Summary: soft launching gone wrong for you and Charlie, who are both actors on pjo the series (smau, established relationship, soft launch, hard launch)
Note: my first social media au, let me know if you guys like it and I should do more <3
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y/n.user
liked by iamcharliebushnell, leahsavajeffries and others
y/n.user: hope you guys have liked the first 4 episodes 🫶🏼
view all 2,465 comments...
tamaravaleriessmart: bae 😍 ♥︎ by author
user1: girl, who are YOU looking at like that
dior.n.goodjohn: oh i see 👀
percyseries: a great addition to our percy family! ♥︎ by author
user2: the last photo??! Who's got you grinning like that?
user3: a literal angel
iamcharliebushnell: really glad you hopped on board the show (and the Princess Andromeda) this season :) ♥︎ by author
y/n.user: @/iamcharliebushnell couldn't be happier co-captaining with you, char :))
user4: she has me wanting to join kronos 😭
user5: Guys, Charlie has the same jacket, no?
iamcharliebushnell
liked by y/n.user, walker.scobell and others
iamcharliebushnell: little bit of this, little bit of that
view all 2,793 comments...
user6: brb, omw to join kronos 🏃♀️
user19: smash
user9: who's foot is that?!!
aryansimhadri: @/user9 mine 👠 ♥︎ by author
↳ iamcharliebushnell: @/aryansimhadri my cinderella
user9: THE LAST PHOTO, he's actually bf material fr
y/n.user: i can't lie, Luke made some really good point last episode ♥︎ by author
iamcharliebushnell: @/y/n.user glad to know you agree with me, co-captain
user8: Wait, is he taken?
user7: HE HAS A GIRLFRIEND?
user11: didn't Y/N wear the same heels five posts ago??
user4: actually need him so bad, you don't understand
y/n.user
liked by iamcharliebushnell, dior.n.goodjohn and others
y/n.user: promo with friends
view all 2,625 comments...
user5: the hand??? WHO'S TOUCHING HER HAIR
user1: that dress 😩
tamaravaleriesmart: im in love 😍
y/n.user: @/tamaravaleriesmart girl, i'm still fawning over your outfit
user14: she has a man now, yall 💔
user12: i have no proof but i think it's charlie
user8: @/user12 I think they did it but I just can't prove it 😔
user13: JAW DROPPED
user17: run me over please 🙏
iamcharliebushnell: should have made some hand sign like daniel and dior :/ ♥︎ by author
y/n.user: @/iamcharliebushnell all hands on deck next time, Castellan.
↳ iamcharliebushnell: @/y/n.user aye, aye, captain 🫡 🛳️ ♥︎ by author
user48: they're doing THE lines in the comments, I cant
y/n.user’s story 1m
- - - - - - - -
Twitter/X:
celebupdates: New pjo cast member accidentally reposted an edit of a fellow cast mate, captioning: "if evil, why so hot?" Could Charlie Bushnell be the mysterious guy Y/N L/N has been soft launching all this time? Regardless, we gotta agree with @/y/n.user, bad guys do hit different.
view all 3,152 comments...
user2: Damn Y/N is team kronos like her character 💀
user6: Im HOWLING
user14: Oh, she was quick to take it down, but the fans were QUICKER
user23: homegirl saw him and said "I can fix him, no really I can"
user18: She def has a private account and didn't realize she was on her public one
user20: are we really surprised? she reposted an edit of Tom Blyth as Coriolanus Snow on tiktok like a year back. IT'S A PATTERN
user1: they're def dating
user3: Girlll, he's with kronos. Stand up, he's bad 😔
iamcharliebushnell's story 5m
y/n.user
liked by iamcharliebushnell, aryansimhadri and others
y/n.user: they said i did something bad...#teamkronos
view all 4,671 comments...
user9: the caption, the shirt, im actually crying
user20: she, in fact, actually did something bad
iamcharliebushnell: good thing I meet the main criteria you have ♥︎ by author
user4: can never deny the "into villains" allegations now
dior.n.goodjohn: absolutely in love with you two ♥︎ by author
tamaravaleriesmart: what a short lived soft launch 💀
y/n.user: @/tamaravaleriesmart listen...I made a tiny mistake, so we had to speed the plan up
↳ iamcharliebushnell: @/y/n.user "tiny"
↳ y/n.user: @/iamcharliebushnell hush
user9: when will it be my turn? 🥀
leahsavajeffries: FINALLY! congrats guys ♥︎ by author
aryansimhadri: All aboard the ship of #y/n+charlie
y/n.user: @/aryansimhadri oh no, don't get the shippers started
↳ iamcharliebushnell: @/y/n.user pretty sure they already started since the moment you accidentally reposted that edit of me
↳ y/n.user: @/iamcharliebushnell🧍♀️
↳ y/n.user: @/iamcharliebushnell oh, you can have the couch tonight actually
↳ iamcharliebushnell: @/y/n.user wait IM JOKING
user5: THE SECOND PHOTO, IM DYING
somethingbad
liked by y/n.user, percyseries and others
somethingbad: co-captains on board and off board
view all 5,113 comments...
dior.n.goodjohn: im cackling at the name change ♥︎ by author
aryansimhadri: and here I thought my cinderella era would last longer
somethingbad: @/aryansimhadri rip, it was iconic while it lasted
daniel_diemer: lets go mann ♥︎ by author
user45: I KNEW IT
y/n.user: i didn't think you would actually do it 🧍♀️ ♥︎ by author
somethingbad: @/y/n.user anything for you, co-captain
↳ y/n.user: @/somethingbad change it back then 🫶
↳ somethingbad: @/y/n.user nope
user11: THE USERNAME CHANGE, IM SCREAMING
walker.scobell: oh since when?
y/n.user: @/walker.scobell walker, we literally phoned you telling you that we're together. ♥︎ by author
↳ walker.scobell: @/y/n.user I thought like..."physically in one location" together
↳ user38: @/walker.scobell he's the perfect percy
・┈・┈・┈・┈・┈・
Disclaimer: All photos are from pinterest or the actors' instagrams. However, I did make the edit screenshot and the black and white hard launch photo (took quite a while to photoshop lol).
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on the scale of 1 to 10, how much can they match your freak?
— including.ᐟ Percy Jackson, Jason Grace, Leo Valdez, Frank Zhang.
— warning.ᐟ fem! reader, cunnilingus, body worshipping, edging, literally since all of them ends in a cliffhanger, praises, petnames (just baby though), swearing and profanity, but this is tumblr so..., SLIGHT size kink on Jason's part, phone call smash, masturbating, overstimulation, dirty talk, specified relationship, all of them are aged up!
— word count.ᐟ 5.9k
— a.n.ᐟ first fic on tumblr dot com! Sorry if Percy's part's too short... also had a lot of fun writing for Frank on this one! And can you tell I have a favorite?
「 ✦ Percy Jackson ✦ 」
Too focused on doing his hero duties, being the gods errand runner and all that has lessen your sexual activities with your boyfriend. He always discourages you from thinking any negative about his rowdy schedule and always ensure a brief make out before Chiron would call him. It doesn't bother you though, because you know by how he keeps texting you at night—via a smartphone the Hephaestus kids just made—he's not fine with the shits that's thrown at him either.
It'll always start with him checking you in, a few jokes and banter typed in, then it eventually ends up with you playing with your own squelching intimacy as he listens to every sound with a call. Every gasp from your mouth when he'd tell you just how he would handle if you if he's there instead. Every drip that your pussy floods when he's barely holding himself together. Every cry that slips out of your sweet lips coaxes him to abandon his studies and reach for his pants instead. Finger eagerly releasing his pants just before his hardening cock springs out, squirting tiny spurts of whites against his finding nemo t-shirt.
"Shit," he curses under his breath, and your back arches just when he lets a chuckle slips out, "You doing good there? Are your fingers better than mine?"
He'd say that, and when you just shakily whisper out a quiet no, you could practically imagine his crooked stupid grin. His own ragged breath matches yours, though it's clear that your moans and pleas are music to his ears than any of the rock bands on his room's wall could be.
Maybe your pussy might sing a little better than you do. He's observant enough to catch every filthy slaps and how your pussy sings just a much heavenly squeal with your whimpers. Fuck, maybe he should record the call in case he ever gets these nights again.
