loser!luke goes to victoria’s secret with bestfriend!reader
requested by: n/a!
genre: fluff, blurb
word count: ~300 words!
cw: none!
author’s note: first fic in awhile kinda nervous but of COURSE. its loser!luke my beloved
“why can’t we go to the other part of the store? this is embarrassing..” luke’s beat-up sneakers shuffle along the tile floor of the mall. his eyes are trained on the floor to avoid the gazes of the other customers. even looking at the mannequins seems taboo to him. meanwhile, you sort through the drawers of panties, rolling your eyes at his shyness.
“don’t be dramatic, lu.” you snort, “c’mon, i brought you in here to get a second opinion! you gotta help me!” after a few minutes of searching, you hold up a lacy thong, one that luke assumes covers about the same amount of surface area as a band-aid. “do you think i’d look good in this color?”
his eyes stare blankly at the item, mouth gaping cluelessly. luke looks at you and then the fabric.
he hadn’t pictured you in something like that before— he didn’t even think you wore things like that— but the vivid image was now prominent in his mind.
he swallows, unsure of what to say.
“....luke?” you bat your eyelashes up at him. “you still with me?”
your words break him out of his mental spiral almost instantly. with wide eyes and pink cheeks, luke attempts to sound more sure of himself by clearing his throat, “uhm.. yeah! no, yeah— i think it would look really good!..” his voice cracks subtly.
luke’s inability to maintain the tough guy persona earns him a giggle from you. you turn on your heels to continue into the store, “perfect! now i just need to find a bra that matches it!”
“oh god yes…” he lets out a barely audible, pathetic sound and trails behind you without a second thought.
hopefully you’ll need his opinion on clothes more often.
luke castellan really likes to say “where my hug at” as an inside joke between the two of you, but he also just really likes hugs
luke 'where my hug at' castellan
love this dork. with arms like that and a gorgeous smile, it’s not thaaaat cringy
at first it was a joke, because the lingo you learned from being away from camp for most of the year already confused the fuck out of him (like what are these kids talking about eating?) so you had to catch him up
it made you laugh a lot in a way that got him feeling fluttery—and he wants to chase that feeling, so he says it whenever he sees you just to see you smile
truthfully, he just wants a hug. they’re rare between you two since y’all are not super close friends, and you’re not a year-rounder like him, but hey, let the man shoot his shot (no matter how awkward he can be)
you kinda always giggle and tell him he has cooties
he needs to stop asking in public he’s starting to look stupid
it pays off when he bumps into you while you braid Annabeth’s hair and his little sister’s just as awkward sooooo…
he stands in the doorway of cabin 6 with a crooked grin, knocking Annie’s trinkets off her sidetable to mess with her before nodding at you cooly— “where my hug at?”
you snort, continuing your work and Annie’s eyeballs swing back and forth between you two like pingpong balls
“well, aren’t you going to hug him?”
cue awkward shuffling and choked-out laughter when you roll your eyes and get up from the bed to throw your arms around his neck
he doesn’t know where to put his hands, wiping sweat off onto his cargos before they settle onto your waist
your eyes meet and you pinch his cheek.
“i can’t believe it, but i think that counts as rizz, Castellan”
alternate universe : takes place in an au! where there are no gods, or demigods for that matter. luke lives with his mother, alone, and takes care of her full-time when he's not off doing odd jobs for the locals.
description : after moving several states away from his home in suburban connecticut, luke found himself in unfamiliar territory and in need of a new plug. lucky for him, you're the town's resident drug dealer.
tags : fem! reader, dealer! reader, loser! luke, au! luke; dom! reader kinda, subby! luke; luke can't handle his weed.
honey's note : somehow this got turned into a slow–burn? next part will contain more action, promise <3
it hadn't been a full week since luke castellan, new to town, stopped by your trailer to get his fix. it seemed out of the question that the plug he'd be buying from would be you. even as he neared the residence for the first time four days ago, impressions formed based on the unkept and rather disastrous front lawn, nothing would have him guessing a girl would be the one behind it all.
his neighbor's son, a permanently befuddled teen who luke deemed ‘nice enough’, offered up your contact as soon as the older boy mentioned smoking. he certainly wasn't your wisest customer, that's a given, but you know he meant well and there's no denying that he definitely did you a service despite his impetuosity.
a few messages are exchanged between you and luke prior to his arrival. you pick the time, telling him to swing by around eleven—it’s later than he cares for, his mother always advised him against driving late at night, but he’ll oblige without a second thought if you're the one asking.
