choice.

your attempts to deflect luke’s swings are futile, he’s always been quicker, better, and more efficient with a sword. your bow was no match in close-up combat. as a child of apollo, you were born for the outskirts of battle, not for the frontline. but you hated looking like a fool.

like other demigods, your restlessness helped you in battle. sure it helped the children of the war deities more, you had seen the flip switch in clarisse, silena, and annabeth, especially. their godly power filling them has always been fascinating, even when you’re on the receiving end. no one strategized like annabeth, her intelligence with the field and for all weapons was scary. clarisse was passionate, stronger than most, and she was a force just like her father. silena, and all of her siblings, got teased for their bright pink armor and for the vanity that people assumed of them. but you had seen the rage that filled silena’s eyes when she was challenged, the rage that came with being the daughter of the love goddess who was also a war goddess. aphrodite and her children were discounted for their skills, but there’s a reason the team that included cabin 10 usually won. you were thankful the aphrodite cabin adorned the red plumes today.

there was no switch in your siblings. predictability was a blessing and a curse; prophetic thoughts and visions could be hard to interpret. overthinking during a battle affected many of the children of apollo; there was no changing fate.

no one – not even lee who had the best intuition out of anyone – could have predicted your next move as you successfully ducked under luke’s sword as he swung it at your helmeted head. he was the greatest swordsman in 300 years, but he was playing dirty right now. who were you to make that easier?

you realize the scream you hear is luke’s as a dagger in your non-dominant hand stabs into his thigh. when did you grab the blade? when did the flip you didn’t know existed inside you switch? 

his sword fell to the ground when he clasped his thigh and you dive to grab for it. you hear lee yell your name, but for once you have the upper hand on luke and you refuse to let it go. “no!”

luke’s voice echoes in your mind as you grab his sword, and he grabs the back of your armor in an attempt to pull you away. he uses his free hand to yank off your helmet, and he pushes you back to the ground. the breath is knocked from your lungs and you roll over onto your back to look at him. the impact had released his sword from your grip and your head swam as he held his sword out towards your face. fear swims within you. how far would he go?

the conch sounds breaks through the camp and you can hear cheering, but you know it’s from your team. will and michael successfully kept chris and annabeth distracted. luke is furious, you can tell from the way his nose crinkles and the furrow between his brows. he stabs his sword into the ground right beside you and you flinch. “we would have fucking won if it wasn’t for you!”

“it’s just a game, luke,” you groan out, your chest and lungs still burning. you try to sit up but you feel so delirious, you knew your head had hit the ground but you didn’t realize you had hit it so hard. where was the adrenaline you had just a few moments ago?

“if it’s just a game, then why would you stab me?!”

“you swung your sword at my head!” you yell, wincing at your volume. you hear footsteps and silently pray that it’s lee coming to intercept after the announcement of your team’s victory.

“because you messed me up, you fucked me over! how dare you?!” he yells at you, the tears begin to well up in your eyes. his narrow at you and you notice him clench his fists; this isn’t about the game.

“how dare i? how dare fucking you?!” you scream back until you feel a hand grab yours. you swear your vision briefly goes out as you quickly turn your head to face your brother. lee is at your side and shushing you as he pushes your hair from your face.

“luke, go,” lee demands, earning himself a scoff and eye roll from the older boy. you close your eyes, trying to steady your persistent, uneven breaths. stomping fills your ears as lee helps you to your feet until your siblings find you and help get you to the infirmary.

the cabins involved on the blue team sulk at the campfire and chris notes the bandage wrapped around luke’s thigh. annabeth is pissed; her hat is muddy and her team lost. “i’m sorry, beth.”

“it’s your fault we lost,” she reminds him, using a rag to get the mud off of the gift from her mother.

“you got distracted too!”

“no,” she narrows her eyes at him, “you don’t get to do that. you don’t get to act like it’s my fault too when you have this ridiculous vendetta against y/n. you need to get over whatever happened years ago with them. you suck at games, you are weaker than you used to be, and your only motivation is to get back at them. what happened to glory? to pride?”

“you don’t understand.”

“then make me,” she grits her teeth, shoving the towel and hat into his lap, “and clean my hat. you should have picked it up the second it fell.”

“they cornered me!”

“the best swordsman in centuries supposedly got cornered and failed to defend himself and retrieve his little sister’s most prized possession? if y/n is as horrible at battling as you make everyone believe then you wouldn’t have gotten your butt kicked. get over yourself, luke.”

annabeth rushes away from the fire and towards the infirmary. when the bad blood began between you and luke, annabeth told you both she would never pick sides. she and you grew close after her first night at camp when she was mean and you still showed her nothing but kindness. you filled the older sibling void that she had lost with thalia.

when she enters the infirmary, she sees you laughing while laying in a bed with lee. she smiles at the joy in your face, at the crinkles by your eyes when you laugh. she loves the wide grin the children of apollo have, and how it strikes happiness in all those who experience it. without even looking at the door, you could sense her presence; something you and lee seemed to experience was being able to sense those nearby.  you wonder if it’s a gift from your father to be able to sense someone before they can approach you. maybe it’s a gift to prevent the healer from injury in a battle.

annabeth slides into the chair at your bedside and she accepts the hand you stick out for her, “how are you?”

