The Moon ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

beckondorf is soooo european/aus. ‘methinks’??? ‘git’???? ok english boy…

AKSO OMG ONG ONG THIS CHAPTER,??!

⋆· ༘* so american !

pairing ★ jock!luke castellan x drum major!reader

synopsis ★ the one where things start wrapping up too fast. the seasons change, and suddenly everyone knows something that you don’t. (3.4k)

content ★ no reader pronouns, cliches ie PROMM, major actually kinda knows but dismisses it as being delulu, s-tier clownery, will they won’t they? - i think they will !!

notes ★ double take dhruv carried this so hard bless that genius man for making thee song abt falling in love w ur friend

series masterlist

Sports | Castellan flys high into final season, speaks about future

Heralds Vol. 77, Issue 10

[ IMAGE: a shot from a low down-up angle. Castellan’s jersey is black and orange, his surname and jersey number 11 in white block lettering. His back is silhouetted, arms stretched for a spike, the gym lights haloing his outline in a fuzzy white. ]

It’s all thunderous cheers when senior and varsity vice-captain Luke Castellan nails his final spike through the blockade. Zeus City High School played its final game of regionals against Kane Academy—famous for its strong blockers and—won 3-2 last Thursday.

“It’s a really great feeling,” said Castellan. “Spiking through that block was tough, but getting the points is all that matters.”

Castellan is an outside hitter and has been doing sports since he was a child, passing a volleyball to his mom at three. He also participates in football, and capped off his last season with an unprecedented win.

“I’ll definitely miss football,” Castellan commented, and joked that he while he will miss his teammates, he will not miss practicing. “The team spirit was really good, we really had synergy this year. I’m glad that we did our best in the championship, and I hope we do good with volleyball too.”

The team will advance to the state championship, and perhaps junior nationals, where they can fully showcase their athletic abilities to recruiting colleges. Castellan does not plan to attend a higher institute of education on a sports scholarship, citing that he would like to explore other interests.

“I’m gunning for engineering,” he shared. “It’s been an interest of mine since I started watching motorsports, which is like—forever. I’ll still play, but not on a super competitive level because I’d like to focus on my education.”

You aren’t quite sure how you ended up sandwiched between Luke and the door of your locker.

‘Cause the thing is, you’ve got your back facing the open maw of your locker, and Luke’s nearly chest-to-chest with you, saying something about Silena and Charles. Your shoes are side by side, faces hidden by the door.

Your locker is located next to a wall—a lucky assignment for privacy so—to the average passerby, well, it looks like he’s very close to you. Maybe even kissing, although you blink that thought away in a fluster.

“You okay?” Luke asks, touching his knuckles to your forehead. “You look like you’re getting dizzy.”

Becoming ‘friends’—the context of which you use extremely loosely—with Luke comes with some lessons on his character. Lesson one: he enjoys football, likes volleyball, and loves motorsports. Two: he wants to be an engineer and a photographer and also a full-time couch potato gamer-slash-F1 commentator. Three: he’s naturally touchy because him and his mom’s love language is physical touch, and it is a constant of which can never be changed.

( You’d stopped by the Castellan residence every day after school during last semester’s final project for stats. She’d greeted you with a hug each time. )

“I’m fine,” you grit, hands tightening around your dusty textbooks. They’d been in your locker for the entire year, and now you’re about to be late for returns. You take a breath—oh, now his cologne is invading your senses. “I just—uh, I have an appointment at the library for these.”

You lift your books. Luke’s mouth parts in an oh and he steps back, holding his arm out dramatically. “After you.”

You slam the locker shut.

[ IMAGE: two pairs of beat-up sneakers peeking out from under the door of a locker. Luke Castellan is unmistakable, curly hair and tall frame half-obscured, one arm bent to hold the door. The tag on the metal is hard to see, but if you went to the school, you’d know exactly who that locker belonged to. ]

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centaurlookout 😮

“You going to prom, major?”

You look at Travis, eyes narrowing. There’s something incredibly off about his question, something suspicious in his too-wide eyes and smile.

You pinch your lips together, regarding him. “Maybe….”

The junior beams, eyes glittering. You squint suspiciously at him with a sidelong glance when he doesn’t leave.

“Need anything else or…?”

Travis shakes his head adamantly, curls bouncing. “Nah, just wondering.”

You nod slowly, drawing out the syllables. “Right.”

“G’day, major.” Travis begins to slink backwards, keeping his eyes on you.

“Uh-huh, yea.”

You recount this to Luke during lunch, gravel crunching under your feet as you walk to one of the fields.

Now that football isn’t in season, the practice field behind the bleachers is empty and overgrown with clovers. You sit in the plush greenery and pick at a blade of grass that still has some remnant of white paint on it.

Luke agrees with you as he unwraps his sandwich. “That’s so weird. I mean, the only interest he’d have in prom—”

“—would be to pull pranks, yea,” you finish, peeling back the plastic of the instant noodles. Luke nods, repositioning himself to lay on his stomach, elbows pressing into the grass. “I dunno, everyone’s been weird now. Percy called me major last week, like actually major and not sarge.”

