Jaw Dropped, Mouth Open, Legs Parted Holy Mother Of Gosh DOLLY I LOVE YOU!

Jaw dropped, mouth open, legs parted😄😄 holy mother of gosh💋💋💋💋🔥🔥🔥🔥 DOLLY I LOVE YOU!

𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐆𝐔𝐍 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 | austin!tex watson x kidnapped!reader

summary: the year is 1969 and you find yourself lucky enough to live up in the hollywood hills, spending your days dancing away to your favorite rock n’ roll vinyls in an old farmhouse and looking after your wild roommates. the only problem? you’ve caught the eye of tex watson. how does he spend his days? making moves towards finally getting everything that he could ever want. you.

pairings: obsessive!tex watson x kidnapped!reader

word count: 16,557

warnings/notes: HEAVY SMUT! serious gunplay, sexy russian roulette, cream pie, breeding kink, marking, claiming, possessiveness, tex literally stalks you, tex then kidnaps you, mention of the manson family, mentions of murder and violence- this is the sexiest thing i’ve ever written, and i will fully finish editing it tomorrow. i’m emotionally drained after finishing this.

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Up in the California hills there sits a small house, nestled smack dab in the middle of a few sprawling acres of farmland. This is where Tex first saw you. 

There’s a long drive leading up to the old farmhouse, and behind it is a small red barn which has faded to a rusty orange over time due to the blinding summer sun. Every once in a while an older gentleman that looks to be in his early fifties will make his way up the mountainside to his little stretch of heaven, the large tires of his wide body chevy truck easily making it over the bumps and divots in the land, so that he can check on his tenants. He’s the kind, homely sort that the Texan was used to interacting with in the south. Watson, who was currently parked on the back bend of the mountain and just out of sight of the house and the main road, watched the older man closely. Tex’s shoulder length hair blew into his face with a large gust of wind, and he was quick to tuck it right back behind his ear, readjusting his cowboy hat to stop the annoyance from happening again. 

A gaggle of girls lived in that farmhouse, all appearing to be what the Californians would consider to be hippies. The free lovin’, barefoot walking, rock n’ roll dancing type of gals that Tex had been told to stay away from once or twice. Of course, these types of girls were the kind that Charlie seemed to like the most. 

The older landowner seemed to have no reservation about their scantily clad forms or the fact that three out of the four of them smoked like chimneys. The man would always climb out of his truck and head to the side door that was connected to the kitchen, and then you would duck your head out with a smile and beckon him in. Tex had been watching that house of yours for what seemed like days, but had really been weeks. Charlie had said in passing that he had seen a car full of pretty girls that might want to come stay at the ranch, and had given Tex the task of extending the invitation. What the “prophet” hadn’t expected was that the tall, lanky boy might grow fond of one of them. 

It was impossible to deny your charms, even from a few hundred feet away. You’d dance to your records like no one was watching, your head thrown back as you loudly sang the lyrics to your favorite songs. It was obvious to him, even after the first few hours of watching you through the windows of the house, that you were the designated ‘mother’ of the group. You cooked most of the meals and cleaned up after the messy hellions with little to no complaints. He supposed that the older gentleman must have been someone’s father, though Tex didn’t care enough to get a very good look at him and his features. Why would he pay attention to anyone else but you? Charlie would ask every other day about the progress Tex was making with talking “the pretty little things down the road” into joining the family, and Tex was guilty of lying about the strides that he was taking to make nice with the group. 

Today was just like any other day. The sun was beating down on the brunette and his tanned skin, his sensitive blue irises shielded by the brim of his hat. He was wearing a t-shirt that communally belonged to the family, though it was a size or two too small for him. It must have been one of the girl’s shirts, because it was quite snug. When he raised his arms the shirt would brush up and over his navel, and when his arms were at his sides, like they were now, it brushed against the soft flesh of his stomach. Today's outfit wasn’t exactly appropriate for crouching down in briars. Not even the fabric of his low waisted, boot cut jeans protected him from the painful stick of thorns. Nothing was going to get in his way of getting a good look at you though. 

“Thanks for dropping by to fix the sink, sir. I’m just sorry that Debbie was out of the house though. . . I know you don’t get to see her often, Mr Swanson.” You were talking to the old man out on the front porch, opening the screen door for him so that he could make his way down the rickety old steps. 

It wasn’t often that Tex got to hear your voice so clear. You seemed apologetic, and from where he stood in the tall brush and thorns, Tex could see that your eyes were soft on the man. Almost like you felt bad about something. The man, who Tex now knew as Mr Swanson, stopped by the door of his truck, quickly waving off your concerns. 

“I’ll just see her the next time I swing by. Let her know that I love her though, will ya?” His voice was deep, with a southern drawl that made the brunette feel a sort of kinship. It wasn’t entirely unusual for people to move to Los Angeles from southern states, but it was rare to meet someone with an accent as thick as his own. ‘Tex’ was a nickname he had been given by the group, and he found that he preferred it to his birth name anyway. Texas, they called him. 

“Will do. Thank you again, sir.” You made sure to watch the man drive off, staying on the porch until his car disappeared behind a thick patch of trees. 

For a second Tex worried that the man might be able to see his car once he got far enough down the mountain, but relaxed when he realized that there were a couple of thick saplings that covered up the car completely. Tex was quick to stand up, clenching his teeth as a few thorns ripped into the skin of his hands as he continued to shuffle through the bushes. Thankfully his cowboy boots protected his lower legs, but the rest of his lithe body was fair game for the sharp weeds. 

He watched your form float through the house, smiling softly to himself as you ended up in the kitchen, just as you always did. You were currently stirring away at something in a big pot, and he was sure that you were already getting things ready for dinner. You were kind and thoughtful like that. It was one of the many reasons why he was so enamored with you. He waited a few more minutes, watching to see if there was anybody else in the house. The upstairs lights were all off, meaning the girls probably weren’t in their rooms. You had also apologized about Debbie’s absence, who he assumed must have been the older man’s daughter. Clearing his throat to calm his sudden nerves, Tex walked out from the bushes, over the dirt driveway, and up the front steps of the house. The porch creaked under his weight as he stalked his way up to the front door. 

He stood there for a few seconds, his fist raised and hovering over the wooden door. He had come up with a story as a means to get you to trust him beforehand, but a strange sense of guilt had begun washing over him. Tex was by no means a good person. He wasn’t shocked by the fact that he was really standing on your front porch, mere seconds from stealing you away to the ranch. Instead of being shaken to the core by his innermost urges, he had mindlessly acted on them. Now here he stood, right on your front porch. Right where he shouldn’t be. He still had time to turn around. He could have told Charlie that he knew you personally, and felt odd about taking you back to the ranch. The head of the family would have been annoyed, and perhaps Tex would be forced to prove his loyalty, but you would at least be safe and untouched. You were too sweet and pure to be tainted. 

Tex slowly turned his head to face the long drive, biting the inside of his cheek as he wracked his brain for some sort of definitive answer. What should he do? The second that he took you there would be no turning back. You’d be forced to stay with him… but wasn’t that what he really wanted? Fate had placed you right into his lap. You were meant for him and nobody else. You gave the lanky man no time to mull over his decision. From the kitchen window you had seen him walking up the drive and decided to investigate.

At first you had been terrified, and rightly so. You rarely got any visitors since you lived so far out in the middle of nowhere, so it was unusual for a man who was around your age to be wandering around on your land. You had placed the wooden spoon down on the counter, shuffling over towards the front door in the hopes of being able to see him through the small windows that overlooked the porch. Sure enough he seemed to just be standing there, his eyebrows knit in concern, his plush lips downturned into a deep frown. It was his obvious distress that made you open up the front door, looking at him through the screen. Little did you know that you would be sacrificing both your safety and your life. He blinked at you, his handsome face hidden behind the shadow that was cast from the brim of his hat. 

“U-Uh. . . can I help you, sir?” You asked, trying to keep the fear out of your tone. 

You’d recently caught wind of a few recent robberies, and the last thing that you wanted was for something like that to happen to you. The longer that you looked at the handsome stranger, the harder it was to believe that he could be a thief though. You eyed his clothing for a second before finally deciding that he must be one of the girl’s guests. The cropped shirt and tight fitting jeans made him fit in with the sort of crowd that you usually hung around. Without a second thought you swung the screen door open, allowing him to shuffle a few steps closer to you. “Are you here to see one of the girls? They’re actually headed into town right now, but feel free to wait around-” Your heart lurched as you watched him lean against the doorframe, shoving his hands into his pockets as he watched you. 

No one had ever looked at you the way that he was looking at you in that moment. Sure, you attracted men’s attention, but this wasn’t just a glazed over sexual glance- this man was staring at you almost as though you were his favorite person in the whole world. Like you were some celebrity that he was finally getting to meet after years of idolization. It was wholly unsettling. 

“I’m actually not here for any of that.” Your face paled, and all you could do was pray that a robber wasn’t halfway through your open door. “I was actually headed up the mountain to go hiking? But I must have turned onto your drive instead. I’ve got an ole’ piece of shit beater, and it broke down on the way back down the mountain. Can I use your phone, darlin’? Just to call a friend.” His southern accent was thicker than Mr Swanson’s, and there was something about that Texan drawl that disarmed you. It made you feel like he was someone kind and trustworthy. 

“Yeah- of course. People get lost up this mountain all the time. Here, come on in.” You took a step back into the house, your mind far from accepting of the possible dangerous circumstances. It was nineteen sixty-nine, so what was the worst thing that could happen? Not to mention that the man looked like he understood the way that you lived your life. He seemed free spirited, what with his outlandish sense of style. “Our phone is right in the living room.” You called out to him, your bare feet creaking on the old hardwood floors as you made your way down the hall. Tex took his time looking around the house, his palms beginning to sweat as he realized how close he finally was to you. He could finally tell the exact color of your eyes, and smell the incense coming off of your long, wild locks. He loved you more than he could express in words. 

The rugs on the floor looked handmade, like someone had tied a bunch of silk scarves together. They felt plush under his boots as he made his way down the hall and into the living room. The southerner had spent a lot of time watching you from just outside that living room window. He could see his hiding spot where he stood now, just behind a thick patch of trees and brush, far off from your driveway just in case your roommates got any late night visitors. The house smelled like patchouli, nag champa and whatever you were currently cooking on the stove. Though of course this wasn’t the first time that he had been inside of your home. He had made visits from time to time when no one was home, eagerly shoving keepsakes into his pockets that you wouldn’t miss.

You and your friends didn’t spend much time watching tv, but there was a small television set up in the corner. He could tell that you had quite the record collection, but now that he was finally in the home, he saw that there were crates everywhere. “You like the blues?” He asked, bending down so that he could leaf through a few of the vinyls that you had right beside the telephone. You blinked a few times, almost in shock that he was going through your things before you relented, looking almost shy. 

“Yeah, don’t you?” Tex froze, taking a steadying breath so that he could gather up the strength he needed to look at you head on again. You were so beautiful that it hurt him to see you this close up. He didn’t think that it was possible to fall deeper in love with you, but he was. . 

“Me? I love rhythm and blues. You’ve got a nice collection here too. I see ya like Neil Young. . . he’s a real nice guy; a buddy of mine, actually.” Tex was stalling, and he knew it. Either he made an excuse and left the house now or he took this opportunity and brought you back home with him. He risked another glance up at your face, tracing your plush bottom lip, and then making his way up to your large doe eyes. Another stab of guilt hit him when he realized just how much you trusted him at this moment. He’d teach you how to protect yourself later, but for now he thanked God for your innocence. You were his sweet, naive baby. He’d take good care of you from now on. 

He reached out and picked up the phone, holding it against his ear as he stared at the dial pad. For a few seconds you thought that maybe he was trying to remember the right number, but there was something blank in his stare that made you begin to feel uneasy. Unsafe. Your heart picked up, pounding away in your ears as you shuffled in your spot, trying to soothe yourself by running your foot along the shag rug you had set up in the living room. 

“A-Aren’t you gonna use the phone?” You finally asked, motioning to it with your hand. 

Before you could drop your arm back down to your side he was gripping your wrist, yanking you down towards him. You barely had enough time to scream before you were lurching forward. The phone made a shrill sound as Tex threw the receiver to the ground, yanking hard at the cord to tear it out of the wall. The second that you were on the ground, Tex was moving to straddle you, trying his best to calm you with his words. “I’m not gonna hurt you, darlin’. You’ve just gotta calm down.” He tried, grabbing your wrists in one of his large hands while he fought to tie the phone cord around them to bind you. 

Your beautiful features were twisted with fear, tears pouring down your cheeks as you came to the hard realization that you had been betrayed. That you had chosen to trust the handsome stranger and that you had been an idiot in doing so. Tex watched in real time as you realized that your own innocence had been your downfall. He wanted to tell you that he wanted you to hold on to those rose colored glasses of yours. The hurt that he saw in your eyes made him want to stop what he was doing, or even turn the gun that he had burning a hole in his side on himself. He was hurting you. Tex was hurting you. 

The fear felt like it was going to eat you up alive. You could barely fill your lungs with enough air to keep yourself conscious, your loud sobs and screams tearing up from your throat only to be muffled by his hand. The stranger allowed you to buck and kick from underneath him, his hips moving with your body almost as though you were a bull trying to catapult him off. He must have had a lot of experience riding horses, because he stayed anchored to you, his solid weight crushing into your much tinier form. The long haired man flinched when your small foot made contact with a lamp on a nearby table, listening to the glass shatter behind him. 

“You’re evil!” You bit out at him, briny tears slipping past your lips and into your mouth. 

“Pure evil. Practically the devil. But I’m an angel where you’re concerned, so you better stop tryin’a kick’ me or else, lil lady.” 

Still, he kept trying his best to shush you, whispering sweet nothings to you that you weren’t quite ready to hear or understand. Finally, after what felt like hours of tirelessly trying to fight him off, you succumbed to your aching muscles. You sucked in gulps of air, shaking like a leaf as he smoothed your hair off of your sweaty forehead, cooing to you gently. 

“I’m not gonna hurt ya, pretty girl. I’m not going to do anythin’ bad to ya, alright? I just want ya to come home with me.” And then it all made sense. Things started to click into place. 

