annie

18, writer & misandrist

[slut4castellan]

NAVIGATION

anabelle , 18 yrs , writer , LUKE castellan’s soulmate , ᯤ phoebe bridgers, taylor swift , sabrina carpenter , role model

I WRITE FOR: click HERE!

MY LUKE MASTERLIST: here!

send me a request! : would love to write for LUKE , send me requests for fluff, angst, smut, and a creative au :)

[h4rtwell]

undivided attention % luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of aphrodite!reader synopsis: with your boyfriend being way too occupied with camp duties, you decide to call a friend for help. now something's in the air. genre: fluff !!! tad bit suggestive word count: 1.6k words warnings: f bombs, a bunch of kissing a/n: based on this req!!

glass bottles clicked as will rummaged through the infirmary shelves. he was barely paying attention to your dramatic sprawl across one of the recovery cots—or the rant you’d been delivering for the last twenty minutes.

“i just don’t understand him,” you groaned, throwing an arm over your face to block out the harsh apollo-cabin sunlight. “it’s not like chiron would smite him for saying no once. honestly, i think chiron would be relieved if luke actually admitted he needed a break.”

a muffled, “mhm,” came from will, his head buried between rows of nectar and gauze.

you sat up with a frustrated huff. “we haven’t spent actual time together in a week. and i’m not trying to be the clingy girlfriend, but for fuckssake—” you glared at the ceiling. “i miss him.”

“found it.”

he turned, wearing a grin that looked a little too mischievous, holding up a tiny glass vial. the liquid inside shimmered with an iridescent, pearly swirl.

you narrowed your eyes. “what is that? it looks like liquid headache.”

“your solution.”

“will,” you deadpanned, “this is genuinely the worst possible time to start drinking.”

“what—no!” he laughed, grabbing your wrist and tugging you off the cot. “we are not drinking it! you want your man’s attention?” he shook the bottle once. “here’s your answer.”

you eyed the vial. “babe, that looks like something circe would hand me right before turning me into a guinea pig.”

will roll his eyes so hard you thought they might get stuck. “well, if you wanted divine intervention, you should’ve prayed to aphrodite. i’m just being a supportive friend. it’s an olfactory stimulant.”

“fine,” you sighed dramatically, pushing yourself off the bed and snatching the bottle from his hand. “so what, do i pour it all—”

“only a little bit—” his sentence cut off into a horrified gasp as you tipped the bottle back carelessly, spilling nearly the entire thing down your neck.

you blinked at him, holding the now-empty bottle in your hand. will stare at you like he had just witnessed a fatal accident.

“…why are you looking at me like that?” you asked slowly.

“fuck,” he breathed.

“will.”

“okay. maybe that was slightly more than the recommended amount.”

you freak out, “am i going to die?”

“no,” he said immediately.

a breath of relief escaped your lips, but it was cut short as he added, “but i do wish you luck.”

he took the bottle from your hand carefully, lips pressed together like he was physically restraining himself from laughing. “maybe this’ll be good for you two.”

“good for us how?”

instead of answering, he patted your shoulder and started steering you toward the cabin door.

“go get him, tiger.”

“wait—” you twisted around as he shoved you outside. “you still haven’t told me what the hell that was!”

“sorry, honey!” he was halfway through shutting the door. “nico’s coming over and i need to clean before he starts judging me.”

“will!”

“oh— it’s pheromones. okay bye!”

the loud slam of the door didn’t help you snap out what the hell he just said, “…pheromones?”

the word bounced around your brain uselessly as you wandered down the camp pathways, trying to remember where you’d heard it before.

then it clicked.

“charles wasn’t paying attention to me,” silena had once said during campfire gossip, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “so i asked will for help. he gave me pheromones and, gods, charles wouldn’t leave my side for the rest of the day. best decision ever.”

you looked toward the training grounds. a slow, devious grin spread across your face. if luke wanted to play the "busy leader" card, you were about to overrule his deck.

the ring of bronze against bronze echoed across the arena. at the center of it all stood luke. he was in his element—shirt sleeves pushed up, brow damp with sweat, and a sword slung over his shoulder as he corrected a younger camper’s footwork.

normally, getting luke’s attention required a flare gun. you could glare holes into his head and he’d still stay focused on his supposed duty.

but the second your foot hit the edge of the dirt, his head snapped in your direction. it wasn't a casual glance, it looked more like a predator catching a scent on the wind. not a minute later, he was already on his way towards you.

“hey, my love.” his voice came warm and immediate as he reached you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“thought i smelled you from over there,” he murmured. “guess i was right.”

you nearly laughed. “you could smell me?” you asked, raising a brow. “wow. i was starting to think i needed to hire a circus troupe just to get your attention today.”

“baby,” luke said softly, like the idea itself offended him, “you know i could never ignore you.”

his lips brushed your temple, then your cheek, then lingered near your neck like he physically couldn’t help himself.

you opened your mouth to argue—because yes, actually, he absolutely had been ignoring you—but the words died in your throat when his hands settled around your waist, pulling you closer with almost desperate ease.

“you smell really good,” he murmured against your neck, nose brushing your skin again. “different.”

you bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing. “different good or different concerning?”

“different addictive.” he whispered, hands slid lower on your hips as he buried his face into your shoulder again, and somewhere behind him, one of the campers training nearby wolf-whistled.

“captain’s down bad,” someone muttered.

“shut up,” luke snapped immediately, though there was no real bite to it. his attention returned to you within half a second. “you weren’t at breakfast.”

you raised your eyebrow at him, “you weren’t either.”

head tilting on the side, “because i was busy.” sounding almost too sarcastic.

“exactly my point! you’re always too busy—first for me, now even for yourself.”

and there it was finally, luke looked mildly guilty, “baby—”

“no, because we have to talk about how workaholic you are.” you crossed your arms, though the effect was ruined by the way he still held onto your waist. “i sat outside your cabin for twenty minutes last night. connor said you were on 'do not disturb' mode.”

luke looked like you’d just stabbed him. the usual defensive bickering was gone; he just looked pained. “i was exhausted. i didn't—i didn't know you were there.”

“too exhausted even for me?”

“never.” the answer was immediate. he dropped his forehead against yours, breathing you in. “i missed you. gods, i missed you.”

he sounded like a man admitting a state secret. usually, luke castellan was the king of composure, the cool-headed leader especially in the presence of the other kids. right now, he looked ready to drop his sword in the dirt and carry you back to his bunk.

“can i kiss you?” he asked quietly.

you blinked. “since when do you ask?”

“please.” it was a low, desperate command.

the second your lips met, the world vanished. luke didn't just kiss you; he devoured you. it was warm, frantic, and entirely too public. you could hear the entire arena erupting into cheers from behind you.

“luke,” you managed to gasp out, breathless. “the campers... they’re watching.”

then a loud “get a room!” echoed from the cheering

luke didn't break the kiss. he just reached out a hand and blindly flipped the arena at large with his middle finger.

“let them watch,” he growled. lips trailing from yours, back to your jaw, and to the sensitive spot just behind your ear. “you smell… incredible. like summer and something i can’t quite name, but i don’t think i can let you go. ever.”

you felt a twinge of guilt. the pheromones were working too well. usually, luke was the one in control. now, he was acting like a starving man offered a feast.

“is that so?” you teased, trying to regain some semblance of the upper hand. you leaned back slightly, expecting him to let you breathe, but his grip only tightened.

his eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, focused entirely on you with a predatory sort of adoration. “i’m serious,” he whispered, his forehead dropping against yours. “i was going to stay out here for another three hours to help the other kids with their footwork, but now? i can’t even remember why i’m holding a sword.”

blade clattering to the dusty ground, luke is now completely indifferent to the surprised whispers of the younger campers. shouting a list of orders over to one of his brothers before dragging you away to somewhere more quiet and intimate.

“luke, wait,” you said, your heart starting to hammer. “i have to tell you something. will gave me this bottle, and i might have used… the whole thing.”

luke didn't seem to care about the logistics. he just hummed, a sound of pure contentment, and began to guide you backward toward the edge of the woods, away from the prying eyes of the arena.

“whatever it is,” he muttered, his lips catching yours again, “it’s working. you have my undivided attention. for as long as you want it.”

you realized then that will’s "good luck" wasn't a warning about the perfume—it was a warning about luke. as he swept you up into his arms, ignoring everything that kept him preoccupied the past week. that’s when you decided the explanation could wait until tomorrow. after all, you did say you missed him and he did say he misse you too.

— 💌 taglist: @love4madii @angelnott @loonylups @sarahlizbeth070 @mrsmaugic @juvicene14 @epitaphangel @imtheraine @sofsoftheater @stinkeeeee @ploopypoop @neanea15 @snivells @shotbyeros @mirrorballz13 @lvlyu @myunperfektstorys @faithslifeee @ibelievelia @nikesdiaries @x-fanaccount1-x @loveeemay @laufeysvalentine @loyaltytoposeidon @awkwardlysartic @imjustagirlin @clstrkeys @tomatolaunch @backbit @siri30 @connorstollstollmyheart @mythicmochi-56 @marsssthings @buckleyverse @vanillevsq @akaashiit @whosmev @thewayilovedyou13 @velvtfluer @charmingnova @bananazsworld @pretty-side-of-the-moon @kinderwh0r3 @luvlcastellan11 @percabethenthusiastlolz @ethereallwings @sweetyummyclouds

[h4rtwell]

undivided attention % luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of aphrodite!reader synopsis: with your boyfriend being way too occupied with camp duties, you decide to call a friend for help. now something's in the air. genre: fluff !!! tad bit suggestive word count: 1.6k words warnings: f bombs, a bunch of kissing a/n: based on this req!!

glass bottles clicked as will rummaged through the infirmary shelves. he was barely paying attention to your dramatic sprawl across one of the recovery cots—or the rant you’d been delivering for the last twenty minutes.

