Summary: You transferred to Briar U to become a ghost, desperate to outrun your controlling ex. When your past finally catches up to you in the middle of a lecture hall, Dean Di Laurentis makes one thing perfectly clear: you are under his protection now.
Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: not proofread yet, probably shitty because I haven't written anything in months, mentions of toxic/controlling relationships, stalking, anxiety, graphic violence, Protective!Dean in full force
A/N: I don't know how good it is because it's been a while since i've last written something and tbh I didn't finish the first season, only read the books 5 times. But I hope you like it and after my finals I will be back with more fics. You can totally spam my box with requests if you's like. But I won't be writing anything for like 3 whole weeks. I am so stressed I can't even exist. Anyway. Feedback is much appreciated. Take care of yourselves and lots of love! What do we think of a part 2?
Words: 2.6k
Requested here!
The booth at Malone’s was designed to comfortably fit six people. Currently, it held four massive hockey players, Hannah, and you. Which meant you were practically sitting in Dean Di Laurentis’s lap.
Not that he was complaining.
"I’m just saying," John Logan argued from across the sticky table, pointing a french fry at Tucker, "if you actually passed the puck instead of trying to be the hero, we would’ve scored in the second period."
"I was open!" Tucker shot back. "You’re just blind, Johnny!"
Garrett Graham, wedged next to them, rolled his eyes and stole a sip of Hannah’s beer. "You’re both idiots. Just drink."
You tuned out the hockey talk, mostly because Dean’s fingers were currently drawing lazy, distracting circles on the denim of your jeans, right at your knee.
When you transferred to Briar to escape the wreckage of your last relationship, your plan was simple: keep your head down, go to class, and stay invisible. You didn't plan on meeting Dean Di Laurentis. You definitely didn't plan on sleeping with him.
Twice.
The problem? The sex was mind-blowing, and Dean was shockingly attentive, which meant you had to pull the emergency brake. Two hookups could be written off as a fluke. Three times was a pattern. Three times meant you were knocking on the door of a relationship, and you didn't do boyfriends anymore. Not after the suffocating mess you’d left behind in your hometown.
You’d drawn a hard line.
Dean, however, treated that line like a mild suggestion.
"I'm going to grab another round before Logan and Tuck start throwing punches," Hannah announced, sliding out of the booth. "Don't kill each other."
"You're ignoring me," Dean murmured. He dropped his arm over the back of the booth behind your head, leaning in so close you could smell his expensive cologne mixed with draft beer.
"I'm listening to Logan and Tuck," you replied, keeping your eyes on your cup. "It’s very educational."
"I can think of better things to do than listen to Logan." Dean's voice dropped to that low, raspy pitch he knew exactly how to use. His thumb dragged a fraction higher on your thigh."You're wearing that perfume again," he murmured, a sound that completely bypassed your brain and went straight to your stomach.
"Shut up, Di Laurentis," you shot back, taking a desperate sip of your drink.
"I know you have this ridiculous rule about a third time meaning we're suddenly married, but come on, beautiful," he chuckled, his breath ghosting over your jaw. " You can’t stop thinking about it either. I promise I’ll make you forget why you ever made that rule in the first place."
"Read my lips, Di Laurentis," you said, turning your head just enough to give him a flat look. "We are done."
He just smirked, his thumb pressing a little firmer against your thigh. "Liar."
You opened your mouth to tell him his ego was writing checks his charm couldn't cash, but Hannah suddenly slid back into the booth, thumping a heavy plastic pitcher onto the table.
"Malone's is officially a zoo," she announced, dropping into the space next to Garrett. She wiped condensation off her hands, then paused, her eyes darting over to you. "Hey, did you tell someone we were coming here?"
You frowned. "No. Why?"
"Because some guy just stopped me by the bar," Hannah said, her brow furrowed. "Tall, dark hair, preppy polo shirt. He had this crazy intense look on his face. He asked if I knew a Y/N who just transferred here. I told him no, but... It gave me the creeps, honestly."
The buzz from the vodka evaporated.
Your stomach did a horrific, Olympic-level flip. It was an instant, violent spike of adrenaline. A cold sweat broke out across the back of your neck, and suddenly the loud, chaotic noise of the bar felt like it was pressing against your eardrums.
He’s here.
You stared at the condensation pooling on the wooden table, your brain short-circuiting.
Beside you, Dean completely misread the situation. He thought you were just giving him the silent treatment. He leaned his weight against you, his chest pressing into your shoulder.
"Come on, beautiful," Dean coaxed, his voice dropping right into your ear. "Stop playing hard to get. Let's get out of here."
The feeling of being boxed into the booth suddenly shifted from annoying to terrifying. You felt trapped.
You snapped your head up to tell Dean to back the hell off, your heart hammering against your ribs. But as you looked past him, your eyes landed on the front entrance.
Standing by the bouncer, looking exactly like the entitled prick he was, was your ex-boyfriend.
Your breath caught in your throat. Fight or flight kicked in, and your body chose flight.
You didn't care about looking cool, and you didn't care about explaining yourself. You just needed to get out of his line of sight before he spotted you.
You shoved Dean’s arm away and scrambled to get your feet under you.
"Move," you choked out.
Dean looked startled. "Whoa, hey, what—"
"Dean, let me out!" you snapped, practically climbing over his knees. You abandoned your jacket, hit the sticky floor, and bolted toward the back hallway. You pushed past a group of frat guys and burst through the heavy metal door into the freezing alleyway.
A second later, the heavy door swung open again. You heard Garrett swearing under his breath, followed by Hannah’s worried voice.
The night was officially over.
The heavy front door of the house slammed shut, cutting off the biting wind.
Garrett took one look at you—at the way your arms were wrapped tightly around your ribs, your face completely bloodless—and didn't ask a single question.
"Upstairs. Now," he muttered, shoving Logan and Tucker down the hall before they could open their mouths.
Hannah hesitated, giving you a tight, worried smile, before following Garrett's lead.
You walked straight into the kitchen on autopilot, grabbing the edge of the marble island to keep your knees from buckling. You were shaking like a leaf, and it definitely wasn't the weather.
Footsteps squeaked against the hardwood floor.
Dean walked into the kitchen and stopped a good five feet away, leaning his hip against the opposite counter.
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.
"I’m an ass," Dean said.
His voice was flat, totally stripped of its usual lazy drawl. You looked up. He was running a hand through his blond hair, his jaw tight, looking genuinely stressed.
"Dean—"
"No, let me finish," he interrupted, holding up a hand. "I'm an idiot. I completely misread that," Dean dragged a hand down his face, dropping his gaze to the floor. "We had a deal—you said two times was it, and I kept pushing. I crowded you in that booth, and you looked like you were suffocating. I crossed a line, and I’m sorry."
You let out an exhausted breath. Dean Di Laurentis—actual playboy extraordinaire—was standing in his kitchen apologizing because he thought his flirting had sent you into a panic attack.
"Dean," you said softly, your voice shaking. "It wasn't you."
His brow furrowed, his hazel eyes snapping up to meet yours. "What are you talking about? You couldn't get out of that booth fast enough."
"I wasn't running from you," you admitted, hugging yourself tighter. "I panicked because of what Hannah said. And because when I snapped my head up to tell you to back off... I saw someone."
Dean went perfectly still. The confusion on his face lingered for a split second before sharpening into intense focus. "Saw who?"
"My ex-boyfriend." The words tasted like ash. "The guy I transferred here to get away from."
Dean didn't move. "He was at Malone's?"
You nodded, a humiliating tear spilling over your lashes. "I didn't move to Briar for a fresh start. I came here because I was running away from him."
Dean stayed quiet, letting you set the pace. He didn't pace the room, and he didn't raise his voice.
"He didn't hit me," you said, your voice cracking. "I know people always assume that's what it takes to run. But he just... he owned me. If we had an argument, he would literally stand in front of the door so I couldn't leave the room until I gave in and apologized. He alienated my friends. He made me feel like I was crazy for wanting to exist outside of his control. By the time I finally packed my car and left, I felt like a ghost."
You wiped angrily at your cheek, staring at the marble counter. "I moved here to be invisible. I thought I was safe. And he was standing right there by the bouncers."
The air in the kitchen completely changed.
The guilt that had been weighing Dean down evaporated, swallowed up by a profound, heavy stillness. You could see the exact moment the pieces clicked together in his head—the realization of why you hated feeling cornered, why you were so fiercely independent, why you put up so many walls.
Dean was a hockey player; he had a temper. You could see the anger flare in his eyes, dark and sharp, but he brutally forced it down. He seemed to understand, instinctively, that you didn't need to see another man lose his temper right now.
"Okay," Dean said softly. His voice was incredibly calm, level, and steady. "Did he see you?"
You shook your head, "I... I don't think so."
"Good." He took a slow, deliberate step forward, keeping his hands visible and his body language completely relaxed. "He doesn't know where you live. He doesn't know who you're with."
Dean slowly reached out. He just offered his hand, palm up, resting it on the marble counter between you. An invitation, not a demand.
You stared at his large, calloused hand for a second before slowly sliding yours into it. His fingers immediately wrapped around yours in a warm, solid grip.
"I know we have an arrangement," Dean said, his thumb brushing a slow, rhythmic circle over your knuckles to help ground you. "You call your own shots. I respect that."