So yeah, based on that quip, Percy Jackson's a total 8.5 to match your heinous freak. It's pretty high for a boy who spends his sleeps wearing cartoon pajamas. You even sarcastically mocked at his choice of fashion when your first slept together, well—he quickly proved you wrong by shoving your face in his shark pillows and slam your cervix each time he pounds in behind your back. You weren't complaining, never with him. Cause he'd give you a thousands of munch to your raw and swollen pussy right after as an apology. Determined to make your pussy sing better than you.
「 ✦ Jason Grace ✦ 」
It's no secret that Jason Grace is good at leading; how his voice would lower into that authoritative tone when he's in battle, how his eyes seems to inject the graphic of lightning itself in the irises, how his brow would furrow slightly, and how the air changes to a steady flow that faintly circles his steps. That's the same Jason that appears when's all he's all buried in your deep, warm pussy.
To be real, he's not that clingy or thirsty eyes when you're outside in the day. But when you do catch him slip up one time, you waste no time to take the opportunity to confront each time he done it. Each time his gaze lingers slowly on your chest while you adjust your armor, each time his finger twitch when you're all sweaty after practice—light eyes suspiciously too fixated on how a sweat dribbles down past your armor. And he's already imagining on how lucky it is to be that useless dew of sweat to be able to kiss you pretty cleavage.
Because one thing about Jason Grace? He doesn't voice out his opinions immediately (unfortunately). And he'd definitely feel awkward about dreaming you in such position under the clear sun.
Of course, you decide to confront him today.
The talks of schedules, impromptu tournaments, and quest are filling up the room as Jason discuss with other campers. Right in the big house, you tug his sleeve. And Jason abandon all of his chatter when glances to you. Not even Mr. D's rantings are audible when you demand for his attention. He's a weak man when it comes to you. Though his expectation about your intentions are purely curious.
So he follows you right outside, thinking about how you probably want to talk about the crowd of sticky notes plastered all over your desk in the cabin. About the simplified notes of your school subjects that are served like a Michelin star on it. He's hoping to help you through your academic comeback during this year. While he believes you're smart, well, anyone smart must need someone as their assistant, right?
"You just need to repay me by acing that grades." He intents to say that as soon as you're between the bushes, though some harpies and demigods who doesn't have their own love life are trying too hard not to glance at you both. Jason's all ready to puff up his chest and smile the widest on his cheeks as he explains the reason for all the study bazaar in your room.
That is not what you called him for.
"Oh, no," he clears his throat just after a saliva got stuck in his own throat, "No, I mean..." his foot shifts to the other, breaking away your eye contact, "Are you uncomfortable with it? If I looked at you like that?"
Not really, you think.
So that explains the whole chronological order of how you are now getting your cervix smashed while desperately holding onto the crumpled bedsheet underneath. His hands are splayed on the either side your hips, locking you down as if you'd run away from his grasp when his bulbous cock is all the way in your tight heat. Making a transparent bulge in your abdomen that he can't help but shudder at the sight.
Your legs are cradled around his waist, diminishing any distance that doesn't involve you gasping and writhing your claws to paint a delicious painting on his back. As testament on how good he's getting your pussy to open up and take him in. Almost like he's pushing to shape your squelching walls based on the shape of his cock—that you almost swear you could not fit in earlier.
Well, it's not Jason if he doesn't usher you sweet praises and kisses all over your tears while he quite literally wrecks your senses to oblivion. His glasses are fogged up, sketching a hint of restraint on the lenses. He's trying so hard not to overwhelm you, really. But when your moans are the only sound filling this room and you're in front of him, all needy and wet—he just couldn't help it.
Besides, he trusts you more than anything to drop his guard and love you so good. Your cries are wanton, and you feel hazy with all the blood gathering in your walls—coaxing more fluids from your pussy that sucks him in with impeccable tightness. Every exhale of his mouth that hits your own almost feels like an unspoken language only the both of you understand. You see the clench of his jaw, how his hips are moving with a tremble like he's holding back.
So you tap his shoulder, just before caressing your hand on the flesh, "Jason," you inhale, "Faster."
"You're sure?" he croaks, the sound so vulnerable, "I'm not hurting you, aren't I?" his lips are agape, eyes wide behind his glasses as if he's searching for any hidden discomfort in your face.
You're not, though.
A sigh left his mouth, a long and trembling one. You crooked a smile when you witness how slowly his facade crumbles, just in the face of your sweet and clenching heat. Though that grin on your face? Gone just right as his one sharp piston hit the weakest spot inside, your freaking g-spot.
He doesn't to be willing to let you breathe and adjust to the sudden impact, because all you know by now is how good he's making you fly—wait, fly?
You could feel your hips raised up with your legs on top of his shoulders, what's abnormal is the fact that your back is raised from the sheets too. Your eyes immediately widens at the realization, but he does another thing that made you realize just how much of a freak he's hiding from you.
His glasses are placed upon your brow, and its lenses doesn't take too much time to blur when his breath are mingling on your face. Especially when he jolts your body by another one of his slam and startles the glasses to jump slightly.
And you could swear a low, "Fuck." could be heard from his line. Alongside a crooked smile on his cheeks.
Yeah, you should double check his purity test and see if it goes up to 7.5 now.
「 ✦ Leo Valdez ✦ 」
Leo freaking Valdez. Being a freak is his zodiac sign, his MBTI type, or whatever personality tests both of you take in leisure times. That should be no surprise to anyone, really.
It's deep in winter season; crystal falls like seeds that rain during pollination, and the air is crisp with jolly and hot chocolate's smoke. In your case? The only thing hot is the chocolate who's nuzzling his cheek to your neck. A blanket is splayed on your shoulders, enveloping you both like a cocoon.
It's understandable if getting down is the least on your mind at times like these. But knowing Leo...
It seems like he's determined not to pay attention to the movie you're watching right now. Courtesy of the TV screen that he stole from the Hermes Cabin (which is an impossible mission anyway). Usually, during these times, you'd play your favorite or absolute defect musicals, nothing in between. Sometimes, you'd have a bet on who could sing best of the songs from the theatrics (which you both sing horribly). The reward? Kisses and make out and cuddles until night.
"Leo." you warn, tapping his knuckles where he takes that as a sign to intertwine both of your hands instead. Which is ... not what you want but you're not complaining about that specific physical touch currently.
"Hmm, yeah?" his reply is one of that very raspy and lazy voices. It makes sense since you only got to interrupt his all night working (probably more than a night) today. The only sound coming out of his mouth is a sigh and whimper—which you're not sure where that comes from. That must be from exhaustion, right?
Wrong, because now he's slipping his hand right under your shirt.
"Leo!" a startled inhale escapes your throat, and you jump slightly in your position. That encourages him to curl his arms around your waist tighter, bringing you much closer than before.
"You said," he exhales, shifting in his seat to press a gentle kiss on your fluttering pulse. His hot breath is all over your skin, and the heater shaped as a cake in front of you might not be needed when he's the definition of flame itself.
"You said I should take my rest." Leo repeats, finally pulling away from hiding space to look up at you. His brows are scrunched together in an almost desperate image, his pupils are slowly dilating, and he puffs his cheek as if he's not a grown man currently, "So shouldn't I take a rest inside you?"
Then his eyes trails down, specifically to your thighs that are crossed right now, "Or maybe..." his tongue juts out to hydrate the dry lips, "What do they say? That it's better to eat first before sleeping?"
You're pretty sure it's the opposite.
"I've never heard of that—"
Your words are quick to fade down just like how the noises from Highschool Musical The Musical in your TV has gone to hollow. Blurry and static to your ears. Reason? Leo is quick as a bolt to sweep over all the stuffs on the desk, some tools are clanging against each other (which you're sure some are flammable). Even the makeshift heater displayed as a cake lets out a 'GAME OVER!' ring tone when it fell down.
There goes your beautiful popcorns too. And to Troy Bolton who is now going to witness something not very high school musical...
"Get on the desk." he says, almost like a breathless plea.
You do get on the desk.
His light honeyed eyes rakes over your form when you sits just upright the desk. He almost feels like a man who just got his Christmas present, or maybe a devout man who just witnessed his goddess for the first time.