“i just don’t understand him,” you groaned, throwing an arm over your face to block out the harsh apollo-cabin sunlight. “it’s not like chiron would smite him for saying no once. honestly, i think chiron would be relieved if luke actually admitted he needed a break.”

a muffled, “mhm,” came from will, his head buried between rows of nectar and gauze.

you sat up with a frustrated huff. “we haven’t spent actual time together in a week. and i’m not trying to be the clingy girlfriend, but for fuckssake—” you glared at the ceiling. “i miss him.”

“found it.”

he turned, wearing a grin that looked a little too mischievous, holding up a tiny glass vial. the liquid inside shimmered with an iridescent, pearly swirl.

you narrowed your eyes. “what is that? it looks like liquid headache.”

“your solution.”

“will,” you deadpanned, “this is genuinely the worst possible time to start drinking.”

“what—no!” he laughed, grabbing your wrist and tugging you off the cot. “we are not drinking it! you want your man’s attention?” he shook the bottle once. “here’s your answer.”

you eyed the vial. “babe, that looks like something circe would hand me right before turning me into a guinea pig.”

will roll his eyes so hard you thought they might get stuck. “well, if you wanted divine intervention, you should’ve prayed to aphrodite. i’m just being a supportive friend. it’s an olfactory stimulant.”

“fine,” you sighed dramatically, pushing yourself off the bed and snatching the bottle from his hand. “so what, do i pour it all—”

“only a little bit—” his sentence cut off into a horrified gasp as you tipped the bottle back carelessly, spilling nearly the entire thing down your neck.

you blinked at him, holding the now-empty bottle in your hand. will stare at you like he had just witnessed a fatal accident.

“…why are you looking at me like that?” you asked slowly.

“fuck,” he breathed.

“will.”

“okay. maybe that was slightly more than the recommended amount.”

you freak out, “am i going to die?”

“no,” he said immediately.

a breath of relief escaped your lips, but it was cut short as he added, “but i do wish you luck.”

he took the bottle from your hand carefully, lips pressed together like he was physically restraining himself from laughing. “maybe this’ll be good for you two.”

“good for us how?”

instead of answering, he patted your shoulder and started steering you toward the cabin door.

“go get him, tiger.”

“wait—” you twisted around as he shoved you outside. “you still haven’t told me what the hell that was!”

“sorry, honey!” he was halfway through shutting the door. “nico’s coming over and i need to clean before he starts judging me.”

“will!”

“oh— it’s pheromones. okay bye!”

the loud slam of the door didn’t help you snap out what the hell he just said, “…pheromones?”

the word bounced around your brain uselessly as you wandered down the camp pathways, trying to remember where you’d heard it before.

then it clicked.

“charles wasn’t paying attention to me,” silena had once said during campfire gossip, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “so i asked will for help. he gave me pheromones and, gods, charles wouldn’t leave my side for the rest of the day. best decision ever.”

you looked toward the training grounds. a slow, devious grin spread across your face. if luke wanted to play the "busy leader" card, you were about to overrule his deck.

the ring of bronze against bronze echoed across the arena. at the center of it all stood luke. he was in his element—shirt sleeves pushed up, brow damp with sweat, and a sword slung over his shoulder as he corrected a younger camper’s footwork.

normally, getting luke’s attention required a flare gun. you could glare holes into his head and he’d still stay focused on his supposed duty.

but the second your foot hit the edge of the dirt, his head snapped in your direction. it wasn't a casual glance, it looked more like a predator catching a scent on the wind. not a minute later, he was already on his way towards you.

“hey, my love.” his voice came warm and immediate as he reached you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“thought i smelled you from over there,” he murmured. “guess i was right.”

you nearly laughed. “you could smell me?” you asked, raising a brow. “wow. i was starting to think i needed to hire a circus troupe just to get your attention today.”

“baby,” luke said softly, like the idea itself offended him, “you know i could never ignore you.”

his lips brushed your temple, then your cheek, then lingered near your neck like he physically couldn’t help himself.

you opened your mouth to argue—because yes, actually, he absolutely had been ignoring you—but the words died in your throat when his hands settled around your waist, pulling you closer with almost desperate ease.

“you smell really good,” he murmured against your neck, nose brushing your skin again. “different.”

you bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing. “different good or different concerning?”

“different addictive.” he whispered, hands slid lower on your hips as he buried his face into your shoulder again, and somewhere behind him, one of the campers training nearby wolf-whistled.

“captain’s down bad,” someone muttered.

“shut up,” luke snapped immediately, though there was no real bite to it. his attention returned to you within half a second. “you weren’t at breakfast.”

you raised your eyebrow at him, “you weren’t either.”

head tilting on the side, “because i was busy.” sounding almost too sarcastic.

“exactly my point! you’re always too busy—first for me, now even for yourself.”

and there it was finally, luke looked mildly guilty, “baby—”

“no, because we have to talk about how workaholic you are.” you crossed your arms, though the effect was ruined by the way he still held onto your waist. “i sat outside your cabin for twenty minutes last night. connor said you were on 'do not disturb' mode.”

luke looked like you’d just stabbed him. the usual defensive bickering was gone; he just looked pained. “i was exhausted. i didn't—i didn't know you were there.”

“too exhausted even for me?”

“never.” the answer was immediate. he dropped his forehead against yours, breathing you in. “i missed you. gods, i missed you.”

he sounded like a man admitting a state secret. usually, luke castellan was the king of composure, the cool-headed leader especially in the presence of the other kids. right now, he looked ready to drop his sword in the dirt and carry you back to his bunk.

“can i kiss you?” he asked quietly.

you blinked. “since when do you ask?”

“please.” it was a low, desperate command.

the second your lips met, the world vanished. luke didn't just kiss you; he devoured you. it was warm, frantic, and entirely too public. you could hear the entire arena erupting into cheers from behind you.

“luke,” you managed to gasp out, breathless. “the campers... they’re watching.”

then a loud “get a room!” echoed from the cheering

luke didn't break the kiss. he just reached out a hand and blindly flipped the arena at large with his middle finger.

“let them watch,” he growled. lips trailing from yours, back to your jaw, and to the sensitive spot just behind your ear. “you smell… incredible. like summer and something i can’t quite name, but i don’t think i can let you go. ever.”

you felt a twinge of guilt. the pheromones were working too well. usually, luke was the one in control. now, he was acting like a starving man offered a feast.

“is that so?” you teased, trying to regain some semblance of the upper hand. you leaned back slightly, expecting him to let you breathe, but his grip only tightened.

his eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, focused entirely on you with a predatory sort of adoration. “i’m serious,” he whispered, his forehead dropping against yours. “i was going to stay out here for another three hours to help the other kids with their footwork, but now? i can’t even remember why i’m holding a sword.”

blade clattering to the dusty ground, luke is now completely indifferent to the surprised whispers of the younger campers. shouting a list of orders over to one of his brothers before dragging you away to somewhere more quiet and intimate.

“luke, wait,” you said, your heart starting to hammer. “i have to tell you something. will gave me this bottle, and i might have used… the whole thing.”

luke didn't seem to care about the logistics. he just hummed, a sound of pure contentment, and began to guide you backward toward the edge of the woods, away from the prying eyes of the arena.

“whatever it is,” he muttered, his lips catching yours again, “it’s working. you have my undivided attention. for as long as you want it.”

you realized then that will’s "good luck" wasn't a warning about the perfume—it was a warning about luke. as he swept you up into his arms, ignoring everything that kept him preoccupied the past week. that’s when you decided the explanation could wait until tomorrow. after all, you did say you missed him and he did say he misse you too.

— 💌 taglist: @love4madii @angelnott @loonylups @sarahlizbeth070 @mrsmaugic @juvicene14 @epitaphangel @imtheraine @sofsoftheater @stinkeeeee @ploopypoop @neanea15 @snivells @shotbyeros @mirrorballz13 @lvlyu @myunperfektstorys @faithslifeee @ibelievelia @nikesdiaries @x-fanaccount1-x @loveeemay @laufeysvalentine @loyaltytoposeidon @awkwardlysartic @imjustagirlin @clstrkeys @tomatolaunch @backbit @siri30 @connorstollstollmyheart @mythicmochi-56 @marsssthings @buckleyverse @vanillevsq @akaashiit @whosmev @thewayilovedyou13 @velvtfluer @charmingnova @bananazsworld @pretty-side-of-the-moon @kinderwh0r3 @luvlcastellan11 @percabethenthusiastlolz @ethereallwings @sweetyummyclouds

[jasongracesbiggestglazerever]

Jealous?

(VERY chalant Charlie Bushnell x Reader, in which, he is not jealous when the exact opposite starts hanging out with you when you both haven’t hung out in weeks) *the private account is only with the pjo cast and not available to fans in this smau*

Y/n: anyone know good albums?

liked by charliebushnell, walker_scobell, leenascobell

charlieswife: wait this is NOT dada…

-view 13 replies

ilovejasongrace: New ship?

-view 12 replies

percyswife: guys she can be friends with people other than the cast

-view 56 replies

Marcus.G: fire🔥

charliebushnell: 🧯👨‍🚒 (this reply was deleted)

charlieswife: am I the only one who saw that?