“Maybe they’re sad that you’re leaving?”

“Nah,” you tell him, uncapping your bottle and pouring water into the noodle cup. “Connor uninvited me to his sixteenth birthday party after I ran him off the platform in Smash. I thought it was a joke until I showed up and he slammed the door on my face.”

Luke grimaces mid-swallow, mouth twisting. “Wait,” he says, propping himself higher on his elbows. The sun’s barely out, hidden behind a wall of grey clouds that shouldn’t even be there because it’s mid-May. “Are you actually going to prom, though?”

You shrug and stab a spork into your noodles.

“I already have tickets,” you confess, fiddling with the handle of your flimsy spork. Luke inclines his head, taking another bite of his lunch. “On-duty discount for Heralds.”

“You’re working on prom night?” He says like less of a question and more of a what the fuck, major, I thought we’ve gone over this before.

“For like, a few hours,” you say. Luke frowns and rolls over onto his back, thigh dangerously close to your kneecap. “What? It’s the last issue of the year.”

“It’s prom.”

“It’s an expensive party with free food and bad DJs. Gradnite’s more worth it.”

Luke shrugs and sits up; his nose almost runs into yours, the point of it sliding a hair’s breadth from your cheek. Here, you can see every individual eyelash of his and the flecks in his irises.

You can’t breathe. “Uh—I’m….”

Luke leans back a little. “Going to have fun during your last months as a senior, right?”

“Yea,” you say, the words sounds decidedly stupid, “course. I’ll have fun for you.”

Oh god, what are you getting into?

He smiles, the curve of his mouth small and real enough to snap you out of it. You rip your gaze away from his mouth—why were you even looking there in the first place?—and gnaw at the inside of your cheek, waiting for something to happen.

Luke sits back on his elbows, gazing up at you. It makes something thrill along your spine. “So,” he draws out the vowel, licks his lips, “you have a date or—”

He’s cut off by a long, echoing blare—saved by the bell, literally. You dump your spork into your now empty cup of noodles and stand, slinging your backpack over your shoulders.

“Office hours,” you excuse, jabbing an awkward thumb in a vague direction towards the buildings. “Need help on—er, my stats final.”

You scream inwardly, because you’re both in stats and it’s a terrible excuse because you likely don’t have a stats final after the AP test and you’re such a bad liar that—

“Okay? Have fun.” He’s unbothered, gazing at the thin clouds.

Bless Luke Castellan and his all-around obliviousness.

TO: becky g

(12:50) what do i do (12:51) bc methinks that luke tried talking abt (12:51) prom dates infront of me 🤢

FROM: becky g

(12:53) oh so jts luke now?? (12:53) awfully interested for a frenemy 🤨🤨

TO: becky g

(12:54) ew what frenemy i still think hes stoopid

FROM: becky g

(12:55) uh u git called him ur friend last week

TO: becky g

(12:55) FREUDIAN SLIP 😭

FROM: becky g

(12:56) freudians r subconscious feelings yk 💀

TO: becky g

(12:59) STFU GO MAKE OUT SLOPPY UR GF OR SMTH 🖕

♫ Dhruv ・ double take

[ IMAGE 1: a 0.5x picture with the flash on. The camera is angled towards your forehead and you’re looking up at it with an exasperated expression.

IMAGE 2: a zoomed-in picture from far-off, most likely across the dance hall. You’re standing in formal clothes—black shirt and wide leg slacks, sleeves rolled up to your elbows, like all the other staff and volunteers—and holding a camera slung around your neck. The lights in the ballroom paint over your frame mesmerizingly, not unlike the time you had been in the Ferris wheel watching fireworks. ]

Liked by luvvbeaus and 528 others

lukestellans (the real) your highness of prom

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majmajmaj sorry i thought that I was the official photographer. what r u even doing on ur phone at prom.

↳ lukestellans what r u doing on duty at prom. ↳ luvvbeaus i’ll do u one better: why aren’t u two dancing together at prom??

“Come on, major,” and Luke’s got his fingers wrapped around your index, tugging, “you only get one prom.”

He’s in a pair of fitted slacks and a white shirt, the jacket of his suit long discarded at one of the tables, glasses reflecting prismatic party lights. You try not to pay attention to the exposed parts of his arms, where his sleeves have been rolled to his elbows like yours. Is it just you, or is it getting kind of warm in here? It must be all the dancing bodies crammed together on the floor.

( Why is he even wearing computer glasses to prom? Not that you’re complaining—they look rather nice on him. )

You tug back, insistent. “I just need a few more pictures.”

Luke groans and lets your finger slip from his hand. You’re about to give in to his demands when he begins to stride furiously across the ballroom, towards—ah, right, Hermes is chaperoning the dance.

They exchange words, Luke gesturing passionately with his hands and his dad looking so fucking lost that you almost have to laugh. Luke and Hermes must have come to some agreement, because the jock—well, he’s a lot more than that now—is crossing the ballroom with an insane speed, legs working overtime to reach you.

He smiles, face all soft under the party lights. “You’re welcome, I just got you released from duty.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Why would I talk to my dad willingly?” Luke laughs, warm hands coming up to cover yours. You’re holding the camera together now, and he finds the off switch easily because you’ve learned that he has a Sony like yours but prefers the navigable interface of Nikons and the quality of a Canon.

