#Blade of Kronos

[lilbeanz]

✨️Coming soon! ✨️

[whitewaterpaper]

En bra film från 2024, finns det? Jodå. Klämmer man in dem mellan ett gäng sunkiga b-filmer från 50-talet kan man faktiskt hitta dem. Det kallas perspektiv.

'Allå, 'Allå, ('Emliga Armén) (2013) [👍🔁📺🎭]

Air Force One Down (2024) [👍] Inte den sämsta filmen jag såg denna månad. Fight me!

Aztec Mummy Against the Humanoid Robot (1958) [👎📺] Mexikansk SF-take på klassiska "The Mummy", mexikansk skräck har utvecklats mycket sedan den här. Hoppas vi iaf.

Deep Freeze (2002) [__]

Faculty, the (1998) [👍🔁]

Have Rocket: Will Travel (1958) [👎📺] Väldigt orolig komedi med ett komedigäng som (iaf i Usa) blivit legendariskt. Väldigt mycket fysisk humor som känns daterad.

Hemvärnets Glada Dagar (2005) [👍🔁📺🎭]

Inheritance / Spadek (2024) [__] Polsk (tack Netflix) komedi med drag av Arvspelen. Säkert rolig i Polen. Jag upplevde den mest som bisarra karaktärer som gör bisarra saker.

Kronos (1957) [📺]

Peter Pan och Lena / Peter Pan & Wendy (2023) [__] Den har bara ett fel: Peter Pan är väldigt svår att tycka om. I övrigt ett bra försök att uppdatera en klassiker.

Riot for the Dove (2022) [👎📺]

Underwater City, the (1962) [📺]

Världsrymden anfaller / Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956) [👍📺] Klassiker, glad att ha sett den äntligen.

Världsrymden anfaller / Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978) [👍] Klassiker, glad att ha sett den äntligen.

Zorro: The Gay Blade (1981) [👍🔁📺] Rolig Zorro-film som inte liknar något annat. Sett den två gånger nu och den var lika underhållande nu.

Känner ni för lättsam politisk actionthriller? Testa Air force One Down, inte genial eller något som gnuggar de små grå. Men riktigt sevärd. Vågar man ser man Zorro: The Gay Blade.

[gl00mxstar]

why art has to come out right at bad time it's 6:26am I wanna go to sleep but I've been struggling with this one for so long and also I've been feeling bad physically and mentally for past few weeks in general and also I'm tired but art looks nice it's unfair :(

[franklyopinionated]

People are obsessed with exaggerating Annabeth's flaws while also downplaying her good qualities.

People exaggerate a few snide comments she made to Rachel in botl but no one ever talks about how Rachel would have died a painful death if Annabeth hadn't risked her own life to save Rachel from a crashing helicopter in TLO. Annabeth wasn't even fully sure she could fly the helicopter, yet she jumped into it and risked her own death on the chance that she could save Rachel. Mind you, she didn't even like Rachel at this point but she put her feelings aside to save her. She literally could have stood there and let Rachel die and absolutely no one would be able to blame her for it.

People always bring up the fact that she wanted to save Luke as a negative thing while never mentioning that the thing that stopped Luke in the end was his love (familiar) for Annabeth and the promise he made to protect her. Annabeth would not have leaned on that promise to snap Luke out of being Kronos's meatbag if she had completely given up on him like Thalia. Her love and faith that Luke could be saved literally was the ace in the hole in stopping the war and she never gets credit for it. I've seen people give Percy credit for this and claim he was the one that knew when Luke was ready to be saved (give him the knife) which is absolute nonsense. Percy despised Luke right up until the end. He didn't decide Luke was ready for the knife. Annabeth did. What Percy did was finally trust Annabeth's opinion on Luke, something he hadn't done in the books leading up to this moment. But Percy 100% is not the person who made the call that Luke could be trusted, Annabeth was. Yet all of her credit always goes to Percy. Kind of annoying.

People act like Percy is the only one in their relationship that goes above and beyond while never mentioning that a full year before Percy fell into Tartarus for Annabeth, she actually took a near fatal blade straight to the chest for him and almost died. Mind you, she did this after Percy spent an entire summer hanging out with someone else and considering her history with her loved ones that must have completely felt like one more person in her life who abandoned her for someone less complicated when things got tough just like her father did. But when push came to shove she valued his life above her own because she loved him that much even when it could be argued that based on the state of their relationship at that point it would be understandable if she didn't think his life was worth risking her own life for his. But thats just not who Annabeth is. She loved Percy completely, even when they're not in the best place and he's spent the summer leading up to a war in which Annabeth could die hanging out with another girl. After all of that she still never strays from his side or having his back when it really matters.

People always gloss over the fact that Nico wanted to dislike Annabeth because of his crush yet he could never bring himself to dislike her because Annabeth was one of the few people at camp who was always nice to him. Annabeth has always been canonically nicer to Nico than Percy ever has. Yet people who want to ship Nico with Percy (someone who canonically has zero interest in him) they try to act like Annabeth was a monster. Mind you, Percy is the one who found Nico annoying for the duration of the books and Annabeth is the one who looked for him between TTC and BOTL and who was always so nice to him that Nico couldn't even bring himself to dislike her.

And then you have her family. Despite her being emotionally abused and neglected she still continues to give her family chance after chance to be better throughout the books. And despite fandom trying to rewrite history, that decision has nothing to do with Percy. She canonically has been trying to repair her relationship with her father and stepmother even before she meets Percy in Lightening Thief. She's one of the most loyal and forgiving characters in the series and never gets credit for it. *and yes, Annabeth is one of the most loyal characters in the series. Not sure why people act like characters can't have dominant personality traits outside of their fatal flaw. Annabeth is canonically just as loyal as Percy is and Percy has moment of incredible hubris that never gets called out for being hubris.

Really sick and tired of certain folks in this fandom exaggerating or completely making up Annabeth's flaws while ignoring the same or similar flaws in other characters (like Percy for example). And while Annabeth does have flaws, most of what people hate her for are things they have made up in their heads and have seemed to convince themselves is actually the canon from the books. It's both delusion, hateful and misogynistic. They hate her for flaws and problems they made up or exaggerated while straight up ignoring her accomplishments, character growth and good qualities. It's getting ridiculous. And we know most of you only do it because you want to ship Percy with someone else so you need to turn Annabeth into a villain to justify other ships which is incredibly ridiculous because you can literally ship whatever you want without being hateful and making things up about another character.

So many of your favs would be dead or worse off if Annabeth really was the monster ya'll try to act like she is to justify your hatred, misogyny and racism against her. * a lot of Annabeth hate picked up with the show casting a dark skin black girl and any one who thinks that's a coincidence is an idiot.

[snaileer]

Wrong Number? Wrong Answer.

It was the usual deal that the Justice League Dark dealt with… way too often honestly.

Initially, it had been just Wonder Woman, investigating a cult that had attempted to abduct her earlier in the month.

Diana had defeated them. Easily. Of course. But upon questioning them, their reasoning had concerned her.

They had attacked her for a ritual to open the ‘Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep’, a ritual which required ‘a blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

Once again, she was being targeted for her parentage. Did it ever end?

Of course, she questioned them further, what other ingredients did they need, what artifacts they would be hurting others to create.

A ring carved from the bone of an unfreed slave.

A crown made of lava untouched by human hands.

And sand directly from the pouch of Dream of the Endless themself.

It was an eclectic collection of items.

And yet, they had told her that only the blade remained to be created.

Again, it was concerning.

So Diana left the fools to be taken care of by men’s authorities, and focused on tracking down just what they were doing and if necessary, how to stop it.

After depleting her academic resources, and her connections within with nothing to show, Diana finally called in her friend through the league, Zatanna.

Zatanna had been frazzled by it, showing up in her living room before they’d even finished the call.

Together they tracked down the cult to Gotham… which was also a problem.

It was the reason why Diana was running through the caves beneath the crime ridden city with one of her closest friends in men’s world and a magician by her side.

All too quickly, they were surrounded by fanatics, each carrying sharp blades solely focused on her.

Working in sync with Batman and Zatanna throwing spells above them, Diana believed it would be a well-won battle.

Until a golden light flashed across the cave, blinding her for a precious second as she felt a sharp sting cut across her arm.

When her vision cleared, her arm was dripping blood and John Constantine stood in front of her.

“Sorry about that, love,” Constantine smirks, “No harm done?”

Diana’s teeth grind together as she turns away from him, fighting her way through more followers. The one who had injured her is nowhere to be seen, and the blade with them.

Even once the rest of the swarm is beaten, their numbers no longer being replenished, Diana does not feel content. The sense of danger lingers.

“Constantine.” Batman growls, “What are you doing in Gotham?”

The Brit rolls his eyes as he lights a new cigarette, “You know I don’t actually have to tell you every time I enter the city right? But besides, that’s news to me, portals are a tricky business, I’m tracking my own problem.”

Batman glares at him.

“Someone stole from me mate. And whatever they stole it for can’t be good, so I’m here ta get it back. Thought you’d be proud of something like that, Batsy, insteada leavin’ it for someone else?”

Batman’s eyes darken, “We’re tracking a group trying to open the Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep, is your artifact related to that?”

“Fucking shit it is yeah! Bollocks I didn’t think they’d be using the dream sand for something like that, what sort of mannies are these?!” Constantine exclaims, hastily grinding his cigarette beneath his shoe.

“Hn.”

Suddenly, there’s a rattling boom, the ground and walls shaking around them as dust rains down and they are all forced into stabilizing stances.

They barely share a glance before all three are running down the hall to the source, Constantine left scrambling to keep up.

The scene they come to is equal parts confusing as it is problematic.

The cultists are each in states of disrepair, crusting on the edges or yelling at their leader. The leader is the first to notice their arrival.

“You! You say you are a child of Zeus and yet your blood does not work! You lie of your ancestry!”

Diana steps forward, “I do not! I am the daughter of Queen Hippolyta and Zeus, grandchild of Kronos! The fault of your magic does not lie with me!”

The leaders face twists, mouth open to shout, but a flash of gold slams into him.

“Z, the book!” Constantine yells, arms outstretched as he flings more spells at the surrounding people, glowing ropes binding each.

“On it! Etativel em dna eht koob!” Zatanna shouts, lifting into the air as a book the leader had been holding flies into her hands.

