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loonaoffline · 2 months ago

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imperfect harmony

chapter three

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tags: @starshine145 , @rinisfruity14 , @tabbyolivar , @whoscyan , @loonaoffline , @eternlmoonlight

anastasia

it was the first week of rehearsals. things had been going decently well, stassie supposed. at the very least, nobody had killed anyone or committed arson which, considering the people, was a high achievement. one thing though, the band, especially luke hadn’t failed to come in late every day. yes, stas might’ve been fashionably late to their meeting when the tour was announced but that was a meeting. this was tour rehearsal, it was the real thing, sort of and luke showing up late to a tour he’s opening, smelling like cigarettes, marijauna and foreign perfume was pissing stassie off. she had cut him slack the first few days, well, only because her friends suggested she did, but today she’d had enough.

luke walked in as usual, in his leather jacket which stas was sure was the main thing carrying the smell. no apologies left his mouth as he headed to the stage to go through his set. you’d think the amount of smoking would weaken his vocal cords, but they didn’t. stas never denied his talent, just his ability to not be an asshole. stas watched him reluctantly as they finished up their set. crew called for break between sets when stas walked up to luke.

“so, you gonna do this every practice?” she asked.

“do what? be hot and talented? because yes, that’s not going to end.” he joked.

“no, jackass. you walk in late every practice.”

“is the princess of being fashionably late lecturing me on her own expertise?”

“that was once and it wasn’t as serious as this”

“please, stas. i’ve known you forever. you are always late.”

“and you’re always an asshole”

“is that all you’ve got?”

“no, you also smell”

“like?”

“weed, nicotine, perfume..”

“perfume?”

“i think”

luke chuckles. “jealous it’s not yours?”

“are you listening to a word i’m saying, luke?”

“yeah, you’re saying i come in late because i have more fun than you and you’re jealous because you have a sad, boring life.”

anastasia turns her nose up. “none of that is true. i have fun and i love my life. just because i take my job seriously doesn’t mean i don’t.”

“then why do you walk around with a stick up your ass?”

“why do you slouch around like a fucking zombie?”

“that’s just cruel, princess. seriously, do you do anything to relax?”

“i don’t have time to.”

“gods…i thought this was the era of self care?”

“says the man who only cares for himself”

“not true”

“then be on time tomorrow. let’s begin?!” stas finishes, asking the crew to come back together.

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loonaoffline · 2 months ago

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Starry Night

It’s been a while since I’ve done something that wasn’t a request, so this was nice. 🩵🌸

• set inspired by Van Gogh’s Irises • Famous Art Collection •

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loonaoffline · 2 months ago

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90 notes is crazy wtf

HISSS BACKKKK GODDDD IF YOU CAN HEAR ME

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loonaoffline · 2 months ago

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HISSS BACKKKK GODDDD IF YOU CAN HEAR ME

#charlie bushnell #pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x you #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson

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loonaoffline · 2 months ago

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summer road trip with luke castellan (16+, implied sex)

it starts with a promise.

made late at night, in the kind of hazy space between sleep and dreaming, when the world feels quiet and nothing’s quite real yet. you’re lying side by side on a roof somewhere—one of those abandoned places luke likes to sneak into. the stars are barely visible, city lights bleeding up into the sky, but you’re not really looking at the stars anyway.

“we should do it,” he says, breathless from laughter after a dumb joke he barely managed to get out. “just take off one day. no plans. no schedules. just you, me, and the open road.”

you laugh into the sleeve of your hoodie. “okay, cowboy.”

“i’m serious.” he props himself up on his elbows. “we’ll make playlists. stay in janky motels. get gas station snacks that’ll probably kill us. it’ll be perfect.”

you hum, eyes fluttering shut. “we’re always saying ‘one day.’ you ever think about making it this day?”

he doesn’t say anything for a long second.

then, “i’ll steal a car.”

you snort. “please don’t steal a car.”