He paused, making sure you were looking him in the eye.
"But you are my friend," Dean continued, "And you are standing in my house. Which means you are officially under my protection. I don't care how annoying this guy is. He doesn't get to breathe the same air as you."
The quiet, absolute certainty in his voice did more to calm your racing heart than any loud threat ever could. He wasn't posturing for his own ego; he was just stating a fact.
A small, surprised laugh escaped you. "You're going to act like my bodyguard now, Di Laurentis?"
A faint, familiar smirk finally touched the corner of Dean's mouth, though his eyes remained entirely serious. "Somebody has to keep the country club rejects away from you. Besides, Garrett would kill me if I let a guy in a polo shirt terrorize our house."
It had been four days since Malone’s, and you were almost convinced you were safe.
You were sitting in your Tuesday morning Psychology lecture, tucked into your usual seats near the back. Dean slouched next to you, his long legs stretched out into the aisle. He tapped his pen rhythmically against his notebook while the professor droned on about cognitive dissonance.
The heavy doors at the front of the lecture hall swung open.
A guy walked in and handed a slip of paper to the professor. A transfer student.
One look at the arrogant set of his shoulders, the dark hair, and the expensive preppy sweater sent all the blood rushing out of your head. The air vanished from your lungs. You shrank back against your plastic chair, your hands immediately curling into tight fists in your lap as a cold sweat broke out across your skin.
He had actually enrolled at Briar.
Beside you, Dean felt the violent shift in your posture. The tapping stopped. "Hey," he whispered. "What is it?"
You gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of your head, keeping your eyes fixed on the front of the room.
Dean followed your line of sight. He studied the new guy finding a seat three rows down. The pieces clicked together instantly in Dean's head—the preppy clothes, the dark hair, and the sheer terror radiating off you. He recognized the guy from the door at Malone's.
Dean sat up straight, locking his jaw into a hard, rigid line. For the remaining forty minutes of the lecture, he remained terrifyingly still, his eyes burning a hole into the back of your ex's head.
"Class dismissed," the professor finally announced, snapping his laptop shut and briskly walking out the side door.
The hall erupted into the chaotic noise of zippers, scraping chairs, and overlapping conversations. You shoved your notebook into your backpack with shaking hands, desperate to blend into the crowd and escape through the back doors before he spotted you.
But your ex was already turning around. His eyes locked onto yours.
That familiar, entitled smirk crawled onto his face. He grabbed his bag and marched up the stairs, heading straight for your row.
Dean stood up. He slung his backpack over his left shoulder and stepped smoothly out of your row, planting his massive, athlete frame directly in the middle of the aisle to block the stairs.
Your ex stopped a few steps below him, letting out an annoyed sigh. "Excuse me, buddy. You're in the way."
Dean held his ground, staring down at him with a look of cold, absolute apathy.
Your ex scoffed, his ego flaring up. "Hey, deaf guy. Move. I need to talk to my girlfriend."
Dean dropped his backpack, shifted his weight, and threw a brutal, devastating right hook.
The sickening crack of Dean's knuckles connecting with bone echoed sharply in the thinning lecture hall.
The force of the punch lifted your ex entirely off his feet. He flew backward, crashing hard into a wooden desk before crumpling to the linoleum floor in a heap. A few remaining students gasped, freezing in their tracks. Nobody dared to intervene.
Your ex groaned, rolling onto his side. He clutched his face, blood instantly pouring from his shattered nose and dripping onto his pristine sweater. He looked up at Dean, his eyes wide with genuine shock and pain.
"What the hell?!" your ex yelled, his voice thick and nasally. He scrambled backward against the desks, staring at Dean like he was a monster. "What the hell was that for?! I don't even know you!"
Dean stood over him, breathing evenly, casually rolling his shoulders. He flexed his right hand once, his eyes dark and completely devoid of mercy.
"You know why," Dean said. His voice was deathly quiet, carrying a promise of so much worse if the guy ever tried to get up.
Dean held his gaze for three agonizing seconds, making sure the message was received loud and clear. Your ex stayed frozen on the floor, too terrified to reach for his fallen bag.
Satisfied, Dean smoothly bent down and picked up his backpack by the strap. The cold, lethal hockey player vanished in a fraction of a second as he turned back to you.
His hazel eyes softened instantly. He stepped back into your row, gently placing his uninjured hand on the small of your back.
"Come on," Dean murmured, his voice warm and perfectly calm, acting as if he hadn't just committed assault in front of a dozen witnesses. "Let's go get some lunch."
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in which you’re his best friend until you’re something more
hi! here you go lmao. probs the fluffiest thing i’ve ever written and i am obsessed with the concept! thank you for being here and baring with me - i loved writing this one and i’d love to hear what you think! huge shoutout to my girlies @mcmuppet and @lavenderlando ily both!
songs that set the mood: pink and white by frank ocean, daylight by harry styles, angel by finneas, enchanted by taylor swift, hate to be lame by lizzy mcalpine
warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, language, friends to lovers brain rot, slight corruption kink, readers first time, qatar angst
6.4k words
“do you wanna talk about it?” you whispered softly, your hand resting on lando’s sagged shoulder.
your eyes were fixed on the third place plaque on his table in front of you, his very much fixed on the floor.
“no.” his reply was short and sweet, his tone conveying exactly how deflated he was.
you’d only flown in to qatar this morning, the october sun hitting you hard as you walked into the paddock, drastically different to the london climate you’d grown accustomed to. lando had all but begged you to come, your evening before spent on the phone, and you knew that he needed a friend, otherwise he never would have asked you to fly halfway around the world.
friends. that’s what you were.
you’d hugged him tight and told him that the weekend had to get better, and then his teammate put it on pole and got his first win. so, yeah, maybe it wasn’t going to get better and not even the podium could cheer him up.
his radio messages had hurt your heart, your chest aching as he self deprecated in the cockpit. he owned his mistakes, sure, but he’d taken it a step too far and you knew you had a job to do. you’d do anything, quite literally anything, to cheer him up.
you’d always found a way to be there for eachother, your friendship spanning five long years after you’d knocked a coffee over a guy you quickly recognised as the new mclaren driver. both nineteen and awkward as hell, you’d um-ed and er-ed and danced around one another in the busy pret in central london, chucking tissues at him, attempting to mop up the frothy mess all over his white sweatshirt.
eventually you’d just burst into laughter, lando immediately following suit. your cheeks were hurting from smiling at the curly haired stranger, intrigued by the very way his faced moved when he laughed, and he’d looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, not like someone that had just destroyed a brand new hoodie.
and just like that, a connection was born.
you’d gotten used to having a friend for only half the year, but he never let you feel the distance. paddock passes often fell through your letter box and you could usually be located in the background of his streams when he was home long enough to do them, the amount of times you’d been wrongfully accused of being his girlfriend a list as long as your arm. even in those moments of awkwardness, friendship prevailed and you both managed to crack up together about the conspiracy that you were more than friends.
and what an intriguing conspiracy it was.
“we should get you back to the hotel, you need to get some rest.” you told him, standing from the sofa and offering him your hand.
lando grabbed it, squeezing, his own special way of telling you he was grateful for your presence, and let you pull him up. as he tried to walk towards the door, you stopped him, hands on his shoulders. you wanted to shake him, tell him how fucking great he was. you didn’t think he’d appreciate that after an intense session in the car.
“hey, look at me. you got this, okay?” you smiled reassuringly, managing to get the smallest crack back from him, his lips upturning ever so slightly. something in his eyes told you that you’d succeeded, a small glimmer of an emotion that you didn’t know how to unpack.
friends.
that’s what you were.
-
you tried to ignore how touchy lando was being. you figured he just needed some comfort, physical touch not out of bounds in your friendship, but a new level had been reached.
on the entire walk through the paddock to his car, his hand sat comfortably on the small of your back, despite the endless amount of cameras pointed at you. his hand skimmed your thigh in the car, accidentally, you told yourself, and you had to avert your eyes when his hand graced your headrest as he reversed out of the parking space. knowing that he needed you in qatar so desperately that he’d flown you out was one thing, the way he was treating you once you got there was something else.
he’d opened your door when you pulled up at the hotel valet, helping you out of the car, his hand tucked in yours for a second longer than necessary. once again, his hand seemed to be glued to your lower back the whole way to the elevator.
the ding of the lift had you both shuffling out onto your floor, trailing towards your rooms in a heavy silence, something more left unsaid in the air.
you reached your door first, coming to a stop and shuffling around in your bag for your keycard.
“um, i need to be at the track early tomorrow. breakfast?” lando asked.
you turned to look at him, nodding your head profusely.
“of course, just drop me a message and i’ll come down and meet you.” you affirmed, your fingers finally grasping the piece of plastic that had, of course, fallen to the very bottom of your tardis of a tote bag.
you expected him to leave, but he lingered, as if there was something else on his mind.
“you okay?” you raised an eyebrow, unlocking your door. lando seemed to snap out of it then, awkwardly running a hand through his curls that had taken a brutal hit from the humidity. you liked the look on him, nonetheless.
“yeah, i- yeah, i think i just need some sleep.”