"If I knew I could have you like this," his hand traces faint touches to your bare foot. Voice too reverent to fit for someone who just exploded a whole toaster earlier. "I'd ask you to pull me away from that toaster a lot sooner." his gaze meets you, and he really wants to watch your reaction when he lifts one of your foot and bring his lips to your midriff.
That brings a surprised stunt on your face.
A shaky exhale tumbles out of his lips like he just found an equation for his automatons. Though this is different. You're you and you're definitely made from more than just physics theories and equations. His lips are splattering tender kisses across your shin, each one a silent prayer and praises.
Leo flutters his eyes close, lashes brushing against your skin when he trails much higher. This time, with each kiss, he mutters a small quote, "Beautiful." and also, "So sweet." which you're more confused with the last prefer, are there any scientific proofs on thighs having a sweet taste?
Time to throw away all rational thoughts. Because one thing about Leo Valdez? Is that his words can pretty much nonsensical.
"Why have you been hiding this from me all the time?" he shudders. While you don't exactly agree with his accusation. He literally already ate you out when you know nothing but the fact that it's eight in the morning, and he's under the covers in your shared bed.
Oh well, told you to throw away all your logic when you're with him. Especially if he's needy.
Leo stops his mouth on your knee, he leaves one open mouthed kiss on the spot just before his hand splays over your other thigh. Slowly, he pushes your thighs apart—revealing a scenery of dessert that he's been craving ever since you got in the bunker looking all pretty. Which you technically are everyday.
"And this?" He laughs out loud, the sheer excitement carving a smile on his cheeks before he looks up to you, "You might as well not wear any panties coming right here." he points out, referring to your choice of clothes where you're not wearing any pants and only a baggy sweater (his sweater, by the way) to shield your body from the cold.
And as if he's not enough on bullying you—his fingers moves over to play around the waistband of your panties, pulling it and snapping it. "Not that I'm complaining." he notes, voice evident with that teasing tone, "I know that you're wearing a new one, and don't get me wrong," Leo flings his hands to the air, like a criminal who just got caught robbing a dessert store, "I like—no, love it so much with that little ribbon in the middle and the way your pussy is basically transparent—" he stops when you glare at him.
Though that classic Leo Valdez's grin appears on his lips, all teeth and slight dimples (if you squint hard enough), and it basically paints mischief over the apple of his cheeks. "But you know I'm just gonna rip it off in the end," pause, "Or steal it to keep for myself."
Wait, so that's why your underwear quantities are decreasing miraculously?
Before you could protest, Leo's lips are off your thigh and on your clothed center—the damp fabric is already a delicious taste for his mouth. You could hear an audible moan from him as he presses a kiss and pulls away from your wet panties.
His gaze locks up then, cheeky with that crooked grin and a lick of his tongue. Like he had won the best thing that ever happened to him (and in this case, it's you).
"Don't worry," he mumbles, eyes widening in haze, "I'll buy you a new one."
His mouth is back on your closed pulse, and his teeth tugs lightly on the wet fabric—which accidentally nibbles on one of your folds. That earned a quick gasp out of you.
"Leo." you call out, hands trailing to find anchor just before it tugs to his dark curls. Your pussy is practically sending warning signals to your brain—get it fucked or it might just get swollen and cry alone.
Well, who's to say no when your own brain tells you to get eaten out, right?
"More." you say.
And that's all it takes before he tugs down the panties with only his teeth. Pulling from the waistband while he directs his head down to string it away from shielding your heat any longer. Besides his hands, he's no amateur when it comes to his mouth it looks like. Now you're all bare under, panties halting on your knees, and your drowning heat shivers under the cold snowy air that hits it.
Leo's determined to change that temperature.
"Look at that." he laughs, "She's dripping already."
Did he just refer to your pussy by a subjective pronoun?
His calloused palms moves to your thighs to hold them apart. It doesn't take long seconds for him to press his lips onto your pulsing lips. A sigh immediately cracks out like it's always been natural. His mouth is gentle, but not without a tinge of hunger when he flutters his eyes back open and gaze up to you. Like he's all at your service.
You tug his curls much tighter.
Leo takes that as a sign to suck on your clit, not quite satisfying but enough for a moan to slip out of you. He works his mouth more harder then, using his expert tongue on pressing all over your folds that leaves a squelching sound. Your face shifts into a squirm as his hands draws closer to your heat.
He uses his thumbs to spread your pussy lips apart, and the expansion is impactful. Your eyes shots wide, back arching off when the perfect pleasure hits you like a scorching flame. The tip of his tongue flicks over your clit, and only now does he decide to bully it. His lips closes around it, and he finally kisses all the fluids and trembles that your heat emanates. Only giving you a time to breathe just to say, "One kiss and she's already crying."
You'd smack his head if it weren't for his mouth working so good in your intimacy.
Leo dives back in with another whimper of his, and he has no right to sound so cracked when you're the one getting ravished here. His focus is all on your clit for great minutes, determined to reach you over the heights of stars you wouldn't generally see in the night.
This is so much higher.
"Gah!" a gasp finally breaks out like a broken lyre, and your tug turns to a pull so he could dive deeper as if he's swimming through the fucking Mariana Trench. His tongue has curled and slipped into your clenching walls—you could hear a muffled groan below when his tongue just started to trace your hole.
Plump and sticky against your throbbing pulse.
He pulls out of the cavern, heavy breaths dropping from his slick—stained mouth like a lipgloss, literally. Just that it's made specifically from the sour fluids your pussy cried out. His honeyed eyes trails back upwards, almost dilated black from the angle you're viewing him.
"Come on," he breathes, almost delivering it like a plea with how wide his pupils are, "You can give me more, right? Get more nice and sloppy for me?"
Who are you to deny him?
His mouth is back on your fluttering heat when you pushes him back on your own tug. And it seems like the action is just another turn on besides the way your pussy must've felt to his tongue. Like even in this state, you couldn't resist to command him.
Leo may not be good at taking orders from others, but from you? You might as well make him an obedient puppy.
The folds of your pussy are screaming when he bites on it—because holy shit, who the hell goes aggressive at the first foreplay? The bite is sending another arch to your spine, it's not that harsh, but still torturous to your sensitive ache. Then his tongue involves in like he couldn't get enough of you. Swirling past the bitten folds before his thumb brushes against your clit.
Who the fuck ever goes this rough at first foreplay?!
"Ah! Oh, L-Leo—!" you couldn't see clearly with all the pleasure basking in your sight, so you close them instead. Lashes fluttering against your cheek when another loud moan rips out of your throat. Both of his thumbs now moves to spread your pussy lips wider, serving an entrance for his tongue to sliiide in like it's always belonged in your drowning walls. With him basically making out with your pussy, you could feel the slope of his nose brushing against your clit. And it took everything in you not to combust like his exploding mechanics.
And he does all that while whimpering like he's the one being undone right now. The sounds out of him are muffled and high pitched, like he lose all sense of control and just lets his voice pitch to mewl however he wants. He's not ashamed of being loud, it sounds like a perfect duet between him and your squirming lips (both on your face and between your legs).
"Leo, I swear—" you choke out a cry, head thrown to the back as more moans broke out of your throat, "Slow down—" which quickly turns into, "Haaah...! Mmm!"
He does halts. Mouth pulling out with a lewd pop! while his gaze fixates on your ache. He looks like he just got high on hundreds of drugs and drinks. His eyes lingers on the way more pre-cum drips out of your swollen folds, some even spurting out in a small burst.
"What's 252 divided by 7?" his question took you off guard more than the accumulative blood that clenches your muscles when it seeks for stimulation. You look at him wide eyes, like a deer in headlights as your brain processes his words dizzyingly.
"Uh... 36?" you stammers.
A shuddering laugh tumbles out from him right after. His eyes are hooded now, lips peeking flashy whites as the laugh continues on like he just watched Sherman Yang speeding around camp with fire in his pants.
"Smart girl," he coos and the praise goes straight to your impending release.
"But that means," he pokes his finger on your clit, that immediately drives your nails to shape crescent moons on the roots of his curls. His voice is low and breathy when he proclaims, "I haven't treated her good enough," did he just seriously mention your pussy by a subjective pronoun, again?! "That you can still think with your brain," he pecks a small kiss on your folds, "And not with her."