Immediately she begins turning pages with desperation, “Wohs em eht stsitluc lleps!”

The book flips to a distinct page, and Zatanna’s face drains of color.

“Batman, we need to be careful, this spell looks legitimate, we might still have a risk on our hands.”

Batman hummed, looking at the chalk lines of the summoning circle drawn out before them, drawing Diana to do the same. Looking closely at the artifacts placed at each cardinal direction, including a short dagger with her blood nearly completely dry on the flat of the blade.

Batman moves towards the gathered and bound cultists as both magicians whisper over the spell.

Diana continues to look out on the evidence of the ritual, confusion warring in her.

She lays a hand on the lasso at her side. She knew she had not been lying about her heritage, so then why….

‘A blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

She looks at the bloodied dagger once more. It didn’t make sense, even if they had managed to harm a godly descendent, pure ichor would be gold; and even her blood was simply a humanly deep crimson red, not black; not until it-

Diana lunges towards the knife, fingertips brushing its hilt just as her blood dries a flaky black.

Her body slams into the cave walls in the next second, percussive force rippling through the air.

She crumples to the ground, struggling to lift her head.

White boots pass in front of her eyes.

She watches as they move towards her colleague, her friend, only to be surprised as they stop in front of the cultists instead.

As the air returns to her body, Diana lifts herself up, shaking arms supporting her as the weight of the atmosphere presses down.

She looks at the being, the sight almost making her collapse once more.

Mist curls around its form like a mountain peak, iridescent light glowing near its head, pitch black night covering its body, the pinprick of stars so small you can’t see them straight on, claws like a falcon’s beak: unhidden and meant to tear apart. And more importantly, wrapped around the leaders neck.

““̵̨̮̣̀͊̓Y̷͖̊̒o̸̤͈͍͌̈́͘u̶̗̭̲̍ ̵̬̤̞̀̑ā̴̟r̸̹̝̉e̴̞̦̮͑̍ ̴̣̩̖͑̓͛a̷̮̞͍͊͆͝ ̶͍̀̈́́f̷̖̄ò̸͈̓͝ǫ̷̅̀̔l̶̹̥̹̋͌͠.̴̤̲̈́͋̀”̶̛̫̺̈́”

The voice rattles her heart within her chest. She watches as Batman continues to try and stand.

The cultist struggles against the hand, mumbling screams behind Constantine’s bind. The creature tears it off with one claw.

“We summ-moned-… the king! Pa-pariah-!“

The creatures hand barely twitches, but the cultist breaks off in a scream. She is surprised to note the other cultists react exactly alike. As if linked.

“̵̻͝Ý̷͚o̶͈͝u̷̦̐ ̶̆͜d̶͈̄ǐ̸̢d̵̲̓ ̴͖̽n̴̘̅ȯ̸͍t̵̛̯ ̴̫̐ŝ̵̗u̴̹̇m̶̨͠m̴̡̽o̴̱̐n̵̘͝ ̴̪̈h̴̨̀i̶͝ͅm̸̰͗.̴͍͆”̸͔̔ The creature growls, “À̴̳n̸̛̜d̶͒ͅ ̴̤̃y̸̬͝ǫ̸̒u̵̫͗ ̶̘͛a̴̫̐r̷̠̈e̶͂ͅ ̶͔̋ḽ̶̔ủ̷͜c̷̥̍k̴̲͊ÿ̸̯́ ̶͓́f̷͇͝o̷͎͒ŕ̴͇ ̶͔͝t̶̞̀h̸̲̉ȧ̸̮t̷̩͝.̷͔̍ ̵͙͐I̸͎͌f̶͖͛ ̶̜̇y̵̜͗o̴̩̍ṵ̶͆ ̵̫̈́h̴͛ͅā̴̼d̸̤͆…̵͍̈́i̵͍̐t̸̡̉ ̴̭͂w̷̥̔o̷̟̅u̴̪͂l̸̞̏d̵͚̀ ̵͓̃b̴̢̽e̵̗͠ ̸͕̉m̸̠͆u̶̖͘c̷̯͘h̴̤̎ ̸̥́w̷͚͝o̸͐ͅr̶̦͐s̵̨̿e̸͕͆ ̸̙̑f̴̧̂o̶̱̓ȓ̷̟ ̴̠͗ÿ̸̥́ö̵͜ŭ̶̟.̵͎̉”̶͍̀

The man whimpers under the claws.

"I̴n̷s̵t̴e̷a̵d̸,̶ ̵y̸o̷u̵ ̴g̵o̷t̶ ̷m̸e̸,̴I̴ ̶g̵u̸a̷r̶d̴ ̶h̶i̷s̵ ̶p̸r̸i��s̵o̵n̶ ̶b̶e̷c̴a̷u̴s̶e̸ ̵I w̴a̸s̴ ̵t̴h̸e̷ ̸o̴n̸e̴ ̷t̸o̶ ̶p̵u̴t̵ ̴h̸i̴m̶ ̵t̴h̷e̸r̶e̴ ̵o̶n̵c̸e̵ ̶m̶o̸r̸e̸.̵”̴ The creature leans into the cultist, arching ever higher, angles sharpening, body distorting, "“̸̝͋a̵̱͋n̶͓͛d̵̘́ ̵̡̍f̷̱͊o̵͚̓r̷̪̎ ̴̭̑a̷̬̓s̷͙̅ ̷͍͌ĺ̵̫o̸̻͆ņ̵̀g̶̚ͅ ̷̬͌a̶̮̿s̵̩͊ ̸̫̌t̸̲̕h̸̢̉e̷̖͗ ̴̰̋c̸̹̀ȍ̸͎s̷̡̃m̵̥̍o̷̜͋s̷̗͐ ̴̜͆e̷̛̙x̸͓̑i̶͉̿s̸̹̀t̵̛̺,̴̡͠Í̷̢ ̷̣̽w̵̠͋i̶̺͒l̴̠͐l̸̮̃ ̴͍͌k̴̰̑e̸̠͐e̷̟͋p̵̲̏ ̸̙̂h̷̘͋ị̸́m̸͕̚ ̶̳̋t̶̡̒h̷̩͆e̷̪͝r̷̒͜e̵̡̔.̵̭͗”̵̮̔

There’s a dull flash as light flashes beneath the cultists skin, beneath all of the cultist’s skin, before they drop to the ground unconscious.

All too quickly, air returns to the room, pressure lifting like a deep breath into the room.

The creature turns, eyes meeting Diana’s for just a second as he turns towards the chalked lines of the circle. Diana lifts herself to her feet, drawing closer to Batman as they both watch him, hesitant.

On the other side of the room, Constantine and Zatanna also struggle to their feet, eyes filled with fear and caution as they take in the scene.

As the creature moves, mist still rolling off him in waves, his features fall away with it, gradually smoothing to a more human visage. It looks… young. Boyish.

Those same white boots crush down on the formed crown, the cooled lava rock crumbling under one step. Next is the ring, held carefully in two hands the creature whispers over it, breathy wind carrying it away as it turns to dust. He holds the blade with one hand, flakes disintegrating off as he lifts it.

Diana’s arm tingles.

Then the creature is standing in front of the last point, holding the small brown pouch of sand with consideration.

Silence reigns in the room.

Constantine, of course, is the one to break it.

“I believe that’s mine, mate,” he cuts in, stance still laden with suspicion.

“Oh?” The creature smiles, almost mockingly as he turns to Constantine, “Is it? If I wasn’t mistaken, this ritual calls for Dream’s sand. Are you Dream of the Endless, little magician?”

Constantine visibly swallows, “I’m not.”

The creature huffs a laugh, fangs glinting in his smirk. He moves swiftly, pivoting on one foot to toss the pouch at Constantine, “Catch.”

Constantine lurches forward to try and catch it, only to find it vanish in the air before it reaches his fingers.

The creature cackles, floating backwards, “What did you do to get your hands on such an amount of Dream’s sand, magician? I’m curious.”

“It was a family present,” Constantine grinds out as he turns back to the gently levitating humanoid form, “You can drop the kid facade by the way, you’re not tricking anyone here looking like that.”

The creature shrugs, “And if I’m comfortable like this?”

Diana steps in to stop Constantine from snapping back, “Who are you, spirit, to be summoned by such a ritual?”

The creature watches her for a beat, “I am Phantom of the Dead City, Protector of infinite realms. They did not bring me here, but I knew who they wished to summon and came because of it.”

Batman steps forward, voice interrogating, “The Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep-“

“Remains sealed. The Tyrant King remains trapped and at rest, do not worry.”

Somehow Diana does not think that soothes Batman, even as a great a warrior as he is.

“Hn.”

“Now, about that spell book,” Phantom turns to Zatanna, waving a hand and the book flies to him. He hovers a hand over it, and Diana watches in fascination as the chalk on the floor begins to burn away, the drawing in the book following.

Phantom looks at her once more, eyes too wise and strong for the age of his face, and then from one moment to the next, he is gone.

The book drops to the floor with a slam, cover open to aged blank pages as the last of the sigil burns away.

Hesitantly, Constantine goes to it, the rest of them following. When Constantine lifts the book with careful hands, they watch another image fade into view on the paper.

A cool colored image of Phantom rising over a city skyline outlined in green against a deep violet sky. Even on paper, his visage shifts constantly between the boyish figure and the ethereal danger of the form he’d appeared in.

Beneath the city lays a large coffin covered in chains.

The lock glows a pulsing toxic green before fading to a steely gunmetal grey and going still.

“Well that was the best encounter I’ve had with a dangerous dimensional figure and I still lost the dream sand.”

Zatanna’s slap echoes in the cave.

[sillylittlespam]

she got, she got away

percy jackson x daughter of hecate!fem!reader ( childhood friends/crushes to enemies to lovers , SLOW BURN , ANGST , multi-chapter series )

summary : percy hadn’t seen (y/n) since she betrayed him after his quest to save annabeth and artemis. when she corners him in the labyrinth, he can’t help but notice she seems a little…different. what the hell happened to her, and why is she so convince that it’s nothing?