You frown and look at anything else but him. “I’m serious, I wanted to be on duty. There’s more fun in pictures than dancing.”

It’s half truth buried in a full lie. You like taking good pictures, and the lighting here challenges you, and you did want to be on duty, if no one else signing up for photographer meant that. And really, you’re not comfortable with dancing, but the way Luke’s looking at you with full, glassy eyes and a pleading upturn of his brows makes you want to.

Not that you’ll admit that.

“Listen,” he starts, pulling the camera strap up and off your neck, “remember when I cornered you in the hallway? That was like, a so long ago.”

You nod dumbly, confused as to where he’s going.

Luke continues, “Point is, life’s short. I want you to have fun while you can, so if you aren’t gonna do it for yourself then you should do it for me.” He holds out his hand expectantly, beckoning. “Come on, I know you want to.”

You laugh in defeat, handing over your camera bag. “You win, Castellan.”

His smile at that is so bright that it almost hurts. Hell, he’s so pretty under the soft, colorful lights that it shreds something in your chest to a bloody pulp—that might be your heart. Of all the ways you thought your senior year could go, this was definitely not one of them, though the surprise is welcome.

“One more thing,” and he’s looping your index fingers together, and you have to hold back the urge to take his hand fully in yours. Luke leads you to the tables, weaving around deflated balloons and crumpled streamers until he stops at a chair with a jacket slung over the back.

He sets down your camera bag gently on the seat, kneeling to rifle around his suit pockets. When Luke stands, he’s got a bunch of flowers wrapped around his wrist and—oh, he’s attaching a boutonnière to your breast pocket with a pair of safety pins.

You laugh awkwardly, face burgeoning with a warm blush because it’s starting to get really hot in the ballroom.

( Right? Right? )

“Y’know, usually girls wear the corsage,” you tell him, and he shrugs, puts a palm on your shoulder.

“So what? I think it’s pretty,” Luke responds, looking at the flowers on his wrist. “Plus, it just means that everyone’s gonna know I’m here with you.”

( It sounds like he’s asking you out on the lowdown, but alas, you try not to read too far into things even though the thought of you and him is…well. )

“Funny,” you manage through the fluttering of your pulse, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were flirting with me, Castellan.”

He laughs airily, tilts his head in suggestion. He still hasn’t moved his hand away, fingers moving cautiously to graze against your nape.

“Maybe you shouldn’t know better, major.”

( Oh, what the fuck, what the fuck. )

You’re in the dark area of the ballroom, haloed in pink and shadowing Luke from disco lights. Somewhere far off—you hear it muted by the rush in your head—plays slow music for the prom queen and king, except you can’t find it in yourself to care, because it’s just you and Luke here.

On that brilliantly bright field, in his car nerd room, in that lit-up Ferris car, and here too, some nowhere dark corner in a ballroom with a stupid bawdy love song playing in the background and pink-blue-purple lights all around.

“Your laces are loose,” Luke mumbles, averting his eyes. His head is bowed, and if you strain hard enough, you can see his eyelashes. He’s so close. “You’re gonna trip when we go dance—”

You lift his head—oh, he’s closer than you thought and—mumble shut up against his mouth. In the back of your head, you think that this is such an American cliché, first kiss at prom, but it’s in the back of your head for a reason. So.

Luke tilts his head and suddenly you find yourself very, very deep in this whole…you don’t even know what it is. His glasses are slipping down his nose, pressing against your skin and he’s pulling away, ripping them off, and reeling you back in, hungry.

You think that your teeth clack together, feeling that blunt blow and you crane away to let out a laugh—Luke’s already chasing your lips, pecking senselessly until you grab him by the waist and pull him flush against you.

You register faintly that he’s stepping back and hitting the wall, his hands grasping at the front of your dress shirt and yours in his hair and you’re sucking face at prom and it’s all fireworks and polaroids and stadium lights in the space between your lungs because you don’t give a damn.

FROM: becky g

(22:42) what happened to hanging out w my best friend at prom where r u 😭😭 (23:15) silena said u might be at the back tables?? i think i see u w luke (23:15) OH NAH NVM 😨‼️ (23:15) goin home early i’ve seen ENUFF

Some tongue and no more teeth—he’s a fast learner and—soft fingers tracing shapes on your waist and hands tangled in his hair. Half-leisure, no fucks given and maybe-oohs in the background, some money passed between palms.

Everything, nothing, something. Tangible and free-falling at incredible speed and oh, Luke’s hugging you close and hiding his warm face in the juncture of your neck. He smells like curl products and Sprite. You can taste the soda bubbling in your mouth too as you catch your breath.

Luke smiles against your skin, reverent. You throw back a glance, checking your surroundings with a grin that freezes when you make eye contact with Charles, standing bewildered—eyes wide and open mouth wider—in the middle of the tables with his phone in hand.