Rickbringjasonback: WHAT WAS THAT

percabethmyheart: Charlie not being nonchalant anymore?

-view 127 replies

charliebushnell: I know a lot, we could look together

❤️ by creator

-view 243 replies

view 972 comments

char.priv: hey google, play ‘that should be me’

liked by diorgoodjohn, Leah.savajefferies, aryansimhadri

diorgoodjohn: WE all saw that comment

-view 7 replies

aryansimhadri: I’m lost

-view 10 replies

Leah.savajefferies: wait you know peak songs

❤️ by creator

-view 3 replies

walker_scobell: heartbroken Charlie?

-view 8 replies

tamara_.smart: can’t we just make a groupchat for this?

-view 9 replies

view 41 comments

Marcus.G: who’s this? #softlaunch

liked by y/n, anakinistheloml, adeleremake

percyswife: IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE CHARLIE AND Y/N.

-view 65 replies

charlieswife: bye who is this random posting y/n

-view 23 replies

anakinistheloml: why are people hating lmao

❤️ by creator

-view 17 replies

view 274 comments

Char.priv: I would’ve NEVER let the glare be in the photo, and I would’ve NEVER let you not show off your face

diorgoodjohn: doc, he’s at it again

-view 2 replies

aryansimhadri: please name it char.crashouts

char.priv: not too bad

-view 3 replies

walker_scobell: bag that

char.priv: I was so close to her being my everything

-view 15 replies

tamara_.smart: huh, I remember a certain someone loved Malcolm Todd

(this comment was deleted by creator)

view 36 comments

Char.priv: this was NEVER casual to me.

diorgoodjohn: okay Noah Calhoun

Char.priv: we built legos together, that’s the important part

-view 26 replies

aryansimhadri: so who is Marcus

char.priv: my replacement. I guess she’s “talking” to him

tamara_.smart: didn’t he do #softlaunch, seems like a lot more than “talking”

char.priv: don’t even bring that up.

view 29 comments

Marcus.G: #softlaunch

liked by walker_scobell, dothatagain, Mac.book

percabethmyheart: why is walker being messy lol

Mac.book: he’s posting a lot but she posted once?

(this comment was deleted by creator)

charlieswife: who else misses Charlie and y/n?

ilovejasongrace: weren’t you just greedy with him

ilovejasongrace: omggg @y/n didn’t even like the post

charlieswife: maybe she isn’t online 24/7 like you?

ilovejasongrace: right and who comments first on every post? Right

-view 15 replies

anakintheloml: why are they arguing in a comment section

-view 12 replies

view 529 comments

Pjo_youjustgot.clipped: @charliebushnell thank you for being our first clip for this account

liked by y/n, walker_scobell, aryansimhadri

charlieswife: the beer bottle omg

ilovejasongrace: he’s a grown man btw

-view 17 replies

percabethmyheart: first interaction between y/n and Charlie in three weeks omg my heart

-view 3 replies

view 210 comments

Pjo_youjustgot.clipped: presenting @y/n and @charliebushnell thank you for getting clipped!

liked by Leah.savajefferies, y/n, diorgoodjohn

percabethmyheart: my endgame

-view 20 replies

Anakinistheloml: the way he looks at her

-view 7 replies

Charlieswife: I want a whole movie and series about their love life together

-view 10 replies

view 173 comments

Char.priv: me from my secret account after sending the pjo clip page a month old photo of me and her

liked by aryansimhadri, tamara_.smart, Leah.savajefferies

diorgoodjohn: ARE YOU KIDDING.

-view 18 replies

Tamara_.smart: thought you were locked and bagged her

-view 21 replies

aryansimhadri: well look what Marcus posted

leah.savajefferies: oh Marcus has the ball (this reply was deleted by creator)

-view 13 replies

view 39 comments

————————————————————————

Very chalant Charlie? Yes. I was making myself laugh with the beef in the comments because it’s connected to another draft I plan on posting as well. And also this makes Charlie interpreted wrong maybe but when you meet someone who drives you crazy, nonchalance is the first to go, for me personally. None of these photos are mine and are from Pinterest. Hoped you enjoyed, happy late Mother’s Day, kisses kisses💋

[jasongracesbiggestglazerever]

Just friends

(Charlie X Reader, in which they are just friends!) smau

Char.priv: behind the scenes! @y/n

liked by Leah.savajefferies, diorgoodjohn, walker_scobell

Leah.savajefferies: you two, separate.

-view 5 replies

Walker_scobell: This is THEE hard launch

Char.priv: @walker_scobell we’re friends lmao

Walker_Scobell: @Char.priv that’s literally what she said @y/n

-view 19 replies

Aryansimhadri: wait, does this count as cheating on me?

Char.priv: @aryansimhadri never.

-view 12 replies

view 80 comments

Y/n: hi little @walker_scobell what are you doing here even

liked by Charliebushnell, aryansimhadri, walker_scobell

Walker_scobell: my scenes

-view 126 replies

ilovejasongrace: @y/n posted after forever just to post walker? I love this cast.

-view 27 replies

Aryansimhadri: the brightness in the photo?

charliebushnell: she’s still figuring out her camera

-view 50 replies

view 1,928 comments

Charliebushnell: Star Wars movie run through in celebration of Maul Mondays! (Watch now)

liked by y/n, diorgoodjohn, tannerscobell

aryansimhadri: rewatched your scenes more than 60 times just for you

Charliebushnell: @aryansimhadri would you say maybe around 66 or more? Maybe 67?

Walker_scobell: @charliebushnell enough.

view 67 replies

diorgoodjohn: turn the camera to your left

charliebushnell: @diorgoodjohn spot’s occupied

aryansimhadri: old news🥱 (It was me)

view 21 replies

Y/n: our progress before the snack break (I did most of the work)

liked by Charliebushnell, aryansimhadri, leah.savajefferies

Percyswife: wait you won’t believe that Lego set was posted by someone you’re very close with…

-view 15 replies

pjobiggestfan: this has to be them communicating something to us

-view 38 replies

aryansimhadri: could’ve built this in thirty minutes

y/n: @aryansimhadri impossible, especially when Hayden Christensen is on screen

-View 126 replies

Leah.savajefferies: involve me.

❤️ by creator

-view 103 replies

view 1,012 comments

————————————————————————

Guys my first Charlie fic?… I really just did this for fun and had no motive besides watching the new Maul series for him. And no, I am not a 67 kid, I tried referencing the interview he did that I swear… and I just love brainrot Charlie. This has also been in my drafts for the longest time ever geez,I hope you enjoyed, kisses kisses!💋 (none of these photos belong to me!)

[nana-luvy]

-> 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛

warnings: luke castellan x gn!reader, strong language, flirting, innuendos...

“You’ve gotta be kidding me…” you cursed under your breath.

“What?” Luke barely managed to articulate as he bit into his granola bar, sitting lazily on his bed.

The morning sun was brutal, filtering through the sheer curtains attached to the numerous windows spread around on the walls of cabin 11.

“What do you mean, ‘what?’” You reply immediately, shooting your best friend the kind of look that clearly meant i-love-you-but-don’t-play-right-now. You dug back into the trunk at the bottom of his bunk. “You told me I could borrow a shirt, and,” you paused for a second, pulling out the first shirt you found and holding it up in front of you as you knelt on the floor, “none of this is still a shirt, Luke.”

The boy didn’t even bother conceal a grin, not sparring you a glance as he flopped down on the mattress. “Why do I feel like I’m being scolded right now ?”

“Ugh!” You bunched the remnants of shirt up in a ball before throwing it at his face, even more annoyed when he easily deflected it.

“Come on, what’s wrong with it? You’re being so dramatic…”

You took out a second one, gesturing at the neat, large holes where the short sleeves should have been. “You literally cut off the sleeves of all of your tshirts, dude.”

His smile only broadened as he finally turned his head to look at you, still laying on top of his covers. “So what? It’s breathable, I get better mobility that way.”

“Breathable?” you deadpanned, your expression one of unconcealed annoyance. “At least admit to it.”

Luke pouted innocently before getting up off the bed, walking up to where you sat on the floor and leaning on the bedpost. And like it was his answer, the boy simply crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged, making sure to flex his muscles in the process. His arms were tan, muscles corded, chiseled through years of training. He knew it. You knew he knew it. By the gods, seeing the state of his shirts, everyone at camp knew it.

You scrunched your nose and let your lips curl just enough to fake disgust. “You’re such a slut.”

Luke’s jaw dropped, bringing one hand to his heart. “What foul words to touch such a fragile thing’s lips,” he let out in a way that, you guess, was supposed to be Shakespearian, reaching out to brush his fingers along your face.

You caught his wrist, raising your eyebrows as a smile slipped on you lips. “Don’t touch me with your slut fingers.”

“Wow, really going in for the kill are you,” Luke replied quietly with wide eyes, retreating back to the bed post. “Why do you even want one of my shirts for?”

You stretched your arms up before standing back up, throwing the shirt back in the trunk. “Just wanted a larger fit for the beach today, but the camp store is out of it, so I thought I’d just borrow one.”

The boy’s grin only widened, his gaze sharpening as he looked straight at you. “Sure… You know, if you wanted something that smells like me you could just ask.”

Your eyes flickered up instantly, only to find him already staring at you, and you had to forcefully shove down whatever the feeling was you’d just had fluttering in your stomach. “I- What? No!”