Huh?
He wastes no time to take advantage of your confusion by plunging his middle finger to your startled walls. And if that's not shocking enough? His tongue presses flat on your upper labia. Swirling around your squirming bud as he lets out a guttural moan.
"Ah! Wh-Wha—oh!" you swear you could've seen the starry night and the constellations that decorates them when you feel it. His finger is deft inside you, like he's maneuvering through an engine's hole to fix the correct spot.
That spot is the bundle right at the top of your curved muscles.
Of course it doesn't take a minute for him to find it like the mastermind he is. He doesn't even brush against it, no. He's down bad pressing on it, igniting crackling flames that sparks up all over your veins and shuts off your brain. Your legs are now tied around his head, mushing his cheeks with your trembling thighs when you could only stare dumbly at the ceiling.
He has the audacity to pull out with a chuckle.
A lopsided grin graces his face, all the more frustrating with that low crackle of his voice that seems to spark chills down your spine, "Let's get her ready for something bigger, huh?"
Yeah, something as big as 9.0 inches. Oh wait, is that his dickmeter or is that just the number on how freaky you think he is for you?
「 ✦ Frank Zhang ✦ 」
Frank Zhang is the type of guy who's famous with his bold yet sweet upbringing, he'd always light up the room—not with the usual frightening smoke that circles around children of Mars—Frank's more tamed. He'd bring you some new polished weapons from the forge to your cabin, too sweet with that big smile on his face. Suddenly, it's a must for you to have a duel with him every morning like a maniac. You love him, of course. You'll do anything for him.
But... there are days where you're just not in the mood, and rather much basking in your comfy covers and cold pillows. You know that Frank wouldn't mind, maybe a small downturned smile—but that's all it will. He'd probably knock on your door with a hushed whisper. And when no one comes to abide his entrance? He'd just slump slightly and move on with his own practice, he's respectful like that.
Him busting down your door (and nearly making all the birds turn to your cabin) while looking like he ran all across the long island was not in your morning agenda. Frank—friendly and thoughtful—Zhang wouldn't come to your room, surprising your groggy half awake-half asleep state, and drop to his knees at the corner of your bed.
He'd speak your name softly, as if he hadn't strut in here with rough steps and breathing. It took three calls of your name before he drops his head low and sighs.
That defeated sigh is what gets you up, fluttering your eyes slowly with a low hum. Because as much as you love to fly in your dreams, there are some things that makes it worth to stay on the ground. Him being quiet for example. Not quiet like the kind and awkward quiet that he usually is with you. But quiet like he's prioritizing you over his own needs. That's not how this should work.
"Frank," your word is a dim whisper to the chirps of the birds, "Why are you on the floor? Especially kneeling?" you pushed your elbows to dig onto the mattress, just so you could rest your chin on your palm and take a sight of him more clearly.
If he's mad about you not going to your usual morning practices, shouldn't he be dragging you out of the pillows and not doing this?
"Look," Frank breathes out. Short black locks falling slightly to his upper forehead when he shakes his head, "First of all, I'm not mad about you skipping our practice." he finally peeks upwards to meet your eyes, and there's a way his pupils dilate that makes you frown a tad bit. "So don't get the wrong idea."
He shifts in his kneeling position, his palms holding onto the edge of your bed. And your brows knits even more, your hands are just beside his, why would he hold on to the bed instead of your hands?
"Second of all, did a certain bird left a note on your desk?" he asks nervously, eyes searching for any white objects on the desk across from him.
There is. A folded cream note on your small desk beside the bed. It doesn't look that suspicious at first, but now that he mentioned it...
He'd already grabbed onto your wrist when you attempt to grab the paper. His knee leaves the floor and climbs to the bed, his chest brushing slightly against your arm, and the way his every exhale fans over your neck makes you pause in your move. You know that Frank is excitable and sometimes impulsive, but since when is he hiding things from you out of all people?
"There's nothing there, trust me." he says each word with an emphasis. His eyes are peering down to yours, and there's almost akin to pinning down when it comes to what he's doing with you.
You try to slip out and act faster this time.
"No, no," he grabs your extended arm again, nearly flipping you over to flap your back to the mattress. That makes you realize in your still sleep-induced state, that he is pinning your wrist to the bed and places one knee to the space between your thighs.
"Trust me." he sighs, and you understand the context of this whole situation.
Your hand trails up to reach his own arm, brushing your palm against the muscles of his skin. Slowly, you traverse higher, massaging his beautiful, mouth watering biceps. Even your hand pauses at that area for a moment, feeling the faint veins tensing under your touch.
"Then tell me what's in it." the mutter left your mouth like a soft command. And Frank can't help but perks his ears at the tone.
"It's not—really, it's just a bunch of doodles and—"
"Frank." your hand slips into the space behind his neck, just before you pull him in so he'd stop right in front of your face. A breather away from nuzzling your noses together.
His eyes dilates for a fraction. Suddenly being pulled into a half embrace and stare lovingly into his lovely eyes seems like a perfect method if you ever want to shut off his brain and let his mouth do the thinking.
"I was just—" he pauses, voice uncharacteristically quiet when he clears his throat, "I was in one of those hormonal phase. Like I just dreamt about you this morning and I woke up—well—needing you."
He blinks several times, a nervous gleam evident in his eyes as his mouth presses into a thin line.
You knew it.
"You don't need to keep it to yourself, you know?" your words attracts a shuddering exhale from him.
"Then can I..." he pauses, letting the variables linger in their shared warmth, "Can I take you?" it sounded more like a rhetorical question than a plea.
"I don't know," a cheeky smile curls its way on your lips, your finger twirling around his black locks, "Can you?"
With that, it feels like you just woken up the beast, as corny as it sounds.
His lips crashes to yours in an instant, stealing a sharp gasp from your end, especially when he sucks on your upper lip. His single hand wanders to your waist, brushing his thumb to your shirt without slipping its way underneath the cloth. He'll need your permission first.
"Baby," he exhales in a form that almost sounded like restraint, parting from your lips for a moment before catching your mouth with his own open wide. Brushing his tongue against yours.
You pull your own hand to his calloused palm on your waist, guiding him to touch the flesh underneath willingly.
His mouth shapes into a circular, a shuddering breath escaping his mouth as the kiss turned more open-mouthed and breathy. Like they're sharing air rather than sucking it from each other. His palm is like a touch of arousal to your skin, sending shivers down your spine.
It arouses you even more when the said big palm of his is traversing to the pulsing beat of your heart. Cupping your breast in one single grab. It doesn't help either that your hips presses against one another, brushing your dangerously thumping heat to his own.
Soon enough, your shirt is forgotten quickly on the floor. Your legs are hiked up to wrap around his bare waist, trembling with each dry thrust he pushes when he grinds onto your damp pants. His mouth is still eagerly sucking on your bundle of nerves, even giving a small bite before he moves on to the next breast.
"O-Oh," is all your mouth could utter, shamelessly.
"Gods, how did I get so lucky?" Frank mumbles, most likely to himself. As he is too far in trance when he grinds his hips back to yours, purposely pressing his bulge to your already sensitive center. Each brush is like torture wrapped in bliss, sweet with honey like the groan he slips out when he bites your nipple hard, and hot with spice like the words he whispers to you.
"You wanna know what I wrote in that letter?"
You could only reply in another mewl.
"I dreamed," his hand slides to your thigh, gripping the flesh under his large palm, "Exactly like this. Except..." Frank's mouth parts away from your bundling hard nipple, licking his tongue on it before speaking once again, "I'm handling you, backwards." another thrust to your squealing clothed pussy, "And I'm kissing you all over, from your back to your..." he blushes, as if you weren't the one being violated. His next word is a shudder, "Ass..."
Huh, he says it like you'd be uncomfortable by it.
Well, someone's gotta be the shameless one in this relationship, right?
"Make me come," you say, "And I might let you eat me out from behind."
In the span of seconds, he's ripping off your short pants.
"You can't just say that..." his face is burning red, black eyes dropping hazily while evident exhales are running off from his mouth. The only walls between his cock and your pussy is the pants he has on, and the panties he only left you in. A moan quickly broke out from your throat when you could feel him getting harder. Humping harsher and more desperately—the motion is almost animalistic. You'd think he shape-shifted, especially with his fingers now tugging on your hair.