“okay, well, goodnight. let me know if you need anything.” you disappeared through the door then, the tension getting the better of you. you slumped against the shut door, wondering what he so clearly wanted to say.
-
the clock read 1:32am on your bedside.
a faint tapping had woken you up, and you groggily scanned the room, trying to find the source of the noise. you deduced that it was coming from your door, letting out a groan as you threw the cosy comforter off and trudged towards the disturbance.
you cracked it open, peeking through the gap and coming face to face with your best friend.
“lando?” you croaked, opening the door further.
“i’m sorry, can’t sleep. can i come in? it’s okay if not, i just didn’t know what to do.” he sounded so shy, something you didn’t recognise in the man stood before you, and you quickly swung the door open, ushering him inside.
“come, sit.” you waved for him to follow you across the room to the foot of your bed. he sat down beside you, the mattress dipping.
you patted your lap and he instantly knew what to do, laying down with his head in your lap. it’s something he did quite frequently when you were sprawled on his sofa at home, watching a shitty movie that neither of you were really paying attention to. you’d often be looking at him, praying he didn’t notice, and he’d be playing with your fingers, tracing the palm of your hand.
you couldn’t help yourself, running your hand through his curls. you didn’t mean to, stomach instantly twisting with embarrassment, but it was quickly twisting with something else. his eyes fluttered shut, a low groan falling from the back of his throat. it made your thighs clench, and he must have noticed, the tiniest smirk on his face.
“you okay?” lando asked, his eyes still shut, a look of relaxation finally on his face.
you coughed awkwardly.
“yeah, sorry. are you comfy?” you said teasingly, trying to cut the growing tension in the room.
“i am now, could fall asleep here.”
“you can, you know.” you whispered. his eyes flew open. your heart was hammering in your chest. this was new territory and you were worried you’d fucked up. sleepovers were also a norm, but one of you usually retired to a guest room, not the other side of eachothers beds.
“you want me to stay?” his voice rose in surprise.
“well, i mean, you can if you want, like, there’s space and-“ you rambled.
“do you want me to stay?” he repeated.
“is it gonna help?” you questioned cautiously.
“yes.” the confidence in which he replied did something to you.
“then stay.”
you crawled up the mattress, falling back into the place you’d so comfortably occupied just minutes before. you laid so still, watching with quiet curiosity as he slipped his hoodie off. his shirt came with it ever so slightly, riding up over his back, and you had to pry your eyes away, the ache between your thighs still ever present.
what on earth were you doing, allowing your best friend to crawl into bed with you? emotions were running so high, but it felt like a switch had been flipped ever since you hit the tarmac in qatar. every look, every touch was fuelled by something different to what it had been before and you weren’t sure if it was a good thing or not.
lando turned towards you, making his way back over to the bed. he looked apprehensive, as if he was thinking the same thoughts as you, wondering if there was any logic in what was about to happen. he seemed to come to the conclusion that this was, in fact, happening, crawling into bed beside you.
“is this okay?” lando breathed into the darkness of the room, his hand brushing yours. you were both as still as planks, mere centimetres separating you, the only light coming from the lamp beside the bed.
“yeah,” you took a deep breath, preparing for the words that were about to come tumbling out. “i’ve just never done this before.” you spoke quickly, sucking in another breath as you finished.
“you’ve never…”
“i’ve never shared a bed… like this.”
“like what?”
“with a… a guy?” your anxiety riddled words came out more like a question than an answer.
“oh. oh.” it seemed to dawn on lando then. “so, you’ve never… oh. i mean i can go if you’re uncomfortable.”
“lando, no, i just wanted you to know. i’m always comfortable with you.” you said, quietly baring your soul to him.
you weren’t sure why you’d basically told him you were a virgin. it held no relevance, he was just here to sleep, for some friendly comfort. he was not here for any other reason. and yet here you were, spilling the beans, all over the bed you found yourself sharing.
“i didn’t come here to, you know. i just needed you.”
you tried to ignore the pang in your chest and the annoying, minuscule butterfly springing to life in your belly.
“god, yeah i know! i didn’t think that you wanted to, well i mean not with me because why would you want me like that anyway, i get why you’re here, lando.” you rambled into the empty air. you heard yourself, groaning in embarrassment and dragging the cover over your face. lando laughed, pulling it back so he could see you again.
he was leaning over you, perched on his side, resting on his elbow.
“trust me, i’m more than happy with any part of yourself that you wanna give me.”
“don’t tease me, lando.” you scoffed. he was joking, right? right?
“i’m not! i promise, this is the one place i want to be.”
“why? why with me? i mean you could’ve called max. all he does is stream when you’re not home, think he misses you.” you were half joking, half deadly serious.
“come on, it’s you. it’s just… its been so hard this year, being away from you so much more. and then you came all the way here…” lando trailed off, averting eye contact.
you turned on your side to face him, placing your hand over his affectionately.
“you needed me.”
“exactly. i needed you. you.”
he gave you a look, one that you didn’t recognise, but you understood what it meant. it said more than anything had done since this confusingly beautiful interaction began. you got it, then, why you were here.
“lando-“
“i know that i shouldn’t tell you this and i can’t just spring this on you in the middle of the night, but i-“
“lando!”
“what?”
“kiss me.”
and god, he kissed you. the air was sucked out of your lungs, dragged out of you by the way he put his hands on your body, so urgent.
you sunk back into the mattress, his body over yours, a hand cupping your cheek while the other rested on your waist, stroking the skin there, exposed from your ridden up top. your hands were in his curls, and you revelled in the way that you could shamelessly touch them now.
he paused for a second, nose brushing yours, breathless and grinning down at you, a knowing smile that was so beautiful that it rendered you speechless.
“you have no idea how long i’ve waited for this.” lando breathed, scanning your face as if he was trying to take it all in. you, panting beneath him, coy smile, cheeks flushed. you’d never looked so gorgeous to him.
you leaned in to kiss him again, slower this time, relishing in the moment. you were lost in him, thinking back to the very first time you’d locked eyes and how you never thought it would come to this. this, the way he was holding you, was the best surprise.
lando pulled away, peppering your flushed cheeks with kisses, a dazed giggle passing your swollen lips.
he flopped onto his side, grinning at the ceiling mindlessly. you hadn’t seen him smile that big all weekend.
“are you tired?” you whispered, lips brushing his cheek, his light stubble rough against you. you wondered how it would feel elsewhere, scratching over your bare skin.
“no.”
“then why did you stop?” you asked, the words falling off your tongue slowly, sinking all over him like honey. you felt the way he tensed up, the suggestion that laced the seemingly innocent question making you tingle.
“i didn’t come here for that.” he reiterated.
“and i didn’t let you in for that. but here we are.” you weren’t ashamed of what you were asking, the moment was right, the one, and you knew it.
“it’s too soon.” lando was apprehensive. he was always overly protective of you, previously as his friend, but this, god, this was an entirely different ball park and he was proceeding with caution, against every natural instinct in his body screaming at him.
“says who?”
“it’s your first. it needs to be special.”
“everything about this is better than i could have ever imagined.”
“are you sure you want it to be me?” there it was again, those unrecognisable nerves that made everything inside of you flutter.
“lando, there is no one else i could ever want to do this with more than i want to do it with you. i want it to be you.”
“but… now? are you sure? i don’t want you to regret this.”
“the only thing i regret is that this didn’t happen sooner.”
“one last time. i just need to hear it one last time.”
“i want you, lando.”
and with that, the air changed, charged with a different kind of tension. lando pulled you on top of him, hands firm on your body, the action itself gentle. you steadied yourself, hands on his shoulders, his resting on your waist.
“can i take this off?” he tugged at the hem of your shirt. you nodded profusely. “words, sweetheart. i need you to use your words.” lando cupped your jaw as he said it, squeezing ever so slightly, enough to turn you into putty in his hands.
“please. yes.” you said shakily.
he smiled softly, slowly peeling the material off of your body, up over your head and tossed carelessly onto the floor. he kept his eyes on yours, despite the fact you were now left bare, aside from the white cotton panties that separated you both. he pawed at your sides, kneading gently at your soft hips.
“we’re gonna start slow, okay? gonna take my time with you.” he muttered, eyes on yours before they trailed slowly down, across your face, neck, collarbone, further and further until he was taking all of you in. he began to stroke the underside of your breast with his thumb, watching the way your body tensed under his feather-like touch.
“okay.” you choked out, head tipping back as he placed a kiss to the base of your throat.
his kiss trailed further down your body, peppered in the valley of your breasts, and then you stopped breathing, the air caught in your throat because he was looking at you, really, truly looking at you, as his tongue found your nipple. you couldn’t take your eyes off of him, not when he was looking at you like that, not when he was making you feel this good already.
lando pulled away, just for a second, just so that he could shift you from his lap onto his thigh. he was still fully clothed beneath you, totally in control, and you craved him in a way you didn’t know was humanly possible, so much so that you didn’t need the encouragement he was giving you to start rolling your hips, pussy grinding down on his covered thighs, the friction of your underwear driving you insane.
“oh, baby. you want me so badly, don’t you? should’ve asked me sooner. m’gonna make you feel so good.” his hands were on your hips, guiding you backwards and forwards on him.