You’d felt like someone had been watching you for weeks, but any time you looked out the window or flicked the porch light on there would be no one there. Your roommates had tried to tell you that you were being paranoid, and while a part of you wanted to give up and tell them that they were right, you had known that something just wasn’t right. You didn’t want to ask him if he had been watching you. You were too scared to hear him say it- not like you needed to hear the answer anyway. You already knew. Deep down you knew that he had been trailing you for weeks. For what purpose? You weren’t quite sure of that yet. 

You pressed your cheek against the carpet, closing your eyes tightly as he slowly climbed off of you. He wanted to make sure that you weren’t going to hurt yourself with all of the glass on the floor. He hovered above you for a few seconds, making sure that you were done putting up a fight before breezing through the house, acting almost as though he owned the place. If there was ever a time to try and get up, now would be that time. You refused to die without putting up a fight. So once he was off of you and looking around the house, no doubt for something to probably tie your legs up with, you fumbled to sit up, pulling at your arms with all of your might. The plastic wires didn’t bend or break at all, and so you were left to pull yourself up with great difficulty, hissing softly in pain as broken pieces of glass embedded themselves into your bare legs. You were tired, terrified, and now injured. This didn’t stop you from stumbling up and onto your feet, breathing heavily as you made your way down the hall as quietly as you could, the front door in sight. Maybe you could run down the driveway and out onto the road, praying that someone in their car might see or hear you screaming for help. It was worth a shot. You’d almost made it to the screen door when you heard a very soft clicking noise directly behind you. You’d heard the sound in enough western films to know that it belonged to a weapon. Specifically an old revolver. Something with enough power to blow a hole straight through you. 

“I was tryin’ to be nice, honey. Now I know you’re not the type to go ‘round takin’ advantage of others kindness.” Kindness. You heard his voice right behind you, your muscles tensing as you realized that the only chance you had was now gone. This was it. Either you died right here or did as he said. 

Of course you didn’t know that he was madly in love with you. How could you know that? The gun was merely a prop, something that he had brought to scare you, and if there happened to be a confrontation at the house while he was getting you, he would use it to protect both you and himself. Even if you managed to run out of the house, he would have never shot you. Not in a million years. You could do anything you wanted to him, and he still wouldn’t raise a hand to you. Besides, even if you somehow managed to get yourself free, Tex knew that he could outrun and overpower you in seconds. You had absolutely no chance of escape. He just needed to scare you enough to get you into the car with him, and from the looks of it you seemed to be absolutely petrified already. He watched your legs buckle underneath you, eyes wide and watery as you stared at him. 

“A-Are you gonna kill me, sir.” Maybe it was the way you looked at him like he had deeply betrayed you, or the fact that you had tears running down your cheeks. Perhaps it was the way your voice broke as you tried to speak, sounding far more innocent than anything or anyone Tex deserved to put his filthy hands on. Whatever it was, Tex felt like he was going to burst into tears right along with you. 

He blinked them away, quickly shaking his head in the hopes of alleviating your fears. “I promise you that I will not hurt you or let you be hurt by anyone else. I just gotta have you, is all.” 

Your shaky legs weren’t able to keep yourself up anymore. You were cut up and your muscles felt like jello from all of the constant kicking and jerking from earlier. The pure, unadulterated terror had filled your joints with cement. You had fought as hard as you could, and it still had been nowhere enough. You had seen movies in the past where girls were kidnapped or held for ransom, and you felt horrible now for ever thinking that they didn’t fight half as hard as they should have during those scenes. Because you must have looked the exact same way they did. Kicking and flailing without any real rhyme or reason, praying that your legs or fists might connect with something to make him back off of you. Now here you were, battered and bruised- and the worst part was that it was all your own fault. He really had stayed true to his word. He hadn’t hurt you at all, save for the fact that he had bound your wrists so tightly that it felt like it was cutting off your circulation. 

You looked up at him like he wasn’t speaking English at all. To you he might as well have been speaking in tongues. He had to have you? He noticed your confusion instantly. Tex had all of your mannerisms downpat already. You two might as well have been lovers for years. He studied you much like a devout catholic might study the holy bible. Front to back. No page left unturned. Every twitch of your nose, pout of your lips, and twinkle in your eyes didn’t go unnoticed by him. He wanted to massage the small line that was appearing between your furrowed brows, and now that he had you bound and weakened, he was finally able to. Tex let out a breathy sound that sounded like a sigh of relief to your ears as he pressed his thumb in between your eyes, rubbing out the worry lines that had appeared on your adorably scrunched up face. Your skin was hot, sticky with sweat under his hands. He was practically buzzing as he made the realization that he was touching you. . . touching you so nonchalantly. He’d be able to do this from now on too. 

“Ya see… I’ve been watchin’ your house for some time now. I came for Charlie but stayed for myself.” He told you this almost as though he was telling you that it was going to be overcast tomorrow. Not a lick of shame. 

At the mention of another man’s name your terror began to mount. Why did he want you? What would you be used for? Were there multiple men in on this kidnapping? Were your roommates in any danger? It was almost as though Tex could read your mind, quickly getting down on his knees in front of you, grabbing your shoulder in one strong hand. You noticed the scratches on them, the veins visible, twisting up his strong forearms. You immediately made the connection to the briar patches in the wooded area around you. 

“No one else will have anythin’ to do with ya, alright? Like I said darlin’, i ain’t gonna let nothin’ touch ya.” But you weren’t sure that you believed him. 

For a minute or two you both just looked at each other. He was willing you to trust him and you were willing him to let you go. His handsome features weren’t lost on you. Even despite the hell that he was bound to put you through, you couldn’t help but look up at him and see a beautiful face. Pillow plush lips, big blue eyes framed by thick lashes, and a body that both towered over you and easily overpowered you. He had slung you around like a ragdoll earlier. Like you weighed nothing more than a bag of downing feathers. 

He was oleander; both beautiful and deadly. 

Tex had left you alone for far too long. You had busied yourself with following the shapes and designs of his crumpled comforter with your eyes, hoping that it would fight off the panic and horror that was beginning to grip at your lungs. You still felt shaky, like at any moment you might break down into some unsalvageable fragment of your once carefree self. You readied yourself for the madness, but it didn’t come. No matter how hard you tried to disassociate from your current plane of existence, no relief was awarded. Whatever commune or “family” that Tex had dragged you into was one of labyrinthian complexity. He had parked his rickety car right in front of the farm, which happened to be not far from your very own home. It made you think that perhaps he had seen you driving home one day and had felt compelled to follow you onto your little safehaven of land. 

The girls and you had joked about it being your own little slice of heaven. A paradise. All the four of you had to do was look after the land and make sure that no one looted the house. Debbie’s father was a very kind and very rich man who never made a fuss about taking care of all of you. He had been born and raised in North Carolina; a man that had been brought up on good southern values. He loved his daughter more than anything, and so he always saw you as family. You had been there for Debbie when they had first moved to California, a fast made friend all the way back in high school. Your heart squeezed uncomfortably in your chest, aching to the point where you were sure that it might just pop in your small heaving chest as you began to imagine what Debbie might be feeling right about now. You always took such good care of her. Loved her and your other friends like sisters. They were probably in a frenzy, calling up all of your friends to see who might have been there with you. Who might have hurt you. 

All Tex had told you before sitting you down on his bed was that he had to talk to Charlie. Had to explain things to him and then all would be well. That must have been thirty minutes ago now. You had only caught a glimpse of the group of misfits on your way up the stairs to his room. Most of them looked high out of their minds. You recognized that glazed look in their eyes. You were all about people joining hands and living as one, but this wasn’t that. This was something strange all together. This was something so completely other that your brain couldn’t quite define what it was that you were thinking or feeling. All you knew for a fact was that alarm bells were sounding off in your head in a steady stream of white hot noise. You had seen a man that you thought might be Charlie. Three girls were practically laid out on top of him when you and Tex had walked through the front door.. One had been playing with his scraggly hair, the two others rolling what might be a smoke, but you knew was probably dope. 

You didn’t tend to judge when it came to couples like that. You’d seen your fair share of “free love” at festivals. Most polyamorous couples stuck to themselves, nothing more than good and honest people who had a little too much love in their hearts. There was something odd about the damn near robotic way the girls were fawning over that man though. Almost like they felt as though they needed to take care of him. Like they were nothing more than servants. Just homely little wives that were born and bred to fuck, feed, and fawn over him. You hoped that this wasn’t something that Tex expected of you. You hoped that in a few days he’d change his mind and bring you back. You already had a speech ready: If you take me back now I won’t tell anybody what I’ve seen or what you’ve done. I’ll just lie and say that I got a bad phone call and had to blow off steam for a few days. 

The sad thing was that your friends would probably believe that lie. Your home life has been one of constant disappointment and misery. No one would ever question Tex, and you sure as hell didn’t want to get yourself mixed up with the cops. Whatever was happening on this ranch was bad news. Really bad news. 

“Little lady?” Your sore muscles tightened again, wide eyes instantly flashing back over towards the closed door. It was Tex. His accent set him apart from everybody else. Made him memorable. 

He looked even taller than you remembered him being now that his back was pressed up against the doorway. He was quick to slip in, closing the door behind him. He seemed happy about something, and it unnerved you to no end. He was smiling at you almost as though he had just won the lottery. 

“Charlie said that you’re welcome here,” He purred out, striding towards you confidently before crouching down on his knees, placing one of his hands on your thigh as he spoke, acting as though the two of you had known each other for years. “You’re part of the family now, which means you don’t have to worry. No one is gonna hurt ya or try to take ya from me.” 

Your heart jumped, lodging itself in your throat. You felt light headed. His smile slowly fell, his blue eyes rounding a bit as he stood up hurriedly, laying you back against the mattress. His hands shook as he grabbed your calves, situating you on the bed so that he could pull the comforter up and over you. His sheets smelled like fresh ivory soap, sweat and man. Your vision was tunneling and your teeth chattering. What little hope you had that this delusional man would take you back home was gone. No. . . he didn’t look even the least bit nervous about taking you. What timidness he had shown during the drive up to the ranch must have been about whether or not Charlie’s reaction to your presence would be negative. Now that the confrontation was out of the way he seemed fit as a fiddle and right as rain. 

“Your lips are turning white. . . y-you okay, honey?” He was rubbing your arms up and down through the fabric of the comforter, your skin pulling uncomfortably at your wrists where you were still bound. “Come on. Speak to me. I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wron-” 

It was the utter audacity of the stranger that turned your nerves into rage. You felt it building up, the heart aching sadness morphing into some big, ugly beast that you didn’t recognize in yourself. “What’s wrong? I-I was just attacked in my own home and kidnapped. Now you’ve got me tied up in a house with a bunch of weirdos-” His large hand was quick to cover your mouth, his eyes narrowing on your face before turning towards the door quickly. He must have been nervous of someone overhearing you.

When his friends got their feelings hurt they usually blew the offender’s head off or slit their throats in their sleep. You tried to speak through his calloused hand, but he only pressed down harder, your lips digging uncomfortably into your teeth. His hand smelled of sweat, men's cologne and grass. Judging by his boots and dirt stained pants he had probably been working out in the yard before he had come for you. “Those weirdos have short tempers, darlin’. If someone hurts you. . .  then i’ll react with violence myself, and I don’t wanna make an enemy outta any of em’. Do you understand what I’m tryna say?” 

You didn’t understand exactly what he was saying… aside from the fact that he had just told you- in a rather roundabout way- that they were dangerous. You tried to calm down, realizing that panicking and yelling wasn’t going to get you anywhere with the man. You took a few steadying breaths through your nose, nodding your head to let him know that you were catching on to the severity of the situation. Slowly he removed his hand, allowing you to quickly lick your lips and gather your bearings. You could taste his salty sweat on your tongue and fought back the urge to spit. When you looked back up at him, ready to question as to what the hell was really going on, he seemed to be distracted with his hand. The very hand that had just been pressed against your lips. You cleared your throat to get his attention, hoping that you hadn’t ended up biting him by accident. He might have said that he wouldn’t hurt you, but that didn’t mean that you believed it. He seemed to be entranced by the palm that had been pressed against your lips. Before you could question him as to what he could be staring at, he brought his palm up to his mouth. You wanted to voice your disgust as you watched him drag his tongue along his calloused skin to lap up your spit. 

He let his eyes flicker up towards your face, almost like he was daring you to say something. It was almost like he wanted to explain himself. You didn’t want to act too shocked. Didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting some kind of reaction out of you. Now that he had removed the jet black cowboy hat from his head you could see his eyes better. They were as blue as a summer midday sky. They looked startlingly bright against his sun kissed skin. You needed to avert your eyes away from his face, especially since he was still licking at his palm, seemingly to get every remnant of what had been left over from your mouth. The heated eye contact that he was making with you whilst doing that had you nearly shivering as a result. It was startling. Grotesque. He was staring at you like he wanted to devour you. Like he wished it was your own mouth that he was lapping at instead. Or maybe even. . . 

You tightened your thighs on impulse, blinking wildly to rid yourself of the image that your panicked brain had conjured up. 

“W-What is your name?” You needed to work your way from the ground up, you could tell. He wasn’t about to volunteer sensitive information straight away. At least. . . you didn’t think that he trusted you that much yet. 

His face fell, his hand falling limply on top of your legs as it finally dawned on him that you didn’t even know his name. You really did no nothing about him. How ridiculous it was of him to forget. “Tex. Tex Watson.” He cleared his throat before letting his eyes bounce around the room, his cheeks getting a bit pinker as he continued. “I-I mean people call me Tex. I’d prefer it if you called me that too.” Which meant that Tex probably wasn’t his real name. Ah- there it was. The shame in his eyes. The sudden realization that you knew nothing about him, yet here he was, talking to you like you were long time lovers. Touching you like it was all he had been doing for years. 

The self reflection was gone just as soon as it had come though, a gleeful damn near smirk soon pulling at his lips. “Ask me anythin’ you want.” Perhaps he wanted you to ask about the happenings of the ranch. Maybe he enjoyed the fear that it was instilling in you. 