( Oh—fuck! If there were an emoji depicting your mortified face as you stare at your best friend who just caught you making out with your rival turned friend turned friend whom you kissed passionately with tongue at prom, it would probably be 😃. )

“Uh,” you manage, and Charles starts doing a double take in disbelief, “maybe we should go?”

Luke kisses you full-force. It’s brief and hard and knocks your breath away and when he pulls back, his pupils are blown to black hole proportions.

He grins, “Dancing, yea?” The sugar-kiss-drunk flush of his face keeps your gaze captive as he twines your fingers together and tugs you towards the dance floor.

You turn to look at Charles one more time. He’s going through the five stages of grief with his head in his hands.

At least Silena’s there to comfort him. Except, she’s jumping up and down in celebration.

Well. You don’t look each other in the eye for the rest of the night.

FROM: Castellan (Maybe)

(23:59) text me when u get home (23:59) also u up for 3am taiwan popcorn chicken after gradnite 😛

TO: Castellan (Maybe)

(00:01) ur paying for it right (00:20) im home hbu??

FROM: Castellan (Maybe)

(00:21) yea jst took a shower

TO: Castellan (Maybe)

(00:21) wayyy too much info mate 😨😨

FROM: Castellan (Maybe)

(00:22) we’re splitting the snack bill bc equality (00:22) and i think we’re more than mates now?? ur a good kisser btw 😮‍💨

[2 updates]

Maj. Major changed Castellan (Maybe)’s name to suzuka boy

suzuka boy changed Maj. Major’s name to monza baby

♫ PONCHET・ I Like You The Most

[ IMAGE: Luke’s corsage-adorned hand braced against your sternum, on the side where he’s pinned the boutonnière against your black dress shirt. The flowers match, baby’s breath and pale orange roses, the lights a pink-purple-blue, everything grainy and dim to give the appearance of a nostalgic, Y2K digital camera photo. ]

Liked by perciusjakcsn, lukestellans and 357 others

majmajmaj guess who 🫱🫲

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lukestellans where my hug at 🗣️‼️

↳ luvvbeaus need me to walk u to class 😏😩 ↳ beckydwarf STOP IM TRAUMATIZED 😭😭😭 ↳ perciusjakcsn SUPER SENIOR AHH POST

conmanstole i just dont think hes good for u

↳ travstole how do u know whats good for major ?!?! ↳ conmanstole THATS MY OPINION 🗣️🤬👺‼️😡😾😾🤡🤡🤡

p.s. ★ rip luke 'tryna strike a chord' castellan, u wouldve loved where my hug at. but honestly that book scene was so icky and tho i enjoy luke as a complex character i will NOT defend him like some ppl ive seen. anyways one more chapter left >:)

sharing is caring, so pls rb and also lmk ur thoughts ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ᡣ𐭩

luke tags; @melllinaa @amortencjja @arsonnaire @ma1dita @m00ng4z3r @saltair-and-palemoonlight @witch-lemon @ahh-chickens @spiderbeam @jennapancake @traumatrios @omg--bluexx @dangelnleif @apolloscastellan @hiraethavis @lukecastellandefender @bookshelfminstrel @cherr-y-eji @solangelotus @liviessun @thaliagracesgf @ddarling-ddearest-ddead @l1a-pjosversion

© klineinie 2024 — do not plagiarize, translate, or use ANY works to train ai

STOP LIKING MY POSTS! i am scared

𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫

Angst

Luke Castellan x Apollo!fem!reader

Parties were secret affairs at Camp Half-Blood.

Well, secret from Chiron, the one who would put an end to them. Mr D. could usually be convinced by one of his children to keep quiet if a dash of something alcoholic was poured into his Diet Coke. Once curfew had passed and all the younger children had been safely and snugly tucked in and Chiron and Mr D. had retreated to Big House, all those involved would gather in one of the emptier cabins that had older campers. The Hypnos kids would place a sleeping spell on the younger kids that belonged to the cabin hosting the party.

And then the fun would begin.

The alcoholic beverage supply was not immense, but there was enough provided from older Hermes campers to get, well, severely wasted.

Luke knew that path hadn’t been your initial idea, but you were well on your way there.

He on the other hand, hadn’t drank that much, stopping after he noticed just how much you had been drinking.

You weren’t usually like this. As a daughter of Apollo you were intelligent and responsible, a trusted head counsellor and a masterful healer. It was usually he causing mischief and getting hurt, and you patching him up and reprimanding him.

How the roles had reversed. Instead of your modest camp uniform and demeanour, you were in ripped jeans and a striped tank top and had converted into an absolute entertainer, lighting up the room. You weren’t acting like a semi-rowdy nineteen year old anymore, but a fully-wild twenty-five year old college student. He wished he was as drunk as you, because it seemed you were having the time of your life from how enthusiastically you were laughing with a random Ares girl you had traded drinks with.

Instead he was the only vaguely sober one in a crowd of drunk late teens playing inappropriate games or dancing. It wasn’t fun anymore.

The games were the only thing that kept him there.

“Ok… y/n,” one of your sisters - he couldn’t tell in the dim light, Apollo children all looked golden - drawled, pointing insistently to you. “Do a dare or spin the bottle!”