“i’m fine now, much better after some ambrosia and a snack.”

“what happened?”

“nothing, it’s alright.” a sinking feeling fills annabeth’s stomach with your reassurance and forced smile. something is wrong. luke was quick to blame you, to say you tricked him and hurt him without a second glance, but you were the one in the infirmary. he had a singular bandage on his thigh. his anger was getting worse, he wasn’t pulling punches with anyone as he used to. “annabeth, what’s wrong?”

“i’m worried,” her voice trembles and you practically push lee out of bed. he accepts the hint and goes to the office to finish the paperwork that comes each friday night after capture the flag. you pull annabeth’s hand and she crawls into the creaky infirmary bed. “there’s something wrong.”

you wrap your arms around the small girl and press your lips to her hairline. annabeth is strong, both physically and emotionally, but she always holds it in. she guards herself heavily, but you have always been someone she needs not to protect herself against. “i…i know.”

“does lee know his fate?” annabeth questions. she continues to identify the distance in her brother, how he sneaks away alone at night. she used to believe it was to be with someone, but he was too good to cheat on alison; they had been together for three years. annabeth knows lee is the closest camp has to a prophet outside of the oracle.

“no,” you answer truthfully. you hope your expression stays balanced, that she will not see what you omit. that instead of lee, it’s you who sees his fate.

back at the campfire, luke eyes get lost in the flames. his hands move the towel absentmindedly against the gift from athena, and he silently prays to kronos to wish that his weakness can disappear. the warm flicker of light reminds him of sunlight, of the light that everyone sees in you. the light is his weakness, the hurt in your eyes fills him with guilt. but you are too good.

he has always known you were too good. the trust you have in the divine fills him with disgust. he hates that you convinced him to get that stupid wing tattooed on his ankle, and he hates that he convinced you to get a sun on your own. his naivete as a child was blinding. 

you fought tooth and nail to convince him of being loved, of being good, and he accepted it. he believed it too. the lord of time could never change his fate, only hasten it with the vow he has taken. 

he heard everything you told him, but maybe if he had truly listened then he could be good like you. maybe he could have ended up as kind and loving as the first night you met.

you had snuck away from the campfire when you could sense some commotion. team blue had won capture the flag, but your camp hoodie had gotten dingy – you wanted nothing more than to shower. the big house was just a short walk from the campfire, and inside were extra toiletries that you were going to need.

a commotion at the top of half-blood hill steered your attention away from the prospect of showering. you could see a few shadows in the moonlight and began sprinting towards the hill, pulling your sword from its sheath in the process. you would be the first to admit you were shit with a sword, but your bow and arrows were back in your cabin so you had to make due.

luke was leading a limping annabeth over the border when you arrived on the hill, and he couldn’t focus on anything other than your face. he didn’t care about the beaten-up sweater or the jeans caked in mud; he didn’t even care to draw his weapon when you pointed your sword at him. he saw nothing but you, your essence, and the concern firm in your eyes. there was no malice in the face threatening him with a sword; he knew you could never hurt them.

the moonlight created a soft glow around your face, bouncing off the snowflakes that began littering your hair. he saw your mouth move, but everything was quiet, everything was still. he was sure you were a child of aphrodite; no one could look so perfect and disheveled. his fourteen-year-old self was sure he would never meet anyone so beautiful ever again. “hello?”

“hi,” he breathed out as you walked closer to him. your voice was firm, but the weapon in your hand was beginning to shake. the fearlessness you tried to present yourself with was fading fast, and he was trying hard not to break down at the thought of thalia and grover not being beside him.

“are you okay?”

“did you seriously just ask that?” the small girl beside him asked as tears streamed down her face. your heart hurt for her, she couldn’t have been any older than eight you guessed. you put your sword back in its sheath while she tried her best to keep a stern expression. her stare was harsh but you could tell she was deflecting from something.

“s-sorry. i, uh, mean are you hurt? we have an infirmary.”

“no.”

“yes,” luke corrected, and you gestured toward the building beside the big house. bleating sounds fill the air, and before you can comprehend it, a young satyr runs quickly through the barrier and nearly topples into you. he’s hyperventilating and his face is covered in tears and grime.

“grover?!”

“y/n!” he exclaimed and wrapped you in a hug. he’s still deeply upset and in shock, it doesn’t take a genius to see it.