“it feels so- oh, god.” you whimpered, fingers tangling in his curls, back arching further into him as your thighs clenched around his. he licked over your collarbone oh so slowly, a shiver running down your taut spine.
and then he was kissing you again, tongue slow over yours, his fingertips surely leaving marks where he was controlling your pace. the kiss was filthy, untameable, and you found yourself dragging against him slower, harder.
“i need you.” you panted, forehead falling on his shoulder as you pulled away from his lips, goosebumps pricking your sweat slicked skin. you were so close to an orgasm, desperate to feel him everywhere.
“i want you to come for me like this first, okay? can you do that for me, baby?” he cooed, bouncing his leg ever so slightly. “look at me.” and you did, somehow mustering the strength to pull yourself back up and find his darkened eyes.
you were a mess of curses when you let go, your body convulsing, collapsing into him as you came. you were throbbing on his thigh, one glance down at where you were grinding against him displaying your slick. his arms went around your body, flipping you onto your back so that you were resting against the mattress.
“you did so well, baby.” lando crooned, resting over you on his forearms. you stared up at him in awe, blinking away the haze. “do you want more?”
“i want everything.” you breathed, pulling him against you. you smoothed your hands over his shirt until you reached the hem, dragging it up over his back. he helped you take it off, and then it was lost to the room. you grabbed at his shoulder blades, smooth, muscular planes of bronzed skin so warm under your touch. you felt insatiable, like nothing was enough, totally intoxicated by him and everything he was managing to make you feel.
lando’s hand slid down your body, searching for the band of your underwear. when he reached his destination, he toyed with the lacy edges, letting them snap against the pudge of your belly, teasing you. you bucked your hips, frustrated, and he used the opportunity to cup your pussy, feeling where you’d soaked through the cotton. the groan he let out was carnal, animalistic, almost needy. he could feel all of you, how you ached and dripped, how you needed the everything that you’d requested.
“you’re so fucking good for me, god.” lando almost slurred his words, voice lower than you’d ever heard it. you keened at the sound, pushing your hips further into him.
lando didn’t give you much time to dwell on it, mouth latching onto your underwear where it met the crease of your thigh. he was so close, so tantalising close to where you were aching for him and you were just about levitating off the bed when his teeth grazed your inner thigh. you couldn’t see him looking at you, losing it, inhibitions out the window. your eyes were already squeezed shut when he began mouthing over your cloth-covered pussy, spit further ruining the sodden material.
“take them off.” you cried out, tugging hard at his curls that you hadn’t even realised you were clutching for dear life. and lando was a good listener, because he complied immediately, tearing the lace down your legs like a starved man.
his tongue was on you then, everywhere all at once, running through your folds and over your clit. you didn’t know if you were dead or alive, a different kind of pleasure than anything you’d ever experienced coursing hot through your veins. lando switched between long, slow licks, his tongue flat against you, and rapid kitten licks, burying his face in your cunt.
everything was moving in slow motion, your hands grasping frantically at anything you could reach; his curls, the sheets, his shoulders. you could barely make out what he was saying, his words muffled, lost to the soft flesh between your legs. it seemed to echo, every lick, stroke, word. you snapped out of it, finally, when he pulled away.
“more? you want my fingers, baby? gonna get you nice and ready for me.” you just nodded, voice lost to the air of the room.
one arm locked around your thigh, pinning you still, and the other snaked up your leg until he reached the mess between your thighs. he took a moment to take it in, how wet you were, how fucked out you looked, knowing full well he must have looked the same, unhinged as he gave into your shared desire that he’d tried his best to keep hidden. he’d never felt more stupid in his life for holding back, as he took in the ethereal delight sprawled under his touch.
when lando slid the first finger in, your stomach twisted deliciously. he watched you carefully, searching for discomfort but all he could find was sheer bliss, written all over your face as clear as daylight. he worked the digit in and out, nice and slow, curling against your walls. he could feel how tight you were, clamping around just one finger and he thought his head was gonna explode. he added another finger, watching the way you took him in, twisting his fingers.
“are you gonna let go for me again, sweetheart?” lando punctuated his words by putting his mouth back on you, teeth grazing your clit as he sucked.
you were thrashing, a silent scream building from the fire in your belly. you could just about make out the way he was spurring you on, his mouth running as you spilled over the edge, covering his fingers. you saw white, maybe god, ears ringing, and when you finally mustered the energy to look at him, you could have come for a third time. lando looked feral, lips red and coated in everything you had to offer him. his eyes were glazed over, a hazy grey that sent a jolt through your body, the aftershocks of the orgasm setting in.
“christ.” was all you could sigh out. a lazy smile painted your face, your eyes blown out, everything a little blurry. everything except him.
you could feel him scaling up your body, crawling over you until he was level with your face. he placed a kiss to your throat, your jaw and finally your lips; when he pulled away all that was left was shared giddy smile, both of you suddenly shy. you couldn’t stop the roaming of your hands, exploring all the parts of him that you could reach. when you found the waist band of his joggers, your hand grazing his abs as you did, he sucked all of the air out of the room, a sharp inhalation making him tense up.
“you still want all of me?” he breathed, his shaky breath fanning your face. lando was obsessed with hearing you say it, obsessed with how you wanted him as much as he needed you.
“all of you. lando, this is… you’re perfect.” you admitted, lips brushing his. your hands pushed the material down his hips, nails raking over him as you did. he couldn’t seem to wait any longer, kicking them off the rest of the way, his boxers quickly following suit.
you couldn’t help but stare, all of him bare against all of you. your nipples brushed his chest, his hands holding you close, your hands threaded through his curls. it was like you were sussing each other out, eyes watching lips and hands getting lost. you stayed like that for a moment, pressed together, closer and closer, until he was slotted between your legs like he was coming home. lando searched your face one last time, hunting for a smidge of discomfort.
“are you ready for me?” he whispered.
“yes.”
the initial stretch burned, but he slid into you smoothly, his cock slipping through your folds with ease. he felt you clamp down on him, his head thrown back as far as it could go, thick neck exposed to you. you bit down on his shoulder, where it met the base of his throat, trying to mask the gasp of pleasure that sent your eyes rolling back in your head. he grunted at the sensation, enjoying the sting.
“oh, fuck.” he was shuddering, trying to keep himself in check.
“don’t, oh god,” you started, meeting the roll of his hips. “don’t hold back.”
“we gotta go easy.”
“i don’t want easy.” you tightened around him then, and he saw stars.
“you’re so fucking good.” lando groaned, an edge of excitement in his voice, and then he unleashed everything that he’d held back. how much he wanted you, and a bittersweet weekend of frustration versus success came crashing down and he couldn’t do anything except give himself to you exactly how you wanted.
lando was a delicious weight on top of you, the drag of his hips slow, meeting yours hard. the pressure made you lightheaded, his body moving against yours like the thick drip of honey, smooth and sweet. you couldn’t make sense of it, of how fucking good he felt, grinding deeper and deeper into you like he’d found buried treasure. the overstimulation had your third orgasm building nice and quick, waves of pleasure making you dizzy.
“you like it like this? like when i fuck you nice and hard?” yes you did. “don’t think i can go without this now, you know that? such a good fucking girl.” you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, just let his words wash over you. “so beautiful, taking me so well.”
you couldn’t process that this was your best friend lando. this was a different person, it had to be. yet, somehow, it made sense that the man you knew, the one who spoke his mind, mischievous and troublesome, would be like this, a god above you as he fucked deeper into you with every thrust. he was filthy and gentle, brutal and sweet. it didn’t make sense, but it also just did.
“are you gonna come for me? one more time, baby. need to feel that perfect fucking pussy.” well, his wish was your command, because then you were gushing. the one thing you could feel was him, none of your other senses worked, you couldn’t see past the tears that fell, couldn’t get any words past your lips. maybe you screamed, you weren’t exactly sure.
lando was kissing you everywhere. each hip bone was met with his lips, your stomach, over your ribs, breasts, clavicle, neck. your face was covered in kisses next, your cheeks, forehead, a dainty peck to your nose.
“can you look at me?”
your eyes cracked open slowly, the exhaustion hitting as you came back to reality.
“was that okay?” there he was again, this shy version of lando that you couldn’t get used to.
“okay? lando that was…” you shook your head in awe. “that meant everything to me.”
he smiled then, that gorgeous, gorgeous smile, the one with the crinkles by his eyes and his teeth on full display. you melted.
“me too. you’re fucking beautiful. so, so fucking beautiful. should’ve told you sooner.” he murmured.
his words made you think, way too hard for your current state. what happened next? lando had said some things, some pretty big things that you didn’t know how to comprehend. it was crazy, how scared you were to bring it back up to him, considering he’d just been inside of you.
“sooner?” you whispered, hardly audible. lando was midway through tucking you both into bed, pulling your flushed, naked body into his own under the duvet.
“yes. a lot sooner.” he replied, not a trace of doubt in his voice.
‘how much sooner?’ you thought to yourself, unable to stay awake any longer to agonise over it, your dreams haunted by the way he touched you so well. it was magnificent to fall asleep in his arms, and you couldn’t help yourself from wondering when it would happen again.
-
you woke up tangled with him, fingers stroking your cheek, smoothing your hair out of your eyes.
lando was always so warm, but now his tanned skin radiated sunshine, a beacon of light in your bed. you smiled, eyes still shut, shielding yourself from the streaks of light casting over the room from the crack in the curtains.