“What is this place?” You tried to keep your voice steady and school your face into an expression of slight indifference. If he was just playing with you like a cat would a mouse, the last thing you wanted to do was give him what he wanted. Maybe he would kill you quicker if you helped him play out whatever sick fantasy this was, and you couldn’t have that. Still though, you couldn’t help but find his behavior out of the ordinary for someone who might just want to kill you. No matter how terrified you were, you were beginning to believe him. He wasn’t going to kill you. He just wanted to keep you. Stare at you. Possibly even love you. It was odd, and to your sane and sound mind this was the farthest thing from normal, but if you had any hope of getting out of here alive and in one piece, you had to play along. 

“We call ourselves a family- one that you’re now’a part of,” He placed a hand on your cheek, and you couldn’t keep yourself from flinching, your body giving in to it’s natural instinct to evade his touch. If he noticed he didn’t seem to mind. He ran his thumb against your cheek, marveling at how soft it was. He was beginning to feel a bit more greedy with his touches. “But Charles looks after all of us. We have a divine purpose on this earth. You do too. I knew it from the very first second that’a laid eyes on ya. Ya were destined to be my wife.” 

You found out a lot about the family and it’s dynamic. Charles was the leader and they- the people that you had seen downstairs- were his followers. Most of the women in the family were romantically involved with the man in charge, and they called themselves his “wives”. The more Tex spoke, the faster you realized that this place was less of a group of friends and more of some sort of a religious cult. They seemed to believe that it was their duty to help and bring on the apocalypse. From what you could remember of the countless brainwashing bible camps that your parents had forced you to attend, the apocalypse was supposed to not only be the end of the world as everyone knew it, but the end of the human race. No one evaded death. The good went to heaven and the bad suffered and went to hell. 

Did this mean that Tex and the rest of his “family” members wanted people to die? Did they do any killing?  It was all very strange and very confusing. You pried a little bit more about Tex and how he fit into the hierarchy of the family. He seemed to be high up on the totem pole, stating that the only person that he answered to was Charles himself. You asked whether or not he had any other wives, but he was quick to try and “alleviate your fears”, letting you know that he strictly practiced monogamy. 

You asked him questions until the sun set behind your beloved mountain, the two of you now talking in a dark room. He offered to feed you, bringing back a plate of dinner that one of Charlie’s “wives” had prepared for the entire ranch, but you declined. You were positive that if you tried to eat anything that it would come right back up. He had hesitantly accepted the fact that you were in no state to eat, finishing the plate of food himself. 

Getting to know Tex did nothing to deaden your fears. If anything, you felt terrified for your well being far more than you had before. He was absolutely unhinged, but the fact that his friends were ten times worse was crystal clear. As long as you laid low in the house and stuck to Tex like glue, it sounded like you would be able to slip right under the radar. There was no way you were going to get off of the ranch by yourself, so you needed help. You needed Tex’s help to do that, so you needed to get on his good side sooner rather than later. You couldn’t afford to have a mental breakdown- not yet at least. You could scream and cry after you were home safe. 

After he had told you his entire life story he seemed content enough to place his hands on his knees, standing up with a small groan before heading towards the ensuite bathroom. Being left alone, even if he was just in the other room, made your body lock up in terror. You were able to shyly ask him through your nervous cottonmouth whether or not he’d be willing to let you sit in the bathroom with him. He seemed to hesitate but gave in regardless. It wasn’t until the both of you were standing under the bright fluorescent lights in the bathroom that he finally realized how horrible your bound hands looked. They were practically white from the lack of circulation. “God damn it, baby! Why didn’t you tell me ‘bout this?” He was quick to exclaim, hurriedly reaching into the back pocket of his pants and pulling out a pocket knife. You were unable to keep from letting out a small shriek, backing up against the bathroom sink as tightly as you could. He threw his free hand up in what seemed to be exhaustion and annoyance. 

“I just rattled on for ages about how I was meant to marry ya, and you think imma hurt you? Stop fussin’ so much, alright? You’re safe. I’ve got ya. I have the means to protect ya, so nothin’ is gonna happen.” With that being said he closed the gap between your bodies, shoving the knife under the tightly wrapped cord and pulling, hacking away binds. 

The second that the blood started rushing back to your hands you felt a sharp sting. You flinched and tried desperately to get your fingers to move. Tex closed the pocket knife, shoving it back in his back pocket before reaching out for your hands, rubbing at the sore skin with his thumbs. It felt like you had ducked your hands into a pocket of spiders, your nerves twitching and coming back to life. After making sure that you were alright, Tex stood up a little straighter, nodding his head towards the bathroom door. 

“I don’t like threatenin’ you, honey, but you need to know that if you leave this room without me there will be consequences.” His hands moved to his shirt as he spoke to you, slipping it off without any hesitation in front of you. You were quick to avert your eyes as his hands moved down to his pants, biting down on your lower lip as you tried to keep yourself from screaming yet again. How could he ever think that this was normal? 

“You can look if you want,” He was still standing right in front of you, his deep voice still sounding just as close. “It’s all yours.” 

It’s not like you had never had sex before, but it was infrequent enough for the shame of this entire situation to redden your cheeks and ears. Your roommates weren’t opposed to sleeping with friends or strangers on a regular basis, and while you never judged them for what they did, you weren’t the kind of person to involve yourself with someone you didn’t know well enough. You half expected Tex to try and coerce you, but the second he saw the look on your face he turned the shower on, climbing in and closing the curtain tight behind him. 

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have undressed in front of ya. That was wrong of me.” That was the most regretful that you’d heard him sound this entire time. “I just. . . I just love ya so much. It’s very hard to control myself, but I will. You don’ have to be afraid of me.” But you were. Terrified. Petrified even. You didn’t answer him. 

“I know that eventually you’ll come ‘round. You’ll see. You’re mine and I’m yours, and isn’t that how it’s supposed to be between a married couple?” You had dropped your head into your hands as you sat down on the counter, your feet dangling above the floor. You didn’t have the energy left to be shocked. 

“Married?” Your voice came out more even than you expected it to. 

“Spiritually, at least. We’ve been tethered since our very inception. That’s what Charlie told me at least, and I believe him.” But you sure as hell didn’t. 

Much like you had done with the comforter just hours ago, you laid awake on your back, eyes staring up at the ceiling. You tried to find any cracks or imperfections with your eyes, making unnecessary note of each one. Tex, though he had stayed true to his word the entire night and hadn’t hurt nor forced himself upon you, had insisted that you sleep with him in his room. He had given you space, scooting back far enough on the bed to where only your feet touched under the blanket. You’d be lying if you didn’t think about making a run for it, and he had made sure to let you know that staying with him would be safer than running into his friends downstairs. It wasn’t exactly a threat, but sure as hell felt like one. You hadn’t been able to fully relax until you heard his breathing even out, risking a glance over at him once you were absolutely certain that he had fallen asleep. 

Once again, the duality of him was on full display. It was difficult- damn near impossible- to imagine someone that looked like he did to do such a thing. How could he kidnap anyone when he looked like an angel? He had held you at gunpoint not even five hours ago, yet here he was, lashes gently fluttering as he dreamed. The gentle slope of his nose was nuzzled against his dark green pillow case, and the hair that was still wet from his shower was sticking to his cheeks. Now that his blue eyes were closed you were able to see just how thick his lashes were, even in the pale moonlight. The worst part was how innocent he looked. You hated him, but there was a small part of you that didn’t want to. 

Was the crime that he committed a good indication that he had mental health issues? Was he someone that should be pitied rather than detested? Still, he was articulate and had a way with storytelling. He seemed intelligent and calculated with his thoughts and decisions. 

You spent the rest of the night like that, staring up at the ceiling and trying to come up with excuses for his bad behavior. You had drifted off a few times, but startled awake whenever you felt his large body shift closer to yours, unused to sleeping next to someone. Your body was on high alert, sensitive to everything around you. 

These anxieties bled into your daily life on the ranch. The more days passed though, the less afraid you were that you were going to be hurt. Rather you became hyper aware of Tex rather than just the things around you. Tex’s friends didn’t seem very interested in talking to you, not even during dinner. 

Their loud voices blended in with the constant music pouring out of the media system in the living room. The Beatles, Neil Young and The Beach boys became the soundtrack to your everyday life. You weren’t mad about the incessant background noise either. It was in the dead of night when no one was awake to flip the vinyl that things got eerie. Silence became your worst enemy. You’d wake up in the dead of night to the dull crackling downstairs from the speakers, all of your newest fears at the forefront of your mind. Tex got closer to you as the days passed. He was testing the waters and chipping away at your resolve. You’d lost the fight that you once had, so you no longer pushed away his arms when he pulled you into a hug. He loved to be touching you at all times. Whether it was him brushing his hand against yours, placing your thighs over his lap when the two of you were in the living room, or even pressing his nose against the back of your head as you both slept so that he could breathe in your scent. You’d never had a serious boyfriend in your life, and to be touched constantly at all hours of the day made you feel confused and conflicted. 

It also didn’t help that Tex wasn’t exactly a monster. He had asked to kiss you a few times as the days passed by, and all it took was a shake of your head for him to give up. Anything farther than fleeting touches were off limits to him. Even when you felt his hands shaking with need as they brushed over your thighs, he never pushed you. He never took too much from you. It was easy to fall into a pattern of monotony. Tex would wake up early to feed the animals, letting you sleep in when exhaustion was still melting you into the mattress. Then breakfast was served, oftentimes you helped the other girls wordlessly. You used to cook for your girls everyday, so the task made you feel normal. Like your life hadn’t just been torn from you. Then you and Tex would drift into the living room and listen to music with Charlie and the rest of the group. The way that they all spoke to one another just seemed like a close knit group of friends shooting the shit to most, but you knew that there were secret codes and heavy meanings between each nod of their head or odd hand movement. Tex might have loved you, but that didn’t mean that he planned to tell you everything about his life. 

The group rarely called you by your name. They’d assigned you little nicknames, which was supposed to make you feel more comfortable around them. Tex also had a habit of referring to you as “the ole’ lady”, which you didn’t hate half as much as you should have. 

“Why are you so against me dyin’ my hair?” He spoke up from his spot on the corner of the tub, picking at a small hole on his bell bottoms as he waited for you to get started. He had been wearing the same shirt that you had worn yesterday before he had shrugged it off and over his head, not wanting to stain it. That was another thing that made you homesick. The group liked to share clothes. 

You were clutching the bottle to your chest, glaring at the back of his head as you tried to come up with an answer. “I just don’t think black hair is going to look good on you, is all.” You grumbled, quickly evading his eyes as he turned his head to face you with a smirk. 

“So. . . what yer’ tellin’ me is that’cha like my natural hair color? S’ that it?” Damn him and his dumb accent. Damn him and his big blue eyes. Damn him. 

Instead of answering you simply reached out, giving his hair a quick tug. You were trying to be mean to him and to get him to stop his teasing, but you being the one to initiate the touching must have caught him off guard. He let out a loud yelp, the sound echoing around the tiled bathroom. A few seconds afterwards you heard a shuddered breath slip past his lips, and the sound made you clench your jaw. His hands moved out to grip the sides of the porcelain tub until his knuckles were white, the muscles of his bare back tightening. There it was again. The tension was often unbearable between the two of you. Your passionate distaste for him had shifted into a passionate “something”. You just couldn’t pinpoint what it could possibly be. What it could mean for you. The fact that you could even tolerate the asshole wasn’t right. It made you think of your mother, who loved your father despite the constant hell he put her through. 

All men had ever done was disappoint you and let you down. Tex, while he had done something awful to you and had hurt you, was always so soft with you. He did things without having to be told. He looked out for you. He tucked you in at night. He looked at you almost as though you were the only woman on the entire planet. He couldn’t get enough of you. He never stopped telling you how much he loved you, and you believed him. Maybe you were just as sick in the head as he was, because you believed that he loved you. When he said that there was no one else out there for him, you knew that he was telling the truth. It was because of this constant attention that you found it hard to deny yourself of the urge to explore. There was this insanely bratty part of yourself that wanted to test him and his devotion for you. 

You stared down at his chocolate brown hair for a few more seconds, rubbing your fingers against a few fine strands before saying your final goodbye to his natural color. “Don’t cry to me when you look ridiculous though.” You tried to sound cold, but really just sounded like a nagging girlfriend. He didn’t seem to mind. You could hear him chuckling softly, his eyes glued to the yellow shower tiles in front of him. It didn’t take you long to apply the black dye, tossing the applicator in the trash once you were finished. His sudden urge to dye his hair confused you to no end, but very little of what Tex did made complete sense. 

“How long do ya think I should leave this in for?” He finally asked, standing up inside of the tub and stretching out his long arms up and over his head as he waited for your answer. You watched the muscles in his shoulders tense, his biceps bulging ever so slightly with the movement. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed you staring, but you turned away from him to wash your hands at the sink before he could say anything. 

“Uh. . . probably twenty minutes, I’d think.” You had gotten a few specks of dye on your wrists and palm, and no matter how hard you scrubbed at the skin with soap it didn’t want to wash out. Tex seemed to stain you that very same way. He had tainted you- did something fucked up to your mind, and now you were different. You felt damn near brainwashed at this point. You’d never be the same. He’d stuck himself right onto you, and no matter how badly you wanted him off, he wasn’t leaving. 

You scrubbed at your palm until your hand was raw, Tex being the one to walk over to the sink and turn off the water. You dared a glance up at him, looking through your lashes. His eyebrows were drawn together in confusion at your odd behavior. You did this every now and again. It was almost as though you were too stuck in your own mind to really understand what was going on around you. This was one of those times. 

“You’re gonna make yourself bleed, honey.” He took your palm in his hand, covering it with his unstained fingers. 

You dared to look up at him, taking in his face against the black inky locks that hung down around him. You had smoothed the hair off of his face and neck so as to not stain him. You weren’t sure why you had been so gentle and considerate with him, but you had been. You weren’t sure if you regretted it either. He didn’t look half bad with black hair, and that made you want to rub at your skin even harder. If anything he still looked just as great. His eyes were such a vibrant shade of blue now that you found it hard to look away. If someone wanted to paint Tex, all they needed to do was grab a true shade of blue and mix it with a little white- they were so pretty that it was unnatural. 