“fine. borrow one.” he nudges your arm. “c’mon. you know you want this.”

you do. gods, you really do.

and maybe that’s why two weeks later you’re throwing a duffel bag in the backseat of an old car luke somehow managed to “legally” obtain (you don’t ask too many questions), a worn paper map stuffed into the glove compartment, and three half-charged burner phones just in case.

you don’t even pick a destination. that’s the point.

it’s about the drive.

the first few days are the best kind of disorganized. you get hopelessly turned around trying to get out of the city, miss your turn like, four times, and end up on some weird detour through a town that seems stuck in the 1950s. you eat breakfast-for-dinner at a diner with cracked red booths and a waitress who calls you both “sweethearts.” luke leaves a doodle on a napkin and tucks it into the jukebox.

the road stretches ahead like a ribbon of possibility, glittering under the sun. the heat blurs the horizon, making everything shimmer like a mirage, and the sky is that kind of obnoxiously perfect blue that feels more like a postcard than real life.

the a.c. in the car gave up somewhere around three days ago, so the windows are rolled down, warm air rushing in and tangling your hair, sticking your shirt to your back. it doesn’t help much, but it’s better than nothing.

you've got one foot propped on the dash and a half-melted slushie wedged into the cupholder, condensation dripping down the sides. the map—the one you swore you didn’t need, and luke insisted you bring anyway—flutters against your knee every time the wind hits just right. it’s already creased and stained, with corners starting to curl. neither of you are really using it.

a cd clicks softly in the stereo, and a hazy guitar riff spills out—something easy, something old. the kind of music that makes you feel like you’re in a movie.

you hum to the songs you know, watching the scenery blur past in golden smears of light and heat.

luke’s driving one-handed, the other resting lazily out the window, fingers tapping against the door in time with the beat. sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose, and there’s a sunburn blooming along the edge of his jaw that he keeps forgetting to take care of. he looks over at you, grinning.

“you’re gonna fly out the window if you lean any further.”

“worth it,” you say, hair whipping across your face. “this breeze is all that’s keeping me alive right now.”

he chuckles, reaching over to tug the map from your lap. “you’re the one who said we didn’t need to stop for sunscreen. or, y’know, ice.”

“and you’re the one who didn’t want to stop for directions,” you shoot back, watching him squint at the map like it personally offended him. “so now we’re two thirsty idiots lost somewhere between nowhere and hell.”

“romantic,” he says, tossing the map into the backseat. “just the way i like it.”

you roll your eyes, but it’s affectionate. always is with him.

the wind smells like dust and wildflowers, and every few miles, you pass a road sign faded by time and sun. one of them promises a lake in twenty minutes which probably is not true. the next, a diner with the “best pie in the state.” you don’t stop for either. maybe the next one.

you were supposed to take turns driving. that was the deal—fifty-fifty, no arguments. but luke, being luke, never sticks to the plan. he always insists he’s fine, even when you catch his eyes fluttering shut at a red light, head tilting slightly like he’s about to nod off right then and there.

“i literally saw you close your eyes for five seconds,” you say when he pulls into a gas station, the gravel crunching beneath the tires as he parks.

“it was just five seconds,” he groans.

“five seconds away from crashing,” you mutter, already unbuckling your seatbelt. “move over.”

he sighs, dragging himself out from behind the wheel with all the theatrics of someone who’s definitely not fine, even if he still insists otherwise. he grumbles under his breath as he slides into the passenger seat—and is completely passed out the second his head hits the window. no “i’m not even tired,” no “just resting my eyes.” just out cold. mouth open, snoring, even drooling a little.

you drive comfortably after that. there’s less tension on your shoulders now that you’re the one in control, and luke’s quiet snoring is oddly comforting.

he stirs sometime later, sleep-warm and rumpled, his voice still thick with it when he reaches across the console. his hand finds yours with ease, like it’s muscle memory. his fingers slot between yours and, without a word, he lifts your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. soft. slow. like a thank-you.

somewhere between a cracked-out diner with the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had and a pit stop at a quiet national park, you start feeling it—that warm, slow burn that only summer with luke castellan can bring.