Your folds are basically translucent to your fabric, highlighting your dripping lips and pulsing clit. It's half parted, like it's been too sensitive ever since he denied your pleasure and focused on his own instead. That relieves you though, at least he allowed himself to be selfish with you.
"How about," his next thrust almost makes you sob into his shoulder, your arms clinging around his muscular and wide back. You could feel every muscle of his tensing when you snap your hips upwards. The bed creaks under you both, and you worry the sound might wake up the dryads slumbering next to your cabin.
"You ride me," the outline of his hard cock presses like a charcoal to an ember, electrifying your body in a harsh arousal as your pussy lips physically squelch against his pants.
"And I might just let you come." Frank smiles against your lips, adding another smoldering snap to your clenching heat before he smashes his lips onto yours.
If you think your boyfriend is still oh so sweet and kind? Maybe you've lost your mind when he cracks your back with a score of 8.0.
pairing: captain!luke castellan x right hand!reader
content: SMUT! sexual content and the likes, minors do not interact! mean!luke, evil!luke, canon, reader is evil, luke is kind of manipulative but we know that already, oral (m!receiving), p in v... unprotected... i'm a freak sorry, edging (fem!receiving)
synopsis: captain!luke is angry when you and your crew disobey his direct orders. you need to make it up to him.
ᯤ NOW PLAYING : you can be the boss by lana del rey
the atmosphere is tense in the no-longer-sterile workspace luke had brought the kids to. he’d ordered a duo of irrelevant giants to take care of the fire the cyclops had curated while he reprimands the group of you higher-up demigods.
the captain’s lecture is delivered in the exact spot where chaos had broke loose just moments ago; when luke found your group, he’d been on the upper deck, and he’d barked an order to report back to the workshop where the problem had started in a voice so full of anger and charge that none of you blinked twice before reporting back.
now, the five of you felt silly. he’d gone over this exact situation many times, establishing one very important rule: do not charge at the young demigods with a threat to their life. and you’d done exactly that.
luke wonders how in the world someone could disobey direct orders from someone like him.
his command is frightening enough that most people fall obedient at just a look from him, but his more intelligent soldiers were bloodthirsty.
and you were at the head of them.
when the trio had started to run, there was only a split second before you were ordering the union to chase after them. neither you nor luke remembers exactly what you’d said, but it’d been enough for him to fear for the kids’ lives.
you personally, in your most humble opinion, think luke is being soft. it was he who trained you and your fellow soldiers to show no mercy to your opponents, especially the ones who have power over you. a son of poseidon poses the greatest threat to your side of the war, especially when your headquarters is a luxurious cruise ship floating amidst the ocean.
just because luke had known the two demigods before he’d escaped the grasp of camp halfblood doesn’t mean he should dispose completely of every battle tactic he’s ever known and preached. the man who now stands in front of his soldiers is the most ruthless man you’ve met in your life—you’ve all just seen the way he spoke to annabeth in the cruel, bloodthirsty way that stripped her of every source of validity in her grief—and still, his previous behavior reads as weak to you. but, you digress.
“what was that bullshit back there?” the captain demands hotly, gesturing with his thumb behind him as if the scene is playing on a screen. the only thing that’s there is a few monsters putting out the fire and cleaning the soot. “i expect better from you.”
all eyes find the ground, averting his gaze. no one in the world is very fond of displeasing luke castellan.
“especially you, lieutenant,” luke snarls.
the hair pricks up on your arms and your skin pebbles, head hanging low in shame. you know you should’ve listened to his precise and direct orders. they were, in fact, quite simple, really. with a rank like yours, you understand why luke expects you to lead the group in the right direction, and you completely understand his frustration with you. as the silence stretches on for a few milliseconds, you quickly get out an excuse, “the monster tried to kill you, captain. what were we supposed to do?”
with a scoff, luke shakes his head. so much disbelief is in his eyes, and you almost don’t recognize them. “quit with the excuses. and we don’t use the word ‘monster.’ you know better.”
the ground is interesting. there’s a new crack in the concrete, and you don’t take your eyes off of it as luke assesses your lineup. after another strained moment, he takes a breath as he grits out, “i have went over the hypothetical over and over again. you all are ridiculous. you should be ashamed of yourselves.”
there’s a swallow from behind you, and you think it’s alabaster. if someone were to ask you, you’d tell them luke is laying it on thick, maybe being a little too mean. the kids had gotten away, so what’s it matter now? if you were to ask the question aloud, he’d go on a tangent about the principle of things.
“it was weak,” luke continues, “to go by a strategy that requires no thought process at all. i have taught you better. hell, even counselors at camp have trained you better. you think it would make you look strong to kill a forbidden kid? it makes you look stupid. it would ruin our plans completely. i would kill you. do you understand?”
everyone around you nods. you feel luke’s eyes on the top of your head, glaring, until you follow suit and nod begrudgingly.
a few moments pass, the only sounds being luke’s heavy breathing and the sweeping sound of a broom. then, the boss dismisses you all with a, “get out of my face.”
your comrades disperse, but you know the drill. you look up at luke with shameful eyes, head still tilted down as you wait for further instruction.
he stares before he simply orders, “my suite.”
the walk back is so tense you almost wonder if the next events will be awkward. the muscles in luke’s back are coiled up enough that his shoulders hang high. his footsteps are loud and firm, and they sound more like the steps of a warship owner rather than a cruise ship owner. you follow behind him like a dog on an invisible leash. this comparison is a rather accurate interpretation of your general relationship with luke.
when the man bursts through the door, there is no hospitality. as routine, you lock the double doors and stand in front of him, on guard. obediently.
luke scoffs at you, as if with distaste at the sight of your submission. but you know he wouldn’t have it any other way. many times, it’s led you to a position with his bicep under your chin, strong arm around your neck as he brutally takes revenge.
his hand reaches out with determination to pinch your chin between his fingers, turning your head from side to side to assess you. there is no soot on you, save for the little bit on the apple of your cheek, which he wipes off rather firmly with the pad of his thumb. the ghost of his touch is a faint and dull pain.
when he is through with his scrutiny, he says, “it was pathetic.”
you shamefully respond with a weak, “i know, captain.”
the use of his title seems to please him enough to release your face. he takes a step back to study you again, and then walks to his desk. you follow with compliance. his aura was a magnetic pull that you’d become addicted to.
luke slinks back into his chair, and on him, the action resembles a king slouching in his throne. his thighs separate as he shamelessly manspreads. there is nothing for you to do but sit and wait for the next order he’ll give you.
and that is simply, vaguely, “make it up to me, baby.”
it’s easy for anyone to melt when luke castellan sugar talks them, and you swear it’s even harder for you to resist. on impulse, you sink to your knees and place your hands on the bottom of the chair. there is no point in working your way down; luke won’t kiss you. you don’t deserve it today.
“and make it good. make it last. it’s the last you can do.”
you nod and immediately begin to nuzzle your nose into his leg. you are so ashamed of yourself. could anyone believe it? you betrayed the orders of the most handsome man in the world, and he is giving you a chance to redeem yourself. he is so, so kind.
luke is a good man, you remember as you kiss a trail up his thighs through his jeans. you specifically like this pair because they’re a little tighter around the hips, enough to hold his bulge as if to present it to your greedy eyes.
he deserves this, you think as you pull the button out of the loop. it was disrespectful of you to attempt something so evil against his administration.
as you continue to make your disposal of the offending article, luke sighs pleasantly at the sight. “there you go. you didn’t mean it, did you? you weren’t thinking.”
you nod against him. you bury your nose into his bulge through his jeans as you unzip his fly. you think here, between his legs, he could ask you anything, and you’d give him the answer he wanted every time.
his jeans are quickly discarded to the floor, but they don’t leave his body, pooling around his shoes. you don’t bother with pulling the entire stretch of fabric of his boxers off, just tugging them down long enough until his cock, just as angry as him, slaps against his stomach.
luke is leaking, the salty mixture dripping down the base of his dick until it hits the fabric of his stupid sweater.
you suck the pitiful saliva down your throat, leaning forward. your knees dig painfully into the ground as you wrap your hand around the very bottom. he’s so big, and you feel as if you’re sporting a dwarf’s hand when just one of yours does nothing to cover even half of it. he throbs in your palm in sync with your beating heart.
spit drips onto the tip, and it wasn’t intentional. drool drips from your mouth. you’re mortified only briefly for a moment that you’re salivating at the sight of luke’s dick, because he’s not paying attention to that. he is watching intently as your hand slowly twists on the base.
his brows are furrowed and his hand weaves into your hair. he tugs lightly, and you don’t know if it’s a demand to meet his eyes or not, but you do anyway as you kiss the tip.
his head falls back in pleasure, and you flick your tongue on the underside, just underneath.
you suck, hollowing your cheeks when luke stutters, “no teeth,” and you slowly begin to shove it down your throat. it’s more gradual than a shove, but the vigor it’s done with is just the same.
your eyes water immediately. you feel the tip approaching the back of your throat and your gag reflex takes over, hands pushing at his legs as if to give you strength to pull away, but you don’t do so. instead, you force yourself down, spit collecting at the corner of your mouth and running down your chin.
suddenly, he bucks his hips to shove all the way in, and the sound you make isn’t human. your throat protests, going into a choking motion as you try to push away, but he holds your head there.