You snatched your hand out of his grip, clearing your throat before backing out of the room. You needed to escape and fast. Something registered in his eyes. They widened a bit, his lips parting in silent shock. You wanted to play dumb. You wanted to ask him what had his stupid jaw on the floor, but you knew that he had made a vital, fucking dangerous realization. 

He finally realized that you were attracted to him. 

Not just in passing, but as someone that you were beginning to enjoy being around. The kind of attraction that often resulted in dating in the normal, real world. You didn’t want to give him any time to mull over it either. If Tex said something to you, you weren’t sure whether or not you could answer him without sacrificing a vital part of yourself. The part of yourself that had been keeping you safe the last few weeks. The part of yourself that had shielded you from the fact that no one had come looking for you on the ranch. No one probably thought that you were really gone. Was your mother worried that you hadn’t called? Did your father even really care? 

You sat in the bedroom alone for the next fifteen minutes, pacing back and forth next to the bed. Now that the shower was running, you knew that he would be unable to stop you from looking through his things. Your fear of being caught had been too great up until this point, but the self loathing made you bold. Most of his drawers were filled with pants, jackets, and shirts. You riffled through them and found nothing out of the ordinary. His bedside table was a little more exciting, but only because you had found drugs. He had a few novels shoved in, along with what you knew had to be tabs of acid. It wasn’t until you ducked your head underneath the bed that you finally found what you had been expecting to find all along. 

That revolver along with box after box of ammunition. Your hands shook as you reached under the bed to grab the weapon, swallowing thickly as you held it up in front of you to get a better look at it. This was the same one that Tex had pointed at you the day that he took you. It was odd to see it up close, and even more odd that you were the one holding it. Not once in your life had you ever shot a gun, but you could probably find out through trial and error. How hard could it be, right?

 There were other weapons underneath his bed that made your heart pound. Ropes and knives among other things that you couldn’t bear to stare at for too long. But then, further back, there was a shoebox that felt out of place amongst the other things. Setting the gun down you reached out, biting your lip as you dragged it out from underneath the bed as well, looking anxiously at the bathroom door. You were past the point of feeling guilty for prying. You tossed the lid off, your face paling instantaneously. Pictures. Pictures of your old kitchen, living room, and bedroom. You were in every single one, either smiling at something one of the girls had said or busying yourself with a task. Most of the photos weren’t so innocent though. No- There were pictures of you naked in front of your bedroom window, getting ready for bed. Your breasts were on full display as you looked out the window. You remembered those nights. You remembered how uncomfortable you had felt in your own home, almost as though someone was watching you. You tore the photos out, flipping through them with trembling fingers. What was underneath the photos was worse. Ten times worse. A hundred times worse. 

Panties. Panties that you had worn and thrown into the dirty clothes weeks ago, only for them to go missing. You let out a small whimper when you grabbed a pair, holding them up in front of you just to check. Just to see if he had done anything. You regretted it the second that you saw the stain. “Oh my god. . .” You threw them back into the box, pushing the pictures under the bed with hurried hands. 

There it was. The truth. All laid out in front of you. 

Maybe he wasn’t ever going to kill you, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t a killer. If the cops came out here looking for him, you were sure that you’d be roped in with the lot of them. You would be seen as nothing more than another one of those hippies that runs off and joins a cult. You stood up and off of the ground, the gun still clasped tightly in your hand. You were shaking so badly that you weren’t sure how you were even able to keep hold of the thing. Has anything he told you about himself been the truth, or had he been lying this entire time? Spinning this huge web of stories just to catch you, waiting until you were completely tangled up just to sink his fangs into you. Were you hyperventilating? Were you crying? You slapped a hand against your cheek, wiping at the soft skin there. Sure enough you were in full blown hysterics. 

Here it was. The long awaited mental breakdown. 

Had you really been sleeping in a house with murderers this entire time? Sitting at the dinner table and breaking fucking bread with them all? You stumbled over towards the bedroom door, creaking it open to pop your head out and listen out for Charlie and his other followers. Someone was playing an acoustic guitar downstairs, all of them probably reading the bible and coming up with more religious nonsense to fuel their evil intentions. You let your eyes flicker to the bannister just down the hall that led out to the kitchen, trying to map out just how long it would take you to sneak your way through the kitchen door. You’d gone through that creaky door enough to know that everyone in the house would hear it open. You’d have to outrun men who had far longer legs than you. Even with the gun, you weren’t quite sure you could make it down the mountain to your home, or even to the main road. 

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” You gasped so loudly that you nearly coughed, your heart rattling in your chest as you swung around, pointing the gun out with a trembling hand. 

Tex was drying his hair with a towel, his bell bottoms hanging low on his waist, the front unzipped to reveal the hem of his briefs. His plush lips pulled down into a frown as he raised his hands up in surrender. He didn’t look scared. Didn’t look angry. He looked annoyed and exasperated, like he had caught his child sticking their little nose into something that they shouldn’t have. He popped his hip out, putting his weight on one leg as he shook his head back and forth. 

“S’ya were goin’ through my things?” He looked around you at the open door, letting out a small sigh before he took a step forward. You put your finger on the trigger as he began walking closer, your jaw dropping as he rolled his eyes. 

“Stop! I’ll do it. I-I’ll shoot!” Without a second thought he gripped the barrel of the gun, easily angling it upwards and towards the ceiling as he boxed you in with his tall body, pushing the door closed behind you. 

You tried to jerk the gun out of his grasp, but he held on tight, not budging at all. You were boxed in against the door, his hand still pressed against the wood behind you. He leaned in close, his breath fanning over your face as he spoke. “You ain’t gonna do nothin’, lil lady.” 

It wasn’t a challenge. It wasn’t him mocking you. He was saying that he knew that you didn’t have what it takes to hurt him. Sure, you would have been able to shoot and injure him at such short range if you had the guts to actually pull the trigger. There was a chance that if you had shot him that you might have killed him, but there was also the large possibility that you might have missed. The gun was shaking like crazy in your grasp, never once being aimed at any of his vital points. Factually, if the gun had gone off he might have been fine. He also knew you better than you knew yourself. You wouldn’t hurt him. No. . . no. . . not when you liked him so much. 

He gently removed the gun from your grasp, letting out a small sigh as he tossed it onto the dresser with a loud thunking noise. He raked his hands through his soaking wet hair and dropped the towel so that he could give you his full attention. If you had snuck your little ass out of here while he was in the shower? His heart was pounding as he thought about what might have happened. If someone hurt you in the process of your escape, he’d annihilate the entire family without a second thought. He had enough ammunition beneath his bed to start a war. 

Because Tex would have rather died than ever actually hurt you. He couldn’t even imagine your pretty little body completely still, utterly unmoving. The mere idea of you dying, even at the hands of fate, had him nearly doubling over. He could see the way that you eyed the revolver that he had on his dressing table. Your overly tired brain was trying to string together some sort of plan to overpower him in order to get your hands on the weapon. He could practically see the cogs turning. Even if you did succeed in killing him, there was no promise that you would make it off of the ranch alive. Tex had already put himself in the line of fire when he had decided to save you. His own neck was on the chopping block now, and he knew with surety that the other member’s of this cursed family were looking for any reason to slit his throat while he slept. Dying for you, especially after all of the wrong that he had done in his life, seemed like a pretty good way to go. If you killed him before he could get you off of that mountain and as far away from California as he could get you, then you’d be next. A simple revolver, buck knife, and whatever else Tex had in his room wasn’t going to save you from Charlie’s wrath. You were severely outskilled and outnumbered. 

“How about we play a game?” Tex watched you flinch at the sudden sound of his deep voice, your eyes widening as you watched him cross the room to grab the gun. You were quick to back up into the bedside table, arm reaching behind you for something to grab onto. The sight of him holding the gun so nonchalantly by his side reminded you of just how many people might have met their maker at the other end of that thing. Your breath came out of you in deep pants, your legs growing wobbly beneath you as you yanked up the glass lamp, the plug sparking as it was roughly ripped from the wall. 

Tex was quick to hold the hand that had the gun clasped in it in front of you, his fingers off of the trigger. His other arm was out in surrender. He didn’t need you getting glass on the floor unnecessarily, especially if it meant that you might end up cutting yourself by accident. “Hey- hey there, little lady. I’m not gonna hurt you. See?” He opened the chamber, letting the bullets spill out into his hand. The cold metal rattled, and slowly you inched forward, leaning a few inches closer to him so that you could make sure that he wasn’t trying to take you for some sort of fool. 

“Look, honey. I’ve taken all the bullets out.” As if to prove his point the man slapped his palm against the barrel, it clicking back in place. He pulled back the hammer of the gun, aiming it to the ceiling. Click. Shoot. Click. Shoot. Click. Shoot. Nothing. No sheets of plaster rained down on you. No deafening shot echoed through the room. He really had removed all of the bullets. He smiled that straight, white smile at you as he watched your shoulders relax. You refused to die here. You couldn’t do it. You were a nervous wreck, your emotions all over the place. You were so used to men treating you roughly. The no good sort of men that Tex made look like babies. 

The man standing before you, his newly black dyed hair still soaking wet and dripping onto his shoulders, confused you. It was so easy to despise him. He had stalked you with the purpose of killing you. Him forcing you to come with him up to the ranch did you no favors either. He tried to convince you that you were safe with him, but you could hear the other murderers downstairs even now, their loud whoops and laughter making your chest burn and your blood go hot. It was easy to hate him for everything that he had done. He had murdered people, and you weren’t even sure how many. He had ripped your life away from you in the blink of an eye, and tried to manipulate you into believing that it was for the greater good. What you absolutely couldn’t stand was the fact that it was working. Maybe it was because your past relationships with men had shaped and molded you to be the perfect candidate for manipulation. Tex was a horrible person, and he had turned your life completely upside down without any permission to do so. He had taken almost every bit of your free will from you, not allowing you to make your own decisions. 

But no one had ever loved you the way that Tex presumably did. No one had ever looked at you the way that he looked at you. 

“What kind of game?” Your mouth felt like it was going numb, your hip still pressed hard into his bedside table, the lamp clutched in your hand. 

His blue eyes looked startling against his black hair. It was unreal how vibrant they were. They flickered down to your hand, staring at the lamp before he motioned towards his hand that held the bullets with a nod of his head. “It’s called Russian Roulette. Except this time we cut the bullshit and raise the stakes.” 

You knew that if you said no that he would drop the subject. You also knew that, as far as you could tell, that he had no intentions of ever hurting you. “Raise the stakes?” You hated that you were so naturally curious. Your heart was pounding incredibly hard in your chest. You could feel it in your throat. 

He smiled down at his boots, trying his best to hide the sly nature of it from view. He knew that he had you on the hook now that you were asking questions. “Each time we pull the trigger,” he popped a single bullet into the barrel. “And the gun doesn’t go off, we take off an article of clothing.”

You hated him. 

You also hated the fact that you couldn’t find it within yourself to truly hate him. 

Your hands shook as you placed the lamp back down on the wooden table with a clatter, your eyes flickering back up to his. “And what happens once we’re naked, huh? Why not just say that you want to see me naked. You haven’t exactly been a gentleman this entire time.” Your voice was shaking, and he seemed to take advantage of the weak tremor. He knew that all he had to do was calm you down. Lay out the facts all nice and pretty for you so that you can finally make your decision. 

“I do want to see you naked.” He didn’t miss a beat. He didn’t shy away from telling you the truth, because there would be no use in denying it. He had already confessed his feelings. He knew that you felt how stiff he was this morning, pressed up against your side. Tex might be a mass murderer, but he wasn’t a fuckin’ liar. There was very little that the blue eyed man hated more than a filthy liar. “But like I said. . . I think it’s about time that we cut the bullshit. I love chasing after you. We’ve got a fun little game goin’, the two of us.” He motioned between the two of you with the gun, his eyes twinkling as he looked at your face. “But I want you, and I know that you want me.” He took a step closer to you, and if you hadn’t already cornered yourself against the nightstand, then you would have taken a step back. 

Your hand gripped tightly onto the edge of the table, eyes widening as he crossed the room so that he could stand in front of you. He was so close that your chests were touching. The bullets clattered against the wood behind you, but he kept the gun secure in his hand. “There’s just one bullet in the cylinder.” He assured you, angling the gun so that you could see. 

Through all the niceties and gentle touches, you had never stopped reminding yourself that Tex was slightly insane. He had to be a little crazy to join Charlie. This was your first time seeing that part of him. His eyes were wild as they took in the scared expression on your face, almost like he was enjoying your fear. He liked the meek, meager little expression on your face and the way that you had cornered yourself. If only you knew the half of it. If only you knew how turned on he was just by your glassy eyes alone. He wanted to possess you, body and soul. If he could have hollowed out your bones and fit his way inside of them- he would have. 

‘Surely,’ He thought as he looked down at you. ‘No one has ever loved anyone else quite as much as I love her.’ 

“Here, I’ll teach ya how to do it.” He wrapped an arm around your waist, causing you to jump. He could feel your little heart pounding against his side, and it reminded him of a little rabbit. Jumpy, terrified, but just as adorable. “You press this button to release the cylinder,” He demonstrated for you. “And then you spin it. Don’t worry about the bullet coming out. It’s in there snug.” And then he slapped the cylinder back in place, putting the gun in your shaky palm. His large, warm hand swallowed yours up whole as he raised your arm, rubbing your finger so that he could nudge it onto the trigger. “And then you squeeze the trigger.” He raised the gun and your arm up to the side of his head. 

You could have vomited, the fear gripping you so hard that you found it hard to breathe. But there was this strange sensation- a heat pooling in your abdomen as you thought about where this all might lead. You could try to convince yourself that you wanted him to die all you wanted, but the gun against the man’s head was a terrifying sight. Being alone on this ranch would most likely have deadly consequences, but that wasn’t it. That wasn’t the reason why you were so terrified of him dying. The truth was entirely unwelcome: you liked him. God damn it, you actually liked him. 