Your face fell even more when he laughed. “It’s rare to see you react like that, feeling guilty?”

“I just wanted a baggy shirt to put over my swimsuit, you absolute- Keep to yourself whatever you’re implying-”

“Whatever I’m implying? What am I implying?” Luke asked innocently, looking at you with a soft look that didn’t match the mischievous smile that pulled the corner of his lips.

“Ugh, forget it!” You shoved his chest and groaned when he didn’t even budge, instead holding onto your wrist.

“Too late, this moment is engraved in my heart,” he said with a dreamy lilt in his voice, bringing your hand to his chest. This time he didn’t keep his balance when you shoved him back, his brows shooting up in surprise as he instead fell back onto the lower bunk, pulling you down with him as you let out a weak cry.

The position was even more embarrassing as almost every camper in the cabin had halted to watch the commotion. Luke didn’t even flinch beneath you, his easy grin as always plastered on his face, but you could definitely make out the rapid beating of his heart under your palm. You, on the other hand, felt like a duck: calm on the surface, panicking to stay afloat underneath it.

“Cover your eyes, kids, what is about to happen is not a sight for pure eyes,” Luke yelled out to the cabin, making sure to go heavy on the innuendos.

“You’re impossible,” you stated, your face almost emotionless because anything else you could display would be too embarrassing to explain. At least now, nobody paid anymore attention to you two.

Luke scoffed. “Yeah? Well, you’re the one who pushed us, so… Oof-”

You didn’t bother answering, instead getting yourself back up, making sure to elbow him in the stomach in the process. “Well, seeing as you don’t have any decent shirt, I think my task here is done.”

Luke shot up right after you, reaching out to catch your wrist. “Wait, I got you.” He simply nodded and turned around while you looked at him suspiciously, rummaging through his own clothes before coming back up triumphant. “I knew I’d missed one.”

You took it as the boy handed it to you, quickly trying it on over your own tank top. It was grey, a little loose around the neck—probably from all the time he’d pulled it off by the collar after training—, but you found it added something to the overall aesthetic. And it smelled just like him, of course it did.

Your heart did a little flip as you caught Luke staring at you when you looked back up, but again you simply pushed it right back down. “Thanks for the shirt, you’re still a slut though.”

Luke couldn’t hold it a laugh, his eyes creasing at the corner from a broad smile that always found a way to warm you up—probably because he was you best friend, or at least you assumed. “Yeah, well, you’re wearing my shirt anyway, so what does that make you?” he simply shot back, with a tone in his voice you didn’t want to analyze too much, taking a step closer to you.

You didn’t have an answer to that. So you simply took the next step, grabbing his collar to pull him down to your level as you whispered in his ear with an amused laugh. “Shut the fuck up, Castellan. You’re lucky I even put up with you.”

You didn’t bother looking back at him as you walked away, quickly getting to the door. “I’m stealing the shirt, by the way, you’re not getting it back!”

Meanwhile, the boy’s face was impassible, only concerning because his ears were tinted a bright red and he’d been frozen in place for the last few seconds. He slowly came relatively back to his senses, going to lay back in his bed, whispering to himself.. “Fucking hells… And you say I’m the menace…”

Guys i'd be such a slut if i were a guy i'm not even kidding, like i'd train arms like crazy just to show off the gunssssss (i do it already lmaooo)

Anyways I got a few pending recs so I'll get right on it, a one-shot n then I'll do part 2 of my last blurb since you guys asked for itttt

Byeeee babys

- Love, Nana <3

[juniiperstree]

LUKE C. HEADCANONS

─ SOME ARE general, some are dating, some are suggestive ✉️ : such a fiend for this man urughh. hope yall enjoy

youre basically lukes right hand man. when in need of advice, he searches for you first. he appreciates your ideas and your input more than anybody elses

and in turn, hes an amazing listener. he doesnt just hear; he understands and he remembers

his eyes— normally so stormy and dark, like the ocean— soften whenever hes near you. he doesnt need to try to manipulate you since his eyes do all the work anyway

but his voice is a weapon as powerful as his sword. hes a total sweet talker. persuasive, like the aphrodite kids with their charmspeak, only his was a practiced art rather than a natural power

lukes love language is gift giving. he loves spoiling you with that kronos money. but hes also partial to physical touch and words of affirmation since he didnt receive much of either as a kid

he loves playing with your hair 10/10 super relaxing activity

piggybacking off that, hes into hair tugging / pulling for sure. and biting

arctic monkeys fan no doubt this man is bumping humbug and AM all day every day

fashion god. loves ralph lauren half of his wardrobe is ralph lauren you cant convince me otherwise

luke loves simply holding you in his arms. just knowing that youre real. that youre his. that youre alive. its surreal to him

sometimes, whenever the pressure and stress of the war become too much to bear, he unintentionally lashes out at you. but he always makes up for it; he cant lose you. he doesnt know what he would do if he did

he also cracks his knuckles when hes nervous or stressed out, which is basically all the time

had a phase where he was obsessed with all things hockey. obviously, he doesnt play anymore, but he still puts on hockey games as background noise or entertainment on occasion

he smells like a combination of cedarwood and cigarette smoke. super yummy though

one of those dudes that works out for fun. he def has his own personal gym on the ship

his favorite season is winter. though he enjoys the heat of summer, he cannot stand the bugs and the sunburns

luke doesnt wanna seem pathetic, so he never admits it, but he loves it when you call him baby. music to his ears

casual freak. youll be talking to him about your day, whatever, blah blah blah, and he will randomly sneak in a sexually charged comment. when you ask him, “what was that?” he goes “what was what?” then carries on like he never said a word

HORRIBLE at math but he makes up for it by being great at every other subject. especially history

his favorite soda is sprite. so, so, so many cans of sprite on the princess andromeda

also strictly drinks diet or zero sugar soda no regular soda ew

luke accidentally slips up and calls you thalia from time to time

he loooves it when youre bossy. no arguments, no nothing; what you say goes. you get a “yes ma’am” and a silly grin from him

hes a compulsive liar

luke has the craziest face card. especially early in the mornings, when he has just woken up and his hair is all messy and hes all sleepy and the golden sunlight hits his eyes just right

before betraying camp, he used to sneak into your cabin late in the nights. you would rightfully freak out, and he would respond with something like “whats the big deal? i aint gonna get caught.” and he never did!

you two had your own secluded meet-up spot deep in the forest of camp half-blood. you definitely made some memories there— take that how you will!

luke loved to take you stargazing. it was peaceful out in the dark, with no younger campers or chiron or dionysus bugging you two, and the night sky reminded him of you. hes upset that he cant do that with you anymore

© juniiperstree req rules follow my side blog : @juniibuggs love always, junie ᰔ

[slut4castellan]

hi! sorry to bother, but I found someone on wattpad reposting fics translated to portuguese and they credited your @ as the author to at least one of the works they reposted. I believe it was your Luke Castellan fic, Nasty Nineteen. I don't think they have your permission to repost anything on other platforms so I'm just letting you know in case you want to contact them or report them or whatever. it's @Mel-Potter-Black on wattpad.

I tried asking them about if they had the author's permission to repost but they didn't answer and just blocked me.

https://www.wattpad.com/story/362161849-luke-castellan-imagines

omg thank u so much !!! no clue that this was happening omg

[irisnextdoor]

Wrong Number (Not Really)

⤷ You give someone your ex’s phone number.

Luke Castellan x ex!reader

🔱 textfic — toxicity, luke beats up random, luke IS crazy possessive, multi-pov, luke pretends to be you, luke and reader are bad people in their own respective ways.

･ ⟢ ⋮ Iris’ Message ゛༝ I LOVE TEXTFICS!!! i think these r so fun to make & i love smaus with my wholeeee heart. IGNORE THE TIMESTAMP ISSUES icba to fix it.

[tangledinlove]

moon song

part ten — the killerverse masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x fem reader 7k

summary: you try your best to move on. it’s made only somewhat easier by the fact that you see luke only three more times before the end of the summer.

content: childhood friends to lovers to whatever they have going on. yearning, heartbreak, and angst of course! they are at the “its so over” point of that one chart unfortunately

notes: i feel like that tik tok audio thats like u cant get rid of me…. im not going nowhere!!! thats literally how i feel abt this series they are a part of me forever. title from the phoebe bridgers song

ONE

You and Luke fall into a steady routine after your breakup—if you can even call it that.

You still can’t tell what parts of this summer were true or made up in your mind. After all, it hadn’t been real, right?

It’s not difficult to avoid each other completely. When his habits are ingrained into every part of your being, knowing what time to steer clear of the armory on Mondays and only lingering around the places he hates the most becomes as easy as breathing. The two of you also manage to synchronize your eating schedules, so his usual spot at the Hermes table is starkly empty every time you find your way to the pavilion. It’s a twisted dance of avoidance.

The feeling of him remains though, his memory lingering around every single corner of Camp Half-Blood. The lack of him ends up becoming just as much of a reminder as the actual sight of him. You can’t count the amount of times you’ve turned to your side, expecting him to be there the same way he always has.

Luke Castellan has always been the only steady presence in your life. Your friends had jokingly called him your human shadow. There was never you without him, and never him without you.

The emptiness at your side is almost as stark as the empty ache in your heart.

It feels like a part of you has disappeared. It’s hard, because you see Luke in just about everything. You hear his laugh in the creaking patio of Cabin Eleven and feel the ghost of his touch over your spine whenever someone brushes too close to you. The twin sized mattress always feels two sizes too big when you find your way back to your own cabin to sleep.