AUTHORS NOTE : (y/n) is a daughter of hecate with magical powers! i’m not exactly an expert on hecate magic so i kinda made it up because this is fanfiction

and for anyone who cares (i’m not expecting you to) here are some of the songs i was listening to while writing this!

race by alex g

motion sickness by phoebe bridgers 

everyone adores you (at least i do!) by matt maltese 

this isn’t helping (ft phoebe bridgers) the national

birds don’t sing by tv girl

knives out by radiohead

series masterlist here !!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Didja miss me, Bambi?”

Percy’s reaction to the familiar voice behind him was delayed by the violent flinch that went through his body

 After he gathered himself, he whipped around, sword raised as he came face to face with his best friend.

Ex-best friend, he had to remind himself. It was so easy to forget how (y/n) betrayed him as he looked upon her smirking face. She had no weapons in her hands, but he knew that didn’t matter.

He had gotten significantly taller since the last time he had seen her. They used to be about the same height, but now she looked up at him. Her face had gotten a bit slimmer as well, and her eyes held heavy bags of exhaustion. The grin on her face, however, was just as he remembered. Paired with the teasing look in her eyes and the way her head tilted to the side, it was the exact same look she had given him when she had cornered him in Capture the Flag.

And here she had captured him again, this time in the Labyrinth. 

He had known the risks of splitting off from the group, especially with Luke and his army wandering the Labyrinth’s corridors, but it was the perfect distraction. If (y/n) knew he was here, he knew Luke would know soon, if he didn’t already. All he could hope was that Annabeth and Rachel hadn’t been caught trying to find a way around Anataeus’ arena, which was being occupied by Luke.

“I did. I missed you a lot,” he finally responded to her question, his sword unwavering despite his long moment of silence. (y/n)’s grin widened, and Percy did his best to ignore the way his heart swelled.

“Aw, you’re so sweet,” she gushed, her tone far too casual for the situation. Her eyes looked past the blade in front of her and instead focused on his eyes, which were fixed on her arms. Her hands were tucked behind her back, but Percy watched for any movement as a sign that she was casting a spell, “I missed you too, Perce.”

“You know,” he started slowly, carefully, as his eyes drifted up to meet hers, “You wouldn’t have to miss me if you just came back to Camp,” he quickly realized his mistake as the smile dropped from (y/n)’s face and was replaced with a cold stare. He kept going anyway, “We can forget this whole Luke and Kronos thing and just go back to the way things were. We can be okay again-“

“The way things were?” (y/n)’s voice was calm as she repeated his words. Too calm, “Percy, do you remember the way things were for me?”

He remained silent, readjusting his grip on his sword. Despite the empty coldness of the corridor, his palms were slick with anxious sweat.

“I had nobody,” (y/n) continued, a layer of cold rage creeping into her voice, “They threw me into the Hermes cabin with half the fucking camp and expected me to be grateful to the Gods! The same Gods who send their own children off to sacrifice ourselves in their name! Does that not sound wrong to you? My mother is considered kind because she decided I was worthy of being claimed only after I got my powers, but has never cared enough to ever actually meet me.”

Percy swallowed the absurd amount of saliva that had pooled in his mouth. He would never admit it out loud, but he knew (y/n) was right. 

He would never forget his early days at camp, before he was turned into some mighty hero. Back then, he was seen as just another scrawny kid who just happened to be a child of the Big Three. A bit unusual, but nothing that anyone wanted to pay too much attention to. 

He always enjoyed being around (y/n), since she made him feel normal. The two demigods got along quickly, as they were both looking for a person. And for a couple years, they were each other’s person. The camp almost never saw one without the other. (y/n) knew everything about Percy, and Percy knew practically everything about (y/n). At least, he thought he did.

The worst moment of his life would always be that night last year when he got back from the quest to save Annabeth and Artemis. Not only did he have to tell Nico that his sister had died, but that was also the night when he learned that his best friend, his person, had been working with Luke and Kronos the whole time.

Percy had never been very good at regulating his emotions, and almost flooded the Camp several times following that night. Nobody blamed him. There’s no way to deal with something like that in a normal way.

“That’s not true,” he said, finally lowering his sword, and his steady voice surprised him. He felt as if he was going to cry, “You had me. We had each other. You decided to throw that away. Luke doesn’t give a shit about you, (y/n), he’s just using you for your powers,” Percy nearly missed the way (y/n) flinched at his words, “Once he gets what he wants, he’ll just throw you to the side-“

“You’re a liar,” (y/n) hissed, and Percy was able to detect a purple aura around her that made him take a step back, “Luke has told me about his visions. Visions of great things, not just for him, but for me as well! And if you join me, Percy, great things can come for you too.” Somewhere in the middle of her rant, she had gone from angry to practically pleading with him.

Percy’s mouth pushed itself into a frown as he felt the tears begin to form in his eyes, realizing that the girl in front of him was different from his friend. Something had happened. He wasn’t sure what, but this was not the same girl that he had picked strawberries with.

“(y/n)-“ he said her name for the first time since that night, stopping for a moment to fix his shaking voice, “Witch, you know I won’t do that. I can’t. If I did, I.. I wouldn’t be me anymore.”

(y/n) watched him, and for a moment, Percy liked to believe that she was how he remembered her. No crazy mood swings. No radical ideology that set them on opposite sides of the war. Just (y/n).

“I know,” her voice was quiet. Her eyes got a far off look to them, as if she were lost in thought.

“I don’t…” Percy paused once again as her eyes snapped to him, a bit surprised at their sharpness, “I don’t really think you’re you anymore, if we’re being honest.”

(y/n)’s eyes immediately dropped to the floor, and Percy knew he had struck something. The problem was that he wasn’t sure how to go about it.

“I don’t think so either,” (y/n) practically mumbled, looking anywhere but Percy, “Lately I’ve been feeling… Well, I don’t really know. I just feel weird. Like something’s not right.”

“Witch, I’m sorry,” he said, and he meant it. The torch behind him casted a ray of light onto her face, illustrating the stress lines that she definitely didn’t have a year ago. The glint in her eyes was gone, and replaced with a dull tiredness. Her hands, which he turned his attention back to, looked a bit odd.

He reached down and grabbed one, much faster than she could pull it away. Holding her wrist, he examined her fingers in the firelight, his eyes widening as he took in the charcoal-like color that had devoured the skin at her fingers and seemed to be creeping up to her wrists.

“What the hell is this?” He demanded, and (y/n) yanked her hand away, her eyes wide with what Percy recognized as panic. Without answering, she turned and began walking down the corridor that she had just followed Percy down.

She made it almost halfway down the corridor before a strong hand found her arm and made her stop. As she unwillingly turned back around, (y/n) found herself face-to-face with the same green eyes that used to reassure her any time someone made a snide comment about her abilities. Except now these eyes were filled with enough concern to make her feel nauseous.

“(y/n),” Percy repeated, firmer, with far more power than before, “What is going on with you? Is this because of Luke? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” (y/n) insisted, whatever was left of her confidence continuing to chip away. She had forgotten what Percy’s sad face could do to her, “This is my own doing. Just… don’t worry about it-“

“Your own doing?” Percy’s brows furrowed with such intensity that under any other circumstance (y/n) would’ve asked if he finally had a thought circulating in his head, “(y/n), is this because of your powers?”

She wasn’t sure why she didn’t just lie. Percy didn’t care about her. Not anymore. He had chosen to defend the Gods, and therefore he did not give a single shit about how horrible she had been treated throughout her life. At least, that’s what Luke had told her.

But this was Percy. Percy had been her best friend for years. He used to visit her every time she was sick, and he always made her bracelets during arts and crafts. 

(y/n) realized that her silence was answer enough as Percy’s worry lines grew deeper.

“(y/n),” Percy’s voice wavered as he took a step towards her, “Please don’t tell me that you’re killing yourself just to help Luke.”

“I’m not killing myself,” she replied, taking a step back, softly shrugging off his warm hand. She hadn’t realized how cold it was in the Labyrinth until she encountered another person, “It will go away. This is temporary. It’ll go away soon. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“You don’t sound too sure about that,” Percy noted the way she seemed to be trying to convince herself as well as him, “(y/n), I need you to know that-“

A loud cheer erupted, its muffled sound signaling it to be a bit further in the Labyrinth. Judging by the way (y/n) stood straighter, head perked like a cat, Percy figured that was Luke and his gang in the arena.

“Shit,” (y/n) muttered, and she seemed to be speaking more to herself than to Percy, “I was supposed to be following you. I mean, I was following you, for quite a bit actually. But I was supposed to corner you and knock you out. Then take you to the arena where Luke could watch you fight someone to the death while half-conscious.”

(y/n) nearly laughed at the startled look that appeared in Percy’s face.

“Relax, Bambi,” she rolled her eyes, “Obviously if I was gonna do that, I would’ve already. I just needed to distract you so you would forget where you came from and where your friends are.”

Percy’s mouth fell open. Shit. He had chased her down the corridor, completely losing track of which hallway he had just come down, as well as what little sense of special awareness he had in the magical maze.

“I’m sorry, Percy, I really am,” (y/n) said, her lips pressed together in a small frown, “I told Luke I couldn’t hurt you. He said he didn’t care about my moral code, but that goes both ways I suppose.”

When Percy looked down at (y/n), he could almost pretend that they were back at camp and he had just arrived for the start of the summer session. (y/n) always took a couple days to readjust to having a friend around, and it broke Percy’s heart to see her anxiously checking to see that he still cared about her.

“(y/n),” he started, and then stopped. What was there to say?

“I have to go,” she said. He knew it was an encouragement to continue.

But what could he say? Don’t go? Come back? There would be no point.

“I love you,” he surprised himself with how easy the words came out, “And I’m not mad at you. I never was. Please take care of yourself. For me.”

(y/n)’s head tilted to the side, and in the torchlight Percy could see the shine of tears in her eyes. Instead of saying anything, she walked into his already opening arms, wrapping hers around his torso. She felt his arms close around her, and for a moment she allowed herself to close her eyes and live in the warmth. He still smelled like salt water and the strawberries from the field that they used to hang out at. His body heat almost seemed to burn against her cold skin, but she ignored it.

“I love you too,” she said into his chest, a strange sense of guilt and anxiety beginning to pile up in her chest, “I’m so sorry for leaving like that, Percy. I’m so fucking sorry, I wish I cou-“

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said softly, bringing a hand up to stroke her hair, “We can save this for another time, yeah? You have to go and I need to find my friends.”