He observed as you appeared to think, contemplative as you sipped beer - gods you needed to stop drinking, please - before reaching for the glass bottle on the floor. The small crowd cheered and squatted in a wonky circle, Luke joining them and sighing lightly.

He hated this game. Hated how you would happily kiss anyone. He wished in these moments that he did have the courage to talk to you, to tell you how he felt and sweep you off your feet. And then it would be him you would kiss and hold hands with, and he would take care of you and do anything to make you laugh.

But instead you kissed others.

Finally, after a few clumsy grasps of the bottle, you drunkenly clutched it before giving it a rough spin. It whirled around and around noisily, colours shining off of it, and at that moment he loathed that gleaming glass neck, loathed it with a passion for pointing at everyone but him-

For not-

Pointing at him.

At him.

And by some miracle, by some grace from the Gods, it was pointing at him.

His heart raced wildly and he struggled to breathe as he glanced up at you. You were already looking at him. Your eyes looked golden in the light, and your hair covered most of your face, hiding your expression. He inhaled and exhaled shakily, hoping to calm down as he waited for your move.

You stayed still.

Still.

Still.

Maybe this was awkward for you, he suddenly realised, panicking. After all he was your best friend, of course it was weird to kiss your best friend. In fact you were probably waiting for him to call it off, but he’d taken so long to understand, he was an idiot.

“It’s o-okay,” he stuttered, cursing himself, “you don’t-“

You pounced at him, your lips smashing together. Immediately his mind went blank. It was burning, passionate, fierce, and somehow infinitely better than anything he’d ever guiltily dreamed about as he lay awake. He noticed vaguely that you’d landed in his lap and wrapped your arms aggressively around his neck. He was much more preoccupied by your lips, how they moved against his perfectly. How when you were this close to him, you smelled like chocolate chip cookies. How your lips and mouth and tongue tastes like flawless hot spun sugar. How you were into this, and into him. How all of his dreams had come true and maybe this wasn’t a terrible night.

And then you dragged a hand through his curls and it felt so good he had to fight not to groan, ugh.

“Get some, Castellan!”

“Something’s getting a little hot in here.”

And this meant nothing, he realised suddenly as the catcalls continued, his thoughts returning. Because this was all an act, something to impress the others and make them laugh from your boldness. Luke was just the pawn, something to elevate you higher-

He felt sick, his lips slowing, before stopping completely, pulling away from you. He faked a weak smile, drawing his face further away from yours and avoiding eye contact. He didn’t want to see the drunken humour in your eyes.

“Ok, your turn next!!” Someone yelled, and it was all over.

——————————————

So it stayed, an almost torturous existence before he noticed your eyelids drooping as you sleepily accepted the Ares girl’s shot glass. And finally, finally, he had an excuse to get out of this hellhole.

He walked over, dodging campers all around, before he approached, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, y/n,” he said softly, “I think we should get outta here. You seem kinda tired and so am I.”

“How did you know that?!” You asked incredulously, spinning around to him in shock.

“That you were tired?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh,” he chuckled awkwardly, “your eyes are all droopy, it’s kinda obvious.”

“Huh. Well, y’know what, I kinda agree. Let’s go.” You shrugged, waving to the Ares girl as you walked with him. You linked arms and he tried to act normal. You two never shared this much casual contact.

“What’s her name?” Luke asked, focusing on his surroundings, as you walked out the door.

“I have no idea,” you replied cheerily, breaking from him and taking a leap off the step. It didn’t end well, with you tripping and falling in a heap on the damp and cold grass.

“Are you ok?” He asked, knelt over you and concerned. You giggled, nodding and accepting his hand as it pulled you up.

“Ok, just- let me- hold onto me, ok?” He said, looping an arm around your shoulder to keep you steady. He held on as you laughed like a little girl and clung to his t-shirt all the way to your cabin.

The stars were nice tonight. For once, you could see them, like billions of shimmering white dots in the skies and it really added to the peace of the scenery. The air was cooler, there were no people, and it was so much quieter. More serene. He felt as if he could breathe. He glanced at the stars once more as he led you up the stairs to your door, before dropping your hand. Or trying to. You didn’t let go.

“Good night,” he whispered, giving your hand a squeeze and trying again.

Your grip wouldn’t loosen.

“Luke,” you murmured breathlessly, stepping forward, bringing your joined hands to your chest. He could feel your breath, warmth, pulse. Fast. Like his. “Why are you….”

“What?”

You looked as if you were going to say more, but couldn’t find the words, instead stepping even closer, and he could feel your joined hands compressed between your two chests. His chest was still, his breathing completely halted as your eyes observed him delicately, his eyes, nose, scar, jawline, cheeks, mouth, as if he was a priceless painting.

You met him once again.

It was softer this time. Your lips still moved in sync, but it was sweeter, calmer. If the other kiss had been caramel, this was smooth, gorgeous honey. As if you had all the time in the world to dazzle him with your smooth kisses. You probably did. Your hands were slower as well, leaving warm trails all over as they made their way down his back, over his sides and under his shirt, where your fingers traced the hard contours of his chest. He had to restrain the urge to shiver violently at your touch.