“what time is it?” you croaked, bringing a hand to your eyes to rub away the sleep.
“gone eleven. i need to go, baby.”
baby.
you hadn’t gotten a chance to take my notice of the things he’d called you last night, too caught up in the way he played with your body. now that you heard it, in the calm after the storm, it made you swoon.
“already?” you tried to hide your disappointment, not quite ready to detangle yourself from him.
“need to get to the track. i think i’m already late. i just wanted to be here when you woke up.” lando sounded so soft, not as groggy as you, and you wondered how long he’d been awake, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest.
“thank you.” you knew that you’d have spiralled waking up alone, and you were immensely grateful that he’d stayed.
lando began to get up, wincing at your whine of protest.
“i’m sorry. i’ll have someone pick you up later, okay? i’ll see you soon, i promise.”
you knew he had to work hard today, knew how much analysis he needed to do before the race. he was starting further back than anyone would have liked, and he had something to prove as well, oscar starting too close to the front for lando’s liking. there were places to make up and hard work to be done to get back to the front.
“don’t apologise. i hope it goes smoothly today.” you smiled at him, watching him collect his long forgotten clothes. you were entranced by the way his body moved, the lines and shapes that tensed and rippled as he dressed himself.
“i’ll message you.” he promised, creeping back over to the bed. you weren’t sure what to expect, but the soft kiss to your lips, almost apprehensive on his part, could have killed you off, your heart pounding.
your grinned like a fool when the door shut behind him.
-
the shower was burning hot, loosening up your muscles. you cleaned yourself slowly, examining your body, the same one that you’d given to lando. he’d taken you apart, piece by piece, and put you back together, the traces of him that he’d left behind delectably apparent.
you followed the trail of marks he’d left, starting with the love bite below your right breast that you couldn’t even remember him leaving, making your way to the litter of fingerprints that were tattooed into your hips. your fingertips ghosted over your swollen lips, the kiss that he’d left at the junction between your neck and your shoulder, reminiscing the evening. you seemed to ache everywhere, the dull pain setting into your bones so nicely.
you prayed it would happen again. you felt like it would, everything between you had changed now, changed from any possible return to the norm. you wanted it to change, you couldn’t fathom the idea of staying friends when the lines had blurred like this, when he’d kissed you so deeply, touched you so intimately.
the shower was much needed, refreshing your body that was now tainted by him in the best way. you tried to keep a clear head while you got yourself ready, taking your time to make yourself presentable to the paddock. the time of your departure was looming, the pink and white sunset outside your window indicating that the race was only a few hours away. the air had cooled slightly, and you knew you needed to make your way to the lobby.
your phone dinged in your hand as you were packing your essentials into your bag. you glanced down at the device, unruly smile gracing your face.
see you soon, the text read, an orange love heart punctuating the short but sweet text. it was safe to say that the butterflies in your belly were well and truly alive.
-
the screen beeped as you scanned your paddock pass, and you slipped through the gate, making your way into the paddock. it was beautiful in qatar, they’d outdone themselves with this structure, the glass ceilings and jungle of greenery an expression of wealth and elegance.
you made a beeline for the mclaren garage, greeting lando’s pr officer who smiled warmly at you. you recognised oscar smirking as you appeared in the garage, and as you got closer you realised why.
“nice to see you. looking for lando?” his monotonous voice held an amused twang.
“hey oscar, great job last night!” you said, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “yeah, is he around here somewhere?”
“yeah he’s just doing press i think. extra spring in his step today.” oscar gave you a knowing look, one that made you blush.
“what do you know?” you deadpanned, fighting back laughter.
“i know that this was a long time coming.” he smiled, and then he was gone, lost to the bustle of the garage.
you stood there, probably in the way, lost in thought about what oscar had just said. he was right, this was a long time coming.
you jumped a bit when a hand landed on your waist, relaxing instantly into lando’s body when he pressed himself against you, head on your shoulder.
“i’m so glad you’re here.” he whispered, pressing a secret kiss under your ear, and then he, too, was gone, before you could even react.
your nerves were shot, ushered to the back of the garage where you found a headset. you chewed your nails, anxious about it all. the race, the changes that you were surely coming. you wanted it, wanted everything from him that he’d give you, willing to commit to all of it, to him. the distance, borrowed time, chaos of his world. last night had changed everything and you couldn’t have asked for more.
eventually the lights went out and the fight was underway. you found your hands clasped together, sweating in the dry heat and the anxiety. you clapped every time he made an overtake, storming through the field. when he made it into p3, picking the pace up on oscar, the nerves resurged and you prayed for a clean end to this race.
lando’s radio messages flooded your ears, and your leg bounced uncontrollably, your shoe slapping against the floor.
“be sensible, lando.” you muttered under your breath, resting your chin on your tightly clasped hands. he would be on the podium, but you knew it wasn’t enough for him, it never was. would you be enough for him?
eventually he agreed to hold position, thank fuck, and you could breathe again. he’d driven a beautiful recovery drive, bringing the car onto the podium, and you rushed out with the team to congratulate him. you lingered at the back of the pack behind the metal barriers, watching in quiet admiration as he jumped out of the car. he slapped oscar on the back, hugging his younger teammate before bounding towards the team. his head was darting around as if he was looking for something, but you couldn’t make it out with his helmet still on. and then the helmet came off and it became clear.
he was looking for you.
lando pulled away from a hug with a mechanic, leaning over the barrier right in front of you. you gravitated towards him, somehow moving through the swarm of team members until you were pressed against the metal too. he was beaming, eyes brighter than they had been all working weekend, and then his hands were on you. the hug he pulled you into was tight and you clung to one another for a moment, unbothered by his damp race suit, or the tickle of his sweat slicked curls.
the kiss he pressed to your cheek was far less secret than the one in the garage, so was the one he pressed to your forehead, but the one he pressed to your lips, as quick as it may have been, was the one that really took the cake. you were blushing when he pulled back, a mischievous grin on his face. you shook your head in disbelief at his boldness, unable to tame your bewildered smile.
“what are you doing for dinner, baby?” he called out to you as he walked away. the podium high had clearly set in.
nothing, you mouthed back, not quite confident enough to shout across parc ferme.
“good, we’re going on a date.” lando winked and then he was gone, pulled into the chaos of post race duties.
tears pricked your eyes when he stood on the podium, a much happier man than the one you found when you’d arrived. you couldn’t put it into words, how one night had changed everything, giving you everything you didn’t realise you wanted.
then again, lando was always good at beating expectations.
-
hehe the end
-
taglist
had to remove some tags that aren’t working! let me know if you wanna be added or removed xo
pairing: luke castellan x fem!daughter of aphrodite reader
summary: luke vies for a valentine. you're just trying to get through cabin inspections.
a/n: take this as my formal apology for the angst i’ve been throwing at you all with demeter girl lol and take this tooth rotting fluff. this was supposed to be shorter but i got carried away, after writing that 11k angst riddled monster this was a much needed palate cleanser lmao
wc: 3.3k
warning(s): no warnings this is all fluff <3
You huffed as you knocked on the door again, chewing on the inside of your lip as you waited for a response. The Hermes cabin usually always had kids in it—either they were ignoring you, or they were just causing too much ruckus to even hear it in the first place.
Honestly, you should have known this was how cabin inspections with Luke would go. He was probably in there right now, ushering all of them through rapid last-minute tidying in the hopes of something higher than a one. You had half a mind to knock a point off right now by virtue of tardiness.
The hairs on the back of your neck stood up all of a sudden, and you whirled around.
“Speak of the devil,” you said wryly.
You were greeted with Luke Castellan himself, his hands up with a slight smile on his lips. “Easy. I didn’t think I looked that bad.”
Your brows creased ever so slightly, and he gestured with head. You looked down and realized you were holding your pen like a sword. You cleared your throat and let your arm drop, adjusting your shirt on the way down.
“Sorry. People tend not to sneak up on me.”
“I can’t imagine why.” Luke put his hands down and started towards his cabin, craning his head back at you. “What brings you here on this fine day, Rose?”
“Don’t tell me you forgot,” you pouted, holding up your clipboard and pen as you followed him. “We’re on inspection duty together. Where were you?”
He snapped and pointed at you. “That’s what we were doing together today! I knew we were spending time together—not like I could forget that—but,” his hand paused on the doorknob, “I kind of forgot about the cabin inspection part. Had to spend a little extra time with one of your siblings at the end of sword-fighting lessons.”
“Sounds like Liz is getting better, then.” A smug smile pulled at your lips as you stopped next to him. “And it sounds like someone’s gonna be cleaning the dishes tonight,” you said in a sing-song voice.
You placed your hand over his and opened the door, and Luke groaned. “Take mercy, Rose. Please.”
It was certainly a sight—more akin to a tornado than the inside of a cabin. Various kids—Hermes, unclaimed, and minor gods alike—ran around, shoving dirty clothes beneath beds, cramming duffles and suitcases into overflowing closets, with a few noble exceptions attempting the Sisyphean task of actually cleaning.
“Wow,” you said, glancing down at the papyrus scroll. “Can I give you a zero?”