“I’ll go first.” He stated, not a hint of fear in his eyes. He looked at you hungrily, like he could devour you whole. He pressed his finger down on yours, and in turn you were steadily putting pressure on the trigger. You wanted to say no. Wanted to scream at him to stop and that you changed your mind. You couldn’t find your voice. Your tongue felt swollen in your mouth, your eyes glassy with unshed tears. 

There was a heat pooling between your legs that you felt insanely guilty about. 

Before you knew it the trigger had been pulled completely, a soft click echoing around the silent room. He smiled brightly at you, slowly removing his hand from yours. Your arm fell limply at your side, the gun still in your hand. He had just pulled the trigger and hadn’t even flinched. He could have died, and it would have been nobody else’s fault except for his, and he didn’t seem to care. The danger seemed to rile him up. 

“Looks like I’m safe.” The jean button up shirt that he was wearing was the first article of clothing to come off. His long, nimble fingers made quick work with the buttons. 

You watched as he slipped the faded blue fabric from off of his shoulders, revealing his lean body. His skin was golden from long hours spent outside in the California sun. No matter how skinny he appeared to be in his clothes, you could tell that he was surprisingly strong. The muscles in his arms and shoulders were on full display, his prominent v-line disappearing beneath his jeans. He was beautiful. Truly beautiful. 

You hated him for that too. 

The gun suddenly felt very heavy in your hand, and you remembered that it was now your turn to go. You brought the revolver up, twisting your hand this way and that to take a good look at it. You wanted to prolong this moment. You needed to calm your pounding heart or else you feared that it might stop all together. People could die from fear, right? You sucked in a breath, nearly jumping out of your skin when Tex made a small noise right across from you. It was a breathy sounding groan that felt so out of place during a moment like this. You let your eyes flicker up to his face, noticing his flushed cheeks and parted lips. 

“That gun looks so pretty in your hands, honey.” He licked his lips, motioning towards the gun hurriedly. “Show it to me.” His voice was now barely above a whisper. 

You felt confused yet again, his reactions coming across as unnatural. Here you were, standing before him with a loaded weapon, and he was moaning at the mere sight of you. “You’re crazy.” You whispered, your hand beginning to shake as you raised the gun a little more, nearly pointing it at him. 

His lashes fluttered as he stared at your hand, taking his bottom lip between his teeth so that he could bite down on it. You nearly dropped the weapon when you watched him readjust himself in his jeans, your eyes widening as you finally realized that he was hard. He was actually getting off on all of this. You let your eyes drink in the sight of him for a few more seconds. You traced the shape of him through the pants, trying hard not to dwell on the fact that he appeared large, even through the cloth. 

Slowly, never taking your eyes off of him, you did as you were taught. Your finger pressed against the cylinder release, gave it a good spin, and then slapped it back into place. Tex seemed tense as he watched the cylinder spin, but relaxed when he noticed something that your eyes didn’t. Your hand shook as you brought the gun to your head and pulled back the hammer. 

“You're safe, baby. I wanna see you do it. Pull the trigger.” 

You hated that you trusted him so implicitly. You squeezed down on the trigger, squeezing your eyes shut as your heart continued to pound away in your chest. The clicking sound echoed in your ears, your arm limply falling to your side as the damn near euphoric relief spread through you. It fizzled hot in your blood like champaign, setting every nerve ablaze. At the sight of your heaving chest Tex took a step closer to you, reaching out for the gun. He licked his lips hungrily as he stared at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he took in your relieved expression. The flush on your cheeks was adorable. He took the gun from your shocked form, giving you a few seconds to recuperate before he reminded you of the rules. 

You just stood there staring at him, bubble gum lips parted as you sucked in air. You looked like a deer in headlights, and he wanted to devour you. The need to touch you, any part of you was overwhelming. It had been for weeks. Some nights he only pretended to sleep, just so that he could press himself against you. Feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest under his hand. He wanted to rip you to shreds only to put you back together again, piece by piece. Tex’s adams apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, clenching his jaw as he tried to show restraint. You hadn’t turned him down yet. Not today at least. You wanted this. You were okay with this. 

He had you and he was never going to lose you. He’d keep you locked up and tied down if he had to. And if you ever happened to get away from him, he’d find you. Ohh. . . he’d find you. 

You jerked back in shock as you felt the cold barrel of the gun press against your belly, Tex using it to push the fabric up. You’d been too busy staring at him to remember the rules of the game. Now it was your turn to remove something. 

“Off.” Was all he said, his eyes burning holes into your body. 

You gripped the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head before tossing it onto the ground. You wanted to hide yourself away from him once you realized that you weren’t wearing a bra. You started to cover yourself up, but stopped as Tex merely shook his head. Don’t hide from me. 

 It was nothing he hadn’t already seen though. The pictures. 

The reminder of them made your stomach tighten, the heat between your legs becoming more prominent. Your face heated up in shame as you finally gave in. You surrendered to the full truth of it all. You couldn’t hide or run from it any longer. There was no escaping it anymore. 

Tex’s devotion turned you on. Tex’s obsession made you feel loved and taken care of and you wanted to fuck him. You’d been attracted to him this entire time, too blinded by your own fear to realize that you were fucked up enough to develop feelings. Maybe it was familial trauma. Maybe it was all of the bad dates you’d been subjected to. Or maybe it was just you. Either way, there it was. All out in the open for you. You weren’t nearly as insane as Tex. You were no killer. You didn’t have it in you to hurt a fly, but his hands were capable. 

He was big and strong. He could protect you. He was begging to let you relinquish your control and let him look after you. You’d never been looked after in your life, and yet here he was, looking at you like you were the messiah. You watched those big, capable hands clench into fists as he took you in. He was trying not to touch you. 

“As soon as you give me the word. . . i’m going to eat you alive.” Those blue eyes were pinning you down, narrowed and heavy and so full of adoration. 

You could feel your slick already pooling in your underwear, your eyes fluttering closed for just a second as you tried to ground yourself. You had to stay steady. You had to play this game with him for just a little longer. He was practically vibrating with need and you wanted to test him. Wanted to see him fall apart before he absolutely destroyed the last bit of sanity you were clinging to. 

He pressed the button, spun the cartridge all while watching it closely and then slammed it closed. He pressed the barrel right back up to his temple, pulling the trigger without flinching. Without blinking. 

“Are ya gonna let me have it?” You couldn’t fully process what he was asking you, just that his accent was sexy and his voice was so deep that it was vibrating in his chest. 

“H-Have what?” You licked your lips, not missing the way he followed your tongue with his eyes. 

He might as well have already been inside of you. Your knees were already starting to buckle and he hadn’t even touched you yet. 

“Your body,” He handed you the gun, pulling his already undone jeans off of his legs. “I already own your soul, but I want it all. I want ya so bad that I nearly came in my pants just seein’ your tits. So are ya gonna give it to me now, or are ya gonna make me wait longer? Cause I can’t take it anymore, darlin’. I can’t keep lovin’ ya the way that I do and not fuck ya.” 

Your eyes flickered back down to his crotch, your mouth filling with saliva as you noticed how hard he was. You could make out the exact shape of him, his length uncomfortably trapped beneath his tight briefs. He was gorgeous. Absolutely perfect. 

And you didn’t answer at first. 

Instead you just played the game. You pressed the button. You spun the cartridge while he watched closely. You slammed it back in place and then you pressed it against your temple. “Let me touch you. Fuck. . . Please let me just touch you.” Click. 

You tossed the gun onto the bed, unbuttoning your own bell bottoms and pulling them down and off of your legs. You kicked them away from you, nodding your head towards the gun so that he would feel inclined to continue himself. He was in disbelief. Not only were you playing along but you seemed to be liking it just as much as he was. How could someone be as perfect as you were? How could you be real? He scooped the gun back up, knowing that there was just one more thing he had left to take off. 

“If I take these off, will you add them to your little collection?” His eyes flickered down to your panties. The pretty pink bow. The lacy red fabric. He turned his attention towards the other side of the bed, realizing that you must have seen every secret that he kept hidden in his room. This turned him on even more. His hips involuntarily jutted forward, meeting nothing but air. 

“F-Fuck. . .” He didn’t have words. He wanted to tease you and make it harder on you, but he could barely function. He was beginning to get scared that if you did let him touch you, that he might hurt you. He might lose himself completely. Tex didn’t mind though. You owned him. He was all yours. 

And so he went through the motions one last time. Button, spin, and shoot. He watched to make sure that he was safe from the bullet, pulling the trigger that one last time. He didn’t let go of the gun this time when he shrugged off his underwear, his cock springing loose. He watched you take him in. You drank in the sight of him, the poor thing practically throbbing with need. He was bigger than anyone else you’d ever been with, and a part of you worried whether or not you’ll actually be able to comfortably take him. His angry red tip was weeping with pre cum, his underwear slick and stained with it as he licked it away from him. That was all it took. 

“Please.” And your voice sounded so small. So pathetic. So broken. 

He lurched forward, his muscles already tense and ready to attack. His lips pressed against yours so hard that you thought that your top lip might be bleeding. The free hand that wasn’t holding the gun gripped the side of your head, holding you to him as he forced his tongue into your mouth, his teeth gently knocking against yours as he opened his mouth to absorb your shaky breaths. Your mouths moved in sync, his lips as pillow soft as you expected them to be. He smelled so good fresh out of the shower, his warm hands all over you, cold drops of hair falling onto your shoulders as he pressed your bare chests against one another. He couldn’t be close enough. You bit his bottom lip, your eyes fluttering open just so that you could see him only to find that he was already watching you with half lidded eyes. He moaned into your mouth as he realized that he had been caught. The guttural sound, the smell of him as well as the way that he tasted was enough to make you bite down harder on his lower lip, his hips jerking forward as he grunted in pain. You could taste blood. 

His blood. 

You licked that up to, hands gripping at anything you could reach. 

You felt something press into the hem of your panties, shivering against the cold metal as he brought the gun down further and further. He pressed the barrel against your heat, rubbing and nudging, stimulating you. You gasped loudly as you became aware of the fact that he was touching you with the gun. He stopped his movement against your clit only for a second, using the gun to slip your panties to the side. You felt it now against your bare skin, sliding against your soaking core. 

“You’re so wet… are you turned on by this, darlin’? Are you just as fucked up as I am?” All you could do was moan, letting him hug you tighter against him as he spoke into your hair. “I’m gonna fuck you and make you mine. Rub my cum all over you, that way everyone will know you belong to me.” You nodded, your cheek rubbing against his stumbled chin as you began working your hips against the gun. 

“So needy. You wanna be filled, honey? Want me to fill you up?” You could feel the barrel of the gun stretching you as he pushed it further and further inside. He was fucking you with a gun. 

This man was fucking you with a gun. 

You mewled as you moved your hips, your legs buckling beneath you as he continued his attack. Again and again he pushed it up inside of you, watching your face intently as he held you closer against his chest. He held up most of your weight as you leaned into him. He loved seeing your soft features pinched, eyes pinched shut, hips moving against his hand in a desperate search for release. He needed you. Needed you now. 

Inside inside inside. 

He tossed the gun somewhere onto the bed, his hands shaking like a mad as he tore the panties down your lips. You heard the fabric tear in his haste, already crawling onto the bed in an attempt to have him in you. You couldn’t deny him anymore. You couldn’t stop yourself. 

“Oh god, I love you.” He thrust in, not giving you even a second. Not letting you take him inch by inch. He was ripping you apart. Stretching you out. Molding him to the shape of his dick. You cried out, moving forward as if to get away from him. The pressure in your abdomen was insane. You could practically feel him in your stomach. Your attempts at escaping him only spurred him on more though, his hips slamming into you, making you take all of him. Forcing you to take it all. 

And you wanted it. Every inch. 

The pleasure and pain all blended into white hot passion. It was impossible to deny the chemistry between the two of you now. There was no getting rid of it anymore. 

“I’m gonna fuck my cum so deep inside of you. Do you want me to get you pregnant? Fucking ruin you so that you’ll be stuck with me.” And you didn’t know why you were nodding but you were. He was just fucking into you so well, hitting that same spot inside of you again and again. The spot that had you seeing stars. 

His hands moved up to your breasts, his touch so hot that he was practically scalding you. His fingers pinched at your nipples as he continued to point into you. The pleasure was too much. It felt too good. All of this had been building for weeks now. It was almost as though all of that had been foreplay. Every touch. Every heated stare. All of it. 

“Say it. I wanna hear you tell me that you’re mine.” He was talking through clenched teeth now, still slamming into you. He yanked your head up by your throat, wanting to look in your eyes. Wanting to see your lovely lips shape the words. 

“I-I’m yours!” His hips stuttered, his loud moan only spurring you on. “I’m yours Tex. All yours. Please- please!” You weren’t even sure what you were begging for. The pleasure was building though, ready to snap. 

“Give it to me. Cum- I want to feel you milk my cock. That’s a good lil girl. Come on.” 

It was at his urging that you let go. Almost on command. Your muscles tensed, your eyes rolled back, and you could barely breathe. You must have called out his name. Must have screamed because he was fucking you even harder, panting in your ear as he pressed you down further into the mattress. 

“That’s it, honey. Keep sayin’ my name. I want everyone downstairs to hear. Fuck, don’t stop.” So you didn’t. He ripped the orgasm straight out of you, chasing his own like a madman. 

He came with something akin to a roar, his sweat slick arm wrapping around your throat, cutting off your airway as he hugged you tighter to him. You could feel his length twitching inside of you. Pumping you full. Giving you every drop. He fucked you through it, pushing the cum in as deep as he could. 

He stilled after a while, gathering himself for a second before he pulled out, resting his hand against the mattress as he climbed over you on top of the bed. He was still panting hard when you finally found enough strength to turn over and face him. 

He was back to looking like an angel again. 

Wet hair sticking to his sticky cheeks, lips red and kiss swollen, and eyes glassy. He looked at you like you were God. And to him you were. 

Your love was like god. Wholly. Infinite. 