“Okay.”

And so (y/n) allowed herself a moment of comfort, of which she knew damn well she did not deserve for a multitude of reasons. And Percy allowed himself a moment with his person, who had already abandoned him and was seconds away from doing it again.

But the Labyrinth provided a sense of security. No watching eyes, nobody to accuse them of fraternizing with the enemy. They both knew the other was thinking the same thing, but they also knew that this would be a one time thing. 

“I actually have to go now,” it broke (y/n)’s heart all over again to break out of the hug with Percy, “But, uh, thank you.”

Percy merely nodded in response, not trusting his voice.

“And be careful,” (y/n) added, her eyes holding a sense of urgency, “Not just physically, but with who you trust, too. There’s a lot of things you don’t know, Percy.”

She turned and began walking away, getting closer and closer to a hallway that would take her Gods know where. All Percy knew was that was not where he wa supposed to be heading, and that once she turned the corner, she would be gone.

“(y/n),” he called, “Thank you.”

She returned his nod.

A few seconds later, and Percy was left with only his thoughts and his horrible sense of direction.

[thesummerstorms]

Okay, but I've been thinking about the parallels between The Last Olympian and The House of Hades.

Annabeth was the one who convinced Luke to kill himself. Obviously, it's a lot more complicated than that and ahe'd given him opportunities to change before. But in the end, it was only because of her and their promise that Luke was able to throw off Kronos's control during the battle in the throne room.

She's the one who convinced Percy to give Luke the knife. Luke killed himself with her blade and saved the world.

Then we get to House of Hades and Tartarus. And at the doors of death, Damasen tells Annabeth that she was the one who changed his mind and convinced him to fight his father. She's the one who tells Percy that they have to leave Bob and Damasen, even knowing they'll die. She cries and sobs and hugs Bob, but she makes the choice.

I'm just saying, after talking someone into to their heroic death twice, even though she had to do it, even though she mourns, even though she's not her fault-

She deserves to be a little fucked up by that.

[dreamdragonkadia]

Requested by @that-choir-girl I hope you enjoy! I'm so sorry it took me a minute to get to this. p.jackson/apollo!reader

It was a stupid hope.

Thinking Luke would come to his senses. That maybe the boy who once taught you how to shoot an arrow before you'd even been claimed would look at you—really look—and remember who he used to be.

But, he didn’t.

You hadn’t told anyone what he asked of you. Not Annabeth. Not Chiron. Definitely not Percy.

The guilt sat in your stomach like a rock. You hadn’t said a word about Luke’s offer—about his plan, about Kronos. You kept it buried, hoping it would fade.

You’d always been angry at the gods. At your father for waiting so long to claim you. But this? Joining Kronos? No. That line, at least, you wouldn’t cross.

Then Luke took Percy. Lured him away like it was nothing.

You didn’t even think. Couldn't think. You just ran—Annabeth and Grover close behind—praying to any god who might listen that you weren’t already too late.

'Please, please, please.'

You found them just as the sun was bleeding into the trees, orange and gold and too beautiful for how wrong everything felt.

Percy was on his knees. Sweating, pale, barely upright. And Luke was behind him, Backbiter angled at his throat.

“Don’t move,” Luke said, eyes locking on yours.

You froze, heart hammering. Grover's breathing went nonexistent beside you. Annabeth didn’t even blink, gripping her dagger like a lifeline.

One wrong step and that cursed blade would tear through Percy like paper.

“Luke,” you said, carefully. “Let him go.”

His grip tightened. “You should’ve joined me.”

“You’re hurting people.”

“I’m making things right.”

“By poisoning him?” Annabeth snapped, stepping forward.

Luke tilted his head like it’s no big deal. Like this was another day. “He’ll last long enough.”

You barely heard him. Your eyes were locked on Percy now—on the sickly purple veins crawling up from the gash in his side. Backbiter’s poison. You can practically feel it burning through his bloodstream.

Then Percy’s eyes flick to your side.

It’s subtle. Barely a twitch. But you know him well enough to understand.

A signal.

With whatever strength he had left, Percy slammed his shoulder into Luke’s leg, knocking him off balance just enough.

It’s all you need.

Annabeth moves first—quick as lightning, dagger drawn. Grover’s right behind her, charging like a goat possessed.

And you?

You go straight to Percy.

You drop to your knees beside him, tuning out the clash of the fight behind you.

His skin was burning. His lips were pale. He blinked up at you, slow and dazed, like he was trying to figure out if you were real.

“You came,” he murmured.

“Of course I did,” you whispered, brushing the damp hair from his forehead. “What, like I was gonna let you die out here?”

He gave a breathy sound that might’ve been a laugh—or a wheeze. “Not… my best day.”

You pressed your hands to the wound at his side. The magic came instinctively—warmth building in your chest and pouring into him, chasing the venom like light through smoke. Your father’s power was supposed to be sunlight and music. Right now, it felt more like fire and desperation.

Percy jerked under your hands, gasping. But he didn’t pull away.

You kept going until the poison was gone.

Behind you, there’s a grunt and a thud—then silence.

You turned to see Luke on the ground, Annabeth’s dagger at his throat, her eyes wild with fury. Grover stood nearby, panting hard, looking like he’d just headbutted a freight train.

Luke’s gaze flicked to you.

And for one second—just one—he looked like the boy you used to know. The one who showed you how to notch an arrow. The one who laughed with you by the campfire like the world was never going to end.

Then he moved.

Fast.

With a twist of his arm, an elbow to Annabeth’s ribs, and he was on his feet before anyone could stop him. She lunged after him, but he was already backing into the shadows of the trees.

“They’ll fail you again,” he warned, breath ragged. “And when they do… you’ll come looking for me.”

Then he vanished into the trees.

Percy slumped forward the moment he was gone, like his body had been held together by sheer will and now that will had snapped.

You caught him before he could hit the ground, arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him in close.

“I’ve got you,” you murmured.

He let out a shaky, warm breath against your neck. For a second, you thought he’d already passed out—until you felt his fingers curl gently into your shirt.

“Hey…” he whispered. “You’re not gonna… disappear too, right?”

You blinked. “What?”

“I mean…” He swallowed hard. “Could you… maybe stay? Just for a little while? I— I don’t really wanna be alone right now. Not after everything.”

There was something so soft, so Percy in the way he said it—like he was embarrassed to ask, like needing someone made him feel guilty.

You didn’t let him finish the thought.

“Of course,” you said, tucking your hand behind his head, gently guiding it to your shoulder. “I’m here. I’m staying.”

He didn’t say anything else. Just leaned into you, heavy and warm and still trembling slightly.

The walk back to camp was slow. He pressed into your side the entire way, head tucked into the crook of your neck like it was the only place that felt safe, one arm looped around your shoulders.

At some point, his hand found yours and didn’t let go.

You didn’t make him.

And honestly… you didn’t want to.

[gracieeegleegal]

Omg please do an angsty imagine where we are the daughter of some god (maybe Zeus or hades) and find out about Luke’s betrayal and he tries to recruit us but it only ends in arguments

Betrayals embrace - Luke Castellan

pov - Luke Castellan was the lightning thief all along and you the clueless girlfriend who never knew better.

Pairing : Luke Castellan !femoc x Zeus daughter

In the heart of Camp Half-Blood, under the watchful eyes of the gods, a storm brewed within the soul of y/n, daughter of Zeus. Her relationship with Luke Castellan, once filled with laughter and affection, now teetered on the edge of betrayal and heartbreak.

Y/n stood, tears in her eyes as she stared into the eyes of her lover, eyes that now held the truth of his actions and the haunting revelation that had shattered her world—Luke's treacherous plan to free Kronos and destroy the very gods they were supposed to honor and serve.

More tears pricked at her eyes as she recalled the countless moments they shared, the promises of a future together, now tainted by lies and deceit. She clenched her fists, feeling the crackle of electricity surging through her veins, a reminder of her divine heritage and the weight of responsibility that came with it.

She had trusted him, loved him dearly and all she got in return was the inexorable betrayal that had shattered her heart.

"Y/n," he whispered, his voice smooth like honey,a certain nervousness hanged in his tone. In the 10 minutes they had been in the forest, y/n stayed silent through it all. Not knowing what to say or do after Luke admitted to his actions.

That he tried to drag Percy into the pits of Tartarus. That he had lied about it all.

"Luke," she replied, her tone laced with bitterness and hurt.

Luke stepped forward, his eyes searching hers for any sign of wavering resolve. "I know this is difficult for you to understand, but we can change the world. We can free ourselves from the tyranny of the gods, create a new order where demigods are no longer pawns in their games. We can be free, you can kill your father after all the pain he’s caused."

Y/n shook her head, a humorless laugh escaping her lips. "And what of the innocent lives that will be lost in the wake of your ambition? Have you no conscience, Luke? Do you realize that if you go forward with this, you’ll lose your family here. You’ll lose me.”

His expression hardened, a flicker of anger betraying his calm facade. "You were always too soft, y/n. Too blinded by your loyalty to those who have treated you as nothing more than a pawn in their own schemes. Why do you defend him? After he killed your sister! After he killed Thalia. He could’ve stopped it.”

He reached out to her, his touch a cruel mockery of the affection they once shared. "Y/N, please understand. This is our chance to make things right, to rid ourselves of the gods who have only brought us pain and suffering."

But even as he spoke, the truth of his betrayal cut deeper than any blade. Y/N recoiled from his touch, her eyes filled with tears she refused to shed.

She backed up at his words, the sting of truth laced with venom. Memories of Zeus's indifference and neglect flooded her mind, a painful reminder of the fractured relationship she shared with her divine father. She was transported back in time when she had arrived at camp for the first time. A reminder of the sister she lost, the sister who sacrificed herself for her sisters.

A painful reminder that no matter what, the gods will never care enough to save their children. If they did, things would be a lot different.

But even in the face of betrayal, y/n couldn't bring herself to abandon her friends at Camp Half-Blood, the only family she had ever known.

"I may be the daughter of Zeus, but I am also a daughter of Camp Half-Blood," she declared, her voice trembling with emotion. "I will never betray them, Luke. I understand you better than anyone, I really do. But I can’t do that to them. I can’t, and you know that. "

Luke looked shattered, he would have thought that the girl would side with him. After all she was the one who understood him the most, understood his reason. “I didn’t wanna have to do this, y/n, I’m sorry. You have given me no choice.”