You pulled away a fraction, warm breath hitting his lips. “Come inside. Stay over.” You panted against them.

He wanted to. Tiptoeing in with a smile on his face and crawling into your bed, with you beside him? His dream. Being tangled in your bedsheets, waking up with every limb of yours and his twisted together, and your hair splayed over his chest? His Elysium.

But you were drunk, deeply drunk. And if he was ever lucky enough to experience any of that, he wanted to have the real event, where alcohol didn’t influence your willingness. He wanted you to be sober.

“I can’t.” He withdrew from you, out of reach. “You’re drunk and I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”

“What do you mean?”

“Y/N, I’m your best friend, you don’t like me that way. You’re just drunk.”

“Yeah. Like super drunk.” You affirmed, nodding enthusiastically. “But that doesn’t change anything. I like you sooo much-“

No. Luke wouldn’t hear this. After liking - maybe even loving - you for this long, your drunk, confused notions would hurt him too much. He refused to listen.

“C’mon let’s get you to bed so your hangovers not too bad.” He interrupted, taking your arm and leading you into the cabin. “We’ll talk about this later.”

Needless to say, you would never talk about it again if it was up to him.

He left quickly, once you were tucked in, before you could give him a response, with a hurried ‘goodnight’.

Once he was tucked comfortably in his own bunk in cabin 11, he pondered the night’s events. A whole lot of drinking. Stupid games. Not one, but two kisses. Even if they meant… nothing. They were nice either way, and probably the only two he would ever get from you.

————————————————-

The next day, he admitted, was a disaster on his behalf.

He’d had a strong plan to pretend nothing had ever happened. And then while he was getting dressed, four of his siblings wolf-whistled and smirked when they saw him. Clearly not something everyone had forgotten.

And when he saw you at breakfast, wincing slightly and looking drowsy, the moment your eyes had flashed to his, all he could think about were the kisses. He couldn’t see straight, and stumbled while he grasped his breakfast tray, and before he knew it, he hadn’t even said hello to you.

The avoidance gradually increased. After breakfast, he steered clear of you, going straight to his class with younger demigods. He didn’t make an effort to accompany an injured camper to visit you, instead sending one of their friends with them. And during lunch, where he’d usually visit you at the infirmary and bring food, he stayed at Hermes table, with nervous feet rooted to the floor.

He could tell by dinner, you were confused, hurt even, from the glances you were sending to him. And he wanted to go over, make it up to you by sitting beside you and telling you one of the Stoll’s latest schemes, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do so. It was like he was a shy toddler all over again, clinging to his mother’s leg, and he was so embarrassed for it.

That night, he swore the next day he would be better about everything. Be honest, available and just see how things would go from there. You guys had been through anything. Surely you couldn’t let each other down for this.

He woke early, with a clear mind and went to retrieve breakfast for him and you. Finding you in the infirmary, rolling bandages, he took a deep inhale before stepping in, ready.

“Hey,” he greeted, cringing a little at himself as you dropped the bandage in surprise, and watching as it rolled all over the umber planks in white streaks.

“Oh, uh, hey,” you replied, scrambling to pick it up and sending him a distracted smile. Not the greatest start, but he could improve.

“Sorry I haven’t been around. Been busy, around the place with new campers, y’know,” he lied, feeling guilty, “funny, haven’t actually seen you since we-“

“Hung out at the party?” You interrupted, nodding.

What? Hanging out? Just hanging out did not qualify ignoring him till the party was over and then two kisses and an almost-confession.

Unless you didn’t want to acknowledge the truth. Apparently, this was the case.

“…. Yeah.” He hesitantly agreed, searching your eyes for any signs you might want to take back what you said.

You wouldn’t even meet them.

“Anyway,” he placed the plate down on the bench, faking a smile, “here’s breakfast. Have a great day.”

And as he walked out, disappointed that you had let him down, he couldn’t help but wonder how things would’ve turned out differently if you had been sober.

How he wished you had been sober.

I was wondering if you could write a needy Luke trying to get readers attention but the reader is just trying to read a book and he’s placing kiss on her face just trying to get her attention. I love your writing by the way 🫶🏽

yes captain 🫡

this is adorable i’m ON IT

me finally seeing a low quality luke after two weeks of waiting:

Marauders! *everyone claps*

my worst fear is a MALE finding out i like them. like… wtf u snooping around for?

especially since i love girls sm… it’s out of character af

this post is not about the guy i have an imaginary situation ship with (he doesn’t know i exist and if he does he’s probably disturbed by me)

proximity, part 1

luke castellan x reader smau

🎯

series masterlist | next

“my kisses are a threat, not a promise”

AND THEN “a threat disguised as a promise” STOP IT STOP IT RIGHT NOW STOP STOP STOP

lovers, or partners in crime

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

words: 2.1k

summary: (established relationship) directly after ‘if you need to be mean (be mean to me)’, you realize too late that this is your last day with him. perhaps you feel guilty too. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: eye twitches guys im gonna crank out happy asks after this bc this hurt to the point of me delaying it a few days. drink water and take care luke nation

(posted 2/2/24 & betad by ellie and lari ty ladies mwah @lixzey @mrsaluado )

—

Exhaustion creeps up on you slowly, then all at once.