And all his.

special special special thanks to my sweet lil sluts. once again, they assisted emotionally with this fic and even beta read a few chunks! I heard russian roulette with tex and here it is. . . @babylovepresley @powerofelvis @ggwritesstuff @woundmetender @eliseinmemphis @polksalademma @flwrs4aust @headfullofpresley @cryingabtab @austinbutlersbaby @lindszeppelin @rosaminny

@knoxvillesshoes@cosmorant@ol1viam@simply-sams-things@haim80s@gabbcabb@8hgel@slutt4him@busy-bee-angel-misska@kaitaesupremacy@dazedshoon @4rt3m1ss@cryingabtab@kittenlittle24@austinsrealgf@austinbutlersgirlfriend@clearbolts @dark-as-love@anni-secret-account-75@ab4eva@starcatchxr @julietamidala @obbsessivereader@gwuide@blurredcolour@the-little-red-haired-girl@meladollsims@poppet05@shrekstheloml@randomwriter888@idc123sworld@vane28282@mirandastuckinthe80s@girlblogger2002@rockerchick05@screechingstrawberrysong@simpforevery1@girlabirla@dre6ming@obetrolncocktails@fairyjanes@jensenswinchester@lo-bells @in-my-body-bag@fxntxsix@petrparkrslut@eliseinmemphis @lelifesaver @screaching-cookie@fantuhsise@areuirish @bcofl0ve@mslizziesblog@shynovelist@ssstrangersblog @harrysthecraic@hangmanswhore@jyvnho@mymamalife @melodydior

Savage Bonds is soooooooo enjoyable!! I'm obsessed. I love how you write. Love how enamored & consumed Feyd is with the protagonist, love that he insisted on not wearing his shield and let her get a hit in during their sparring session. Love that almost-kiss!! I'm so so so excited for where you take the story. Thanks for sharing your writing <3

ahhhh! well aren’t you the sweetest. messages like this make my entire day. thank you so much for reading my fic! i wouldn’t be writing at all on this site if there weren’t friends to be made, so thank you so so so much for your support and all the love.

next chapter is gonna be crazyyyy compared to the last one. feyd’s starting to feel a bit too comfortable with you.

Oh to be in Mashle

divine visionary, rayne ames

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GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you wanted revenge on luke castellan)

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis!reader (afab, she/her pronouns)

summary: you were very angry and possibly still in love with luke castellan. kill him or kiss him — you still weren't sure what he deserved.

warnings/disclaimers: spoilers for season 1 of pjo + lots of book references. reader + luke are around 21 for most of this. rough? smut (p in v, oral f+m receiving, biting, scratching, slight choking, etc...) 18 + MDNI ! injuries + blood + violence. reader and others drink alcohol + smoke. lots of angst!!! luke + reader have matching tattoos. twilight + other pop culture references. reader kinda gives 'hell is a teenage girl in her 20s' vibes. maybe slightly toxic dynamic between reader + luke but we love complicated relationships ♡

author's note: thank u so much for all the love on part one!! i got a bit carried away with this one oops, but i hope y'all enjoy it :)

read part one — THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

(i. he had a savior complex) 

if you were less consumed by anger, you might have noticed the sound of his footsteps following closely behind you. 

no one was supposed to go into the forest alone, but you were 17 and reckless and not at all concerned about breaking the rules, especially if it meant proving clarisse larue wrong.  

you ventured into the woods, farther than you'd ever been before, with nothing except your knife and a chest full of determination to prove that you were strong and brave just like any other demigod, regardless of if you had a cabin or not. 

you were younger then, less disillusioned, and more willing to buy into those fantasies of power and glory, spoon-fed to demigods as truth. one that you hoped to cross off that afternoon: being worthy of attention if you could sink your blade into the next monster that dared to cross your path.

everyone would see that you’re not just some little, powerless girl with no reason to be at camp. 

and, sure, there was a small but not insignificant part of you that hoped your mother was watching, that she’d finally notice how much of a hero you could be.

you could have died that afternoon. you put up a decent fight, but soon enough you found yourself fallen to the forest floor: blade down, broken arm, bleeding out. a manticore inches away from sending you to the underworld. 

you weren’t angry anymore, the adrenaline had left your body. you just were a scared child, silently praying to deities you hoped wouldn’t look away like they always do. 

i’m sorry, mom. i couldn’t do it. 

you closed your eyes, waited for your fate, and just when you thought all hope was lost — 

the sound of a sword ripping through flesh, an injured growl, and then nothing but your ragged breathing. 

your eyelids fluttered open.

it wasn't your mother, or any of the other gods, who jumped in to save your life.

standing in the middle of the clearing, gripping his sword, was luke castellan. 

he tucked annabeth’s invisibility cap into his back pocket and brought you to the infirmary.

"she's okay, though?" luke asked. he was watching you carefully, ashes from the manticore dusting his orange camp shirt. his arms were crossed, and it seemed that he managed to defeat the monster relatively unscathed.

lee fletcher, son of apollo, nodded as he set your injury. 

"nothing more than a broken arm and minor concussion. make sure your girl gets lots of rest, okay? no more monster hunting. probably has to sit out capture the flag tomorrow, too.”

you ignored the churning in your stomach when lee assumed you were luke’s girl. luke didn’t bother correcting him. 

lee left to get you some ambrosia to speed the healing process, leaving you and luke alone in the room. 

“you know, i’m not a damsel in distress you have to follow around, waiting to save. i’m not your girl.” 

“seriously?” he raised an eyebrow, but his cheeks became slightly flushed. “you would be dead if it wasn’t for me. i heard what happened with clarisse, but gods — you didn’t have to go and get yourself killed to prove something.” 

he was right, of course. part of you wanted to argue with him for always having to be the hero, but the fight lingering in your throat wasn’t enough to act on. you just sighed and looked away, feeling too impulsive and powerless and exhausted down to your bones. 

you felt the bed dip beside you, and then a hand on your shoulder. it was warmer than usual, but the calloused skin still felt familiar on yours.

“they’re not worth it, okay? that’s what you’re always telling me.”

luke’s voice was lower than before, a touch of bitterness laced through.

“yeah, well you never believe it,” you replied, voice hollow. “so why should i?” 

clarisse entered the infirmary before he could answer. luke was instantly on his feet, blocking you from her view, hand on the hilt of his sword.

“what are you doing here?” he practically growled. 

“i heard what happened,” clarisse explained, looking past luke to catch your eye. you waved at her with your newly applied cast. “i’m sorry about what i said earlier, if that had anything to do with it.”

at that point, you were still trying to figure out where you stood with clarisse. she had arrived at camp just before the new year. you’d been so used to new campers being younger than you, and it was nice to have someone the same age to be friends with. 

it wasn’t until the start of march, around two weeks ago, that ares had claimed her. ever since, there had been a newfound animosity between you, leading up to your explosive argument earlier that day. part of you had a feeling she was just trying to fit in with her siblings. it was a subtle thread woven throughout the camp, especially with the ares kids: this hierarchy of power according to the gods, with you on the lower end because your mother was only a minor goddess. 

needless to say, it wasn’t anything you hadn’t heard before; it was just that the words pierced through your thick skin when coming from a friend. 

but the very fact that she came to visit you, that she apologized and seemed to regret that you’d gotten hurt, healed you more than the ambrosia lee was just coming back to give you. 

“thanks, clarisse,” you said after a mouthful of ambrosia. 

even with an established truce, luke didn’t move away from you. in fact, he puffed his chest out a bit more. 

“if you say anything like that to her again, i swear to all the gods —”

“i just said sorry, castellan,” clarisse scoffed. “now get out of the way so i can sign her cast.” 

clarisse attempted to move closer, but luke stayed planted where he was.

“you are not getting anywhere close to her,” luke warned. 

“easy, tiger.” you got up to put your hand on his arm, but luke jerked away from your touch. your fingers brushed against his skin however, and even that brief moment was enough to shock you with its temperature. you tried again, this time bringing a hand to his neck, and he let out a hiss upon contact. his pulse seemed quicker than normal.

“are you feeling okay?”

“i’m just fine,” he huffed, and stormed out of the infirmary.

a few days later, you were training with clarisse, when silena beauregard ran into the arena and interrupted you.

“it’s luke,” she coughed, out of breath. “he’s in the infirmary—”

you sprinted towards the big house before silena could finish her sentence. 

when you reached the infirmary, luke was being held back by lee and a few others, screaming that he needed to go find you or you’d die. he was holding his sword, and campers wrestled to remove it from his grip. the sleeve of his shirt lifted up slightly, and that was when you noticed it: a gash across his bicep, shallow, but turning a sickly green. the rest of his skin was flushed, his eyes frantically searching for someone — you — and he was breathing heavily between sentences.

it turned out that he’d gone the entire week with the wound festering. one of the manticore’s spikes must have grazed luke, and he hadn’t thought much of it because he was so focused on making sure you were okay. 

manticore poison could fuck with someone’s mind if not treated right away. worse: it could be fatal. 

despite your heart beating out of your chest and the chaos you walked into, you kept your voice gentle, but firm.

“luke.”

for a moment, everything stood still. luke froze, and the campers took the opportunity to get a better hold on him.

he blinked at you and shook his head. “no. no. you’re not her. i heard her screaming from the forest and - and she’s in trouble. i need to —”

“it’s me, tiger,” you assured him. 

you approached him carefully and, despite some whispers of warning, you gestured at everyone to let go of him completely. they might have had a point, because as soon as they did, the tip of his sword was dangerously close to your chin. 

“you’re not her,” he insisted. “you’re just some monster trying to trick me.”

you stood in front of him then, and slowly raised your arm to show him your cast. a few people had signed it — beckendorf, chris, clarisse, silena. luke had signed his name too, of course, along with a poor attempt at a cartoon tiger that made you all laugh. 

“see? it’s me. i’m okay.”

there were a few moments when you held your breath, feeling the celestial bronze dig into your skin a bit more. and then:

“it’s…you. you’re….okay?” 

luke’s speech was slightly slurred. he dropped his sword like it suddenly weighed a thousand pounds; it nicked you on its way down. you didn’t care though, because luke almost fell to the ground, too. 

you gripped his wrist to steady him. 

“you’re probably not okay, though,” you explained, well aware of the urgency of the situation. his pulse felt weaker by the second, his skin burning against yours. 

“i’m….i’m fine. i just need to — she’s gonna die if i don’t —”

“i’m right here. i’m here because you already saved me, remember? you saved me, but you got hurt.”

 he shook his head slowly, and his eyes started to flutter close. 

“no, i’m okay,” he breathed, his voice smaller than you’d ever heard it. “i need to make sure y/n is okay. she needs me….” 

you swallowed the lump in your throat, seeing him start to fade away right in front of you. 

you refused to lose hope. 

no — you wouldn’t watch luke castellan die.

“i’m here, luke.” you gripped his wrist even tighter to remind him.

“but —” 

“just rest for a minute, ” you insisted, guiding him towards a bed. “for me, okay?” 

as soon as you managed to get luke onto the bed and, more importantly, calm, everyone else sprung back into action. 

chiron was away for the week, so will solace — one of the younger apollo campers, but probably the best healer at camp — used some healing magic, while lee misted luke with cold water to cool him down and another kid dripped some nectar onto his wound.

luke hissed when the liquid seeped into his skin and reached out for you. you felt like the flesh might melt right off your bones, but you let him squeeze your hand for as long as he needed. somebody came around to put a bandage on your chin, too.

you'd always resented the gods, but that was the first time you'd really lost your faith in them. watching luke fight for his life even after saving yours, other demigods joining the battle, and you thinking: this is the life you cursed us with. you imagined the gods, with power to twist fate in their favor, simply enjoying a feast on mount olympus, hermes sipping nectar and not even aware that another one of his children is dying. you supposed your mother wasn’t any better either. her neglect felt like revenge for something you didn’t even know you had done.

after a while, the skin around luke’s wound lost its greenish hue. you released a deep breath when both lee and will declared that luke seemed to be on the mend — he just needed to get some rest, and, best case scenario, the poison should have run its course by morning.

you didn’t ask about the worst case scenario.

you estimated it was around 2 am when you heard luke’s voice again.

“cold,” was all he said through shivering teeth. 

you wordlessly grabbed as many blankets as you could, and tucked them around luke. you waited a few minutes to see if it helped.

“so - so cold,” he shivered again. you reached out to check luke’s pulse, and all you could find was the faintest heartbeat. his skin looked pale in the moonlight and now felt ice cold despite his high fever earlier. 

no one else was in the infirmary then. you were wracking your brain to remember what you had learned in demigod survival class about hypothermia. something about warm drinks? you ran to the kitchen and made him a cup of hot chocolate — with cinnamon, just how he liked it. 

you whispered his name once you were back at his bedside. his eyelids fluttered open. you tried coaxing him to take the drink, but he wouldn’t even hold the mug. you didn’t think twice about climbing into bed next to him, gently sitting him upright against the headboard so that you could offer him tiny sips. you noticed then that he was still only wearing a tank top, so you took off your sweatshirt — which happened to be one of luke’s — and slid it on him. 

when the hot chocolate was done, luke sighed. some of the color returned to his face, and his teeth stopped chattering. 

“thanks, karma.”

you just hummed in response, setting the mug down on the nightstand beside you and twisting underneath the blankets. luke settled back down next to you. he brushed his thumb over the band-aid on your chin. 

“what happened? did clarisse —”

“easy, tiger. it’s nothing — just a little scratch,” you replied. 

you spared him from the whole truth. sure, there was a moment earlier when you didn’t know whether or not luke would hurt you. it was only a split second, because that wasn’t your luke. he shouldn’t have had to live with the guilt of something he did by accident, as a result of a poisoned mind.

“anyways, i should be thanking you. you’re the one who almost died saving my life. you were hanging by a thread just a few seconds ago. it seems like you’re not completely out of the woods yet.”

“well, i guess the fates are still deciding what to do with me.” he cracked a smile. 

it was a bit morbid, given what you’d been through the past 12 hours, and the fact that the manticore venom clearly hadn’t left his body completely. the possibility of his death had not completely disappeared, though you supposed that, as demigods, the risk always remained higher. 

fuck the gods. they weren’t your protectors. they weren’t your family. 

the campers who put their whole heart into healing you and luke, the boy who risked his life for you — they were your family. 

you took luke’s humor as a good sign. the luke castellan you knew — confident banter, radiant grin, heart of gold — was coming back to you. 

the luke castellan you would not allow die, even if you could still feel the cool bronze of his blade linger on your chin. 