“We always have a choice.” Without warning, Luke lunged forward, his movements fueled by desperation and rage. Their clash was fierce and unrelenting, the crackle of lightning mingling with the clash of celestial bronze. Each blow exchanged was a testament to the shattered bonds of trust and love that once bound them together.

Luke’s attack got harder and harder, as their swords smacked together in the night. The fireworks covering the sound of the lovers fighting each other.

“Luke! You don’t have to do this!” Y/n struggled against his attacks. She didn’t want to hurt him, but Luke was so blinded by rage that he couldn’t seem to care that he was hurting her.

“Luke!” This time the screaming had come from another voice. Percy and Annabeth were running towards the scene.

In a moment of distraction when y/n turns her gaze towards the two teenagers, she feels pain in her abdomen. She glanced down, Luke’s sword had stabbed her in her stomach. She gasped softly, tears forming in her eyes as she held onto the sword that was still pierced in her flesh.

“Y/N!” Percy and annabeth screamed her name but her focus was stuck on the man that had betrayed her

Red was gushing from her wounds into her hands that were now touching Luke’s. The boys eyes widened. What had he done? The girl dropped to the ground, blood running everywhere. Her shirt was now tainted red, as well as her hands and her lovers hand.

In the end, it was y/n who lay battered and broken at his feet, her resolve unbroken even as her body screamed in protest. Through tear-stained eyes, she watched as Luke cradled her frame. Regret and sadness reflected in his eyes.

“Y/N..” he whispers softly, he gripped her body tighter. Not wanting to let go of the woman he loved. “I’m sorry. Im so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

Percy and Annabeth after standing still watching the scene with tears in their eyes finally approached the couple. Swords in their hands.

Luke glanced at the couple, then back to the bleeding girl. “I’m sorry.”

With a heavy heart, he turned away, leaving her broken and bleeding in his wake. Percy and Annabeth running to her aid.

As darkness threatened to claim her, y/n whispered her final words into the cold embrace of the night. "I love you, Luke."

---

When she awoke, it was to the sterile scent of antiseptic and the gentle touch of familiar hands. Percy Jackson and Annabeth stood at her bedside, their expression a mask of concern and sorrow.

"You're going to be okay, Y/N," Percy reassured her, his voice a soothing balm against the ache in her heart.

But the pain of loss was a wound that ran deep, one that no amount of time or healing could ever hope to mend. With a broken sob, Y/N buried her face in the boys shoulder, mourning the loss of the love she had once held so dear.

And as the tears fell like rain, she couldn't help but wonder if somewhere, amidst the echoes of betrayal, there was still a glimmer of the boy she had loved, lost, and ultimately, forgiven.

[wlntrsldler]

non-canon thoughts, poseidon!reader x luke, oldersister! x percy, suggestive content, death, literally doesnt make sense but i dont care lol

update: blurb 1 about this in the reblogs

thinking about how luke’s favorite place to kiss you is on the flesh right above your right hipbone. he would lay on your stomach, nuzzling into you while you tangled your fingers in his hair. he would sigh in content and kiss you there. after a grueling day of training, your bones would ache and he would pepper kisses across the bruises that littered your skin and place a gentle kiss there before rubbing it with the pad of his thumb. he would look at you, with his eyes blown wide with desire, as he trailed kisses down your body, stopping there to watch your face, before wandering lower.

his hand would be permanently glued there as you walked around camp, greeting the younger campers who squealed at how perfect the two of you are together. he’d give your hip a squeeze before he left you for the day to tend to his duties.

percy would pretend to gag at your displays of affection, but deep down, he was happy that his sister was loved by someone, even if he just met you days prior. you cared about him the way he always wished a sibling would. and he liked luke, he was everything a demi-god should be.

so when word of luke’s betrayal rang across camp, percy raced to find you. he didn’t want to accept that you might’ve known about the plan all along, but he couldn’t be too careful anymore. he once thought of the world of luke. but when he saw you, sitting in the dark of the poseidon cabin, sobs wrecking through your body, percy knew that you hadn’t known.

at first your purpose wasn’t clear. you were not the child of poseidon who shall fulfill the prophecy, that was percy, but as the months went on, it became clear. your purpose was to protect percy at whatever cost.

in your final moments, despite being bestowed with the power of the river styx, you grew tired. percy had learned of your purpose in the prophecy, and he, as the boy who refused to accept fate, wanted to stop it from happening, but you knew, it only delayed the inevitable. you were going to die saving percy.

there you were, under the mercy of luke, the boy you once loved. there was blood dripping out of your mouth, but you managed to crack a smile. you reached to touch luke’s cheeks, memorizing the remnants of him that were left.

luke was fighting, begging kronos to spare you, but it was too late. you wrapped your hand around luke’s and drove the blade into your hipbone.

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

you're losing me - L.C

hits different | masterlist

Warnings: main character death, blood, injuries. Spoilers for The Last Olympian!!!

Summary: the one where luke finally realises that he has lost you and can't get you back

Wordcount: 3.2k words

Theseus: stop. give me your hand, I am your friend

Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood

Theseus: stain them, I dont care

“Luke,” you called out his name and he didn’t even flinch. He had his back to you, the shit torn slightly, his skin caked with blood splatter like he had been in the firing line.

There was a sinking weight in your chest as you wondered if he was so far gone that he couldn’t even recognise his own name.

You called his name again and this time watched as he tensed up, turning on his heels to look at you. Standing in front of you was the face of someone that you had fallen in love with so many years ago.

He had the same curly hair that you used to run your hands through, the same scar over his eye even if it seemed to be deeper now. He held his sword the same way, knuckles white as he gripped onto the blade.

He had the same angry look in his eyes that he would have when you would discuss the God yet he was different. They were golden, almost glowing with the fury he felt towards the Gods.

This was not the man that you fell in love with, you were talking to Kronos, King of the Titans.

“That is no longer my name,” his voice was different too, like somebody had looped another voice over Lukes, a gruffer and more hoarse voice. Yet, you could still hear little quirks from him, like he was still in there

“It is,” you knew this was foolish, as you stepped over the body of one of your friends, ignoring the burning in your chest. You walked towards him, never taking your eyes off of him.

He tilted his head, giving you that look you were so familiar with. This wasn’t Luke, you tried to remember that but your heart was screaming that it was.

Being a child of Aphrodite had always made you prone to heartbreak. Luke had shattered your heart over and over again yet he was always there to mend it back together, your heart tied together with a golden string.

“It is,” you repeated, pausing on the battleground, “Stop this, your father is here for you,”

You knew that would make him angry, make that Godly blood boil in his veins and that was why you did it, to get a reaction out of him.

The man in front of you, part Kronos and part Luke, held his arm out, sword in hand. It glistened in the sunlight and was aimed at you. Yet you didn’t flinch. He would never hurt you.

“The gods, they told him that they would be there for him and they let him down,” he reasoned with you.

Your heart sank. Kronos was in control and it was obvious, referring to Luke almost as if he wasn’t there, “They didn’t let him down,” you knew that was a lie, knew that the Gods had let you all down.

“You told him the same, you told me you loved me,” he spat out, the gruffness fading from his voice, his eyes flickering brown.

you froze. That was Luke talking, that was the man that you had fallen in love with and you knew he was still inside of there.

“You said me,”

There it was again, the flicker between gold and brown in his eyes, the way his shoulders went from tense to relaxed. He was shifting in and out of the two people inhabiting the same body, “What?”

“You told me you loved me,” you couldnt help the smile that grew on your cheeks as you felt hope rise up in your chest, “he's in there,”

this was your moment to walk towards him, taking a few steps towards the man that you loved. He didn't move as you got closer and closer, the space between you fading.

Before you could get too close, he tensed up again and you watched as he started to glow. You couldn’t forget that this was the leader of the Titans that you were dealing with here and that he wasn’t going to let you bring Luke back so easily.

”he is just a body,” the voice said, fully deep now, almost like he had pushed Luke far down, like he was drowning him.

“He’s more than that,” you tried to reason with him, holding a hand out and Kronos looked down for a moment, seeing the ruby ring on your finger, the one he had given to you years ago. There was a flash of recognition and then back to the coldness as he stared up at you, “He is Luke Castellan,”

”Mortals,” he spat out.

He squeezed his eyes shut, almost like he had a headache. The headache was Luke who was trying to claw his way out, who was being pushed back down again and again so he couldn’t speak to you.

You were never going to give up. Your hand brushed along your abdomen, along the wound that you had taken earlier in the day. There was a cut on your face, bruises along your back, splatters of blood staining your camp shirt. You were never going to give up. Even if you were getting tired from rising from the ashes, he might have finally dealt the final blow.

You grimaced in the pain as you took another step, ribs burning. You put on a smile as you tried to find a way to reach the man you loved, “I met Luke and he had been at camp for 6 months. We spared and I disarmed him immediately. He smiled at me, a toothy grin and Chiron told me that he had not smiled in weeks,”

There it was again, the flicker of Luke, the small ounce of recognition. He was giving you an inch and you were taking a mile, walking step by step closer to him.

You had given him all of your best moments, your empathy, your love. You had bled dry ever since just to try and bring him back, fighting fo him. Still, it was never enough.

“Quiet,” his voice bellowed out throughout the street that they found themselves in, his word ricocheting off of the skyscrapers and office buidings.

He held his swore out, the one that was half tempered steel and half celestial. It was a killer and it was pressed up against your throat, the blade pressing against your skin so tight it was drawing blood.

You ignored the pain, ignored the blood dripping down your neck, ”we first kissed in the back of the same building. He kissed me against the amphitheatre walls, it was perfect,” you smiled to yourself as you remembered that night, remembered the way he had held you like you were all that mattered.

The sword at your neck faltered and you let go of a breath that you hadn’t realised you were holding. You watched as his eyes turned that deep shade of brown that you had stared into for so long and you felt the relief wash over you.

You didn’t move for a second in case something happened that pulled him away from you again. You were hesitant, the air tense as you waited for him to do something.

”That was a long time ago baby,” he said in the voice you had always loved.