“grover, are-” you’re cut off with a deafening scream. it wasn’t until later on that you realized it had been your own. lightning struck the ground right at the barrier, and a tree slowly erupted into form and took shape. fear filled your body. you had never been at the scene of new arrivals, let alone at such an event. capture the flag was the extent of the danger you faced – this was beyond it. grover wrapped his arms around you, and you looked at him. 

the fear that filled your body was dissipating. it was useless in a time when two demigods were in need right beside you – sobs wracked both of their bodies as they held each other. the girl’s ankle was visibly swollen, and the boy had many gashes all over his body. you and lee had been training for this; this was your moment to put your parentage to use. “grover, if you’re not hurt then go find chiron. tell him what’s happened while i get these two to the infirmary.”

grover trots off in the direction of the campfire, and the boy picks the girl up as you hastily walk toward the infirmary. it was unlocked, thankfully, but you knew your sister, val, was at the campfire. until she, the main healer, came back you were on your own. you introduced yourself, and got both of them onto a bed together.

“i’m luke. luke castellan,” he told you as you inspected the small girl’s ankle. purple bruises began to litter her deep skin and she winced as you pressed lightly on the skin. you grabbed the bandage roll and started to wrap and secure it tightly on her ankle to stabilize it. she held her hand out and you placed a square of ambrosia in it. “this is annabeth chase.”

“you’re brave, annabeth. your ankle is definitely broken but it’ll heal too fast for a cast. the first few days at camp are overwhelming as it is, so i imagine you are going to be forced to take it easy anyway with this injury,” you explained to her, but she continued to glare at you.

luke was a much easier patient. he was silent, only whispering a response to your questioning here and there. you figured it was easier to stay silent while being stitched up anyway, so you gave him some slack for it. you finished stitching a deeper cut on his arm, and moved to a gash on his leg. it was so infected you nearly gagged, so you grabbed a canteen of nectar and began to flush the wound. he sighed in relief and looked down at you. “how old are you?”

“thirteen,” you answered and grabbed a new needle and more surgical thread, “how old are the both of you?”

“she’s seven, and i’m fourteen,” he grimaced as you embedded the needle into his skin. you assumed he was your age, but you were glad your guess was right for the both of them. “how do you know what to do?”

“my dad is apollo.”

“oh, mine is hermes.”

“who’s yours, annabeth?”

“thalia’s was zeus,” she said instead, and your brows furrowed at the both of them.

“who’s thalia?”

“the tree that made you scream,” annabeth huffed and rolled her eyes.

“daughter of athena?”

“how did you know?” she asked and finally her facade fell. she looked startled and like she was ready to start fighting again.

“my best friend is a daughter of athena, so your sister. she’s a lot like you. her name is alison,” she smiled at you. chiron walked in through the infirmary doors with val, lee, and grover hot on his hooves. val quickly started to inspect your work and gave you a high five once she saw how well you had done.

luke watched the smile on your face grow and he felt his heart constrict. he should have known from the second he saw you that you were the child of apollo; it explained the glow and warmth you gave off upon seeing you. he was grateful it was you who stumbled upon them; you were a great distraction from the grief that began to fill him.

“do you still love him?” you think about her words. about the little luke, you knew when you were just thirteen and fourteen, about the luke you met that first night. 

annabeth stares at your vacant, slack face with hooded eyes, the tears slowly streaming as she tries to choke back the anxieties that fill her. she’s wisdom’s daughter, yet she feels like she has no idea how to get the answer to this problem. returning your stare to her, you release yourself of the reverie you found yourself in. “i believe it’s my fate.”

↬ next

[letsgetrowdy43]

Luke takes girl ice skating as a date, assumed she didn’t know how to skate. “Tried” teaching her, the girl went along with it until she showed him a few figure skating tricks.

The perfect teacher ❧

She was grinning as he tied up the laces of her figure skates, a soft smile on her face as he asked her if they were tight enough. "Yeah, they are perfect," she said as he looked up at her with blushing cheeks.

Her hands moved forward to fix the hat sitting on his head, removing it from his head to fluff up his crushed curls before placing it back on his head, his eyes caught hers before she leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. "ready?" he asked, as she placed her gloved hand in his, he was so gentle with her as he helped her up onto her feet, delcatly squeezing her hand as he played with her scarf before kissing her softly on the mouth.

Luke took her by the hand and led her from the dressing room to the ice, a smile finding solace on her face as she listened to his promises of keeping her safe, nodding along quietly as he went on about holding her hand.

She placed her foot on the ice, her brows pulled into a look of amusement as he attempted to teach her how to skate, "you're a natural," he mused as she feigned innocence, as she thanked him, "you want to try it without my help?" A laugh left her lips, "I guess," she shrugged as she dropped his hand, the hand holding her hip let go as she let out a fake deep breath.

She began the beginning of the routine she was working on for her upcoming competition, Luke's eyes widened as he covered his face with his hands. "You didn't tell me you were a figure skater!" he called out as she continued twirling across the ice. "You never asked!" she yelled back, as she halted her movements and skated over next to her boyfriend, "besides it was kind of cute to see you trying to play teacher," she grabbed his face and kissed him on the cold cheek, his skin nipped pink from the chilly air.