You had gone to Luke’s after leaving the lake that night, your hand shaking on the door knob and a sick feeling in your chest. The empty bag slung over your back felt as heavy as the sky itself.

A cabin that you knew just as well as your own began to distort in front of your eyes. The squeaking of the sticky door hinges felt like they were mocking you. The familiar chatter of Luke’s siblings that flowed into the night air filled your stomach with dread.

Usually, the shame of cowardice was enough to get you to push forward when it was hard. But as you stood in front of the door, you hadn’t felt any of that familiar humiliation. You would have turned around and fled if a heavy hand hadn’t landed on your shoulder.

You’d tensed, the edges of your vision darkening. But whatever apology or insult that was waiting to fall from your lips slipped your mind when you’d been spun around.

It was only Chris.

“Hey,” he had said, entirely unaware of the way you were about to be sick on the front step. Chris had been giving you an easy smile. “What’ve you been—”

“Is Luke here?”

Your interruption had been as rude as it sounded, but it was difficult for you to think over the sound of your heart racing in your chest. You were afraid of the answer Chris had to offer.

How would you be able to look at Luke when just the thought of seeing him made your hands shake with fear?

Chris’ brows had furrowed, confused. “No. I just saw him over by the Big House. He should be heading this way soon, though, if you need to talk to him—”

The door creaked loudly as you pulled on it, though the sound went unnoticed by the kids talking inside. Sheer muscle memory was what let you step over askew sleeping bags and stray soccer balls without much thought. The ease of it all had been too much to think about at the moment.

Your vision narrowed as you crossed the room, nausea rearing its ugly head once again as you hurried over the floorboards.

For what would be the last time, you found yourself face to face with Luke’s things.

Luke’s stuff laid cluttered all over his dresser. There was a stick of deodorant tossed haphazardly between his sunglasses and an empty cardboard box, and one of Annabeth’s drawings sitting on top of a few loose pieces of paper. He had also kept a makeshift flag football trophy a Hephaestus kid made for him. You let your eyes rake over every inch of it greedily, your hand unsteady where it curled into the fabric of one of his jackets.

“—t’s the matter? Did something happen?”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realized that Chris was standing a few steps behind you. He had no doubt followed you from the front door, concern dripping heavy from his words.

It almost stung to hear. You had met Chris as Luke’s brother first, but he had become your friend over the years too. You knew him well enough to know that he would want nothing to do with you when he found out what had happened.

As selfish as it was, you let yourself enjoy the last moment of kindness you probably would ever receive from Chris Rodriguez.

The details of Luke’s things grated on your heart. The closer you had looked, the more you saw yourself, too. One of your shirts was draped over his headboard. The water bottle you’d left this morning was sitting in front of the mirror, right next to—

Your heart had felt like it stopped in your chest. The memories flashed back through your head against your will.

You and Luke’s trip to the city for your sixteenth birthday. The diner. The sightseeing boat. The photobooth.

It’d only been a few years ago, but it felt like you didn’t recognize the people in the pictures. Your faces were pressed together in one of them, and you were laying a kiss on his cheek in another. The last one showed you laughing, your arm over his shoulder. You couldn’t see it, but you could still feel Luke’s embarrassed smile pressed into your neck, the redness of his cheeks lost to the black and white photo.

A sick sense of jealousy surged through you. This version of you was ignorant. Ignorant but happy. She had no idea that the person who held her heart in his hands would be the same person to shatter it.

Distantly, you realized you didn’t feel upset anymore.

You felt nothing but angry.

How could Luke do this to the two of you? Where had it all gone wrong?

Chris’ sharp intake of air was what snapped you out of your stupor.

You blinked, looking down in confusion, and you froze. The photo was in your hands, the strip ripped quickly in half.

Your immortalized laughter taunted you from where the lower half of the photo remained taped on Luke’s mirror. You looked away before any tears could form, your fist closing hard over the broken piece in your palm.

It all unraveled after that.

It didn’t take you long to clear out the bottom drawer of Luke’s dresser, the one he’d dedicated to your things. There were a few things under his bed that you went back and forth on, like that paint splattered hoodie that was yours just as much as it was his and a shirt he’d given to you a few years ago. You weren’t sure if you would be able to take the sight of any of it after this.

You’d lost your camp necklace somewhere here too, and had been meaning to find it. You wondered if you would have time before Luke came back.

It felt like your breath grew shorter and shorter the longer you stayed in the cabin. Images flashed through your head no matter where you looked. He’d kissed you for the first time against this bed. He’d helped you sneak in through the back window of the cabin years before that, and you didn’t realize that you were hyperventilating until something warm settled at your side.

It was Chris, his eyes wide where he was kneeling next to you.

His hand slipped into yours, unclenching your fist the same way Luke would. You were still holding onto half of the photo. His face fell with sympathy and something that looked like understanding.

You wiped your face, beyond glad when you realized it was completely dry. It had been an hour or so, but you still hadn’t cried about losing your best friend.

In that moment, you promised yourself that you never would.

“Are you okay?” Chris had asked, voice low to not draw too much attention. He tossed a furtive glance over his shoulder in the direction of where a group of younger campers were giggling over a magazine.

“Yeah,” you said, a complete and utter lie. “Sorry about all of this. I’m all done now.”

The familiar weight of eyes on you made you rush to your feet.

It seemed now that Luke would be able to keep your camp necklace. He was standing in the doorway of his cabin, his eyes trained on where you were sitting in front of his things.

You had no intention of staying in Cabin Eleven for another second. You never wanted to step foot in this room ever again.

The two of you tracked each other as you moved.

Even though you were—or, had been—his best friend, anyone would’ve been able to tell Luke had been crying. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, though they were not still wet with tears. You did not take as much comfort in the thought as you thought you would have.

His mouth had been parted in surprise, clearly not expecting to see you so soon. The heel of his palm was frozen against his sternum, like he had stopped moving the second he had realized it was really you inside of his cabin.

When Luke was younger and had nightmares every other night, he would rub circles into his chest to get his heart to stop aching. You wondered if that was what he had been doing just now. You also wondered who would hold him through the rest of his nightmares now.

He didn’t let his gaze stray as you stepped closer and closer and closer until you were near enough to touch.

If it had been any other day, you would’ve brushed your thumbs over the tear tracks on his cheeks. He would’ve kissed your palm. He would’ve kissed you.

As you stepped close enough to touch him, your eyes traced over the tightness of his shoulders. It was like he was scared you would brush against him. The skin of his neck was tinged red with tension.

You couldn’t tell if you would ever stand this close to him again.

The smell of his cologne followed you as you stepped past him, and you were slammed with the realization that one day, you would forget the little details of Luke Castellan. Eventually, you wouldn’t remember that he liked to press his forehead to your shoulder, or that he only needed two alarms to wake up in the morning.

He was leaving you, and the memories of him would eventually fade too.

You hadn’t been able to hold his gaze for another second, fixing your eyes on some far off point ahead of you. Emotion clouded your vision. Chris had mumbled some sort of greeting to his friend, probably pulling him inside before he shut the door behind them.

You made it fifteen feet before a resounding slam echoed from somewhere inside the building.

You didn’t recognize it as the sound of your now empty drawer until sometime later.

TWO

The next time you see Luke, you almost don’t recognize him.

Some of the kids had decided to put together an informal fighting tournament, with the winner getting a whopping prize of thirty-three drachmas. Half of camp came to the arena to watch, the summer campers eager to spend some of their last days here doing something seriously fun.

The Ares cabin was taking the bracket a little more seriously than you’d expected them to. Your siblings had passed around eye black before the big event, and a few of the boys painted letters on their chest spelling out your sister Lana’s name.

(Most of the time though, they rearranged themselves to spell out something that was clearly not Lana.)

You were excited for your siblings who were participating, of course, smiling whenever someone looked your way and even letting Clarisse smear a line of red face paint under your eyes. But to say your heart wasn’t in it would be an understatement.

It had officially been a week since you’d last spoken to Luke.

It meant that you’d officially broken your record of not speaking to each other. Seven whole days had passed, though it felt a lot closer to a year.

Embarrassment burns hot in your chest when you acknowledge it, but it feels like you’re missing a part of yourself. He was a part of you. The biggest part.

It’s shameful how you’re only halfway functioning without him. You finally understand what it means when people say they are ‘going through the motions’. Every day, you wake up to a nightmare where your best friend hates you and you hate him. You eat, walk the grounds of camp more as a ghost than as a person, let sleep evade you, then get up to the same nightmare.

You haven’t been able to sleep through the night since your fight. When the sun sets on camp, you stare up at the ceiling and try to pretend like you aren’t thinking about the empty spot next to you. You’ve started burning food as an offering to Hypnos, but find not even that’s enough to let you sleep for more than an hour at a time.

In the days after your fight, you almost found yourself flinching at every reminder of Luke. You’ve gone out of your way to avoid anything that would even make you think of him, which meant you lost interest in most things you used to love doing. You haven’t sparred since. You sat out of yesterday’s Capture the Flag game to sit by the beach instead. It felt like he had taken every aspect of your life from you.

His memory taints everything you even think about doing. But after a week of silence, you find that you’re almost hungry for any glimpse of him you can manage. In every crowd, around every corner, and in every shadow, you look for the outline of his back, or the cut of his jaw. You still search for him despite the fact the thought of seeing him fills you with dread.

Annabeth had explained something to you a couple of years ago — the concept of negativity bias. Even when positive or neutral things of equal intensity occur, a person’s psychological state is more likely to be affected by something negative.