it’s in the way he looks at you when you’re not looking, eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. it’s in the casual brush of his thumb over the back of your hand. it’s in the way he steals bites of your food, complains about the heat, and still tucks a cold bottle of water into your hands without being asked.

he’s quiet during the hikes, but he always slows down so you don’t fall behind, even when you insist you’re fine. he keeps snacks in his pockets for you, things he knows you like, things you didn’t even notice him buying. and when you sit beside him on the edge of a cliff, watching the sun drip like honey into the horizon, he kisses your shoulder so gently it sends goosebumps across your skin.

he takes so many pictures of you. most of the time you don’t even notice until he shows you later—sun-drenched, wind-tousled, blurry with motion but sharp with love. he says he wants to remember you like this. you laugh and roll your eyes, but still smile a little too hard when you see them.

you two stop at a few motels every now and then. they were nothing special. peeling paint, flickering neon sign half-buzzed out, and a questionable stain or two on the carpet—but it’s cheap, and it’s got just enough charm to feel like part of the story. luke leans against the counter while you check in, tapping the bell repeatedly until you swat at him.

the old woman behind the desk gives you a room key and a knowing smirk like she’s seen a thousand versions of you two before: sunburnt, road-weary, eyes too bright to be anything but in love.

sometimes, impulses get the best of the two of you. like when one day luke spots a faded little hand-painted sign pointing down an overgrown path off the side of the highway. beach access. there’s no one around. no cars. just the sound of cicadas and wind through tall grass.

you both follow it on instinct, barefoot and laughing, racing toward the sound of crashing waves.

and then there it is: a hidden stretch of shoreline tucked between two cliffs, like a secret carved out just for you. no footprints, no noise except for the ocean. the sand’s hot and soft under your feet, the sun dipping low on the horizon and casting everything in amber.

you run straight into the water, still half-dressed, splashing and shrieking when luke dunks you under and then pulls you back up, breathless and dripping. he kisses you then, water-slicked and grinning, hands on your waist like he’s never going to let go.

and later, after you’ve both sprinted back to the car, giddy and dripping wet, after the sand’s stuck to every inch of your skin and the sun’s painted you gold, you end up tangled in the back seat. skin sticky with sweat, your bodies pressed close in the heat of the car, breathing in tandem.

the windows fog up, the air thick with salt and sun and something heavier. the radio hums low, some lazy summer song playing beneath the sounds of your bodies shifting, touching, needing. his hands roam like he’s mapping you out all over again, rough in the way he holds you but gentle in the way he touches, like he knows exactly where to press to make you shiver.

he kisses you like he’s trying to memorize the taste of salt on your lips, like he wants to bottle this exact moment and keep it somewhere safe. and you, half-laughing between gasps, fingers twisted in his curls, mumble against his mouth, “i told you the backseat would get too hot.”

“guess we’ll have to open the door,” he says, voice low and teasing. “get a breeze in here.”

you roll your eyes, breathless and flushed. “fuck off, if we get caught by some poor park ranger—”

“worth it,” he grins, before kissing you again. deeper, slower this time.

and when you’re breathless and half-dressed, your back pressed to the warm seat and your body aching in all the best ways, you lie there with your head on his chest. his heartbeat is loud in your ear, steady and real.

you tilt your face up toward him, the fading light painting him in gold. “same time next summer?”

his arm tightens around you, his voice soft and full of something you don’t have a name for yet. “you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

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loonaoffline · 3 months ago

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CHERRY POSTED‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

imperfect harmony

chapter two

tags: @starshine145 @rinisfruity14 @tabbyolivar @whoscyan @loonaoffline @eternlmoonlight

prev.

luke

luke stood outside the recording studio, smoking his cigarette in tranquility as he pondered his day. he might’ve not shown it at the time, but he was excited or, rather intrigued to go on tour with stas or as he called her, augustine. she was augustine when they met so that’s what he was gonna call her, knowing how much she hated it. and she hated him.

why? he wasn't quite sure. he probably could name several possibilities. maybe simple cabin rivalry continuing to consume stas’ adult mind or the fact that he was kind of an ass, which is pretty valid. he didn't hate her, sure he found her annoying and she represented a lot of things he had a particular distaste for like pop music and happiness and..color.

but he still found her breathtakingly beautiful, even before the glimpse and glam when fashion stopped at wearing jeans or khakis with the infamous orange shirt. and he might be stupid for thinking it but maybe just maybe this tour would help convince her that he was more than just the asshole rockstar she knew from camp.

or he could just fuck up even more and make her hate him forever. which..was honestly more likely.