Luke shook his head and looked at the roof, severely uncomfortable with how stupid he looked at this moment, "oh I'm embarrassed," she shook her head and laughed as she placed more kisses around his face. "No need to be embarrassed, I enjoyed it thoroughly," she said as she pulled Luke in for a hug, "now let me teach you a few tricks," she said as he stopped his sulking and nodded, kissing her on the mouth quickly before following after her.

-

-

-

[villainousunsub]

and in your arms I find solace

pairing: Jemily

rating: G

summary:

late night at the office with just them left leads to them finally talking and being how they used to be, even if it is just for one night

AO3

Emily stared at the ceiling above her, the conversation with JJ still playing on a loop. Well, almost conversation. She could tell something was bothering the other woman, was relieved when she asked to talk. Then Tyler walked in and the moment was gone, she felt it, the shift in JJ’s demeanor. And now here she was, laying in her office and tossing possibilities back and forth in her mind. She groaned in frustration as her mind replayed the close to fear look in JJ’s eyes and then cut to the masked secret that she had seen in the bullpen a mere few hours ago. Emily knew she should have pressed, should have asked JJ to come up to her office, but things had felt different recently. Things were a lot different. She was focused on Elias and Gold Star, on making sure the BAU didn’t get pushed away and erased. So focused on making sure her team was okay, but they weren’t. She was focused on the outside, she had failed to see them individually. 

JJ was clearly falling apart, Rossi she was pretty sure was going insane, and Garcia was struggling with her personal life. She had no idea if the rest of them were even close to being okay, each and every one of them put on a tough face and never said no, but she was no better. Emily knew she should make an appointment with her therapist, to work out her own issues so that she could help and be better for her team, but god did she hate therapy. 

Her mind drifted back to JJ. 

It always did. Every night she would lay down, her eyes drifting, and her mind would wander back to every moment she had shared with JJ that day. Those memories let her breathe, let her find comfort and relief even on her darkest days. 

But the memory of today stung, the brush off after the panic of that morning, it didn’t sit right. Emily tried to recall anything she had done to push JJ away, that would make her recoil, but nothing had come to mind. She knew that Luke, despite her orders, had told JJ about BAU-Gate, but she knew. They had talked about it over wine years ago when she had come back to the team. 

So why did it bother her so? Why did the thought of JJ and the site hurt her enough to sit up and try and catch her breath. Emily dropped her head into her hands, her face warm and damp with tears. 

A clink of glass and porcelain echoed through the empty walls. Emily lifted her head, the sound putting her on high alert. She pushed herself up off the couch, walking just close enough to peak out her blinds, to see a slim female figure walk off down the hall to a back office. The gait, the sway, it all seemed very…JJ. Emily moved quickly, throwing the door to her office open and slipped around empty desks. She glanced in offices as she went, most empty of all life, some sprinkled with nothing more than a photo or name plate. Until she hit Morgan’s old office. A faint glow of cell phone light streamed through the window. She cracked the door, just enough to see a bundle of blankets on the couch. Messy blonde hair popped up from under the blanket, curious blue eyes meeting hers. The smile they shared, reached neither of their eyes. JJ sat up against the arm of the couch, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Emily perched herself on the other arm, her foot nudging one of JJ’s. 

“Hey you.” JJ rested her head on her knees, “What are you still doing here?” 

“I could ask you the same. I thought you went home hours ago.” “Oh yea, no. I just had too much to do so I thought I might as well grab a couch and start early tomorrow.” Emily watched as JJ turned to face away from her, refusing to look at her as she spoke. 

“Right,” Emily moved down to the cushion, “and that’s why you’ve been camping in this office for what? A few days? At least if the couch and blanket don’t lie. I would be able to judge based off the take out containers but they are a little too good at cleaning even empty offices.” 

“Emily-” 

“You don’t have to explain it to me. I understand, even if I don’t know what is happening, I get not wanting to go home even if there is nothing lurking in the dark there.” 

“I want to talk to you about something, but I don’t think I can.” JJ pulled herself more into a ball, trying to make herself as small as possible. 

“I’m here. No matter what happens.” Emily rubbed her hands up and down JJ’s legs before pulling them into her lap. “But if we need to sit here until everyone clocks back in before we speak again, I can do that.” 

They sat in silence for a while, Emily drawing incomprehensible patterns as JJ picked at the blanket on her lap. Eventually JJ shifted so that her feet were hanging off the arm of the couch and her head was in Emily’s lap. Emily picked her hands up, pausing for a moment before dropping them to run her fingers through blonde hair. She could feel JJ relax under her touch, the motion putting them both at ease. 

“He told me. Which is fine. I mean I don’t like that it’s being brought up again, but I brushed it off.” She could feel JJ tense as she prepared herself to continue. “But he looked. He went out of his way, he let Voit get to him, and he looked. I told him it was taken care of and to trust you, and he didn’t.” Emily’s body froze, she knew that Luke wouldn’t be able to stop himself from saying something to JJ. She didn’t think he would go as far as to look at the site, knowing what it was, who it was about. She thought back to her last visit years ago, the way it made her feeling seeing herself and her friends on the screen before her. 