“Listen,” Luke said from behind you, “our thing isn’t tidiness. It’s thievery—swiftness, cunning, panache.”
“I thought you were supposed to be jacks of all trades,” you mused as you checked off boxes. “Cleaning is a trade.”
“Not here.” You could feel him peering over your shoulder and he groaned yet again. “Come on! You’re grading us way too low. I get input too, remember?”
“Sure,” you remarked. You held out the clipboard and gestured with your head at the natural disaster in front of you. “But you can’t tell me this is anything better than a two.”
“A two’s better than a one.” Luke plucked the pen out of your hand and scrawled out a number two on the final line.
“Luke—” you started in protest, but he just snatched the clipboard as well with a wink as he started walking backwards towards the door.
“We’ve got a chance, guys!” he called out. “Hephaestus has gotta be worse than this!”
You huffed as you chased after him, shutting the door on your way, and you crossed your arms as you came to a stop in front of him. “This isn’t very cooperative of you.”
“Gotta give myself a chance,” Luke said, smiling as he took the Hermes sheet off the clipboard and stuffed it into his pocket.
“That’s just cheating,” you said, and he let you take the clipboard back from him. You started walking, and he fell into pace with you. “Hephaestus is next—we’ll see how much of a chance you have.”
“We should get some slack because we’ve got double the campers,” Luke said. “Nine’s got no excuse—they’re just a bunch of messy engineers.”
You tapped your pen against the board. “I’m not changing my mind, Castellan.”
“Ouch,” he winced. “I got last name’d.”
You merely smiled and shook your head. You could see his own smile in your peripherals, then he huffed.
“You’re distracting me from my whole plan with these ridiculous grades,” Luke sighed. “I haven’t ruined everything, have I?”
“You’ve got a plan?” you asked in amusement.
“Of course I do.” Luke took a few long strides to get in front of you then turned around so he was walking backwards, that stupid smirk still on his lips as he kept eye contact with you. “Valentine’s Day is coming up.”
“You’re very observant,” you said. “Watch your six.”
Luke moved a step towards you to avoid a younger camper with their head buried in a book, and you chuckled as he shrugged.
“It’s a work in progress,” he admitted.
You hummed, biting back your smile as you came up to the Hephaestus cabin. You were about to knock on the door, but once again, Luke caught your wrist.
“You’re not even gonna let me say my piece?” he asked.
“I’ll give you a little time to polish it up,” you said.
“You assume I don’t have it prepared already?”
“Oh, I’m sure you do.” You winked. “But I know the effect I have on you.”
Luke’s fingers loosened on your wrist and you allowed a small, self-satisfied smile as you pulled free and knocked on the door. It took a couple seconds, but eventually the door opened and their counselor—Alya, if you remembered correctly—greeted you with a smile.
“Just in time,” she said, smudging the bit of grease on her face as she wiped at her cheek. “We’re actually not horrible today.”
Luke grumbled beneath his breath as you walked in together—usually, the place was a mess of loose parts and hastily sketched out plans and smoke-scented clothes. Today, it was still a mess, but slightly less so.
“Damn it,” Luke muttered. “Still not as bad as us.”
“Stop comparing your place to everyone else,” you said. “This is supposed to be fun.”
“Cabin inspections are fun?” he asked wryly.
“Hanging out with me is fun,” you clarified. “I—”
You were cut off with a gasp of your own as you slipped, and before you could even fully process it you were falling. It wasn’t until everything steadied that you realized someone had caught you, strong arms cradled you around your waist. You looked up to see Luke’s wide eyes.
“You good?” he asked, his voice slightly higher than usual.
“Yeah,” you said, nodding far too many times, “yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”
“...Good,” he said, ever eloquent.
A small smile creeped in. “You can let me go now.”
It almost took him a moment to come back to Earth, because he blinked before he nodded, smiling on his own as he helped you back up. You could feel the heat in your face and tried your best to ignore it as you looked down. A small pool of oil was the culprit—you grimaced at the thought of having to clean that out of your jeans. Thank the gods for Luke.
“That’s gotta be points off,” Luke whispered in your ear, still close by, and you stifled a laugh. “Oil on the floor, making pretty counselors slip. Right?”
You ignored him too, looking over at Alya, though you couldn’t stop your smile. She looked mortified.
“I am so sorry,” she rushed. “I guess Michael didn’t clean as well as he said.”
“No problem,” you said. “I’ve got a little guardian angel. But this place isn’t too great.”
“Damn,” she mumbled. “I even got one of your sisters to come in and help clean things up. Do you not smell the perfume?”
“The smoke kinda overpowers it,” you said sympathetically, and she sighed. “Three out of five, Alya. But you’re right on the edge of a four.”
Alya glanced at Luke. “Better than Hermes?”
Luke grimaced. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
She smiled and went off to talk to one of her siblings. Luke shook his head and tutted once she was gone. “The double standards here are ridiculous, Rose. I might have to report you to Chiron.”
“Oh, quiet.” You hit him in the side lightly with the clipboard and continued scanning the room for a final check. “If you wanted help with cleaning up from an Aphrodite kid, all you had to do was ask.”
“And would you have accepted?” he asked.
“Of course,” you said as you scribbled down your last couple of notes. “I’ll always help you, Luke.”
He went silent as you continued to write, and when you finished you saw he was only looking at you.
You frowned. “What?”
“Nothing,” Luke said, still smiling. “Let’s keep going.”
You stared at him for a moment, but he didn’t say anything else. So you just laughed a bit and shrugged. Luke followed behind you as you walked out, and despite his claims of ‘nothing’ just a moment ago, soon enough he was talking again.
“So,” he said, “Valentine’s Day.”
“Valentine’s Day,” you said sagely. “What’s your plan?”
“Be my Valentine.”
“That’s your plan?” You glanced over at him. “Just asking me out straight-up?”
“Oh, sorry. I also have this.” Luke pulled something out of his back pocket and held it out. You couldn’t help but laugh.
“A rose?” you asked with a lopsided smile.
“Not just any rose,” he said as you took it. “A chocolate rose.”
“You are so cute.” You pulled the wrapper off, and though the stem and leaves were plastic, the flower was, indeed, very much chocolate, and in the shape of a rather pretty rose.
Luke shrugged. “Figured you needed something as sweet as you.”
“I’ve got a toothache just from being with you,” you remarked. You broke it in half with a bit of effort and offered it to Luke.
“You can’t just split the gifts I get for you with me.”
“They’re my gifts,” you said. “I can do whatever I want with them.”
“Really?” he asked.
“What’s a rose without her thorns?” you responded. Luke grinned as he took the other half from you. You popped yours into your mouth and your eyebrows rose.
“This is actually good chocolate,” you said as Luke ate his part. “Not like that crap we get at the camp store.”
“I might’ve snuck out to the city to get the good stuff,” Luke said offhandedly.
You looked at him incredulously. “What?”
“Did I stutter?”
“You risked all that trouble just to get some chocolate for me?” you marveled. “Hell from Chiron, extra chores for a month, literal monster attacks—”
Luke held up a hand, stopping your ranting. “Nothing happened. And even if it did,” he shrugged, “you’re worth it. So it doesn’t matter.”
You shook your head and Luke continued. “Besides, I got some other stuff too for the rest of my plan.”
“Right,” you nodded, “you never finished telling me.”
“How’s your schedule?”
“Busy,” you said. “I’m an Aphrodite kid during Valentine’s season.”
Luke tipped his shoulder. “Fair. Think you can block something out for me?”
“That depends what it is,” you said.
“It’s a secret,” he said.
You stared at him. “A secret?”
He nodded. “It might be a foreign concept to you Aphrodite kids, but—”
You cut him off with a light shove and he only chuckled in response. “So you talk yourself up and it ends up being a secret.”
“I think I’ve earned some secret surprises,” Luke said. “I’m already sweeping you off your feet.”
You shook your head, smiling inwardly as you tapped your pen against the clipboard. “Is that how you see it?”
“Well, I did keep you from an untimely death back there,” he said. “And the more unfortunate plight of having to get oil stains out.”
“You read my mind,” you mused.
“And isn’t that worth a date?” Luke asked. “Saving you from a fashion faux pas?”
“You’re worth a date all on your own,” you said as you came up to the next cabin—Apollo was bright as ever, gleaming golden in the sunlight—and you looked at him with a smile. “No rescuing required.”
-
Your journey to the rest of the cabins went by relatively quickly, especially the Apollo and Ares cabins—you think Luke had been temporarily stunned into silence by you actually flirting back.
You’d had a subdued smile on your face nearly the entire time, even as you felt warmth bloom over your face again. Luke really brought out the inner Aphrodite in you—you were sure your mother was proud, wherever she was watching. What seemed to get Luke out of his addled state was the 5/5 you gave to your own cabin—he complained that the scent of perfume gave him a headache, and when you said you’d been wearing perfume the entire day, he claimed that it was different.
(Cabin Ten kept their full score. It was amazing what a pretty smile could do, especially when Luke was the victim.)
Finally, you were at the Demeter cabin. Luke insisted on going there last, so that all the expectations would be tapered—he was still trying to get a better score for his cabin, but the odds were looking pretty slim. The door was already open, and you smiled at the newly grown flowers outside the cabin.
“Nice touch.”