You think that’s what’s happening to you now. You’re trying your best, but every time you think of every hug you shared, every hour you spent together, every moment Luke had been the only thing that felt safe, you only seem able to think of that night.

Is it really that hard to believe someone doesn’t love you?

You can’t get the way he looked at you out of your head. It felt like he hadn’t known you at all. The person you were convinced you were going to spend the rest of your life with looked you in the eyes and swore his love had been a lie.

And you can’t even think about him long enough to remember if any of it had even been real.

It ends up being here, at the camp’s makeshift fighting tournament, that you see Luke Castellan for the first time in a week.

Even when faced with only the sight of his back, you know immediately that he looks almost nothing like your Luke.

He’s sitting next to Chris on the edge of the mat the campers are fighting on, his shoulders slumped, like he’s curling in on himself. He seems completely unresponsive to the shouts and heckles of the rest of the kids from his cabin, who are currently cheering on Travis in the ring.

You’re torn between two opposite gut reactions.

The new unease that rises at the thought of him sits uncomfortably in your chest. You move to duck behind a taller Aphrodite camper to your left when you feel your hands reach to pick at a loose thread on your jeans.

But somewhere else, deep down, your lifelong instinct takes over, and you’re taking a step in his direction before you can stop yourself.

After all, something was wrong with Luke. You were supposed to comfort him, weren’t you?

Their entire section stands up abruptly when Travis manages to knock his opponent’s weapon onto the floor, and you watch with morbid curiosity as Luke remains seated, his jaw resting in the palm of his hand.

You get hit in the back so hard you almost stumble forward.

From right next to you, you catch a glimpse of a sharp glare aimed at your direction, and you realize belatedly that your entire cabin is now standing too, cheering loudly as your brother Cole gets ready to step into the ring. You get to your feet abruptly, clapping mindlessly.

Even if she wasn’t glaring, Clarisse’s disappointment would still feel almost palpable. “Stop giving ass-face your time of day.”

It didn’t take long for your siblings to put together what happened between you and Luke, though none of them knew the full story. They saw that he stopped coming by to ask for you and that your sleepovers came to an abrupt stop, and the pieces settled into place for them. You realized the Hermes cabin came to a similar understanding when whispers of Luke’s apparent mood swings made their way to you.

The general consensus among them at first was that you two were having a little fight. To everyone else, it had seemed like the silent treatment you had given him earlier in the summer. Your brother insisted that Luke had been wandering around camp like a kicked puppy dog, though you sincerely doubt that.

You could feel the looks people gave you whenever the Hermes cabin was nearby, waiting to see if you were going to go running over like you used to. People were shocked to see your twenty-four hours of silence creep into forty-eight and then roll over into seventy-two.

It was clear that everyone expected for it to blow over eventually. After all, no one has ever known who you are without Luke. You arrived at camp together and haven’t spent a day apart since.

Your stomach twists when you realize you aren’t sure who you are without Luke either.

Five days after your argument, you snapped at someone who asked when your boyfriend was coming over, and their suspicions were confirmed. Whatever was happening between the two of you was serious.

You and Luke are the only two people alive who knew whatever this was was permanent.

Permanent.

You’re having a tough time coming to terms with the fact that the feelings of resentment you held toward him were going to remain a permanent thing. Luke had been more than just your best friend. He’d been your… boyfriend? Partner? Soulmate? You aren’t even sure there was a single word that could perfectly describe what he had been to you. None of the words in the English language seemed to encompass it.

You still half believed that Luke was going to come back to you and apologize. After all, he’d drawn first blood. But as the days passed, and the end of your time at camp drew nearer, you felt yourself losing hope.

He’d asked you to stay away from him. It was over. He swore it.

“I’m not giving him my time of day,” you insist to your sister, though it’s clearly a lie. Your eyes are still trained on the outline of his back. “I was just looking.”

A group of people next to you knock you closer to Clarisse when one of your brothers in the ring lands a good hit on his opponent.

“Then stop looking,” she grits out, not bothering to keep her voice low with how loud the arena is. “He doesn’t deserve you thinking about him.”

“I’m thinking about how much he looks like shit,” you say flatly, your voice lacking any of the vitriol you planned to say it with. Even after everything that happened, you still can’t bring yourself to hate him completely. You aren’t sure you’re even capable of it. Not even playing your last conversation in your head seems to work. You’re hurt by what he said, but hatred isn’t something you think you can feel for him.

Your sister snorts from next to you. “You can’t even see his stupid face.”

You don’t respond. She leans closer to you to try and catch a glimpse of him too, craning her neck around to get a good look.

You’re just about to hiss at her to stop being nosy when she grabs your bicep, an amused sound coming from her throat in surprise. Your heart jumps to your throat.

Somewhere in the commotion, Annabeth wandered over to the Hermes cabin. She’s just tapped on Luke’s shoulder, and he’s spun around to face her, giving you your first good look of him in a week.

Clarisse laughs. “Holy shit.”

Dark circles mar Luke’s under eyes like twin bruises. He’s listening to Annabeth, nodding along as he does so, but his eyes look vacant and unfocused. He looks just as exhausted as you feel.

Even when you’re apart, you can’t help but be connected in the worst ways.

“He’s sure taking your little breakup hard,” she muses. “Couldn’t handle being dumped, I guess.”

You whip your head in her direction. “Clarisse—”

“What?” She rolls her eyes. “It’s not like Castellan would’ve dumped you. He’d probably cut off his own arm if you said it would make you happy.”

Her words make your insides twist. There was a time when you believed that too. “I didn’t dump him. We weren’t even… it wasn’t—”

“Yeah, yeah, you ‘weren’t dating.’” You don’t appreciate the quotes she makes around her last few words. “I know, you’ve only said it fifty times.”

“And I’ll say it fifty more times if that’s what it takes for you to get it,” you snap, finally tearing your eyes away from him. “Drop it, okay?”

Clarisse puts her hands up in surrender, though the amusement hasn’t faded from her eyes. “Heard.”

You try to put your focus back on the tournament, where your sister Lana is finally taking her turn after your brother’s win. Your brothers in the front row have their arms around each other’s shoulders, and they’re cheering in sync.

“Sheesh,” Clarisse says again, though her attention is clearly not on the fight in front of you. She’s still looking over at Luke.

“Clarisse,” you warn, voice firm, but as stubborn as ever, she ignores you.

“He looks like he got trampled. And then hit by a bus that pushed him off a cliff.”

You can’t tell if the lump in your chest is concern or intrigue. Whatever it is, though, is strong enough to get you to look back up at him again.

He and Annabeth are… arguing.

It’s subtle enough that Clarisse can’t tell, too busy making a snide comment about how it looks like he’s climbed his way out from the Underworld.

And while the slight sheen to his eyes is enough to give you pause, you’re much more stunned by the way his fists clench at his sides, jaw twitching with irritation. Luke’s never gotten upset with Annabeth before. You almost don’t believe your own eyes.

Luke has been soft on Annabeth your entire lives. While the three of you were always close, you knew their similar home lives meant that the two of them understood each other in a way you would never be fully able to. He doted on her a lot, and had probably stolen hundreds of dollars worth of trinkets for her over the course of your time on the road. He was more likely to jump into a pit of vipers than say no to her.

It’s why you can’t quite make sense of the scene in front of you. Even Clarisse has started to realize the conversation is shifting more into a fight, because she gives you an amused smile before putting her attention back onto Lana’s match in front of you.

Annabeth’s shaking her head vigorously, and you watch as Luke cuts her off abruptly, which she doesn’t take lightly. His brows knit as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. They go back and forth some more before he scoffs, his dark eyes rolling briefly. She pokes a finger into his chest with so much force his eyes widen, and then she’s whirling around so quickly you almost don’t realize she’s making a beeline in your direction.

You don’t bother pretending you weren’t watching. Annabeth’s face is scrunched with frustration, and she looks about a second away from pulling her own hair out. She weaves between people swiftly until she finds herself in front of you, her features pulled into a scowl.

“There is seriously something wrong with him,” she grumbles, not bothering to use his name. Her eyes are steely, but you can see they’re hurt, too. “What happened to you two? He’s been weird this whole week. What are you even fighting about?”

“Annabeth,” you say, your voice catching on the last syllable. You don’t know what to tell her.

“Did he do something?” she pushes on, brow furrowing. “It’s his fault, isn’t it? He wouldn’t be so mad if—”

You cut her off before she can continue. “It’s nothing, okay?”

As sharp as ever, Annabeth hears the break in your voice and drops it. She can probably tell she clearly isn’t going to get anything else out of you despite how much she wants to press it. She sighs and doesn’t say anything even when some of your siblings jostle the two of you around.

Before she disappears into the crowd again, she gives you a look you can’t quite understand. “Just talk to him.”

You direct your gaze somewhere in the direction of the tournament in front of you, but your vision is swimming. You and Luke Castellan have already spoken for what you know is the last time.

Your cabin surges forward again when Lana finally bests her opponent, and you feel your heart plummet to the ground.

THREE

It’s been another week since you last saw Luke.

You leave Camp Half-Blood tomorrow morning.

You’ve already gorged yourself on strawberries from the field and run your hands over the Ares cabin’s flag for the last time. You said goodbye to the naiad who saved your life a few years ago and had one last climbing wall race against Clarisse, which you won, obviously. A little after, your little sister pushed you on the tire swing outside the Big House until you got dizzy. Your hands are stained from painting your very last camp bead, which sits safely in your packed bag next to your bed.