“They updated it. It isn’t us anymore.” JJ curled into herself more, pulling one of Emily’s hands with her. “Injure. Jean. Fear. That’s what they changed it to. They rewrote it all and put me as the face. Me. My face, my body, my everything. The internet has evolved so much for a moment, for a moment I had to make sure it wasn’t actually me.” “He saw you.” “All of me. Emily, how many people have seen it? Why did he look? Why did he look deep enough to know it was focused on me.” JJ’s voice broke as tears started falling down her face again. “ I can’t look at him. I hate myself if even a sliver of skin is shown. I can’t go home, face my kids, my husband. God, my husband. He didn’t even know about it the first time and I can’t tell him about it now. I mean hell we barely talk unless it's about the kids. I know this is what he wanted, for us to fall apart. But I don’t know how much more I can take Emily.” 

Emily wrapped her arm not tangled in JJ’s hair around the other woman’s waist, pulling her closer until most of her body was in Emily’s lap. She held her through the shaking and crying, until they were both still and breathing once more. Emily placed a gentle kiss onto JJ’s head, never once loosening her grip. 

“It’s okay to fall apart. I’ll be there to help pick up the pieces. You know I’ve always had your back, in and out of work. Don’t let him make you second guess that. I’d rather you sleep on the couch in my office so I can help keep the demons away then locking yourself in here.” JJ sagged against Emily, her body finally relaxing after holding it all in for so long. 

“We can never let him tear us apart. I don’t know what I’d do without you Emily.” 

“Probably live in this office if they’d let you.” 

“I would go home at some point. Can’t use the same 2 outfits forever, at least not around these people. God can you imagine what Garcia would say?” They both laughed, before holding onto each other even tighter. 

“How about we camp in the office for one more night, then tomorrow we both have to go home at a decent time. Or at the very least, we have to make it one of our houses.” 

“Are you claiming my couch already Emily Prentiss?” 

“I’m sure Will wouldn’t mind the bed being a bit tighter than usual, your couch kills my back.” JJ turned to face Emily, the smile finally reaching her eyes even in the low light. 

“We could kick him to the couch?” A matching smile graced Emily’s lips before she nodded. 

JJ laid her head on Emily’s shoulder, pulling the blanket over the both of them. One more night wouldn’t hurt, wouldn’t ruin everything they had overcome. Wouldn’t make her question a decision she made years ago. Her eyes slowly closed, becoming heavier and heavier with every thought, the arm wrapped around her steady and tight. Keeping nightmares away.

[littlemissmoodswings]

expanding on the post where i talked about luke, jace, and joffrey have higher chances of being witches/dreamers I'd they were girls.

long post so putting it under the cut

TLDR; girl luke would have probably been betrothed to aemond, she then would have probably had visions/dreams of her death at vhagar (and aemond's) "hands", toxic/complicated relationship ensues.

let's talk about how luke would have, most likely at least, have been betrothed to aemond if he was born lucerya.

imagine you bully a girl, said girl slashes you in the eye, and then a couple years later you and that girl are forced to get engaged. aemond sitting there STEAMING thinking "that bitch! she did this on purpose! she blinded me, and now she's stuck herself to me forever." meanwhile luke (luce? lucy? lace? idk what her nickname would be) is just like "mom can we please go home i'm scared."

enter the witchiness of being a strong bastard and it makes the relationship so much more ominous. like yeah they'd maybe be cordial for a bit, hell they might even have cute/sweet moments. but luke is almost quite literally having dreams/visions of the end of fucking times.

viserys dying, rhaenyra losing her unborn daughter, the war between the and greens, and (most importantly) her own death at the hands of aemond, and vhagar.

maybe aemond would even try and offer some solace when he finds her awake and hysterical (and probably near the weirwood in the courtyard) in the middle of the night and she's just too freaked by what's seen to find any comfort in him of all people.

fast forward and to the war starting out and luke swearing she'd rather die than stay in king's landing and support aegon. aemond probably makes a threat like "you owe me a debt. it's a marriage, or your eye" cause he's soooo dramatic.

bonus points for them ending up at harrenhal together somehow and luke starts seeing the ghost of her dead daddy 🤪

extra bonus points for luke surviving the fight (but losing arrax. and maybe even an eye, cause poetic cinema) and the next time she and aemond meet, it's during the dance and she's newly bonded with grey ghost (cause he thinks men are stinky 😤) and aemond DOESN'T engage this time because he's just so certain he's being haunted and she's not real.

[a-french-coconut]

Drew Tanaka (Part 3)

She sees the hurt in Lacy’s eyes when she makes a cruel remark about her makeup. 

It’s impossible to ignore Mitchell’s glare when she throws away his used shoes, “making more space for better clothes��. 

She feels the dislike for her growing in Thomas and Héloise. 

Good, better for them to hate her. It will hurt less when they inevitably leave her. 

She knows she’s hurting them but one day they’ll understand that she did for good reasons. 