(ii. he had an ego)

according to annabeth chase, it was statistically improbable for a demigod to reach drinking age. something always kills them first - a monster, a blade, a fatal flaw. the likelihood of survival only gets exponentially lower with each passing year.

she repeated that information to luke on the morning of his 21st birthday.

“thanks for the cheerful birthday wishes, sis.” 

annabeth shrugged and hugged him before walking back to the athena table to finish breakfast. 

"you hear that, tiger?” you pointed a syrupy fork at luke. “you are literally saying fuck you to fate, just by being alive." 

"that’s the way i like it," luke quipped, and stole a blueberry from your plate. 

"hey man, happy birthday." chris patted luke’s shoulder on his way to sit across from you and luke. "so, i just talked to chiron and he agreed to let us go out tonight." 

you smiled between bites of your pancakes, reaching over to offer chris a triumphant fist bump.

“nice work, rodriguez.” 

"we're going out tonight?"

you pressed your knee to luke's under the table. 

"of course we are," you hummed. "we have a lot to celebrate." 

so, you, luke, chris, and a few of your friends — beckendorf, silena, and clarisse — went into the city to celebrate. one of luke's favorite bands was playing, and you had managed to snag a few tickets. you'd all entered a bar confidently that night, the fake ids you were at once so giddy and paranoid about no longer needed. 

there were few times when you could all just kick back and have fun, without having to worry about the responsibilities of being senior counselors. that night, you were all itching for a taste of freedom. or, at least, some alcohol. 

"happy birthday to the one and only luke castellan: a hero by any other name!" 

everyone raised their shot glasses, echoed beckendorf's words, and threw back their drinks. 

the night became louder, more vibrant. yet, even as you laughed and drank and danced with your friends, there was a heaviness lingering in your chest.

for most demigods, birthdays were bittersweet. each one served as a reminder of time running out because of exactly what annabeth said that morning. most half-bloods don’t even live past their teens, let alone the age of 20. you had the blood of gods flowing in your veins, and your lives were influenced by sinister, divine forces from ancient times. you were the new generation of heroes, protagonists of those greek tragedies that made mortals weep.

there was no guarantee that this would last forever, but all of your friends —  the people you loved — had beat the odds. 

so, who would blame you for getting a little sentimental? 

beckendorf and chris had wandered off to play pool, in hopes of winning some bets and free drinks. clarisse was flirting with some girl who caught her eye, and silena went to grab some water after having danced for a bit. you and luke were still in the crowd, swaying to the music. for one glorious moment, you were just a group of twenty-one year olds enjoying a carefree night out. 

under the flashing lights, you stole a glimpse at luke. he wore a simple white tank top and ripped jeans, paired with a leather jacket and some rings he borrowed from you so he could, in his words, look more punk-rock. his curls were messy, his skin glittering with a thin sheen of sweat. the chain he layered with his usual camp necklace caught the multicolored light and highlighted the sharp angles of his collarbones. 

whatever aesthetic he was going for, luke looked good. based on various eyes following him throughout the room, you assumed others thought the same as well. it made you just a little bit furious, feeling that he wasn't only yours to admire. 

“you good?” luke’s voice cut through the noise, but he had to lean in close.  

his fingers brushed against the section of waist exposed by your cropped top. you’d gotten so warm that you had to tie your flannel around your waist, but luke’s touch sent a shiver through your body. it made you somewhat dizzy, feeling the cold metal of those rings on your skin. even moreso, when you realized how much you wanted to kiss your best friend, sink your teeth into his smirk and taste the mint chapstick and tequila on his lips. 

to be fair, you and luke had crossed that line before, and you were in the fields of asphodel ever since. 

not quite friendship, not quite romance. something deeper, more volatile and electric. 

you didn’t want to make things blurrier than they already were, though. whatever you acted on that night could have just been dismissed the next morning as a drunken mistake.

so, you just nodded at him and turned back towards the band as though you were never thinking about anything more than the music. 

after a few more songs, luke commanded your attention once more.

“hey, didn’t you once say you wanted to start a band?”

“what do i look like, a child of apollo?” you joked, but luke raised an eyebrow at you, clearly wanting a serious answer.

it was slightly alarming, how well he knew you; through your childhood dreams and down to your core. 

“in another life,” you conceded. “maybe.”

“in another life,” luke echoed. he leaned in close again. “you’d be a pretty hot drummer, and i’d be front row at every show.”

your lips could have touched if you moved your head just an inch, but he pulled away before you did. he was giving you that classic son-of-hermes smirk, the one that made everyone swoon. 

the thing was, you were sure that luke knew the effect he had on people. you had seen him continuously bask in the praise of chiron and other campers, always preening for the crowd's attention, as if he had to do anything more than smile. everyone loved luke — he was handsome, charismatic, strong.

and, yeah, you weren’t immune. your fatal flaw: not loyalty, or anger, or recklessness, but luke castellan’s charm.

you had to keep yourself grounded. it would be a bad idea to cross that line again on his birthday, right? 

luke licked his lips as you kept staring at him. you could tell he was waiting for you to do something. 

maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your veins or the rhythm of the music vibrating through your bones, but you started thinking — fuck it. 

before you could act on that impulse, some person with bright red hair stepped between you and luke. she introduced herself, telling luke she saw him from across the room, and she'd been watching him all night, and would he by any chance want to dance with her?

luke seemed flattered, interested even. he flashed her the very same smile he had just given you, which left a bitter taste in your mouth. you excused yourself before you had to hear them flirt even more. 

you walked over to silena at the bar. she had a half-empty glass of ice water melting in front of her, her attention somewhere else. you sat down beside her and followed her gaze to what — who — she was looking at. 

“if confessing feelings to someone is hard for aphrodite’s daughter, then there’s really no hope for the rest of us,” you tell her.

silena whipped her head towards you. her cheeks were flushed a light pink. 

“i - i don’t have feelings for clarisse.”

“lena, please. we all know. well, except maybe clarisse.”

“what?” she blinked at you, eyeshadow shimmering in the light.

“yeah,” you said with a small laugh. the irony of it all: the head counselor of cabin 10  denying that she was in love with someone. “we talk about it all the time.”

“well,” silena huffed, cheeks now a bright red. “i guess i should tell you that the rest of us talk about you and luke.” 

you reached over to grab her water, your throat suddenly dry. 

“what about us?” you asked after finishing the drink in one long sip. 

“about how you obviously both have feelings for each other. half the camp already thinks you’re dating.”

you started to crunch on whatever ice was still frozen. 

“well, we aren’t.” 

that reality hurt more than the sharp pain piercing your brain from ingesting too much cold, too fast. you couldn’t even spot luke in the crowd — he and the redhead had probably gone off to some private corner. 

“people think love’s a joke,” silena sighed. “but they don’t realize how much power it can have over a person. it can make people —”

“cowards?” you suggested.

silena nodded solemnly. “cowards.”

neither of you said anything for a while, two love-sick half-bloods slumped over a sticky bar counter.

suddenly, silena sat up straight. she tied her black hair up into a ponytail. perfect, of course, along with her makeup. you were sure you had sweat off the glitter she had applied to your cheeks earlier. 

“i am not a coward.” 

without another word, silena got up and glided towards clarisse, and you were left with an empty stool next to you. 

part of you was proud of her for following her heart. the other part couldn’t stop picturing someone else’s tongue down luke’s throat. 

“can i get a ginger-ale, please?” you asked no one in particular, hoping that the bartender heard your request for something to ease your nausea. 

“you sure you don’t want anything stronger?” 

someone slid onto the barstool next to you. he looked around your age, wearing a navy and red rugby shirt. he had what looked like a pretty expensive watch on his wrist, and he was already leaning in way too close for a stranger. 

“i’m fine,” you deadpanned.

“oh, come sweetheart, it’s on me.” 

you scoffed at the nickname and shook your head.

the guy next to you didn’t care. he snapped to get the bartender’s attention. “two vodka tonics, please. that’s your drink, right? i’m usually pretty good at guessing.”

“dude, i said i’m fine,” you repeated through clenched teeth.

the bartender set two drinks in front of you and rugby shirt pointed towards them.

“well, i already got you a drink, so you at least owe me a conversation.” he slid the drink closer to you.

"i don't owe you anything." 

"oh, come on," rugby shirt cooed. "i don't bite." he slipped his hand underneath your skirt, nails scratching along the skin of your upper thigh, through your fishnets.

you growled at the contact and stood up abruptly, more than a little coincidentally knocked the glass over. the liquid splashed onto him. his flirtatious grin melted right off his face.

“jesus christ —you bitch,” he spat. “this is what i get for trying to be nice?”

“that’s what you get for trying to grope me,” you snapped. “but i could do a lot worse if you’re in the mood.”

his face was a pissed-off shade of red, his mouth formulating a response when —

you felt luke’s arm wrap around your waist, pulling you close to him. you side-eyed him, and ignored the hickey blooming at the base of his neck.

“is there a problem here?” luke’s voice was firm, steady. 

it seemed like all the fight left rugby shirt’s body, and he put his hands up in surrender. 

“oh, sorry dude. i didn’t realize she was taken.”

you rolled your eyes. figured that this guy would only back off if there was a jealous boyfriend in the mix. 

“it’s fine, i’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

“that’s for sure,” the guy continued. “your girl practically bit my head off for being nice and buying her a drink.”

your fingers tightened into a fist.

“that is not —”

“look, i gotta apologize on her behalf.”

“luke, what are you —”

“let me handle this, baby,” he hummed. “trust me, she’s normally a good girl. she just gets….harder to control after one too many drinks.” 

“i am this close to throwing my next drink at you,” you insisted. 

you weren't naive. you knew luke was putting on an act, but you weren't sure why he felt the need to appease this jerk and put you down in the process. 

you hated the way he was acting now — arrogant, condescending, borderline sexist. you wanted to storm off, you really did, but that would mean having to tear yourself away from luke, and.... you didn't hate the firm hold he had on you. 

he chuckled and raised an eyebrow at the guy knowingly, like they were the closest friends. 

“see what i mean?”

“that’s quite the firecracker you got there,” the guy complimented, as though you were a prize luke had won. “those are the ones you gotta keep on a tight leash, though.”

oh, your patience was wearing thin. if luke didn't take care of this guy soon….

“don’t i know it.” luke laughed when you barred your teeth at him. “look, we all came here to have a good time. why don’t you go join your friends again, and i’ll send over some drinks.”

rugby shirt looked at luke, then nodded. 

“alright. thanks, man. and sorry again for the….confusion.” 

luke extended a hand, and the guy shook it.

"no hard feelings. i'll be sure to keep her on a tighter leash, though."

rugby shirt walked away, laughing. you were just about ready to bite luke's head off.

you shoved luke away from you. your whole body felt like it was on fire. 

“luke castellan, i don’t care if it’s your birthday, if you ever talk to me like that again, i swear to all the gods —” you faltered when luke’s lips curled into a smirk. 

that smug, gorgeous, self-important smirk.

“what?” 

“i’m just waiting until you’re done chewing me out,” he said, clearly a bit amused. “you done?”

you hesitated, narrowing your eyes at him. “for now, i guess.”

“good, because we have about 2 minutes before our misogynistic frat buddy over there notices that something’s missing.”

he lifted his hand to show off the real prize of the night. 

“you did all of that….. to steal the guy’s watch?”

“well, duh. he was being a jerk and i’m the prince of thieves, karma. gotta use my powers for good.” 

luke winked at you as you stared at him in awe. 

“we really should go though. the others are waiting for us outside.” 

you jutted your chin towards the bruise on his neck.

"what about the redhead?"

luke flushed, adjusted his collar to hide the hickey. "i kinda lost interest when she said i was hot for an asian guy."

"oh." you ignored the triumph in your gut. "sounds like a jerk, too." 

"whatever." luke shrugged. "hard to find the good ones, right?" 

luke turned towards the exit.

"wait.” you tugged him back, and luke looked confused for a split second. “you're one of the good ones, luke castellan. did i ever tell you how incredibly happy i am that you were born?" 

luke grinned. "you could stand to say it more often."

his smile was infectious. you liked this side of luke: protective, mischievous, a bit of a trouble-maker. 

it made you want to kiss him all over again.

(iii. he lied without flinching)

you couldn’t find luke anywhere. 

he wasn’t at the climbing wall, or the arena, or the forge. luke seemed to have a knack at vanishing when you needed him most.

when you finally found him, he was outside the big house, in what seemed to be a somewhat heated conversation with chris and a new camper, ethan nakamura. 

ethan nakamura, son of nemesis. you were shocked when your mother’s symbol — swords crossed underneath a set of scales — appeared over his head after two weeks of staying at the hermes cabin. 

you were still getting used to having a younger half-brother. 

“hey,” you greeted the trio, slightly out of breath from running all over camp. as soon as you joined them, a silence fell over the group. “i was looking for you everywhere, tiger. what’s going on here?”

“actually, we were just —”

“nakamura,” luke spoke ethan’s name like a warning. 

“i’m just saying, maybe we should consider —”

luke cut ethan off this time with a sharp glance. 

“i already said no. end of discussion.”

“whatever you say, boss,” ethan grumbled.

the trio was silent again, and you eyed each of them suspiciously.

“okay, seriously. what’s —”

“we’ll talk more about this later, guys,” luke interrupted. his tone was commanding. ethan and chris dispersed. 

once they were gone, you furrowed your brows at luke, not sure what they would be talking about that could make him speak so harshly. 

“what was that about?” you asked for the third time.

“nothing important.” luke gave you a smile that seemed to stretch a bit thin. “you said you were looking for me everywhere. wanna go makeout in the hermes cabin? i’m pretty sure it’ll be empty this time of day.”

you shook your head, no matter how tempting the offer. the scene you walked into made you so uneasy that you completely forgot there was something important you needed to tell luke.

“percy and annabeth just iris-messaged me,” you explained. 