Luke sighed. “Great. Going out with a bang.”
“It’ll be fine, Luke,” you said. “I’ll help you clean your cabin tonight.”
He frowned. “You were actually serious?”
“Of course I was.” You tipped your head. “It’ll just have to be pretty late. Y’know, because you’ll be cleaning all the dishes.”
“Low blow,” he said, shaking his head. You chuckled as you stopped in the doorway and poked your head in.
“Hey, Katie,” you called to the counselor. “How’re things?”
“Good,” she said, nodding. A smile of her own bloomed on her lips as her gaze moved over to Luke. “I see Rose and her thorns are on duty today.”
“Flattery won’t help you with your score,” Luke mused as he walked into the cabin. You smiled as he held out his hand for the clipboard, and you finally acquiesced. You could feel Katie’s eyes on you as he walked further in.
“He takes that as a compliment?”
“Thorns protect a rose,” you said, still watching Luke. He played the part of a foreman well, investigating their shelves and walls with vigor and even opening drawers. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit, and Luke looked back and smiled at you. You nodded, giving him the go-ahead, and he winked as he gave you a thumbs-up.
“And he protects you?” she asked.
You shrugged. “We protect each other.”
“…You would be cute together,” Katie admitted.
You managed to tear your eyes away from Luke, leaning back against the wall. “You think so?”
“He’s only been vying for your attention and flirting with you since the moment you got to camp,” she said wryly. “But you’re the expert on love—you tell me.”
You bit your lip as your gaze darted back to Luke, who was squatting on the floor having what looked to be a very serious conversation with a younger Demeter boy.
“I think I’m his valentine,” you said, almost absentmindedly. “And I think I’m really looking forward to whatever this date is.”
Katie came back into focus as you came back to Earth, and even she was smiling. “Then I think you’ve got your answer.”
Luke had picked the most opportune moment to come back, when you weren’t staring at him like an infatuated idiot—you were only one of those things—and he held out the clipboard and pen to you. “After having a very in-depth conversation with Damian about how things are going here, I scored them properly.”
You chuckled as you took it from him, but your eyebrows rose the more you read. “You’re kidding me.”
He shook his head. “There’s unpaid labor going on here—unpaid child labor. Damian said he’s responsible for half the cleaning and plants here.”
“We’re all children. All the labor we do is child labor,” you deadpanned. “And we’re sure as hell not getting paid.”
Luke held his hands up. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just delivering what he’s said.”
“Don’t tell me he gave us all ones,” Katie said dryly.
“You know him so well,” you mused. You scribbled out half of what Luke wrote as you stood up from the wall, shielding it with your body so he couldn’t see while you walked out together. “See you, Katie!”
Her protests fell on Luke’s deaf ears as he held up the rear, shutting the door behind you two, and when you looked back at him he was grinning.
“Straight ones,” he tutted, shaking his head. “What a shame. Looks like they’re gonna be cleaning the dishes tonight.”
“You know they got a five, Luke,” you said, finally allowing him to see your revised marks. “If you’re gonna fudge the numbers, at least try and make them believable.”
“Oh, come on!” he exclaimed. “A five is way too nice—it’s not fair that they can just grow plants all over and make everything look presentable. Using powers should count as cheating.”
“Their floors are clean, their beds are made, and it smells like floral heaven,” you said. You tapped his chest with your pen. “You could learn something from them, Castellan.”
He caught your wrist before you could move it away. “The Aphrodite cabin always gets perfect scores. Think you could teach me a few things?”
You grinned as you pulled your hand out of his grip and continued walking, this time en route to the Big House to drop off the final inspections. “That depends.”
“On what?” Luke came back into your peripherals as he caught up to you.
“On how good this secret plan of yours is,” you mused.
His eyes lit up, past worries of low inspection scores seemingly fading away in an instant. “So it’s a go? You’re in?”
“Of course I am,” you said, tucking the clipboard under your arm. “You got me the good chocolate, Luke. How could I not see where this goes?”
Previously unnoticed pressure dissolved in his shoulders as he took your hands in his. You could only focus on his eyes, on the warmth of his skin, on the callouses borne from years of sword-fighting.
He was surely blessed by your mother.
“You’re not gonna regret it,” Luke vowed. “All those promises I’ve made about blowing you off your feet, about making your mother proud—they’re all gonna be true.”
“You know what wise men say,” you said wryly.
“That they’re so glad you’re finally giving me a chance?”
“Only fools rush in,” you provided. “Going all in on our first date seems a little hasty.”
“Isn’t your whole thing supposed to be rushing in?” he asked cloyingly. “Y’know, daughter of love and all.”
You shrugged. “Maybe I like taking the idea of taking it slow with you.”
“Then call me a fool,” Luke mused, letting go of one hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His own curls hung over his eyes and you had the strongest urge to take his face in your hands. “Because you should know I can’t help it.”
You felt your cheeks heat as warmth spread all over, and you couldn’t even try to hide your smile. “You think you can take me out on one of those city trips of yours? Show me how to steal a camp van without getting in the most trouble?”
“I’m trying to steal your heart here,” Luke said with a goofy grin, “but I think a van’ll do.”
“Oh, don’t worry.” You took his hand back, intertwining your fingers together as you pulled him closer to you. “We can multitask.”
i have a cute lil idea for a request for luke if you're still taking them (no pressure if ur not)!! yk that feeling when u hit ur lip bc you dropped ur phone on it and it turns red and you can't stop biting it bc the pain feels good? what if reader hits herself somehow and the next day her lip is swollen and Luke promises to kiss it better but bites the swollen part instead bc he thinks it looks cute all red 🙈
kiss it better
— luke castellan x fem reader! 1.4k
listen to the rihanna song :) ft. suggestive kissing that they are really insane about
“Ow—”
“Ah, shit, sorry. Did I—”
The blood pools in your mouth, thick and settling under your tongue. You spit it out, the blood and saliva sitting in a sad puddle in the grass.
That’s fucking disgusting.
Luke stares at it. Repeats, “That’s fucking disgusting.”
You jab him with the point of your sneaker. “That was your fault, asshole.”
Your eyes widen when you hear your voice, which sounds weird because of your swollen lip. You run your fingers along the skin, and they come back streaked red. Luke is shoved away from you in a hurry as you rush the few feet to the water.
The reflection isn’t pretty. Your lip is slightly split, just off the center of your Cupid’s bow. A bit of blood drips down and sends ripples through the water, distorting your face even more than Luke has.
You turn to glare at him. He’s laying on his back in the grass, eyes shut without a care in the world. He only cracks an eye open when he feels you sit next to him again.
“You okay?” He lifts his hand and pokes at the crease between your eyebrows. You scowl harder when he tries to smooth it out.
“Aw, I said I’m sorry. Smile for me,” he says, before something like realization takes over his face.
You actually frown. “That sounds kinda—”
“I realized it the moment after I said it. Sorry.”
You whack the back of his head as he props himself up with a Herculean effort. He’s smiling at you apologetically, and it makes you want to whack him again. You wonder if he ever gets tired of looking so effortlessly pretty.
As some way of comfort, he says, “Your lip looks pretty sick, though. I’ll let you give me a shiner so we’re even.”
“Oh, of course you’d want to look all tough. You’re only saying that because Audrey said your bruised knuckles made you look hot.”
He looks a little smug as he grins boyishly. “Was she wrong?”
(No, she was not.)
You pout. He places both hands on the sides of your face to drag the corners of your mouth up into a smile. You pretend like you’re going to bite him and he pulls his hands away, chuckling.
“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
You whack him again for real. “Oh, fuck you. How are you going to injure me and then make fun of me?”
“I told you I was sorry!” he defends.
“Luke.”
“I’m sorry,” he stresses, dragging you closer to him by the belt loops on your jeans. He pulls you right into the space between his legs, the two of you so close your faces would touch if you turned your face an inch.
Luke’s voice drops fifteen fucking octaves.
“Want me to make it up to you?”
He’s so close that he can hear the hitch in your breath. He smiles.
“You want to...?”
Your voice trails off at the end, like the syllables are getting caught in your throat. You think the entirety of your insides have shriveled up like an unwatered plant. The neurons have stopped functioning your brain completely.
His hands, which were resting comfortably on your hips, are sliding upward, under your shirt and to the bare skin of your waist. His palms are callused from years of hard work and his training, and you can feel every single shift of his hands on your skin.
The best swordsman in 300 years, you remember.
He’d let you handle his sword once during practice — you’d needed two hands just to wield the weapon he can spin around effortlessly in one of his.
The reminder of Luke’s sheer strength comes back to you in startling clarity.
“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”
You thank whatever part of your brain has enough willpower to form any semblance of a thought. “And how would you do that?”
“I’d hold you like this,” he says matter of factly. You think the birds have stopped chirping. He pulls you close enough that you can count each individual freckle under his eyes. “And then I’d kiss it better.” He squeezes uour sides. “Do you want that?”
If you were standing up, you’re certain that your legs would give out. As if you wanting that was ever a question. You think the embarrassing way you’re struggling to find words gives him enough of an answer.
“Do you want that?” you echo.
“‘Course I do, babe.” His thumbs are rubbing symmetrical circles against the spots above your ribs. “I’m asking if you want that.”