“shhh,” he coos, but you can tell the concern isn’t genuine, “we both know you deserve this right now.”
you rapidly shake your head around his dick, and surprisingly, he whimpers at the feeling of hitting the insides of your cheeks. your hands wrap around his wrists. you look up at him pleadingly as you keep trying to pull away.
as shocking as it sounds, luke castellan, leader of the titan army, future vessel to kronos, takes pity on you. he lets you pull away far enough to heave in full breaths, but he looks down at you in disappointment. “that’s pathetic.”
getting your breath back suddenly feels less important, and you look up at him with so much shame in your eyes. you lay your cheek on his knee and hope it’s endearing enough.
he averts his gaze, but then he taps your cheek with his palm. you stand, and he does, too. you’re spun around within seconds until you’re bent over the desk. your lipstick smears on the paperwork you remember signing just two hours ago.
uniform for you on the princess andromeda is a skirt of some kind. this was a rule declared last time the two of you were in a position like this, and installed simply for easy access. luke’s rough palms slide along your ass as he pushes the skirt up. you know he’s more than pleased at the sight you made the choice to reject a pair of panties for the day.
you lift your shoulders up so you can lift your head, only for it to be quickly shoved back down into the ocean of papers. his palm stays pressed to the back of your head as you feel him line himself up. his other hand finds purchase on your hip, and you take a deep breath.
luke is not gentle with his penetration. he treats you like you think he should right now. he is not thinking of your pleasure right now, but you know he’ll make it up to you another day. for now, he spits on your back and slaps your ass as he bottoms out.
eager to make it up to him, you push back at the same time, and his hips stutter, dick throbbing inside of you. you’re so, so full, and you begin to wonder cock drunkenly how you got lucky enough to be the lucky soldier he takes his anger out on.
your gratitude doesn’t last long. it’s quickly turned into regret when he sets his brutal pace. you wail at the force, and then you bitch, “captain!”
luke seems to like the use of his formal title because he snaps his hips to get impossibly deeper. “fuck, that’s hot.”
your back arches to an insane degree, and you don’t know if you want to escape from or get closer to his dick. you do know that you babble something about not being able to take it, and luke goes, “but you will. don’t you wanna make me feel good?”
the question is rhetorical. he knows you would capture the sun and bring it back to him on a silver platter if it meant he would no longer be mad at you,
you make sure to clench a little to make it tighter for him. he hisses.
his thrusts just feel like they’re getting deeper. you start to feel discouraged, but he says, “can you handle it, honey?”
weakly, your hands fist the papers below you until they’re balls, and you lift your chin to make sure your eyesight’s still intact. “i can take it.”
for some reason, luke takes that as a request for him to go harder, meaner—but for good reason, you decide, because you feel that familiar feeling building up.
you writhe and your legs spasm, an indication of your approaching orgasm, and luke is quick to pull out. his hand passes over himself a few times before he’s spurting cum onto the skin of your ass. he pulls your uniform skirt right back over it. and slips his boxers and pants back on.
you are dazed and dizzy, and you don’t even have the energy to be mad at him. all you’re concerned about is if he’s still mad at you. you stand as he is just zipping his fly, and he looks up at you curiously.
“do you forgive me?”
luke almost smiles. the expression he makes that is just akin to a grin seems like a sneer, but you take it. he cups your cheek and drags you forward to press a kiss against your mouth.
“you earned it,” he praises against your lips.
a/n: captain luke i fucking love u i will singlehandedly write all the fics for this man ... him ordering everyone around was a lot for me and i got worked up.
i will proofread this tomorrow it is so late and i wake up in five hours ... feel free to send me evil captain boss luke requests please make them juicy
• percy can lose himself very easily in sex. he gets caught up in the sensations around him and the wonderful feeling of your touch.
• french-kiss lover, and fuck, he’s good at it. swiping his tongue against yours, licking the roof of your mouth, and sucking at your tongue as he pulls away from you, he does it all. he just loves to see you breathless with kiss-bruised lips.
• this man LOVES taking you from behind, his hands using your hips as handlebars. going rough and then slowing it down by pressing you deep into the mattress, his chest against your back, and his arms linked with yours.
• his stamina is off the charts. his demigod genes give him enough strength and stamina to go all night if he felt so inclined. he is very perceptive of your energy and will happily pull you onto his cock until you start to get riled up again.
• the two of you have makeout sessions to the kitchen to grab water or snacks in between rounds, he’ll even carry you to the bathroom.
• nothing, nothing, gets him riled up more than seeing his cum on you. he is addicted to the sight of his cum on your body. your stomach, on your tongue, face, chest— you name it, he loves it.
• he’s pretty well groomed. he keeps things clean and healthy to keep up a hygienic routine. shaving, waxing, or even trimming takes time he just doesn’t have when he’s busy fighting monsters.
• if he knows ahead of time he’s meeting up with you he will take the extra time to clean himself and trim to the best of his ability. sometimes he gets bored and will trim a triangle for your amusement.
• percy enjoys experimenting with things. he’ll try just about anything once, just for the shits and giggles.
• this man is such a tease. he’s constantly trying to rile you up in a situation where you know that you can’t have him yet. the frustration building up in your eyes while you shoot him the most venomous of glares greatly amuses him.
• he’ll give you an innocent grin, pretending he wasn’t just brushing his thumb— "accidentally"— against your clit when resting his hand against your inner thigh.
• percy loves receiving. he loves seeing you struggle to take all of him and make a mess of yourself. he’ll gather all your hair, so that it’s out of your face and grip it to encourage you through the experience. he’s not shy, he’ll happily kiss you with the taste of him still on your lips, praising you every time for taking him so well.
• he enjoys giving just as much as receiving. it’s his way of worshiping you and giving you immense pleasure by his mouth alone. he can get really into it so either ride the overstimulation, squirm and fight against his grip on you, or tug on his hair just to see him pull away with a disappointed grunt.
• percy is a SUCKER for quickies. he enjoys romantic, traditional sex as much as the next guy, but he will never turn you down when he’s in the mood.
• he just wants the quickies to be in a safe area because he doesn’t want to have to worry about protecting you while having an intimate moment— that will not stop him, however, from taking you behind a tree in full battle armor during capture the flag.
• percy isn’t the loudest person in the bedroom. he’ll grunt here and there with a rough breath, maybe a few groans if you really hit a sweet spot. otherwise his breathing is the main indicator of his pleasure.
• his breathes shorten and hitch with each new wave of pleasure. the longer he’s in the mood or the longer you two go on, the more he’ll lose himself in the pleasure and make the beautiful noises that only you get to hear.
• don’t underestimate the power of a quick handjob with this guy. something about it— quick, dirty, maybe with an undertone of constructed panic or need to hurry— makes his eyes roll back so easily.
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”
Request: nope
Pairing: percy jackson x reader (me not writing as apollo!reader? who is she??)