You sighed, “Hi Luke,”

He took a step forward, hand coming up to caress your cheeks as he held you for the first time in three years, “Babe,” you wanted to beg him to do something, to say something that would make you realise he was coming back to you. This was close enough.

you leaned into his touch. For the first time since he had vanished from camp, you felt at ease, like there was nothing wrong with the world. You allowed your eyes to flutter close, the fatigue taking over you as you began to feel the pain of your injuries.

You opened your eyes again and looked at him, almost like it was the last time you would ever get to see him. You traced the curves of his face, the fullness of his lips, the freckles that dusted his cheeks, the way his lashes brushed against the apples of his cheeks.

He had aged since you had last been this close to him, lines in his face that hadn’t been there before, the bags under his eyes had grown. He was still the same person underneath it all.

Before you could say anything else, before you could try and bring him back to you, his eyes shone golden again and his hand whipped past you, knocking you to your feet.

You let out a cry as you hit the ground, the wound on your stomach colliding with the curb. You squeezed your eyes shut, letting the pain take over you for a second.

”you cannot try and coax him out, he is too far gone,” the voice said, all gruff and full of anger. This was Kronos, this was the monster who had stolen the man that you had loved.

You pursed your lips together, letting the pain of the battle wash over you before you stood up and faced him again, “His Achilles heel, it's not wherever you think it is. It's me,” you spat the words out, like all of the anger that you felt was finally coming up. You were done playing nice.

Kronos stared at you without any compassion and you were not going to let this happen. You were not going to let him win even if it kills you.

”Luke, my love, listen closely,” you could feel the tears burning behind your eyes. You knew what you had to say to bring him back to you but admitting it was something that you were struggling to do, “I am going to die. I am going to bleed out here on the steps of the building we were going to call home one day and you will watch,”

His gaze faltered, eyes flickering back between brown and gold like there was some sort of internal battle that you weren’t privy too. It was like Luke was trying to claw his way back out to talk to you, to understand what was going on.

”No, no, you wouldn't do that to me,” there it was. He was here, the boy that you loved and it seemed like he had control for a moment, tears spilling over his cheeks as he processed the words

”I thought you wouldn't betray me and here we are,”

You pulled your hand away from your stomach. When you had hit the curb, the bandage had slipped and you had tried to hold it up but it was no use. You had been dying since the moment that you had stepped onto the street, since you had laid eyes on him.

He watched you as you moved slowly, hand caked in blood. It was staining through your shirt, spreading quickly and he knew that you had little time left.

You fell to your knees as you finally allowed the fatigue to take over you, for all of that exhaustion that you had been carrying around for years to catch up to you, Luke finally noticed how tired you seemed, how your skin had paled and your cheeks lost their rosy colour.

”My love,” he got down onto his knees so that he could look at you properly, one of his hands coming down to put pressure on the wound.

You held onto his hand, letting yourself relish in his touch for just a moment longer. You knew your time was coming to an end, that you would die before the sun set over the city you had grown up in.

“Please, please, there has to be something I can do,” he begged, his voice breaking like a little boy. He hoped a cure would come through but both of you knew that it wasn’t going to. The poison was going to kill you.

Shaking your head, he let out a sob as he realised how final this was. There was no way that he was going to be able to save you. But he could always try.

Before he could figure out a way to save you, he as jerked up, almost like a puppet on a string. His muscles drawn taught and his head held high, “Foolish boy, he cannot finish the job, but I can,”

”Luke, I dont have long left,” your eyes were heavy and you were tired. There was no time for him to be fighting Kronos right now, there was no time for anything, “Its poisoned. The rest of the Apollo cabin are dead,”

A tear slipped down his cheeks, his eyes were still glistening gold and you were confused who it was that you were talking to at that moment. He looked like Kronos, the posture, the coldness, yet here he was crying for you.

“You didn't do this. This wasn't you,” you tried to tell Luke. You knew that when he survived this battle and chose the right path, that he would see himself as the one who had killed you, “When you make it out the other side, please dont blame yourself. I will love you from beyond the grave, and I will see you in Elysium,”

he let out a sob, eyes turning brown as he reached a hand forward. His shoulders slumped and he collapsed onto his knees, unable to hold himself up anymore. He crawled over to you, tears staining his cheeks.

“Please,” he cried out, not wanting this to happen. There had to be some other way around this.

As soon as he got back to you, the fatigue washed over you and you collapsed. He caught you like he knew it was going to happen, holding your limp body in his arms, his hand coming up to support your head.

Your eyes were heavy as you looked up at the man that you loved. Here he was, all of that innocence that had been there when you met was gone and you were left with this, “I love you. Don’t blame yourself,”

You reached your hands up to grip onto something real, your blood stained hands smearing along his armour, clutching onto anything that you could get a hold on.

Luke sobbed again. He was just a little boy again, watching Thalia die in the forest, watching you choose the camp over him over and over again.

There were tears spilling down his cheeks and they were soaking into your shirt. He held you tight, like he was afraid that you would fade away into his memory if he relinquished his grip on you.

”No, no, no, this was not the plan. Kronos, you promised me she would live. We would rule together,” he cried out, almost like he was speaking to Kronos.

You wondered what was going on inside of his mind, as if he was speaking to the Titan himself, holding him away from the body as he had his final moments with you.

“He has betrayed you Luke, and he will do it again,” this was your last chance to try and turn him back to you.

You reached up and placed a hand on your cheek, pulling his face down so that it was closer to you. His face was stained in your blood, a bloody handprint left where you had touched him.

“Kiss me one last time,” you begged.

He let out a sob at the finality of it all. He wondered if you would make it out of this alive. He was going to rule the world by the end of the day, there has to be something that he could do to save you.

The tears spille down Luke Castellan’s cheeks as he thought about all of the time that he had lost with you because of this mission, because of this desperate need inside of himself to change the world.

“You’re gonna live, im gonna get you help,” he promised.

“Kiss me first,” your words were tired, slurred together slightly.

There was some hesitation inside of him, like he wondered that if he kissed you, you would die. He looked down at you, eyes flickering down to your lips and he leaned in.

Luke kissed you softly, chaste. It was like the first time all over again, like the moment that he had kissed you in the amphitheatre.

The kiss conveyed all of the emotions that you had both been unable to say in the last three years, that you loved one another, that all of this fighting was to try and save the other person

When he pulled away, his let his hand brush against your cheek, the blood there smudging as he touched your skin. You opened your eyes after a second, allowing yourself to look at him one last time.

You let your last moments be that of staring into his eyes. His eyes. The deep brown ones that had caught your gaze the first time you had stepped into the camp, the ones that had always challenged you.

“I love you Luke Castellan,” the words spilled from your mouth, the honest gospel.

”I love you more, I did all this for you. I would have burnt the world down and given you everything that you had ever wanted,” he said, a sob racking through his chest at the end.

”I only ever wanted you,”

Those were the last words you ever said. Your head fell backwards in his arms, your body going limp. Your eyes remained open, positioned up to the sky.

He screamed, letting out a sob as he held you. Using all of his strength, he held you up against his chest, rocking himself back and forth as he held your body. He sobbed into your shoulder, hand coming to brush against your hair almost like it would wake you up again but he knew you were gone.

Luke couldn’t stop the tears that were spilling down his cheeks as he held you there. This was all his fault. That was all he kept repeating to himself as he held you against his chest. There was no pulse, your heart having stopped beating. He had lost you.

You don’t ever know what you have until it is gone.

When Luke sacrificed himself for Annabeth and Percy later that day, your name had been the last thing on his lips, a plead for your body to be laid to rest beside his. And so it was.

When he held you again in Elysium, you both agreed for rebirth. This was going to be your chance to find each other again. Maybe in this second life, you would be able to have a happy ending.

[lilbeanz]

[linxnnalyn]

can I request Luke castellan x Reader but both of them are evil and the reader is his right hand -man and while trying to overthrow the gods and stuff, they are the most cheesiest teenagers ever!! Like Luke's minions would be sick because of how sickly these two are in love

Fem! Luke being cheesy with a right hand-man! S/O

࣪𖤐.ᐟ note -> Why tf did tumblr force a content label on this? THIS IS JUST CHEESY FLUFF OMFG!

࣪𖤐.ᐟ warnings -> none.

࣪𖤐.ᐟ content includes -> Olympus-hating teens in love, PDA, everyone else suffers, absolutely disgusting levels of romance, comfort.

۫ ꣑ৎ Luke treats you less like her second-in-command and more like a goddess she worships. Her war table has a permanent seat next to her for you, and it’s not even labeled. Everyone just knows not to sit there. Even just the way she looks at you makes the other demi-gods in her army know that she may not worship the gods, but she undoubtedly worships you.

۫ ꣑ৎ Every weapon she owns has some small marker of you—your initials on the hilt of his blade,  a small cracked charm hanging from her belt that only you recognize. Luke's rebellion may be for Kronos, but everything else? That's all for you. She’s doing this for you.

۫ ꣑ৎ Luke and you are inseparable. She dislikes going on missions without you and whenever the two of you are at the same base Luke refuses to leave your side. Luke usually isn’t a huge fan of PDA, preferring to usually just have a hand around you or holding you, but after not seeing you for who knows how long? She can’t keep her hands off of you.

۫ ꣑ৎ Her army—monsters, demigods—they all respect you. But that doesn’t mean they enjoy watching your affection. You and Luke are just a little too touchy, a little too sweet, especially after being aways from each other. They wouldn’t say anything about it, but they always look away cringing and staring at each other with a “Kill me please” look on their faces.

۫ ꣑ৎ Luke loves showing you off. She would let you speak for her during meetings or speeches, let you lead her missions purely because she knows how good you are and Luke would watch with a look full of love and adoration that would make every normal person want to puke.

۫ ꣑ৎ Everyone in the base has a betting pool on how long you two can go without physically touching. The record is under five minutes. Whether it’s her hand on your back, her arm slung across your shoulders during planning, or your fingers tangled in hers when no one’s looking—you two are practically glued together. It’s not even for show. It’s comfort.

۫ ꣑ৎ Whenever Luke is stressed she would drag you to your shared quarters and lay her head in your lap, letting you play with her hair as she rants about her frustrations to you. There would also often be days where she’s just quiet, just thinking as your hands run through her hair. Luke finds comfort in it.