in all honesty, luke didn't even need to pick up more bud—the surplus he underpaid for had only diminished by a gram or so, less than two. still, he wanted to see you again. something in his heart was telling him that it was a necessity not a desire; that you couldn't be separated from actions taken in the name of self-preservation. though, luke wasn't dauntless enough to tell you the truth and he certainly didn't have the confidence to back it up either, so he'd keep that to himself—just for now.
his hands were trembling slightly as he hobbled up the stairs, across the makeshift porch, to reach the front door. even the very tips of his fingers couldn't conceal the fact that his heart was racing.
luke was quick to note that the steps were broken; shoddy craftsmanship combined with neglect over time—the same treatment that the rest of the property had received. for a moment his mind wandered and he thought about how he could fix them up for you; he could fix up a lot of things around this janky, old plot. there's no way he would even think to charge you for the labor, though he has a feeling you'd insist anyway. a payment from your finest stash, luke surmises. but that was neither here nor there, and he needed to prepare himself to greet you.
his right hand forms a fist before connecting with the frame of the door. he knocks twice before adding one more for good measure, a pace behind the other two in uniform.
the crooked door swings open, and there you stand. luke had already been wearing a flare on his cheeks, but it only intensified further at the sight of you in a pair of pajamas. tight short-shorts and a simple tee.
“hey,” you welcome him so casually it makes him feel like a fool for being so nervous. he has no time to properly greet you as planned, instead providing a remarkably sheepish smile as you move a bit to the side, beckoning him through the doorway. “you comin’ in?”
of course he is.
he complies in an instant, more or less meek in appearance as he glides past you. luke takes a few steps away from the entrance of your home, and plants his feet firmly into the warped hardwood of the living room, turning his attention to you in wait.
“so, you smoke a lot or did’ya have to supply your friends some?” you ask after closing the front door shut. the question is brought about with an air of nonchalance, though that does very little to calm his nerves.
he chuckles, feeling both caught off guard and put on the spot. “uh—,” he clears his throat as his eyes flicker to yours. “yeah,” he falters for a moment before finishing with forced conviction, “i kinda smoke a lot i guess.”
you shrug it off, giving him the benefit of the doubt, though there isn't much belief in your expression. “sure,” you dismiss, “come sit with me.”
there's not much room for luke to debate. your feet are already in motion and you brush right by him to cross the space, path set for the sofa. luke follows and takes the seat beside you, sinking into the cushion with visible unease. he makes an attempt to get comfortable, and fails, unable to decide where he should put his hands. after several moments and careful consideration, he decides on extending his palms to rest over the expanse of his jeans. in the same moment, you prop the heels of your feet up onto the table in front of the couch, angling your legs into view for the nervous wreck to your right. a small sigh of content draws his attention from the sleek skin of your thighs towards your rosey lips.
that smirk you've formed causes some alarm and his nerves flare up once more. “have you never seen shaved legs or something?” you enunciate each word in your query, goading him into a more playful mood.
his cheeks flush, and he feels like a fool for the second time tonight—must be a skill of yours. tearing his gaze away, he lets out a shaky breath, one that he'd been holding in since he first took that spot next to you. “sorry,” his speech stalls and his eyes warily meet yours again. “i wasn't trying to…” he staggers off, hoping you get the memo—which you do. but there's no fun in not teasing the boy, especially when he's just so easy.
“to perv on me?” you finish for him, smirk left unrestrained and etched into your face.
his eyes widen, slowly leaving yours, and his head shakes from side to side. “i would never,” he stammers quickly to plead his defense.
“i'm just fucking with you,” you reassure him, light-hearted words paired with a jaunty wink. it wouldn't be fair if you were to chastise the boy for simply looking your way, certainly not after the last time he made your acquaintance—and you were doing far more than just looking at him.
you draw your legs back, letting your heels hit the floor, before reaching for some supplies laid out on the table. you unscrew the top of the grinder, unveiling the packed chamber. a whole glut of green and purple tints. your fingers pinch some of the ground weed and you begin filling the bowl for the bong—both crafted from pink glass and marked by hearts. suddenly, your efforts cease and you turn your head to catch his eyes.
“you wanna stay to smoke, right?” you smile a bit ingratiatingly.
luke immediately nods his head; and you have to stop yourself from laughing at the sight. instead you opt for returning your focus to the task at hand, finishing up and placing the bowl in the stem.