Summary: the aftermath of the battle for camp half-blood has you reeling (both figuratively and literally), but luckily percy is there. (or, alternatively: dumb and dumber take care of each other lol)
Warnings: mentions of blood, fighting, injuries, swearing. luke haunts the narrative. slight s2 finale spoilers
Word count: 1.5k
A/N: gonna miss my silly demigods on the screen :') the finale was so good ugh my shayla's!!! enjoy! :)
since discovering he's a demigod, percy has been knocked out enough times to know the feeling. intimately. like the back of his hand. it's how he knows he's going to have one hell of a headache as well. probably one that lingers for a few days.
he'll open his eyes, and maybe by some miracle he'd have time to get up and take a breath before charging back into battle.
why hadn't luke just killed him already?
then, the headache slowly starts to fade away. normally it doesn't happen that quickly. on top of that, percy feels something surrounding him. and he hears the sound of water lapping ashore. what in the gods is going on?
with some effort, percy opens his eyes.
there's a pair of panicked eyes centimetres away from his face.
'what the...?'
'oh thank the gods!' you exclaim. 'thought for sure I was too late.'
you reach out and hook your fingers behind percy's chest plate. you lean back slightly and pull him to his feet. your eyes quickly scan over his face and neck, where the blood has washed away from his skin, and the purplish-blue color of the skin around his eye slowly turns back to its normal color.
percy blinks a few times, still a bit groggy from passing out. the water helps, though. his vision stops being blurry as his eyes focus on you.
he looks behind him, and notices where he is. it's nowhere near thalia's tree, or the battle that was raging on. then he looks back at you, confused.
'why are we at the lake?' he says.
'I dragged you here.' you say, as if that's enough explanation.
'you dragged me here?'
'I don't know, I panicked!'
'I passed out in battle, and the next logical step for you was "drag percy into the lake"?'
'you're a son of poseidon, I figured it would help! or something. and the apollo cabin and the great house were both overflowing already. thought this would be the next best thing.'
'you were right.' says percy.
then he notices you're shivering. you're still bleeding from a dozen different cuts all over your body, and you're holding one of your arms cradled against your chest.
'you're hurt.' says percy.
'well... there was a battle.' you say.
'and you're soaked.'
'in case you hadn't noticed, we're standing knee deep in the fucking lake, water boy.'
percy is silent for a while, staring at you.
'water boy?'
you throw your hands up in defeat. 'I don't know, okay!' you say loudly. you sigh as you press the palms of your hands against your eyes. 'I think luke hit me in the head with the back of his sword. he might have knocked the sanity out of me.'
'turn around.' says percy gently. 'let me see.'
you obey, turning around in the cold water. you feel percy carefully prod around the back of your head with his fingers. at a particular painful spot, you inhale sharply.
'sorry.' mutters percy behind you. 'there's some blood but I think it stopped bleeding. best to check it out anyway, though. come on.'
percy grabs your hand and starts to wade towards the shore. once you're both out of the lake, he wraps an arm around your shoulder. you feel how your clothes slowly start to dry and some warmth seeps back into your fingers.
'thank.' you mutter.
for a while, neither of you talk. you're focused on just putting one foot in front of the other. and percy is focused on keeping you warm.
just as you think to yourself you enjoy the quiet, percy speaks up.
'do you... know where we are?' he asks.
you look up at the trees surrounding you. 'I don't know. somewhere between the lake and the rest of camp.' you say.
'right. which way to camp?'
'uh. left?'
'are you asking me or telling me?'
'telling you?'
'your words don't match your tone. do you know for sure which way to go?'
you squeeze your eyes shut, reaching up to press a hand against your forehead. the headache that had started when luke first hit you in the head is gradually growing stronger and more annoying. it's making it hard to think. or remember directions.
'I thought I knew.' you say. 'but now I'm not sure.'
'okay... we're gonna have to figure something out. I think I'm lost.' says percy.
'you don't know the way back to camp from the lake? you go there all the time.' you point out.
'I usually go to the northern shore though. and that wasn't the northern shore we were just at.'
'it can't be that hard to find the way back.'
'you say that now.'
'don't you know how many knots or something it is to camp?'
percy looks at you. 'knots are for how fast you're going when you're at sea. which we're not. I wouldn't be able to tell you how close we are to camp because, again, we're not actually at sea.'
'right...'
percy cocks his head and studies your face. 'are you sure it was just a hit to the head? you're not feeling dizzy or anything? world's not spinning?'
'world hasn't stopped spinning.' you confess.
'why didn't you say anything?' says percy, concern written all over his face.
'you were the one with blood coming from their mouth, not me. I needed to help you first.' you say.
'alright well now I'm helping you. let's go back to the lake and go to the northern shore. I know the way from there.'
you nod, too tired to suggest anything else.
the way back to the lake and then to the northern shore is long and slow. your injuries are catching up to you, and you're leaning heavily on percy. he doesn't seem to mind, though.
the sun has begun to dip below the horizon when finally, the great house looms in the distance. two figures are standing on the porch. when you get closer, you can tell it's annabeth and grover.
'there!' says annabeth, rushing down the stairs towards you and percy.
she stops in front of the two of you, looking from percy to you. her eyes widen at the sight of you.
'I'm gonna kill luke.' she says.
'me first.' you mutter.
'speaking of him, where is he?' says percy.
'disappeared. probably realised he was outnumbered and fled. we'll find him again. we'll regroup and come up with a plan and-'
'annabeth.' says grover, who had just joined you, 'we can plan tomorrow.'
annabeth seems to realise that without percy standing next to you and holding you up, you probably couldn't stand on your own.
'right.' she says. 'some beds freed up at the house, come on.'
she moves to stand next to you, careful of your injured arm. grover walks ahead to tell chiron you and percy have been found. meanwhile, percy and annabeth slowly walk you up the stairs of the house.
they lead you through the house and to an empty bed. chiron is standing near it, a worried look in his eyes.
'no matter how many heroes I train, this part never gets any easier.' he says softly, a sad tone in his voice. 'rest. we'll get someone from the apollo cabin to patch you up.'
when chiron leaves the room, you look at your friends.
'I'm fine.' you tell them, trying to ignore the pain in your head and your arm. 'annabeth, what were you saying about a plan to get luke?'
'you need to rest.' says percy from his spot next to your bed.
'I'm fine.' you insist.
'don't get up from this bed.' says percy. 'I'm serious. I can't just dump you in the lake like you did with me.'
'you got dumped in the lake?' says grover.
'tell you later.' says percy.
'guys, seriously. I'm okay. let's get going on this plan, yeah?' you say.
'we'll get to planning. you stay in this bed.' says percy.
'what are you going to do if I don't?'
'I'll tell mr d.'
'he'll be fine. not the fist time a camper hasn't properly rested in between quests and battles. and also, he doesn't care.'
'fine. I'll tell chiron.'
'hmm..'
you want to protest more, but you see annabeth is glaring daggers at you. and in all honesty, your head is killing you. and though your good arm wasn't injured, you'd still be unbalanced in a fight.
you hear sounds coming from the hallway, and a kid you'd seen around a few times enters the room. they're holding a big bag in their hands and offer a small, awkward smile.
'chiron said you needed a healer?'
'yep.' says percy, before you can answer. 'the one in the bed. also a very stubborn patient who does not want to rest. though it is very much necessary. injured arm and claimed the world was spinning. also took a blow to the head and-'
'thanks, percy.' you say, fighting to stay awake. 'I think they can take it from here.'
the apollo healer moves closer to you, setting their bag down on the small table next to the bed.
'promise me you'll stay?' you say softy, closing your eyes as you feel sleep getting to you.
you feel how someone brushes their fingers against yours.
'of course.' says percy.
A/N:
thanks for reading! everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist.
please do not copy, translate, plagiarise or repost my work! some of these are requested by other people and I spend a lot of time and effort on my works <3
much love,
marit
pjo characters having a crush on you pt.2 confessions
how i think each character would confess to you
Characters: Percy, Annabeth, Jason, Piper, Leo, Hazel, Frank, Nico, Reyna, Will, Grover, Rachel, & Luke x gender neutral reader
Disclaimer: this is my opinion not Canon.
Percy
you would find out he had a crush on you via Grover or annabeth
Everyone is surprised you didn't already know because how could you not??
You'd probably start noticing his crush on you the next few times you guys hang out.
One day you bring it up while talking to him and he gets super embarrassed.