You’ve revisited almost every hidden corner and every inch of camp that exists, and there’s only one place left on your goodbye tour.

The lake.

You haven’t gone back since your fight. The spot had belonged to both of you, and it didn’t feel right going back without him.

Truthfully, you haven’t wanted to go back there, either. Your last conversation had tainted your memory of the place, but you know that you won’t be able to leave without seeing it one last time.

After promising your siblings that you’ll be back before the fireworks start, you start the short walk through the woods.

Nothing has changed, of course. The grass to your right rustles as a rabbit darts across your path. When you reach for the thick branch to pull yourself over a fallen log, your hands fit perfectly in the grooves you’ve worn into the wood over the years. The air is sticky with humidity, and the laughter that rings out from behind you grows quieter as you move further away from camp.

The only thing missing is the steady presence at your side. Luke probably would’ve made ten bad jokes by this point of the walk, and would’ve bounced a few times between trying to trip you and trying to hold your hand.

You shift your focus intently to where you’re stepping instead. You estimate how many yards away the lake is. You think about what being on a plane will be like. You wonder how you’re going to say goodbye to Annabeth. You wonder if you’re going to say goodbye to Luke.

No matter how hard you try, it all comes back to him anyway.

Before you can even stop and realize it, you’re stepping past the treeline, gravel crunching quietly under your shoes.

The lake is eerily silent.

A canoe that someone was too lazy to put away rests overturned by the water. In the distance, you can see a duck dipping into the lake looking for something to eat. Its small movements send ripples throughout the rest of the water.

It’s so quiet that you can only hear the sound of your own breathing.

Being here by yourself is unsettling. You almost get the urge to turn around and leave, but something tells you to plant your feet. You know you’re going to regret not saying goodbye to a place that has watched you grow up. It witnessed the entirety of your love for Luke — the oblivious years, your first real kiss, and the crash and burn of all of it.

There’s movement in your peripheral vision. You swear for a moment that you can hear the familiar crackling of fire by the trees, but when you turn there’s nothing there.

You start to regret coming here. For the first time, being at this lake isn’t making you feel better. It’s nothing but a painful reminder of what you’ve lost.

The last few weeks have been the hardest of your entire life. It’s even worse than the weeks after you nearly died in Pennsylvania, and even harder than your first weeks on the run.

You had Luke through all of it. Nothing had been too hard to bear because he had been there to shoulder it with you. He’d held you through nights where your stomach would cramp from hunger, and he would always let you sleep an extra hour or two even when it was your turn to be on watch.

Nothing about those years were easy. It’d been hard, but you were always together. When you couldn’t rely on yourself, you knew you could rely on Luke.

Your eyes sting as you take in the emptiness of your surroundings. The slow breeze that whips at your face bites a little harder. It’s so quiet that your ears start to ring. You try to pop your ears to stop the incessant noise, but find that the silence gets worse. There’s nothing out here but you.

The weight of it hits you a second later.

For the first time in your life, you are completely and utterly alone.

You’d promised yourself that you wouldn’t cry over Luke. You blink quickly to try and stop the onslaught of tears and find that your eyes begin to burn despite it. Pain stirs in your chest as you finally feel yourself fall apart.

You’ve been alone for a long time.

Did you ever truly have Luke? You wonder how long he’d been harboring that anger against you. When did he start pulling away? Had you been too love-blind to see it? Was any of it real?

Everything about your relationship had been a secret. Was it because he was ashamed of you? Has this been his plan all along?

The outline of the dock comes into focus despite how unsteady your gaze is.

You can still see the version of yourself that sat here and believed in a future you were never going to have. It had only been a month since that morning.

A breeze kisses the apples of your cheeks, and more memories come back to you.

Phantom laughter rings in your ear, taunting you. If you focus hard enough, you can almost feel the soreness of your arms from a day full of playful fighting and racing Luke through the water. A few summers ago, he had held you by the fire here and told you he wanted to stay with you forever. He saw a future with you in it.

You had so many plans, and none of them would come true.

Tomorrow morning, you are going to get on a plane that will take you miles away from this place and the person you’ve called home for almost as long as you can remember.

You stumble away from the water.

It’s too late, but you finally realize that you’re heaving.

It feels like your chest is trying to collapse in on itself. You can barely breathe around the physical weight that’s compressing your ribcage, pressing hard against the rampant beating of your heart. You can’t take a breath in without your entire body shaking, the tightness in your chest stopping you from getting any air in.

You clutch at your shirt like it might help, trying to pull it off the space above your lungs, but the fabric is as loose as it's always been. You can barely feel your fingertips.

The sobs that wrack your body ache.

You’re so sick of feeling sad. Only one person has ever made you feel better when you get like this, and you have no idea what to do when he’s the reason you feel this way.

You want him to come back to you. You want to never see him again. You want him to apologize. You want to beg him to forgive you. You want to leave camp and never look back. You want to shackle yourself to him so you’re never separated again.

There’s shuffling behind you. Deja vu creeps around your shoulders and curls around your insides like a familiar friend. It feels like the sand at Compo Beach and tastes like your mom’s lemonade. It feels like coming home.

Warmth envelops you from every side. You find yourself sinking into it despite the way it feels like you’ve been turned inside out.

How could you stop yourself, anyway?

It’s Luke.

His cologne fills your senses as you shove your face into the crook of his neck, slotting yourself so close to him he stumbles back a step.

The familiar feeling of his skin against yours causes a sob to wrack your chest. You start grabbing for any part of him your hands can reach, one of your hands fisting in his hair while the other grabs blindly for one of his arms that he has around you. You never thought you would feel this whole again.

“I’m sorry,” you plead. You aren’t sure what you’re apologizing for. For your fight? For reaching for him like he’s the only thing that’s holding you together? You can’t tell. “Luke. I love you.”

His grip loosens and you panic. You grab onto him harder, your nails digging into the skin of his bicep painfully, your vision swimming. He’s a blur of orange fabric and curly hair as you shake your head, refusing to let him leave. He can’t.

You don’t recognize that he’s saying something to you until the familiar feel of his palms settles on both sides of your face. Your eyes trace the shape of his lips as he speaks, though none of it processes. Your ears are ringing again.

He pulls you against his chest again, letting you feel the rise and fall of it. His breathing is barely more even than yours. The setting sun paints the two of you in pink and gold.

“How could you do this?” You feel bile rise to your throat. You think you’re going to be physically sick. “Why are you doing this to us? I’m sorry. I’m sorry, you know I’m so sorry, please—”

“I know. I know.”

“You’re my best friend. I’m sorry. I love you. I love you, Luke. Please don’t do this to me.”

“You need to breathe, okay?” His hand passes over your back. It’s shaking so badly that he has to clutch at your shirt. His words are fraught with tension, like he’s forcing them out through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry. I need you to forgive me. You have to forgive me.” Half of your words are choked out between gasps for air, but you know he understands.

“Breathe. I know. I promise you, I know.”

You vaguely feel his grip on you loosen again, and you protest with every ounce of energy you have left. Your tears are soaking his shirt.

“Hey,” he says, rubbing a line down your arm. Warmth creeps into his voice and another sob wracks your body. “You’re hiccuping. You’re gonna be sick.”

He rubs your back through the entirety of it. You must make quite the sight, the both of you on your knees in the dirt as you empty your stomach.

You fall back against Luke when it’s over, pressing against him as much is physically possible. Your neck is craned at an impossible angle so you can see his face. You want to memorize every inch of it. You never thought he would be this close to you ever again.

“I don’t know how to do this without you, Luke,” you admit without an ounce of shame. Your voice comes out rough from the tears and coarse from your retching. “I’m so scared.”

He stays silent while he cradles you against him, his eyes unmoving from the sand. The dark circles under his eyes have somehow gotten worse, which makes you frown. His lips are red and bitten too. He looks just as sick as you.

After another bout of quiet, he finally looks at you. He wipes at the corner of your mouth, his stare blank.

“I was so mean,” you try again, nodding, like it’ll help him understand. “I’m so sorry. How could I have said those things to you?”

One of the last times you sat like this was the morning after you first kissed. You wonder if he realizes that too.

“You’re nothing like him,” you promise. “You’re good. So good, Luke.”

Luke’s face crumples with an emotion you can’t quite read. “I have to do this.”

You shake your head, desperate. “No. No. I’ll do better. I’ll be better. I’ll make it up to you for the rest of my life, I promise, Luke, I promise.”

He presses his forehead against yours, the two of you so close together that it feels like you’re sharing oxygen. His eyes are glassy and almost unfocused, and you brush your thumb over his cheek, greedy and desperate. You should feel guiltier than you are.

“He… he is the only one who can fix this. All of this. I don’t have a choice,” he says, almost whispering it.

Your head spins. It feels like he’s talking through you and not to you. “I don’t understand. You’re… you always have a choice, Luke. You’re nothing like your father. You don’t need him to do anything. And you know I didn’t—there’s not a world that exists where I actually thought those things. I didn’t mean it.”

You can’t believe you used his father against him. You can’t even blame Luke for wanting to leave you. What kind of person says those things to someone they love?

Luke’s features pull down into a grimace as he shakes his head. He says nothing else as his eyes trace the path of your tears down your cheeks.

The July humidity makes it feel almost unbearable to be this close to him, but you soak up every second he’s willing to offer you. Sweat beads at your hairline and in the small of your back.