۫ ꣑ৎ She would hold you every night before any major battle, kissing you as the two of you sat in silence, holding each other's hand. Luke wouldn’t admit it, but she’s terrified of losing you during a mission or in battle but she would never tell you, rather holding you as if you would break any second.

۫ ꣑ৎ After a successful mission and/or battle? You two would be inseparable. Luke would always have an arm around you, touching you as she kisses you, even being a bit sappy. Luke’s minions are on the verge of tears because they can’t simply run away from the sight, especially if there’s a meeting going on.

۫ ꣑ৎ It is very obvious how sickly in love the two of you are just from the way that the two of you look at each other and protect each other. Luke would do absolutely anything and everything for you, even willing to go against Kronos for you. Because she isn’t fighting this war just as a revenge towards the gods, but for you too.

[girlberrie]

so with a heavy heart, i’ll guide this dagger

into the heart of my enemy

my whole life, you were a teacher and friend to me

                                                 brutus , the buttress

                           𓆟 𓆞     doomed siblings trope (pjo dr)……..:::

luke castellan took anäis anestis under his wing the moment he saw her thin and angered frame ripping through the camp borders in a manner that suggested she was more hunted than any other regular demigod.

and un-regular she was—the campers didn’t want to spar with her after she bled once and everyone saw that the red in her veins shimmered gold, not many people can handle looking into her black eyes that hold the same unsettling and quiet yet wild madness as her fathers, and the aphrodite children who cannot charmspeak envy her ability to speak so heavily that is makes everyone quiet down and listen intently (like she is the mother maiden crone, deciding fate through the fragile, mortal voice chords in her throat). luke took her in because her unrestrained urge to do whatever the fuck she wants and the defiance she holds in the arch of her hands and the curl of her lips (but never her eyes) was far too similar to thalia for him to ignore. luke took her in because he is a madboy///madman that takes in strays and somehow always leaves them feeling worse.

luke took her in and gave her a brother.

even though she was claimed by dionysus throwing a diet coke can at her head, shouting ‘she’s one of mine!’ only an hour after she came into camp, she still spent more time in the hermes cabin than the then-empty cabin 12. she was unsettling and impertinent in her freedom but she was also a mischievous seven year old girl playing with the stoll’s, a prickly attitude when she lost another uno game to ethan and chris, a smug challenger when she somehow beat luke in a spar for the fifth time in a day.

when castor and pollux found themselves in camp two years after she arrived, she took them in the way luke had, taught them the little technique and big enthusiasm she had when swordfighting, affectionately bullied them into cleaning their messes, and told them to go to sleep when it was 10pm sharp—and she didn’t care that pollux and castor were the same age as her. she became the little dictator of cabin 12 and she was such an unstoppable and immovable force and a little whirlwind of liberation and laughter tinged with insanity that everyone forgave her for it, despite the fact that they do not like to spar with her, that they cannot look in her eyes, that the aphrodite children envy her. they are afraid and loving.

luke was just loving. when anäis came back from her disastrous first quest, cursed by ares himself to never be able to trust a weapon in battle ever again, he taught her how to use the one thing that would never turn against her (her body) to fight. he taught how to kick high and hard and how to punch so hard it could break ares’ cheekbones. he smiled proudly when she punched the breath out of him and ruffled her hair when he was teaching her how to get out of a headlock.

he didn’t know then that those kicks and punches would be directed towards him to injure some years after. he didn’t think he would leave her behind. and when he did, he knew she would never forgive him for giving her a taste of family so easily taken away.

its funny. its funny because he is the reason she is alive and she is the very reason he is dead. its funny because the first time a weapon doesn’t hurt her it kills her once-upon-a-time-brother. the hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap.

.

  .

    .

      .

        .

          .

its okay he dies because kronos needs to fucking go and then hermes is like. my BOY!!!!! HADES PLEASE!!!! and so luke actually lives and is chilling in canada. in my dr he isn’t as……..shitty as he is in the books. because. i don’t want him to be. so. yeah. my brother!!!!! kinda!!!!!!! he raised me!!!!!!! love him to death but also like. he left me. and joined the evil grandfather. moving on

this isn’t an introduction to this dr. i doubt i will write an intro because everything is a convoluted mess and this post is also a mess (did anything make sense????) and i don’t have a script. just a pinterest board and my daydreaming. yeah. ok bye

[kamaluhkhan]

GUILTY AS SIN?

GLUTTONY — part vi of we'll write sins not tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis! reader (afab) word count: 3k summary: after a mission gone wrong, you unknowingly take the fall for a friend; you get drunk with the enemy; and you start to think that, if they’re going to crucify you anyway, you might as well indulge in a few fatal fantasies. warnings: set during the last olympian so spoilers for the entire pjo book series; luke + reader get drunk; mention of death + war + reader has some survivor's guilt; smut (unprotected p in v, oral f receiving, kinda sub!luke, brief allusion to knife kink — 18 + MDNI) + angst author's note: not sure how i feel ab this one but i've been workshopping it for weeks so i think her time has come !! also maybe got a bit too deep into book lore oops. also also ive been listening to this song an outrageous amount and i hope i did it justice ANYWAYS lmk what y'all think, thanks sm for reading ♥

♪ "guilty as sin?" by taylor swift

you’re well aware of how suspicious this looks, rendezvousing with the enemy at a sleazy dive bar in the heart of the city. 

he walks in, and your heart starts to beat faster in anticipation. his familiar deep brown eyes are now striking gold, and a streak of gray is woven through his signature dark curls — evidence of the battles you've fought, on opposite sides, and an ominous reminder of a war that has yet to be over. 

as he casually orders himself a drink and one for you, you keep a hand on your concealed dagger. it’s become an instinct of yours, whenever he’s around.

“i didn’t come here to fight.” he assures, catching the glint of your blade. 

“and what about…..” you gesture broadly at him. 

“we’re not entirely synched yet, so it gives him a break whenever i’m in full control,” he explains as though reciting from a textbook (something like how to betray your loved ones and overthrow the olympians 101). “it’s only me tonight. i swear on the river styx.”

a shiver passes through you.

about a year ago, luke tracked you down in new york. apparently, kronos was pushing him to do something extreme, and luke felt conflicted. 

you thought it had to be some sort of cruel joke, because you could not think of anything more extreme than what luke had already done in facilitating a war between gods and titans. you had no patience for his crocodile tears, not after he played you so well the first time. 

you told him as much, then told him to fuck off. 

to be fair, you didn’t know that would lead to him bathing in the river styx and becoming a vessel for the titan lord himself.

luke wears the curse of achilles well: all strong muscles and sharp angles, his tan skin glowing ever-so slightly, and his body devoid of any fresh cuts or bruises despite surviving an explosion just a few days prior. 

“so….what? you’re the pilot whenever kronos needs to take a really long nap?” 

“i’d say timeshare is the closest way to describe it.” 

“50/50 ownership?”

“more like 90/10.”

you scoff. “sounds like a scam.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up in amusement. it reminds you so much of old times, his boyish charm peeking through whenever a camper would try to pull a prank on him, and then complain when he’d beat them to the punch. 

“it’s just me,” he repeats, but you didn’t need any more confirmation.

you know deep in your gut, from that mischievous smirk alone: it’s not the lord of time, but luke castellan next to you.

the bar is surprisingly busy for a weeknight. there’s a game being shown on TV, and people wearing sports jerseys occasionally groan or cheer or come to the counter to order another pint for their table while keeping their eyes glued to the screen. the jukebox in the corner plays music from the 70s and 80s as a group of friends starts to dance, tipsy after a deadly combination of jello shots and sangria.

for the first few drinks, you and luke are silent, letting these sounds of regular human existence fill the space between you. you half-expect him to ask about law school admissions, or the new tattoo you got on your upper thigh, or your band’s latest show — all fragments of your own mundane mortal life used to distract yourself from demigod realities. 

he doesn’t, though. luke just stares at the hockey game, one you know for a fact he doesn’t care about because the rangers aren’t playing, as he sips his old-fashioned like he has all the time in the world. 

“did you wanna meet so we could just sit here in silence or….”

when you had agreed to this meeting, you had a clear goal in mind: find out who the spy is and clear your name.

it might be too much rum or the crushing weight of recent events, but you no longer have the energy nor the drive to be strategic or even cautious around luke. now, you’re looking for a cure to your bone deep boredom and heartache.

"no. i’m here because….” he falters and runs a hand through his hair. “look, i heard about what happened at camp. and, with beck —” 

“dying?” you finish, taking one last gulp of your drink. all the rage, resentment and grief you’ve been feeling has been lodged in your throat. you’d hope each sip of your dark and stormy would burn through it, but instead it comes tumbling from your lips. 

“honestly, beck would probably still be alive if you didn’t join the dark side. i guess you’re kinda leading the dark side now, aren’t you luke? what’s that like?” 

luke polishes off his drink, too, his cheeks flushed. he gestures at the bartender for a third round of drinks. or is it fourth? 

“don’t be a dick,” luke sighs once a replenished glass is placed in front of him. “i obviously never wanted to hurt you — any of you.”

if you were of sober mind, maybe you’d point out that it’s too late; that luke already hurt all of you the minute he decided to side with kronos.

“i know i did, though,” he adds after swallowing a mouthful of his drink. 

you know that if luke was of sober mind, he would never have admitted that. he seems to know better than to apologize though, hopefully recognizing that the damage has already been done. 

it’s not like your hands aren’t bloody, too. 

“it was supposed to be me, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “i was supposed to go with percy on the mission, but beck offered to go instead because he thought — he knew — that it would….it would be hard for me to see…. you.”

luke pauses and turns away from you. “you couldn’t have known what would happen.” his voice wavers, too. “beckendorf was looking out for you — it’s what he does. did.”

“i couldn’t even go to the funeral,” you continue. “i feel like i didn’t really get to say goodbye, you know?”