He doesn't deny it but he will apologize and would try to pressure you for an answer or rush into anything
You would have to explain that you like him back and he totally wouldn't believe you at first.
Once the point does get across he totally freezes up bc he was not prepared for this outcome
You two would decied to take your relationship slow and see what happens.
Annabeth
she has her entire script ready and has finally figured out the perfect way to confess.
She doesn't expect you to reciprocate she just wants to get these feelings off her chest before she looses her mind
That being said she made sure that everything was perfect just incase you did reciprocate.
She planned the perfect time and place, on a walk in the forest during the early evening. And activity you 2 did often enough it wouldnt seem out of the ordinary or too romantic.
She has an entire script memorized.
You 2 walk through the woods and sit by a tree stump. Thats when she begins her monolog.
You dont realize its a confession at first since it sounds like she's just rambling.
But the she starts talking about how much she likes you and it clicks.
In her script she also states that you dont have to reciprocate. Making sure she doesn't pressure you.
You try to inturrupt her a few times but she isn't gonna stop til she's done
Once she's done you finally tell her that your reciprocate and she tries to play it off but she's actually going crazy inside.
You start dating and percy and giver have to her annabeth talk about it for the next week.
Jason (pre memory loss)
He's been dropping hints for a while now.
He keeps telling himself that hes gonna confess to you but every time the moment comes he just cant.
One day though, a day he actually wasn't planning on confessing to you, he finally does it.
You 2 are just hanging out together like usual.
Then hes staring at you and he just thinks your so beautiful, so he tells you exactly that.
You're probably confused since he's usually all logic and business and all of a sudden he compliments you.
You obviously question this and the Jason just spews out all the feelings hes kept inside.
The second hes done with that he immediately regrets it because why did he say all of that?
He immediately starts apologizing talking about how unprofessional that was ect
Eventually you're able to tell him you like him back and you've never seen him smile so wide before.
The rest of the day he has a smile on his face and everyone is really concerned and confused.
(Post memory loss)
Youve known hes had a crush one you i mean how couldn't you.
So maybe one day you decide to mention it to him
He freaks out and starts denying it. He doesnt want you to think of him as lesser bc of a stupid crush
You would never though.
You end up telling him you like him back and he is over the moon
He doesnt leave your side for the rest of the day he is the happiest man in the world
Piper and Leo never ever hear the end of it he will never shut up about this.
Piper
Eventually when your two are alone you bring up the kiss
She tries to play it off as an accident saying it didn't mean anything but she lying sooo hard
You notice of course and ask if thats really what happened.
She folds under absolutely zero pressure
She admits how much she likes you but she was afraid you didn't like her back and didn't wanna mess up the friendship.
You have to reassure her that you like her back.
Once she believes you tho you kiss again but for real this time. And again. And again.
Piper just likes kissing you. And now she actually can!
Leo (this one is a little angsty)
One day you cant find Leo anywhere.
You ask everyone but you just can't find him.
Eventually you do find him in his bunker curled up into a ball and you think he's crying.
Youre obviously very concerned since you've never seen Leo this upset before hes always been the funny one with a smile.
You try to comfort him and figure out what's wrong but he wont tell you.
Eventually you bug him enough that he hurts out its because of you.
Youre hurt by this so you leave not wanting to make things worse.
You start avoiding him but eventually he ends up finding you alone and forcing you to talk to him
He explains that you didn't do anything wrong but you dont quite believe him since he sounded pretty honest before.
So he has to confess that the real reason he was crying was because he knew you'd never like him back.
You are baffled since wtf is he talking about how could I not like him back.
Youthen tell him you didn't think he liked you bc he flirts with everyone.
You Eventually end up dating and he will never shut up about how lucky he is.
The flirting gets even worse BTW
Hazel
You 2 are forced to work together for a quest or something
Hazel is freaking out trying her best to work with you.
During some of the downtime you get you ask her why she hates you and she's shocked that you think that.
You explain why you think that but you cant think of anytime you mightve done anything to make her hate you.
She explains that she doesn't hate you she's just a bit nervous.
You're a bit skeptical but accept it.
Then you're in the middle of battle and she ends up confessing to you.
You bring it up after the battle and she's very embarrassed
You tell her its okay and after the quest you start hanging out a bit more and slowly start dating.
Frank
You obviously have a crush on frank bc how could you not?
Hes really sweet, you hang out all the time, and he always remembers important dates.
So you eventually work up the courage to confess.
You do it casually while you two are just hanging out and he stares at you before smiling
He's so relieved and happy that you like him back.
Once its out in the open he just starts ranting to you about how much he loves you and every little thing he loves about you.
You fall a little bit more in love in that moment.
You two start dating after that.
Nico
you've gotten a crush on nico.
Which is weird because heist typical crush material.
He barely speaks to anyone including you and it seems everyone has a story about sometime he was rude to them.
Hes never been rude to you though. Even though hes distant.
So you just like him from afar
One day you decide to ask him out
You finally track him down after what seems like hours of trying and you ask if he wants to go out to ear sometime.
"Like a date?" He asked.
You get extremely nervous because what if he says no? Then he'll definitely hate you and avoid you forever.
You say yes it is a date and his face turns cherry red.
He stutters a bit and barely manages a yes before he storms off.
The date ends up going well and you start dating.
Reyna
She makes a detailed plan to confess.
She does it very seriously and lays everything out. She tells you that she really likes you and has for sometime she says that she doesn't expect you to return these feelings and she says she wants to remain friends no matter what.
You are pleasantly surprised because you never thought Reyna of all people would like you.
Of course you say that you like her back.
She freezes and has no clue what to do. She didn't expect this at all.
You two end up going on a date and start dating and Reyna is so happy and grateful that she can call you hers.
Will
You two are so close now people at camp cant tell if you're dating or not.
Eventually people start asking where your boyfriend is whenever you aren't with will.
You're confused at first but end up getting tired of correcting people.
One day you two are hanging out like normal and someone refers to the two of you as lovebirds.
Will blushes and starts denying it but you just went with it which made him blush a lot.
After that will asks if you guys are dating cause he genuinely cant tell anymore and its driving him bananas
You ask if he wants to be dating and of course he says yes.
So you start dating and when you tell people they go "wtf where you doing before???"
Grover
You confront him about the flower thing because now your confused
He crumbled under less than zero pressure
He admits he has a crush on you but makes it very clear that he does not expect anything in return
When you say you like him back he freezes up and gets really flustered
Once you start dating you two spend a lot of time hanging around camp together.
Everyone can tell your dating too.
He still gives you flowers because you like it so much
But he also gets you other gifts
☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆
Rachel
She paints a picture for you based on a photo she took where your standing in the sunlight
The painting is beautiful obviously.
She gives it to you and admits that she's had a crush on you for a while and that you've inspired her a lot.
When you accept she is the happiest person ever
Shes very big on physical affection so I think she'd be all over you
She doesn't stop talking about you to everyone
Percy and annabeth have heard so much about you
All her friends in theater know everything about you
Shes so proud that you're her partner and she absolutely will let everyone know
That being said she is so so in love with you and isnt at all ashamed of it
☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆
Luke (if you say no)
As I said in the last part he had to flee camp quicker than expected because of percy and the lightning bolt thing.
So he gets you alone and tells you everything and begs you to join him and Kronos to betray the gods
You say no because whatever reason
He continues asking pleading even. He doesnt want to fight against you.
When you still refuse he starts asking you not to tell anyone he promises he won't hurt anyone, he just wants to leave camp
You agree and keep his secret but you start keeping your distance and it breaks his heart.
If he sees you during battle he will do everything to avoid fighting you
If he somehow does end up fighting you he will hold back. He doesnt want to hurt you. He never wants to hurt you.
(If you go with him)
He tells you everything and begs you to join him and betray the gods.
You agree and flee with him the night he fights percy.
You two get to spend a lot of time together on the princess Andromeda.
He catches you up on their plans.
One day he confesses that he likes you at sunset on the ship.
He tells you about how scared he was to rope you into all of this and how much he's glad you here.
You like him back obviously.
From that moment onward you're like a power couple.
Everyone on the ship is sick of you two
He tells you everything especially how the expectations of Kronos are weighing on him.
When Kronos takes him over he becomes distant and abrasive because that isnt your Luke anymore. . .