A month wasn’t long enough to erase the nuances of Luke from your memory. You trace the cut of his jaw with your thumb. His tan has come in full force this summer, and you mourn the time you could have spent together.

“Leave with me.” You nod quickly, reaching for his hand that rests limply against your side. “It’s not too late, Luke. It’ll never be too late.”

You can’t remember why you’d even been angry with him at all. Your flight is tomorrow morning. How did you think you could ever leave without him?

He doesn’t respond, his eyes tracing down the length of your face. You wonder what he sees there.

You glance down at his lips, and wish instantly that you hadn’t.

Luke tenses, and it feels like you’ve been struck.

He shakes his head, his throat bobbing as he swallows stiffly. His words are even and practiced when he says, “Kissing me won’t change anything.”

“Then what will?” you beg. Your face heats, not with embarrassment, but with grief. The words sound just as desperate as you feel.

You feel his entire body go very still behind you.

You’re almost grateful that he doesn’t grace you with a response. You’re all out of words to say.

Your eyes slide shut when you feel the warmth at your back disappear.

Surprisingly, there is no tell-tale feeling of your eyes burning with tears. In place of grief is the all-consuming ache of numbness.

Sometime later, you get the strength to face the empty space behind you. Luke is gone.

For the next hour, you sit alone by the lake as the fireworks explode over your last night at Camp Half-Blood. Red and blue lights make shapes in front of your unseeing eyes. You wonder if Luke had even been here or if you’d just imagined him when you’d needed him most.

An hour later, by the time you find your way back to your siblings, it’s over.

You’re standing on the front steps of your cabin when you find out that Luke has betrayed camp.

—

notes: im always holding space for when phoebe bridgers said “but you know the killer doesn’t understand”

[h4rtwell]

just an idea but maybe we could have one where ex!bf luke and reader momentarily get back tgt? xx

texts with ex-bf!luke castellan

seeing him tonight, it's a bad idea right?

— 💌 taglist: @love4madii @angelnott @loonylups @sarahlizbeth070 @mrsmaugic @juvicene14 @epitaphangel @imtheraine @sofsoftheater @stinkeeeee @ploopypoop @neanea15 @snivells @shotbyeros @mirrorballz13 @lvlyu @myunperfektstorys @faithslifeee @ibelievelia @nikesdiaries @x-fanaccount1-x @loveeemay @laufeysvalentine @loyaltytoposeidon @awkwardlysartic @imjustagirlin @clstrkeys @tomatolaunch @backbit @siri30 @connorstollstollmyheart @mythicmochi-56 @marsssthings @buckleyverse @vanillevsq @akaashiit @whosmev @thewayilovedyou13 @velvtfluer @kazimierasm @bananazsworld

[ecixo]

Okayy heyyyy , loving the Luke sm auuu!!

I think it is one of my favorite PJO series rn!

If you like it, you could write a fic where Luke keeps calling reader his gf on his priv? Like just constantly being delusional hahhaha !!

Have a lovely day!

. ݁₊ ✶. ݁ ˖ˎˊ˗⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ luke castellan x reader

luke loves his.....girlfriend?

tysm for enjoying!!!! im so honoured!!!! sorry if this isnt exactly your requests... i had an idea and ran with it but i had so much fun making this!!!

requests open!!!

divider from: @enchanthings

taglist: @moond0llie , @politelylosingmymind , @naiohara , @piecesofmysoull , @burpmaster200 , @calysticollision , @rosiemain , @moonbeamzt , @tigerjellywishes , @lvlyu , @mystic-aquarius , @totheseok , @myunperfektstorys , @sadi3-rose , @wormtime , @miarollypolly , @b1ulqk3

[slu7formen]

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: luke is obsessed, mention of bl00d and cuts, sexual fantasies, I guess it'd be food play but it's not, mention of 0ral s3x

₊˚⊹♡

Just imagine Luke having a sick and twisted fixation with your mouth. It's not like he ever had any preferences or felt a certain way about lips or mouth, but the moment he paid close enough attention to yours, he knew he wanted them on him.

He fantasized about it way more than he would've thought was possible. He wanted to feel the plush of your bottom lip with his finger, the plumpness. He craved for the feeling of your tongue against his, to see you drool and whine from all of it. He thought of cupping your jaw as he gently bites down on your bottom lip, pulling so softly it's torture. He wants you to bite him; to feel your teeth scraping against the sensitive skin of his lip. He wants to press your tongue down with his thumb, wants to test the sharpness of your canines against his rough skin.

Shit, that gets him hard.

Sometimes, he doesn't even hear you speak. When you do, his eyes can't help but go down; memorize every moment, every lick of your tongue, every last remain of lip plump that would make them swell. "Sorry, I didn't catch that", he'd say when you're done, and you'd whine and groan. You hated to repeat yourself.

But what really got him bad, was the one time you busted your lip open during capture the flag. Some idiot camper had gotten way too close to you, and the tiny river of crimson that seeped out made Luke's stomach feel heavy. On the right side of your bottom lip, some droplets staining your chin. He masked his expression pretty well, but his throat ran dry when he realized how much the image of your lips dripping with something turned him on. By the time he walked you to the Apollo cabin, your lip swell, and he can't look away. He stayed there with you until you assured him that it was a superficial cut that ambrosia could cure; not a busted eyeball.

He didn't want to see you bleed; he wanted more of a show.

And as cunning and as smartass as he is, he knew which cards to play.

"No way," you said when you saw him, palming your hands against your shorts, "You went strawberry picking?" you ask in surprise as he walks towards you with a full basket.

The strawberry fields were as beautiful as ever, but Luke rarely went there, especially during the day. "Yeah," he shook his head, "Some Demeter kids needed help. Want some?" he asked, picking one up himself, popping it in his mouth, "They're juicy" he said, picking the biggest, reddest, ripe one, bringing it towards your mouth.

You lean in, reaching for the berry. Luke pretends to act uninterested as you bite into the tip and wrap your lips around it. You popped the fruit in your mouth. The sweet taste exploded in your mouth, juice staining your lips and tongue. Watery red droplets rested on your lips; the way you licked the excess was almost pornographic in his eyes. Luke remained silent; you were completely oblivious to the effect you had on him.

"Oh, wow" you simply said, taking the fruit from his fingers, "These are amazing"

Luke nodded, "You bet".

He watched as you took another bite of the strawberry, the red juice tainting your lips a thin red, getting caught in your fingertips. You asked him something about camp duties as you sucked on them, one by one. Luke couldn't form a coherent thought. He watched your lips glistening with sweet strawberry nectar. He shifted, a subtle adjustment of his position, his shorts were constricting, a direct, undeniable response to the captivating display in front of him. Your cheeks barely hollowing at the action. "Let me grab some more" you ask.

Shit, that gets him super hard.

Suddenly, you and Luke ate strawberries under the shadow of a tree once or twice a week.

He liked to watch during lunch, too. He'd walk past and pop a ripe peach next to your plate. You'd whine about chocolate; he'd say fruit is healthier and helps with satiety. Not necessarily bullshit, but... He'd watch from his own seat at his table how you'd struggle to take a bite without the tropical juice dripping down your chin. He'd watch the muscles in your jaw flex as you bit down carefully, the little frown between your brows as you concentrated, the tiny drip of juice that would escape and trace a path past your lip. He'd imagine leaning over and licking it away himself. The thought was so vivid, so potent, it got him being delusional all day.

He'd make you sweat on purpose during his sparring session so you'd crave the water from your bottle so hard, you wouldn't care if it led a trail of liquid down your neck, hiding under your sports bra and your camp t-shirt. From the bob of your throat to your panted breath. After that, he'd spend twenty minutes in the showers, the cold water doing little to dampen the heat erupting from his pores.

Once, during one of camp's worst heated days, he saw you eat a strawberry popsicle. You tried to be careful with it, but failed every time. Just the image of your tongue running along the length of it-, that's a whole other thing. The image of you and that flash of pink was seared into the back of his eyelids. He excused himself claiming a sudden migraine and abandonment of duties for the day.

His cabin was empty during dinner. That night, he thought about pressing your head between his thighs, about that plushy bottom lip sucking him off until he can't see straight. He wants your lips wrapped around something else. He wants to be the cause of that sweet, red mess. He imagined your lips stretched around his cock, drool pooling on your mouth. He wanted to be the one to ruin you, to have you so utterly intoxicated by him.

It was getting pathetic, he knew it. This obsession. But he couldn't stop. Every casual encounter became a new opportunity to watch you, to study the way you spoke, the way you ate, the way you licked your lips when you were nervous or concentrating. Every time you spoke there was a high chance that Luke had touched himself to the thought of you the night before.

"Luke" you called out a little higher.

He blinked, "Yeah, sorry- what?" he'd ask.

"You're staring" you stated, your own cheeks going warm. He shook his head with a sheepish grin.

"Sorry, can you tell me the last part again?"

You groaned to the sky. "So, I was saying-"

He watched you, your words, his signature smirk playing on his lips. He knew there was a chance to have you, sooner or later. And he was going to enjoy every second of it.

[slut4castellan]

Fuck bro

[murdrdocs]

standing sex w luke from the back and his hands are on your hips and waist and tweaking your nipples and eventually they wrap around your throat and somehow his long fingers end up in your mouth

[lukes-blade]

thinking about captain luke castellan……

[peonyjuu-commissionopen]

What's the point of tagging "x reader" if you're just going to write about your oc

I thought tags was supposed to filter posts that actually piqued your interest

[marcythebughugger]

he’s looking a little tooooooooooo good recently 🫠🫠