It’s laughable, irony at its finest. 

A child of Aphrodite scared of love. 

It might be the most beautiful thing the Fates ever crafted. 

Camp already didn’t like her, it doesn’t take too much effort for it to despise her. 

A little flirting over there then a charming smile here, some charmspeak and two campers are fighting, her standing in the middle, modern Helen as Menelaus and Paris fight for her. Here it is not Aphrodite, oh no she’s sure her mother is enjoying the view, but Chiron that separates the enchanted boys and girls. 

At the beginning, they forgive her. Put her despicable attitude on Silena’s death and that she’s allowed to grieve, that nobody blames her. 

Drew laughs, a cruel cold sound (such unlike Silena’s warm, inviting one) promising even crueler words. 

She doesn’t remember all the insults she hurled at her dead sister, Clarisse’s punch has been quite effective on her nose and memory. 

Months passes and Drew’s eyeliner gets pinker and sharper. Her makeup is an armor, one she wears every seconds of every day. 

While the demigods of Camp Half-Blood forget Silena Beauregard, Drew dreams of her every night, laughing over bodies aflame, hugging her and murmuring kinds words, talking to that damned bracelet. 

It’s not a healthy lifestyle. But Silena is true daughter of Love, consuming her very essence and mental health even in death. No amount of makeup is waterproof enough to resist her endless tears at night. 

Eight months after the battle of Manhattan, Drew Tanaka can finally go to sleep without seeing her dead sister. In the grand scheme of the universe, it’s not such a big deal, not when Percy Jackson disappeared and that Annabeth Chase is going mad trying to find him. But to her, it’s liberating. 

She still thinks about Silena from time to time. And every time her heart turns into a boiling inferno of hate and grief but now she has time to breathe, air enters her lungs and she isn’t suffocating anymore. 

Some campers see through her façade, Will Solace harbors no love for those who murdered half his cabin while Connor Stoll stills has to force a smile when a new camper asks him about Luke. 

She always admired Will’s capacity to forgive, to plaster a wide smile for every camper entering the infirmary, even the children of Ares who wished the death of Cabin 7’s residents during the war. 

If it was Drew, she would have screamed at them until her throat was raw and buried them under guilt and shame. 

She would also have kept that stupid chariot very preciously, not landing it to Annabeth Chase who had been manic, mumbling things about the Grand Canyon and a guy with one shoe. 

When said chariot crashes into the lake, ruining it completely, it’s funny to see Will loses his normally calm behavior, Annabeth’s promise to fix it doing nothing to calm him down. 

“Where’s Jackson ?” she asks, not seeing the son of Poseidon. 

“He wasn’t at the Grand Canyon, Hera just wanted to keep playing with me.” Grits Annabeth, “but we found these three.” 

She gestures at the three demigods behind her, a tall blond guy with electrical blue eyes, a small latino boy and a girl with horrendous chopped hair. 

“Woah, really feeling the love here.” Mumbles the latino boy, his hands fiddling with some strings. 

“Yeah, what’s your problem ? You’ve been looking at us, especially Jason, like we are the ones who kidnapped your boyfriend.” Adds the girl, crossing her arms defensively. 

“Nobody wants you here hun, you and the rat nest you call hair can leave for all we care.” 

Seeing her face reddening is most amusing, Annabeth’s scolding having no real effect on her but for the sake of her authority in Camp, she obliges and keeps her mouth shut. 

The latino boy, Leo Valdez she learns, is claimed really quickly. She had to say he doesn't have the typical built of an Hephaestus kid, all scrawny and elfish features.

She wonders whose children are Jason and Piper McLean, Jason could very well be one of her siblings while Piper is certainly not. Maybe Hermes, or Iris with those kaleidoscope eyes.

With one look, she can assert what kind of girl Piper is. She's the girl thinking herself superior for not caring about her appearance, for not wearing makeup.

She's the type of girl who hates girls like Drew.

Well, Drew has no problem hating back.

There is obviously something between them, the way Piper reaches for Jason's hand and-

Oh

He doesn't take it back.

Drew tilts her head curiously, looking straight into his blue eyes, trying to decipher his emotions.

Confusion, anguish, fear, a sentiment of not belonging, all of those are very common for new arrivals.

What is not, however, is the void. She cannot feel anything else, no joy or sadness.

It's like he doesn't have them.

"I don't remember anything except my name, sorry."

Or maybe he forgot them.

Drew frowns, missing completely the dialogue between Jason and Annabeth about roman names or whatever, not important.

It would seem he has amnesia, a severe one for even forgetting emotions. She's not sure she can help with actual memories but she could try to charmspeak him at a subconscious level, trigger the emotions back.

Her gaze shifts ever so lightly, enough to meet Piper's eyes looking at her with unhidden dislike, her hand tightening around Jason's.

Drew rolls her eyes, typical of that kind of girl, to think that every women looking at their boyfriend are interested.

But fine, she'll play the game.