 “yeah,” luke hums sorrowfully. “mourning someone who fought for the gods isn’t really allowed where i am.”

again, you could point out the irony in what he’s saying. given everything he’s done, luke dug his own grave and clearly some for his friends, too. 

tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. the reality is that one of your best friends died because you couldn’t handle an encounter with your ex-boyfriend, the one you’re currently sitting beside. 

you might not have done what they accused you of, but you’re nowhere near innocent. who were you to give yourself permission to cry?

in the dim neon light, you notice a tear slide down luke’s cheek before he wipes it away just as fast.

he clears his throat. “to charles beckendorf: a hero by any other name.”

you tap your glass against luke’s, and you both drink in honor of your lost friend. you drink to everyone and everything you’ve lost, too. 

beckendorf is dead; chris has lost his mind; clarisse might start her own war with the apollo cabin over a flying chariot; and ever since the princess andromeda mission went terribly wrong, silena can’t go one minute without bursting into tears. 

it was too easy for everything to fall apart, as though this was always what the fates had in store for you — the next generation of greek tragedies. 

thankfully, there always comes a break in the tragedy, and it seems to be now: you and luke, getting drunk off whiskey and rum and old memories. 

you remember countless times sneaking out to the beach after curfew, mixing store-brand soda with cheap alcohol smuggled into camp by luke’s half-brothers; hot summer nights spent fantasizing about existence outside of camp and returning to your head counselor duties in the morning with chiron and mr. d none the wiser. once you started dating, it became routine for the two of you to wander away from the group for some privacy, somewhere far enough away so that no one could hear you scream luke’s name.

those memories still make your skin flush, even as you’re here drinking cocktails at a bar in the city, with one friend gone to elysium and everyone else calling you a traitor.

“i can’t believe you don’t remember that night! mr. d caught a few senior campers getting drunk in his office? they stole a super expensive bottle of wine, threw up all over the carpet, and had to spend the rest of the night cleaning it?” 

you continue shaking your head. you tip your glass back to capture the last drops of amber liquid before confessing:  

“what i remember is spending the whole night jealous of malcolm pace because he got to slow dance with you.”

luke lets out something between a scoff and a laugh, then he’s silent for a few moments.

“i love this song,” luke muses, words blurring together. “i haven’t heard it in a while.” he finishes his drink and sets the glass down, holding his hand out to you. 

your brain is a bit foggy from all the alcohol, so it takes you a few seconds to realize what he’s asking. 

“you wanna dance?”

“yeah,” he answers. “make up for lost time.”

it’s not until you feel luke’s chest pressed against yours, his hands firmly on your waist, that you register what song is currently playing.

“downtown lights” by the blue nile — luke had spent so long trying to find the right song for your first time together. 

you told him not to worry, teased him a bit for planning every detail so meticulously, but deep down, your heart swelled with how much he cared.

the empty hermes cabin during capture-the-flag, both of you pretending to be too injured from sparring practice to play. luke’s sweaty hands fumbling with the condom, you having to step in and rip the wrapper with your teeth. clothes being haphazardly thrown on so you could run back to the infirmary before anyone noticed. silent vows to do it again, and again, and again. 

the more time spent exploring and experimenting, the more you got the rhythm of each other’s bodies, knew how to make the other squirm and throw their head back in pleasure — and that didn’t just go away when luke joined kronos’ army. 

even when your loyalties were more clear, your consciousness was plagued with visions of you and luke together, ones that left your sheets burning, more than the blazing summer heat. you confided in silena about these once, and she assured you that there is no such thing as bad thoughts. 

she did warn you, though: it’s when you indulge in these fantasies that they risk becoming fatal.

now, thinking back and forth between memories with luke and the events of this past very shitty week, you realize that maybe that’s why you’re here.

despite everything you’ve done, you supposedly betrayed people you consistently fight beside, fight for; you were thrown out of a place you once considered home and told never to come back. 

you were doomed from the start — a daughter of nemesis, assumed to be wicked and revenge-seeking since birth. 

well, if they’re going to crucify you anyway…..

once the song ends, you ask:

“you wanna go outside for a smoke?”

your hands start playing with the curls at the base of luke’s neck, hinting at what you were hoping comes next.

luke licks his lips, gold eyes darker than before. 

“guess you’re itching to put that celestial bronze to good use,” he says lowly.

“only if you ask nicely,” you drawl. 

luke blushes. 

you pull away from him, start walking towards the back exit, and pray that he follows you. 

—

this is why meeting with you was dangerous: there’s no one else in the world – god, titan, or otherwise – luke castellan would get on his knees for, let alone in the filthy alley behind a bar.  

technically, kronos sent luke here to recruit you. 

the scythe charm — the one used to communicate with silena — sits heavy in his pocket. it’s part of the reason why you were exiled from camp, why your friends don’t look at you the same way. why you can’t ever go back home, not really. 

luke imagines you might resent those who threw you out of camp, but you would never betray them. he knew that you weren’t likely to join kronos’ army.

he’s thankful that, at the very least, you still have a penchant for breaking some rules. 

the two of you are a tangled mess of teeth and tongue. luke tastes the spiciness of ginger beer and rum, mixed with sweetness from the clove cigarette you just smoked. you lock one leg around luke’s hip, and the brief glimpse of your lacy black underwear has him throbbing. one of your hands slips underneath his shirt to trace the contours of his abdomen. luke’s breath hitches when your hand reaches down even further. 

“wait –” you pause your actions to let luke finish his sentence, and already he regrets voicing his hollow concern. “i….i probably should not be doing this.”

“me neither,” you concede, breathing steadily.“but, they already think i’m guilty.”  with your other hand, your thumb dances over his kiss-swollen lips and luke feels something ignite in the pit of his stomach. “maybe i am, with how much i think about you.”

luke knows what’s at stake for him, if anyone finds out, but in a booze-soaked haze and with you looking at him like that, he can’t seem to care. 

it’s coming back to him now: that endless cycle of waking up sticky and drenched in sweat over dreams of screaming your name and going about his day like it wasn’t a paradox to be leading kronos’ army and still wanting someone aligned with the enemy to devour him. 

when he agreed, however reluctantly, to be a vessel for kronos, luke had to lock those desires inside a vault deep inside his mind. 

this might very well be luke’s last chance to satisfy his cravings, once and for all. tonight, he’s in full control of his body and mind. 

he’ll happily yield his power to you. 

soon enough, your teeth gnaw on his top lip as luke messily thrusts into you, your underwear hastily pushed to the side. he tries to savor every part of this, of you — the heel of your combat boot digging into his back; the sting of your nails where you grip him; the familiar scent of your skin, sickly sweet cherries and burnt vanilla; the hoarseness of your voice, encouraging him to go faster, harder. following your orders, luke wraps both of your legs around his waist and digs his fingers further into your hips to keep them secure.

it’s a religious experience, watching you throw your head back against the brick wall as your orgasm crashes through you. luke follows a few seconds later, pulling out just in time to paint the inside of your thighs with his cum.

luke grins as he watches you come down from your high, eyes closed, chest heaving, neck engraved with the outline of his teeth.

“sorry, didn’t mean to give you a concussion.”

you open your eyes just to roll them at luke, who’s tucking himself back into his jeans.

“you’re such an asshole,” you jest through labored breaths, registering his shit-eating grin. you fix the hem of your leather skirt and pout dramatically. “and you had to leave a mess behind, didn’t you?”

without another word, luke kneels in front of you. 

he leans his head back to admire how your lips curl into a bemused smile at his antics. your fingers press into his pulse point, no doubt feeling how reckless his heartbeat becomes underneath you. once more, your thumb prods at his lips; this time luke grants access, the cold metal of your ring burning on his tongue. 

“is this how you pledged loyalty to your titan king?” you taunt. 

luke shakes his head, still sucking your digit. 

he did have to bow, but not like this. the only entity he’d worship this desperately is you. 

“i’m honored,” you coo. luke bites back a whimper when you remove your thumb from his mouth, instead tracing the scar on his face, up his cheekbone. “i have to say though: i miss your brown eyes, pretty boy.”

his whole body is on fire with how you touch him, but your passing observation feels like a knife to the gut. wanting to be good for you, to prove he’s still your pretty boy, luke pushes up the bottom of your skirt so it bunches around your waist. 

“luke!” you attempt to scold, concealing a moan when his teeth graze your clit through the damp fabric of your underwear. “someone might see.”

“it’ll be fine, baby,” he assures. “is this new?” luke is mesmerized by the fresh ink on your thigh, fingers trailing over swirling black lines. 

you hum, a goddess gazing down on her disciple. “do you like it?”

luke nods. he replaces his fingers with his tongue, journeying across your skin, tasting salty sweat mixed with his cum drying between your legs. he hears your whimpers for more. he complies and plunges two fingers beneath the lace until you reach your peak. luke places one last kiss to your core, before getting up again.

you crash your lips onto his, and you’re kissing him the way you did back when you really loved him, chaotic and feverish. your fingers snake through his curls, and you tug on them just enough to make luke’s head spin. 

you’re somehow more intoxicating than however many drinks he downed earlier.

he sees something simmering behind your eyes, when you ask if he wants to come back to your apartment. you both know you shouldn’t, but honestly — in the grand scheme of things, what’s one more sin?as the two of you are tangled beneath your bedsheets, you decide to frame it differently, as a mutual vow: maybe just one more time will satisfy this hunger.

[veyveyx]

IRIS

luke castellan― iris, the goo goo dolls. reader is a god.

luke would give up forever just to touch you, the only god who had given him their time and looked at him as more than a weapon.

he knew that you felt him and heard him when he used to slide his food into the fire and prayed to you.

you were the closest to heaven that he'd ever be and right now, that was fine for him.

all he could taste was the moment. the moment where you graced him in his dream, pulling him through fields of strawberries and let him breathe in your life.

and it was over sooner rather than later, he used the dagger, that cursed blade to kill himself and save the world from kronos.

he didn't want to miss you that night.

luke didn't want the world to see him, cause he didn't think they'd understand. when everything was made to be broken, he just wanted you to know who he really was.

he couldn't fight the tears that weren't coming. or the small moment of truth that weaved itself in his lies.

everything felt like those movies he'd watch with annabeth.

yeah, he bled just so he could know you were alive.

he didn't want you to see him. luke didn't think you'd understand. when everything about him was made to be broken, he just wanted you to know who he really was. who he was under all the hurt and all the lies.

you didn't want the world to see you, because you didn't think they'd understand. when everything about you was now broken, you just wanted him to remember you by who you really were. who you were underneath all the myths and legends of your godly actions. you just wanted him to know who you were.