“guests first,” you offer the bong out with a grin luke could only describe as endearing; a contrast to the mischievous curve your mouth usually carries.
there's only one thing replaying in luke’s mind as he reaches out to take the glass from your hands.
he flashes a quick, grateful smile for your hospitality. “thank you,” he mumbles, ignoring the unabated warning currently clouding his thoughts.
your pupils dilate the moment his lips wrap around the same piece you'd had your own two lips on not twenty minutes earlier. such a natural, you praise him without a word. he pulls a hit from the bong with ease, yet coughs on the exhale. the glass, with the bowl still lit and burning through the remainder of the green, is mindlessly passed towards you as he desperately tries to compose himself.
a snicker escapes your throat. instinctively, your hand reaches over the middle of his back and you pat a few beats to aid his efforts. “you okay?” amusement accompanies your concern.
by now, luke was entirely out of sorts; but your chaste touch, an attempt to soothe the discomfort from the smoke infiltrating his lungs, was enough to make him catch his breath and hold it. “luke?” you inquire, curious about his condition.
“i’m fine,” he tries to laugh it off, flustered by more than just the way his name rolls off your tongue. his head turns your direction and for the first time, he makes real eye contact with you—not just for a brief few moments before he inevitably glances away.
a smile lifts your cheeks slightly and you retract your hand from his back. much to his disappointment, you break the contact in favor of taking your own hit from the bong.
there's a few more exchanges of the glass back-and-forth before luke taps out. you hadn't realized he saw each offer of your generosity as some sort of competition between the two of you, to see how much he could handle.
he's melted into the back of your couch, eyes fluttering shut. cute. you’re feeling the effects of that friendly contest too—not as much as he is, evidently. years of smoking every day, all day, granted you a higher tolerance for the substance, and the opportunity to tease your client. “do you have something to prove?” you titter with delight.
“hm ?” luke hums, tilting his chin to view your face instead of the wall he'd been zoning out on.
“i asked if you had something to prove,” you restate plainly. “you know you didn't have to keep up with me, yeah?”
you're drinking in the look on his face by the bucketful. lips parted as his mind whirls, searching for an answer to a question he's already forgotten—“huh ?” his voice comes out more soft and airy than you've recently been accustomed to, not that you'd ever complain about that.
“nevermind, man. just, uh—” you stifle a snicker, holding back from full-on laughing in his face, “—take it easy.”
he mumbles something in confirmation, ‘okay’ it sounded like, and allows his eyes to rest once more.
“sleepy?” you coo, applying a tone one might use on a child rather than the man luke was trying to portray himself as.
he manages a faint chuckle, but barely opens his eyes to respond. “mhm ,” he murmurs, with a dopey grin on his face.
you square your shoulders, leaning against the back of the couch with your thighs flat against the cushioning. “you wanna lay your head down?” you simper.
the weed had mitigated some of luke’s anxiety, and his inhibitions were at an all-time low. “sure,” he agrees, unwavering for a change.
a couple pats drummed on the upper portion of your leg coax him closer. without delay, he kicks his feet up and stretches across the sofa until he's properly situated on his side. with his left cheek now pressed into your thigh, you can feel the soft hum of contentment contained behind his lips. your hand reaches out towards him, fingers seeking refuge in the soft curls atop his head. it doesn't take more than a few minutes for your eyelids to grow heavy, and a small yawn signals the inevitable. when the clock strikes twelve in the trailer, all is silent—apart from the snoring of you and the customer you forgot to sell to.
suggestive content; loser luke; MDNI
w/ LUKE CASTELLAN
"what?"
luke is staring at you. you can tell he's confused from the tone of his voice, but his features say something else. his features tell you that he interprets your words as one of a joke, one he thinks he is in on if the slight laugh he does is anything to go by.
but you're not joking.
"i said: can i give you a blowjob?"
realizing that you're serious, luke drops his arms from crossed over his chest and furrows his eyebrows.
he goes to respond, his lips parting, but he doesn't say anything. Which leaves you to explain.
"as a friend, of course. i just need someone to teach me how to give head and i thought that since you've always been helpful and you're definitely the most attractive guy at camp, i should ask you. so will you help me?"
you're staring up at him with that look. the same look that convinced him to take the blame for you after you accidentally burned down a barn just a couple of months ago. it's the one look he can never say no to, and definitely not because he has a crush on you.
when he agrees, it's just because he's looking to help out a friend. and also because he really wants to see what you look like between his legs with your lips wrapped around his dick.