She makes the sweetest smile she can and grabs Jason by the arm, the poor boy getting really confused at her actions.

"Come on, I'll show you Camp while Will takes Leo and Annabeth guides Piper. I'm much better company."

Jason, the oblivious type it would seems, nods and follows her. She smiles at him, winking at Piper behind them who's looking absolutely furious.

She first takes him to the Big House, where Chiron wanted to meet him, then shows him all the different cabins. When he asks her about Percy Jackson, she tells him about his quests, the battle of Manhattan and his perfect love story with Annabeth.

She doesn't make any flirtatious remarks, treating him like she would with a brother. Really she just wanted to piss off Piper, she has not romantic interest in Jason whatsoever.

When she finishes the tour, she leaves him alone with the Hermes Cabin and goes join Will in the infirmary.

"So, how's Leo ? Seems like the hyperactive kind."

"Spot on, poor Nyssa already had Harley to babysit and now him."

"You don't seem to like him that much."

"It's not that, he just asked questions about sensitive subjects. He had no idea about the battle of Manhattan, it was on national news how could he miss that ? And then, Jake gave him Beckendorf's bed, did you know they had secret rooms, and he was really inventive about it. I know, he didn't know it but come on, asking to specify how he died just to know it is wasn't on his bed ?"

As he rants, he organises the infirmary's shelves again and again, even though everything is already in order.

"Sup bitches !"

Connor strolls in, going to sit just next to Drew dodging easily the band aids coming his way.

"How's Jason ?" she asks him.

"Poor dude really got his memory messed up. You're interested in him ?"

"No, just wanted to mess with McLean."

"I bet she's your sister."

"Don't be ridiculous, she looks like she crawled out of a dumpster."

"Remember that for tonight."

"I'm siding with Connor on this one," Will chimes in.

"You are both wrong."

"Anyways, did you know that Piper passed out in Hera's cabin ?"

"Why didn't you start with that ?" panics Will, "does she need any help ?"

"Nah, Annabeth didn't call any of your siblings playing basketball just next to them, I figure she's fine."

They stay together until campfire, Drew and Will shamelessly teasing Connor about Malcolm, the son of Hermes blushing and yet denying their claims.

"You do know that Travis complains to me about how your pining, right ?" reveals Will.

"He's so dead next Capture the Flag."

Campfire goes as usual until Jason summons a lightning bolt and a quest is issued.

"Son of Zeus and brother of Thalia Grace," whistles Connor seated next to her, "I did not see that coming."

Drew doesn't pay him much mind, focusing on the prophecy announcing that a child of Aphrodite must go on the quest.

She's the oldest in the cabin, the most experienced fighter and more importantly, the only one with charmspeak.

Bright young Lacy with the cutest smile.

Heloise dreaming about her creations on the runway.

Thomas' aspiration to be a therapist, to help demigods deal with their feelings.

Mitchell who's got a little mortal brother waiting for him when he's old enough to survive in the mortal world.

What does she have ?

A father a little distant but who loves her dearly.

A letter of acceptation to Brooklyn Academy of the Gifted for next year.

She has everything to lose going on that quest, risking death.

"The dove obviously means Aphrodite. I volunteer to help Jason on his quest."

She resists the urge of scoffing at the wide eyes looking at her.

Drew Tanaka, doing a selfless and heroic act ?

All of them forget she was in Manhattan, fighting for Olympus as much as them.

All of them forget the beads on her necklace, giving her seniority over many seated around the fire.

All of them forget that Drew has once been a loving sister, always cold but never one to back down from protecting those she loves.

It's alright, she doesn't mind.

Even children of Love need someone to love them back.

"I'm the one going !"

Of course, dumpster girl is going to make this complicated, she groans internally.

"Oh, and with what experience ?" she asks Piper sarcastically whose looking very embarrassed with the whole camp looking at her, "do you know how to kill specific monsters ? Do you know how to fight ? No answer ? You arrived this morning, McLean, you're not qualified for a quest."

And no matter how much you get on my nerves, you don't deserve to die.

"But- Rachel spoke to me in Hera's Cabin !"

By Aphrodite, stop trying to get killed !

"And what do the rest of you all think ? Who should go on this quest ? Piper, or me ? Don't you think I'm more capable, I actually have training that will help me survive in the mortal world. I'm the best choice."

Sweetness coats her voice, all the campers agreeing with her words, a pale pink halo glowing around her.

She smirks at Piper.

I win, honey.

"Stop listening to her ! Don't you see she's tricking you ? Don't listen to her words."

Her smile's drops instantly, eyes narrowing on Piper.

Was that-

I can't be.

But she cannot feel her charmspeak on the campers anymore, the spell broken somehow.

It was then.

Piper just charmspeaked the whole camp and didn't even do it on purpose.

"I know I just got here the morning but I feel like I must go on this quest."

How infuriating.

"You're nor lightning nor forge sweetheart." she snarls at Piper, "And you are certainly not a daughter of Aphrodite."