It’s been a long week at Camp Half Blood—with trying to stop a war from starting between the cabins and praying to the gods that the trio can stop everyone’s godrents from destroying the balance of the world, you could say you were kept busy making sure the place doesn’t go up in flames. 

Taking orders from Chiron and your dad has been your daily routine from sunrise to sundown, and you were glad to have Luke’s arms to fall into at the end of the night. But you woke up alone this morning, and a heavy feeling in your chest that’s been plaguing you for a while now feels more prominent as you drag your boots across camp for another long day.

Exhaustion blinds us and dulls the senses, but so does love. Sometimes it was hard to tell which was taking effect.

How long were you willing to ignore the signs in front of you?

Maybe it was just another bad day. Your mind felt like it was playing tricks on you, still in a haze from Luke keeping you up the night before, the feeling of his touch still lingering in your pores—evidence of eyebags and lovebites carefully hidden under concealer. You find yourself almost walking in a dream state, before Katie calls out to you, tapping you on the shoulder.

“Did you hear? Annabeth’s back. It’s all gonna be over soon,” she exclaims, and the both of you sigh in relief. You’d do anything to get this over with and take a long break. The idea of a long weekend with Luke somewhere, anywhere but here sounds like Elysium in comparison to what you’ve put yourselves through recently.

“You see Luke anywhere, Katie?”

She hums, her hand reaching out to fix some of the trampled foliage along the path, before she looks up at you, shaking her head.

“Not this morning, no. Maybe he’s with Annabeth?”

You nod thoughtfully, stretching your arms back to soothe the tension in your back. You’ll find him sooner or later, now that this is all over.

You always do.

—-

“Clarisse stole the master bolt.” 

Your fingers wound themselves tighter around Luke’s at Percy’s declaration, but you can’t help but watch your boyfriend’s face closely as the rest of the conversation passes in the background. It’s been a weird day, to say the least—helping to set up for Percy’s celebration, and Luke being tightlipped and distant the whole while. You don’t think he’s actually said a single word to you since last night until he dragged you into his cabin to see Annie and Percy.

“Everyone was ready to join the war here. To start fighting each other. An accusation against Clarisse…” you reason awkwardly, more of a question than a statement. Standing here with your friends, you feel like the odd one out. How could you miss out on Clarisse being the lightning thief? But Luke looks at the two kids in front of you as determined as the devil himself.

He knew. 

He spares you a sidelong glance, a smile quirking up on the scarred side of his face.

When did Luke start making plans without you? 

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself down, tranquility comes off of you in waves; you barely notice that Luke drops your hand until you hear him speak again. 

“You’ve stopped the war. You’ve saved the world. Now, it’s safe to tell Chiron and finish cleaning up the mess. I told him we needed to meet him away from the celebration so we can talk without any of Clarisse’s supporters noticing.” Luke crosses his arms, trying to avoid the reach of your powers and your scorching stare while his gaze is sharp on Percy, and suddenly, the heavy feeling in your chest has a name, revealing itself as doubt. 

How could you be so stupid? 

Eyes don’t lie, even if Luke does, and you finally see through him, so much that you fear you’ve found his other side. 

Annabeth grabs your hand, your head whipping to look at her as she speaks, “We’ll keep an eye on Clarisse while you’re gone. Make sure she isn’t going anywhere.” You feel your body shake with paranoia as you start to question everything until the daughter of Athena pulls you back to the present. Taking quick steps out of cabin 11, you take a glance back at Luke, seeing him look glumly at you from the doorway, and it reminds you of a simpler time five years ago, with him standing in the same spot he introduced himself to you on his first day at camp. This time, you don’t walk away.

“I’ll find you later, I…I just need to talk to Luke real quick,” you say biting your lip hesitantly. Annabeth’s gaze is cold as steel as she nods, doubt now running through her as well as she watches you walk back to your boyfriend. You catch him by the arm as he tries to glide past you.

“Hey, are you okay?” You’re searching for an answer Luke will never give you, not out loud—as he dodges your glances, keeping a distance between you two. 

“Come on, I’ve gotta go,” he gruffs, anxiety running off of him in waves as his hands fidget at his sides. The sun is setting, and he needs to finish what he was told to do.

“We still have a bit of ti—” He interrupts you swiftly,“Not enough.”

“I know you’re always in charge around here, but not everything can go the way we want, you know?”

Your lips turn into a frown at his words, and you wonder who it is you’re talking to. Surely, not the boy whose arms you fell asleep in last night. You used to be able to figure him out so easily, but now… he’s acting like you’re an enemy. The banter he deals doesn’t usually make you feel like you’re at the short end of a stick, and though he’s right in front of you, it feels like his mind is already miles away. You’re desperate to hold onto whatever you can though, not wanting to let go of whatever’s plaguing him.

“Angelface. Look at me. Percy’s a hero, everything else will fix itself, why are you so—”

Luke sighs, blinking slowly, and you’re surprised when he pulls your hands to his chest, placing them under his camp beads, so you stop speaking. 

You never know when the last time is until it happens. You didn’t think it’d feel like this.