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loonaoffline · 3 months ago

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he wants her soooo bad

imperfect harmony

chapter one

tags: @starshine145 @eternlmoonlight @tabbyolivar @whoscyan @loonaoffline

anastasia

anastasia walked into the conference room, worry and doubt filled her thoughts. of course no one could tell by the way she presented herself as calm, collected and incredibly sexy at all times. she strutted in her heels and mini skirt as she took her seat in the meeting, being the last one to arrive, of course.

“now that the princess has graced us with her presence, we can begin” stassie’s grandfather and head of her label, zeus announced, his voice booming throughout the room like thunder. which wasn't a shock considering who he was.

beside her sat her father and manager apollo, on the other side of her her brother, will and around the room some other people not important enough for her to mention. as well as her dancers and her fellow label members, the rock band scarlet 40 and their manager, hermes. what was this all about? she thought.

zeus began his monologue, saying a bunch of unnecessary shit that only sounded important because he was saying it and anastasia zoned out as she waited for the kicker. “......which is why your managers and i thought it’d be best for you all to do a joint tour.”

anastasia heard herself gasp before she could even process what she had just heard.

“a what? we’re not even the same genre!” percy, son of poseidon and keyboardist? of scarlet 40 voiced.

“and how did you guys come to the conclusion that that was a good idea?” annabeth, daughter of athena and dance crew for anastasia asked.

“y’all expect me to share the stage with her?” luke, son of hermes, lead singer and guitarist of scarlet 40 and forever a pain in stassie’s ass, added.

“please like i’d ever want to share the stage with you and your depressed, smelly fucking band” stas clapped back.

commotion began as everyone began to talk over each other before it was abruptly shut down.

“silence” zeus yelled and silent it became.

“this is what we’ve decided. stassie’s reaching her prime as an artist, she can easily sell out arenas. scarlet, with your failure to release your debut album until recently, you need all the help you can get in creating a solid and dedicated fan base. no matter how “indie” you think you are, the pop fans would surely increase your streams. you don’t want to be underground forever and you won’t, not with this plan.” zeus explained as sighs and eyerolls filled the room.

“scarlet will open for stassie, you’ll start rehearsals soon, you’ll share a tour bus, hell, you’ll share hotel rooms sometimes! complain about the budget when you can sell out shows without the pop princess’ help” he continued.

anastasia fluttered her eyes with pride. “you’re welcome” she said to luke with a wink.

“any objections?” zeus asked rhetorically, because everyone knew deep down what he was saying made sense.

“right” he said as papers to sign started getting passed around.

“further discussion will be held in future meetings this week” zeus concluded.

anastasia signed her name as she felt someone coming up behind her. “hey, just because i agree to this doesn’t mean i’ll bow down to you, princess.” luke whispered in her ear. she nearly physically reacted to his breath on her neck before keeping her composure and turning to look at him.

“are you still 17? cus what the fuck does that even mean, castellan?” she scoffed.

“it just means..don't get ahead of yourself, is all.” luke shrugs.

“threatening the hand that feeds you?”

“don’t think yourself so high and mighty, stas.”

“i am though.”

“good luck getting through this tour with that mindset.”

“good luck getting bitches with that leather jacket on 24/7.”

“oh i won’t be needing luck for that, augustine.” luke teased with a wink. her stomach churned at the use of her real name, as well as the wink.

“asshole,” she murmured.

“i’ll see you around” he said before nodding for the boys to follow him out.

stas groaned, why had the gods forsaken her?

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