At her mother's name, Piper glows pink as a holographic dove appears above her. When the glow diminishes, she is now dressed in a white peplos, golden jewels adorning her arms. Her hair is no longer the disaster it was when she arrived, now long and silky.

Chiron bows, the whole camp following his gesture, even Drew.

"All hail Piper McLean, daughter of Aphrodite !"

"Still convinced she's not your sister ?"

"Shut up Connor."

Part 4 posted !

[thestarstoasun]

A short drabble of Will & the Apollo kids + a sprinkle of angst

PROMPT: Michael,Lee and the other apollo campers realizing the new tiny blonde kid in the hermes cabin is the son of the Naomi Solace and freaking out.

(A/N: I very loosely followed the prompt in the end)

It wasn’t surprising when the new camper, a small blonde boy with blue eyes, named Will Solace ended up in the infirmary. The first time Lee had treated Will he had been walked in by Maron, a satyr Lee knew brought back tons of demigods, covered in marks from where Stymphalian birds had attacked him. At the time, Will hadn’t said much to him, or anyone else, but he listened well. “It’s nothing too bad. Here,” Lee placed a small piece of ambrosia in Will’s hand with a gentle smile, “this will help you feel better. Just eat that and you’ll be feeling as good as new in no time.” Lee ruffled Will’s hair and walked over to check on a nasty cut that Sherman Yang of the Ares Cabin had gotten during training.

That had been two weeks ago. Will remained unclaimed by his godly parent, while it was disappointing (but unsurprising), several campers including Michael Yew did their best to cheer him up. Hermes and Apollo were at archery together, a new concept that Chiron had suggested. While two different cabins were put together for activities, all of the campers knew the real hope was that the Gods would find promise in one of their unclaimed children during an activity and claim them.

As it turned out, Will was better than other campers with a bow and arrow, though just barely above bar by Apollo standards. Michael found himself drifting over to the boy to help him more and more throughout the session. “You're stance is good, but you need to work on focusing your aim at your target. Why don't you try setting the bow down and throwing the arrow to see if that helps?” He suggested.

Will let out a huff of air and kicked at the ground beneath his feet. “What if I'm just really bad? I'm not even good at holding a sword!” His voice wavered with emotion as his eyes welled with tears. Michael couldn't help but feel bad for him. Unlike most campers, he had been claimed his first day after shooting an apple off of Luke Castellan's head. (If asked, he would swear it was an accident, but some other campers seemed to disagree.)

“Look, Will, I can't say what you'll be good at and what you won't, as your godly parent hasn't claimed you.” The younger boy sniffled and focused his attention on the ground. “But what I can say is that not every demigod is good at the same stuff. I can barely heal to save my life. Yeah, I can give someone nectar and ambrosia, watch over them, give them mortal medicine, all that jazz, but I don't have Lee or my big sister, Juliet's, skill in medicine.” This made Will's eyes widen in shock, because all of the Apollo children were so gifted. (Luke told him it was because their father was the God of a bunch of stuff.)

“My Mama says that everyone has their own skills.” Will spoke up after a few minutes of twisting the hem of his shirt in his fists.

“Your mama sounds very wise.” Michael smiled and picked up the bow Will had been using.

“She is! She's a musician!” Michael noticed how Will's blue eyes seemed to move like the sky when he mentioned his mom. He figured just because he didn't have the best relationship with his own at a young age, the same didn't have to be for all demigods.

“Oh? What's her name? Maybe I know of her.”

“Naomi Solace.” Michael almost choked at the proud tone, not that it wasn't completely appropriate. Naomi Solace was an absolute icon in the music industry. Their head counselor, Sam - a warm, ivory guy who stood at 5 '11, who would be leaving after this summer, had brought a ton of her records and CD's from home to keep in the cabin.

“Seriously? You're Naomi Solace's son!?” The other Apollo kids turned their heads in excitement and began to crowd around them. Will just nodded his head nervously, afraid he had said something wrong.

“That's fucking awesome! We all love her!” Catherine, an umber toned Apollo girl with heterochromia, spoke up.

“Will is still a child, watch your tongue, Cathy.” Sam scolded with a fond, exasperated expression. Will found himself bursting out into a fit of giggles. He had heard much worse while on the road with his mother, but he appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

“You have totally got to introduce us one day, little buddy.” Another Apollo child, who Will had forgotten the name of, spoke up. The children of the sun God had never been anything but welcoming, so after pretending to think about it for a minute Will grinned widely. “Alright, just remember your manners.”

The rest of the day, the Apollo cabin borrowed, or rather stole, Will so he could join them in their activities. While the boy enjoyed the company of the Hermes kids, he felt a sense of belonging that he couldn't place when he was laughing alongside the talented Apollo children. That night at dinner, instead of offering his food to Hermes, he sent an offering to the God of the Sun.

Please, I don't know if I am your son or not, but I really hope I am. I know I may not be as great as Michael or Catherine, but I feel connected to them. They feel like home….like mama…like sunshine.