“I need to do this.” 

He’s not talking about turning in Clarisse anymore, and your body reacts before your mind does, surging forward to hug him. Your fingers run up the expanse of his back, the smell of citrus and musk being familiar but the discomfort in his embrace is not. From here, you can’t see his eyes, but his heart rate accelerates as he wounds his hands in your hair, pulling you closer until the space between you is nonexistent.

“Please,” he mumbles. 

Is it a request? 

The shock runs through your veins as you try to think of what to say next—Luke’s never been one to beg.

“I’d do anything to protect our home, Luke, you don’t have to convince me when it’s the right thing to do.”

Your name falls from his lips, almost like he disagrees with what you said, and then you realize he’s begging you.

He’s asking for your permission. He’s asking you to let him go.

“You’re my home, trouble. You know that right? You’re the only thing that matters to me.”

You try to nod, try to pull away to look at him but he presses you harder into his embrace, like he knows he won’t have the chance again. It hurts, though not in the way you expect.

“L-Luke, you’re hurting me.” Your breath quickens as you try to unravel yourself from him, but you’re unsure where he ends and you begin.

“Just a little bit longer.” 

Your nose buries itself into his neck, and you realize he’s trembling, but you can’t figure out who’s scared, him or you? Voices are echoing in your head and it’s too loud; you clench your fists into his orange camp shirt. Why do you always need to see the proof to believe it’s real? Why do you have to wait until the damage is done?

“I have to do this, trouble. Everything will change and there’s no other way— either we win or we die. Failure isn’t an option for me. Not again.”

“I thought I was supposed to be the dramatic one,” you mutter, closing your eyes so you don’t have to face the truth for a while more, “but I still love you, despite it.” 

Despite this.

A watery chuckle escapes you, and his hands are trembling as he pushes a strand of your hair back. He holds onto you more softly now, and whether you know it or not, it’s to make up for all the time he’ll have to go without holding you after this. Percy calls out to him in the distance and once Luke frees you from his arms, you wonder why it feels like you’re unraveling at the seams, slowly parting from him. The tether you have on each other loosens, and it’s hard to tell who is being freed, and who is letting go. Luke walks away wordlessly, curls bouncing in the brisk air without a second glance until you call out to him.

“I’ll find you!”

A threat disguised as a promise, you stand there in the middle of the path feeling exposed as the wretched little girl at your core, desperate to be loved, desperate to be enough. 

But it’s not enough for him to stay, now is it?

—-

The truth is, Luke broke your heart before you even lost him, by hitting you where it hurts— he hit home. Camp Half-Blood has always been the one place you’ve known as home, and even if you claim to hate it—you’d die protecting it if that’s what was needed of you. You stay vigilant next to Annabeth, who looks up at your unusually quiet demeanor, and you feel like you have to confess to a crime that you didn’t commit.

“Luke’s leaving camp.”

She nods stiffly without answering you, wondering if you know about what else he’s done, too. Unlike you though, she’d rather find out before the damage is done.

The sun had set an hour ago, and fireworks were going off in the distance, everyone celebrating a hero’s return. You noticed Clarisse still sitting around the campfire with her siblings, Chiron still present and watching the festivities, and what had to be your last straw was noticing Annabeth had disappeared from your side. So you do what you do best, chase after Luke, and hope that you’re not too late.

Your breath heaves as you run through the dark forest without a single plan in mind and hoping, just hoping that no one’s hurt. You run faster towards the sound of swords clanging against each other, two figures illuminated by the fireworks in the distance.

What you didn’t expect to see was Luke’s sword pointed at an injured son of Poseidon sprawled out in the dirt.

“Percy!” your voice yells out shakily, your instincts kicking in as the truth is laid out in front of you, something darker and much worse than anything you could’ve imagined. Blue light illuminates the scarred side of your boyfriend’s face as he turns to look at you with shimmering eyes, and you see Annabeth with her sword raised at…the both of you.

Is this what love is…looking at a person who’s hurt you and still hoping they’re alright? You’re exhausted, wondering how long he’s been lying to your face—while he holds you, kisses you, and takes your pain away… and it all amounted to feeling guilty for letting his deception slip through your fingers, for hurting people you love. 

Luke’s scar you used to compare to a bolt of lightning now looks like a tear cascading from regret. And perhaps he does regret this, losing Annabeth and losing you, but he never turns back on his word once he’s made a decision. 

This one was just made without you. 

There’s a moment where everything goes silent despite the booming in the sky and you both take one last good look at each other, and Percy and Annabeth are unsure if you two look like forlorn lovers, or partners in crime.

“Castellan…”

His face hardens again at the wavering sound of your voice, almost unrecognizable in the dim light, and you know now that this is it. You’ve always been convinced that a love like the one you and Luke share is tailor-made and stitched together by the Fates. But the strings are cut, and like Atropos, he’s the one holding the scissors.

The last thing you see are his dark eyes and how he turns to run away, headfirst into a future without you. 

For a second you could’ve sworn they flashed gold.

—-

“I wanted to hurt you

 but the victory is that I could not stomach it.” 

 -Richard Siken

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