Very reluctantly, you pry one of his hands off your side. You guide it up to the side of your neck, where your heart threatens to burst from your body.
It takes him a second to find your pulse, but you notice the exact moment he does. His entire face lights up at the feeling of your heart hammering out of the side of your neck.
His smile threatens to take over his entire face. “I got you.”
You let your eyes slide shut, your nerve endings burning in anticipation. He’s seated so close that you’re surprised your lips haven’t slotted together yet — which is why you’re confused when he nudges your head to the side with the point of his nose.
“Luke?” you whisper. “What are you— Oh, fuck.”
He’s missed your lips by a long shot. But you don’t even consider complaining about the way he’s pressing his mouth to the side of your neck in burning hot kisses.
You think you see the light.
Your hands seize onto the closest thing, which just so happens to be Luke’s upper arms. His scratchy camp t-shirt feels oddly soft and perfect under your touch. He moves all the way up to your jaw before working his way back down to your collarbones, making sure to pay special attention to the spot where he can feel your pulse throb under your skin.
With your grip on his biceps, you feel every muscle in his arms shift when he tugs you onto his lap. And you feel the way his laugh rumbles in his chest when he hears the sound you make in response.
“Thought you were—“ You hiccup, trying and failing to make your breathing go back to normal. “—going to kiss it better, Luke.”
He finally lifts his head from the crook of your neck, staring longingly at the expanse of skin he’d just been fixated on. “Sorry. You distracted me.”
Whatever you were planning on saying dissipates from your mind — the responding kiss he presses to your cut is so chaste that you barely even register it happened at all.
“That better?” he asks, his hands slipping away from you to try and fix his messy curls. You hadn’t even realized you’d been tugging on them this entire time.
The stark contrast between the kisses he’d been giving you before and the miniscule peck he’s placed on your lips has you blinking at him, confused.
Luke laughs at whatever disappointment he sees on your face. “Yes?”
“Can you…” The blood rushes to your face as the words struggle to come out. “Can you…”
He must think he’s being kind by soothing the spot near your hip bone just above the waistband of your pants — but it just makes everything ten times harder. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. He’s smiling. He’s so evil.
“Luke,” you warn.
“You’re really warm, babe. You okay?”
“Please,” you beg, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt.
“Alright, alright,” he hums, tilting your head for you. “‘M sorry, I was just messing.”
You’re practically singing under his hands. When he finally kisses you — kisses you for real — you wonder how you’ve gone so long without this.
He’s not hesitant in the slightest, and you think your face is actually going to catch on fire. Luke feels so perfect against your lips and against your chest and against your sides and underneath you that you know that even if Poseidon were to drag you to the bottom of the lake and if Zeus were to smite you from his place in Olympus right now, you’d die happy.
Luke’s tongue flits over the cut he gave you.
It stings.
You hope he never stops.
“D’you forgive me?” he asks, still ghosting over your lips.
Your chests are heaving hard in unison. His eyes are blown so wide that you see nothing but the black of his eyes.
You drag his lower lip between your teeth and bite down. When he pulls away, he’s grinning, his mouth swollen and red.
“Want me to kiss it better?” you ask.
He answers yes against your lips.
notes: this is what happens when i’ve been writing for luke for a month and have not had the chance to write a single kiss. so uhhhh sorry for this! i am but a girl and not immune to the charms of this fictional character.
I know this is like so random but do you have any geto, gojo, nanami, or megumi ao3 recs because the only good fics I’ve read of jjk are ones you’ve written 😭
you have come to the right place :,) i post more recs than fics at this point haha
most of these are copy pasted off previous rec lists but have been added onto! the ones with green + marks are NEW RECS
here's a post on how to use ao3 to find fics by yourself for those who dont know <3
gojo + ao3:
+ intrinsic warmth: my favourite fic of all time. like genuinely. insane writing, fucking amazing in every sense of the term. 2nd time recommending this! reader's character is so sick BUT updates real slow (which isnt a bad thing!! good things take time!!) so i wouldn't read if you aren't patient // 122k words, 15 chapters, incomplete
+ ripverse: not really a series, more like a compilation of fics! it's got a lot of angst and the one titled 'interlude' contains smut i think so beware, and it's also a lovetriangle/poly-but-geto-goes-crazy-so-not-poly moment // 55k words, 8 pieces
+ the witches' brew: super cute fluff! reader owns a cafe, gojo is a regular, it's all around adorable // 2 chapters, 11k words, completed
+ all that is solid melts into air: arranged marriage trope! i haven't read but @/aanobrain loves this one // 7k words, 1 chapter, complete
+ cake batter: established relationship w/ dad!gojo & megumi <33 not much to say, just short n sweet, i am such a sucker for dad gojo so its no surprise there's one of these on the list.. // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete
+ best of luck: initial concept is really unique!! confessions, slight angst, takes place at the beginning/middle-ish of s1 i think? so cute loved this <;3 // 5k words, 1 chapter, complete
+ afternoon tea(se): gojo torturing megumi. classic !! so so cute love the banter // 1.7k words, 1 chapter, complete
+ my apologies, gordon ramsay: god i hate this man. jk. reader is a teacher and a functional human being; gojo is not. loved! // 8k words, 1 chapter, complete
+ a name known only to paper: platonic, angst- beautifully written, such a unique idea. reader is gojo's older sibling. // 3k words, 1 chapter, complete
+ heart beats: another collection! i looove gojo in this so so cute i also adore bff nanami in the last one haha // 11k words, 3 pieces
+ exposure therapy: this is 1/2 of a 2 piece collection. when i read this for the first time i was floored- i love the creative take, and the reader's character (it was a 'she's so me' moment). this author writes with such a subtle but unadulterated take on love and i adore it // 5k words
+ how to be a human being: 2/2 of the previous rec and the perfect continuation in every sense of the term. oh my gosh, is this masterful- from the relationships & writing of megumi and tsumiki to gojo (i almost forgot this was a rec for him) it's all around amazing // 20k words
+ the sanctity of a name: SO SENTIMENTAL !! what an adorable work that rly goes into the psychology and significance of his technique + upbringing. so real and raw and very him // 2k words, complete, 1 chapter
+ assumptions: omf jealous gojo...... he's so cute in this!! you guys are married and it's almost his birthday, but while you're planning his surprise party he suspects something else.. // 6k words, 1 chapter, complete
+ even with the lights off: RAHHHH another fic that has me floored and pushing the #saveijichi agenda at the same time // 8k words, 2 chapters, complete
nanami + ao3:
+ math help: dad!nanami w son!yuuji.... yeah that's all i really need to say i think! // 1 chapter, 2k words, complete
+ i don't really read for nanami but i would check out @aanobrain and maybe shoot them an ask bc she's a big fan :)
geto + ao3:
+ lessons in love: DAD!GETO.................. im such a sucker for a good family dynamic in fics and this is adorable !! no curse au if i remember right! // 4k words, 1 chapter, complete
+ forever is in your eyes: angsty but ends in fluff :,) touches on his mental state, riko's death, all that! so sweet, i adore how this author writes him <;3 // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete
+ ripverse: not really a series, more like a compilation of fics! it's got a lot of angst and the one titled 'interlude' contains smut i think so beware, and it's also a lovetriangle/poly w gojo-but-geto-goes-crazy-so-not-poly moment // 55k words, 8 pieces
+ dog days are over: a series!! by the same author who wrote ripverse which is how you know it's going to be brilliant !! marriage, parenthood, some nsfw moments // 30k words, 5 chapters, incomplete
+ curious cat: cat gojo and neighbor geto.. i love this one! it's so so cute and sweet, if you're looking for some light fluff this is definetely for you // 8k words, 5 chapters, complete
megumi + ao3:
+ complicit: college!au !! i remember reading this and loving it omg, the unique concept kept me hooked and interested, especially paired w the lovely writing! one of my fav series ive read. be warned, last chapter is nsfw // 18k words, 5 chapters, complete
+ a very special december 22nd: cute bday fic :,) forgive me for reccing all this author's megumi fics... theyre just too good !! i love the dynamics, all of it! // 5k words, 1 chapter, complete
+ kisses and cough syrup: THE BANTER!! THE FLUFF!!!!! i love this fic sm, so cute! // 1k words, 1 chapter, complete
+ nocturnal: establishING relationship fics are one of my fav genres and this hits the nail on the head.. he's so stupid silly in this and i know you'll love it like i do // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete
+ lover boy: 2nd year reader, annoying meddling gojo, placed at the beginning-ish where megumi gets beat tf up- what more could you ask for! // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete
+ difficult to not overthink: todo strikes again! you ponder megumi's type // 1k words, 1 chapter, complete
+ ten confessions: megumi: ten dif confessions in dif tropes each time, so they can all be read as stand-alone pieces! so so cute and beautifully written.. we all know i love a good confession // 19k words, 7 chapters, incomplete
+ therefore, i am: reader gets mixed up in the world of sorcery.. megumi's there, too! // 3k words, 1 chapter, complete
+ takes one to know one: flowershop au..... convulsing on the ground. my fav trope, ever, and so so cute oh my GOSH // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete
+ i really (x6) like you: fluff!! this is the one i linked in my og ask but it deserves a place here too <3 // 4k words, 1 chapter, complete