“oh,” he quirked an eyebrow at you. “is their quest going alright?”

you repeated everything the kids had told you: medusa, the chimera, ares. clarisse maybe being the lightning thief. luke had to sit down on the stairs leading to the big house when you spoke that last part. you understood why — clarisse was your friend. 

sitting down next to him, you sighed.

“you don’t think….you don’t think it could be true, do you?” 

clarisse was hot-headed, sure, maybe a bit impulsive, but a war between the gods? that didn’t seem her style. 

you hoped luke would assure you, but instead he said:

luke ran a hand through his hair. “it would make sense.”

“what?”

he leaned in close, voice low.

“clarisse was there with us during our field trip to olympus in december. the gods are arrogant enough to leave their stuff in the throne room, and there’s not really any security. she could have easily snuck in when everyone was sleeping. clarisse….” luke let out a heavy breath. “clarisse is the lightning thief.”

“no. no. she wouldn’t —”

“it makes sense, karma,” luke insisted. he placed a hand on your knee. “clarisse is angry at the gods.”

“we all are,” you pointed out.

“well, sure, but her dad is ares. how else do you get the god of war’s attention if not starting a war?”

you took a second to process luke’s reasoning. maybe he did have a point. it was just that sharp pain in your chest keeping you from believing it. 

“we don’t know anything for sure,” you decided. “and until we do….we don’t tell anyone. especially chiron.”

luke squeezed your knee, gave you a reassuring smile. 

“sounds like a plan.” he moved in closer and whispered: “now, how about we sneak away, and i do that thing with my tongue that makes you squirm?” 

you felt something tighten in your lower abdomen. you and luke were still in the sneaking-around-camp stage of your relationship; you both got a thrill from it.

at the time, you figured luke was just offering you a much needed distraction.

he kissed just below your ear to sweeten the deal — and how were you supposed to resist?

you didn’t even question how luke knew when the bolt was stolen, let alone how he seemed to have the theft already planned out perfectly.

(iv. he hid behind a pretty face and perfect teeth)

 it had been a little over a week since people around camp — including percy, annabeth, and grover, who had gotten back from their quest — found out about you and luke, together. apparently your friends had a bet going, meaning that everyone other than silena was less than thrilled about your announcement. they warmed up to the idea since then.

it still felt a little bit surreal calling luke castellan your boyfriend. 

luke often played the role of the perfect demigod, the one everyone should strive to be. he paid extra attention to new campers and made them feel welcomed. he did his chores on time, stepped in if more hands were needed for kitchen patrol, and spent hours going through reports for chiron. he taught sword-fighting and encouraged younger campers to keep practicing. he did participate in the occasional prank, that mischievous child of hermes streak impossible not to indulge in, but it only made everyone adore him even more. because luke was responsible, but not boring. he was incredibly skilled and driven, but also gracious. he was sensible and charismatic. 

you watched that luke — camp half-blood’s golden boy, the hero everyone either wanted to be, befriend, or date — and you were in awe. mostly, you wondered how he managed to bury the anger and resentment you knew was churning inside him, the same anger and resentment you sometimes let slip through. 

no, you were not as careful as golden boy luke, who showed no malice towards the olympians. to chiron, to everyone else, luke castellan respected the gods, honored them in everything he did, and taught others to do the same. 

that was not the luke who sucked a bruise onto your neck while suggesting something even you might consider blasphemous. 

“we can’t just - uh,” you had to catch your breath when luke slipped his thumb underneath the band of your sports bra. “we’d get in trouble, tiger.”

you felt him chuckle against your skin.

“since when do you care about that?” 

“since the king of the gods would probably strike us with lightning, or turn us into some horrible monsters, or curse us if we were caught fucking in his cabin." 

"that’s only if we get caught." 

luke gave you that flirtatious smile, the one he now reserved only for you.

it was that smile that led to luke settling between your legs, fucking you with his tongue and fingers, his other hand digging into your thigh to keep you from writhing too much. 

zeus’ cabin was, of course, empty, since his only known child was turned into a pine tree. you and luke had tucked yourselves into the one corner where the giant statue of the god couldn’t see you, setting a sleeping bag down on the cold marble floor and your discarded clothes scattered throughout. the dome-shaped ceiling was decorated with an enchanted mosaic sky that seemed to move. the only sounds that echoed throughout the room were moans as your orgasm washed over you.

"you're so, so pretty," he mumbled, wet lips brushing the skin of your inner thigh. he stayed where he was, awfully concerned with lapping up everything.

you whined his name when you found him taking too long, already a bit sensitive and wanting him inside you.

it might have been your conscious, but you swore you could hear a storm brewing, the threat of thunder and lightning looming.  the mosaic sprouted some clouds, growing darker by the second as if a countdown to your doom.

luke, on the other hand, was acting like you had all the time in the world, and then some.

he paused after his name tumbled from your lips again, and you tugged his hair. he propped his chin on your stomach to get a better look of you. luke was gorgeous, with his mess of black curls, deep brown eyes a little more dangerous than usual, smirk shining with your come.

"yes, sweetheart?"

“get up here and kiss me,” you groaned. 

once again, luke took his sweet time. his mouth left a trail along your thighs and your hips, your stomach and ribs. it felt like he was worshiping every inch of your skin, scarred and uneven and tattooed as it was. luke took extra care in appreciating the sword engraved on your sternum, the tattoo that matched the one he had on his collarbone.

“hi,” luke whispered once he was face to face with you. 

“hey, tiger,” you matched the softness of his voice, contrasting the harshness that followed when luke crashed his lips into yours. you could taste yourself on his tongue, and once he sucked all the air from your lungs, you had to pull away. 

you informed him: “there’s a condom in my back pocket.”

“always prepared,” he noted with a smile, reaching over to get it.

you kissed luke again as he entered you, your nails scraping down his back. when he pulled away to look at you, you couldn’t meet his gaze. instead, you were mesmerized by the sharp contours of his body and the healed wounds that lingered, every scar that you knew by heart like they were your own. it might have been strange, but you had a favorite — the faint cut on his hip from when he, thalia, and annabeth were on the run and they had to jump a fence.

if luke hadn’t been thrusting into you, you would have bent down to kiss it. 

“eyes up here, beautiful.” 

when you complied, luke smiled and ran his thumb along your jaw.

“good girl,” he praised. “you okay if i go harder?”

you settled for kissing the scar on his cheekbone.

“yes,” you finally answered.  "please."

luke brought his hand down to wrap your leg around his hip before he started moving faster. your head fell back against the marble floor, but you didn’t care about the impact. you just focused on how good it felt to have luke inside you, his strong hand on your hip, his warm breath on your skin. 

after feeling you tighten around him, luke let go a bit more. he dropped his head between your neck and shoulder, his curls brushing against you. as he reached his peak, luke bit your shoulder, hard,  to keep himself from groaning too loudly. you could have sworn that you heard thunder at that exact moment. in fact, it seemed to shake the entire cabin.

luke seemed to catch the threat that time, too. 

there was no room for pillow talk as the two of you rushed to get dressed and get out of there before the king of the gods lost his patience and struck you with lightning, turned you into some horrible monsters, or cursed you. maybe all three, maybe something worse.

you slipped on your underwear and pants, but couldn’t find the top half of your outfit. 

“do you see my shirt there?”

luke had just pulled on his boxers when he turned and passed the item to you. you weren’t sure why he paused for a second while doing it. then, he whispered:

“shit.” luke’s eyes were glued to your shoulder, where his teeth had broken skin. his cheeks flushed a bright red. whether it was shame or embarrassment, you didn’t know; but you were slightly taken aback. “i’m, i’m sorry, i — i didn’t mean to hurt you. i never want to —”

you placed your hands on his cheeks. 

“hey.” you whispered at him softly, and it was enough for him to stop rambling. you could tell he felt guilty, though, since he refused to meet your gaze.

“luke, baby, look at me.”

when he finally did, your heart ached. 

it wasn’t like you hadn’t done similar to luke. you’d never broken skin, sure, but luke seemed to enjoy — really enjoy — whenever you used your teeth in the heat of the moment. you just assumed he knew you wouldn’t mind the same.

but, one bite, and luke was almost reduced to tears, all because he was afraid of hurting you. 

“it’s fine, okay? i’m fine.”

luke didn’t seem convinced, his brows furrowed with concern. you kissed the crease on his forehead and reassured him once more that you were fine. 

 “if anything, consider it payback for the hickey i left that took a week to fade away.”

luke smiled softly at that, and you knew he was coming back to you. 

“you know, annabeth suggested that i go to the infirmary because of how it looked. i had to tell her i got it during sparring practice.”

“it wasn’t that bad,” you laughed, and so did luke. 

thunder rumbled throughout the cabin once more, and you swore the clouds were growing darker by the second. 

you were about to finish getting dressed when he grabbed your waist.

“look, if i’m ever too rough whenever we’re —”

“sparring?” 

“sure,” he smiled, thumbs rubbing circles on your bare skin. “whenever we’re sparring, just promise that you’ll let me know.”

“of course,” you hummed. “only if you do the same.”

“of course,” he echoed, and he pecked your lips. “i think it’s hot, you know? when you feel like you can let go. when you mark me. i like everyone knowing that i’m yours.”

you bit back a smile, feeling your cheeks grow warm.

“well, i think it’s hot when you mark me, too. especially when you bite me,” you admitted. 

“don’t tell me you’re still into the whole vampire thing,” he teased.

“oh, please. you were as obsessed with it as the rest of us. don’t you remember?”

as if either of you could forget marathoning the entire twilight saga with your friends, the six of you squeezing onto the small couch in the big house, sharing one bowl of popcorn and endless cups of coffee to stay awake.

you shivered out of the memory when he brought his fingers up to trace the bite mark he had left on you.

zeus could have sent more thunder. he could have created a whole godsdamned storm, but you wouldn’t have cared.

luke was so close that you had nothing better to do than to close the distance between you.

luke got bolder as the kiss became more heated — he sank his teeth into your bottom lip, his tongue sweeping over the crimson liquid that emerged, the tang of copper invading your mouth.

“easy there, edward,” you joked, and felt him smirk against your lips before moving to nip at your neck. 

you trailed your hand down the front of his exposed stomach, outlining the contours and curves. with the moonlight reflecting in, accompanied by the crackle of lightning, it almost looked like luke’s skin was glittering.

“you’re so beautiful," you cooed, nails scraping against the tight muscles of his lower abdomen.

“this is the skin of a killer, bella!” he mimicked.

you laughed at the reference, but when luke seemed to realize what he said, you swore you felt his grip tightening on your hips, though you didn't know why.

“i never want to hurt you,” he finished the sentence you had interrupted earlier.

“you won’t.” 

at the time, you didn’t think he was even capable of such a thing. 

for better or for worse, that was the night you realized something.

you liked golden boy luke. or, at the very least, you tolerated him.

the rule-breaking, sin-committing, blood-sucking luke?

in the words of bella swan: he was the one you were unconditionally and irrevocably in love with. 

except your life wasn't some cliché yet endearing love story about fictional vampires and werewolves. 

it had monsters, too. you just didn't realize who they were until it was too late. 

(v. he made you look so naive)  

there was blood on your hands, but you weren’t sure who it belonged to.

yours or luke’s — it was a toss-up that made you more than a little nauseous. 

luke had stolen the lightning bolt. luke had tried to frame percy and start a war between the gods. luke had begged you to join kronos’ army with him. you almost killed him because of it until you realized that he left percy to die. 

you summarized everything to chiron and mr. d once you had made sure that percy was getting help in the infirmary. the scorpion poison was still putting up a fight, but percy was strong. annabeth was there with him.

dread simmered in the pit of your stomach just thinking about having to tell her everything, too — to see the look in her eyes when she hears just how much her big brother betrayed her.

“and you have no idea where mr. castellan could have gone?” chiron’s voice was stern, as usual. 

you shook your head, not particularly paying attention. you could still feel blood seeping from the blademark luke had left. 

“that’s awfully convenient,” mr.d scoffed.

you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“what’s that supposed to mean?” 

“i’ve heard around camp that you and this luke were quite…. close,” mr. d said, pointing his can of diet coke at you accusingly. 

a wave of anger surged through you. it had been building in your gut ever since luke revealed his betrayal, and you didn’t care if it was a god who was on the receiving end of your wrath. 

“seriously? i saved percy and told you everything, and you’re here suggesting what? that i’m somehow a traitor, too?”  

“seems like the plot of a pretty twisted love story.”

your lips curled into a snarl, and you were about to pounce until chiron dismissed you.

you were in a trance for the rest of the day. chris was gone, too. ethan didn’t seem surprised. silena sobbed, clarisse comforted her, beckendorf cursed luke’s name. other campers kept asking about where their favorite counselor had gone, until they started growing weary of you.

because if golden boy luke was evil, what were the odds that his hot-headed, impertinent girlfriend was, too?

luke left you there, looking like an absolute fool for believing in him, trusting him, loving him.

you couldn’t unsee his blood on your hands. you might as well have been lady macbeth, desperately scrubbing out stains that would never leave.

vi. he was a vice you could never shake

calling all riot grrrls and punk rockers — this show is for YOU!!! come see the SIRENS OF NEW YORK perform THIS friday at joan’s bar ;)

the flyer was an obnoxiously vibrant shade of red and plastered throughout the neighborhood, and it did a good job. one of queens’ best dive bars was packed with people waiting to see the band perform: stella yamada on guitar, mohini banjaree on bass, sally mcknight on vocals — and you on drums. 

it was nice and still a bit new, this relatively normal existence with relatively normal people.

you couldn’t cut off the demigod side of your life completely. there was still a war brewing, and you were in regular enough contact with camp. 

but, you’d been away for about a year, trying to live the life of a non-halfblood in their early 20s. you had an apartment now, a cat and a nice enough roommate. you started school and got a job as a bartender to save up some money for rent and tuition. you had friends who, for lack of a better term, were normal. people who worried about paying off student loans and finding their passion in life, whether it be law school or feminist prose or angry girl music of the indie-rock persuasion. people who spent their time in classrooms or tattoo parlors or their friends’ bathrooms at 2am while bleaching their hair after a bad breakup. 

sometimes though, usually late at night when you couldn’t sleep, you had to admit to yourself that you missed your old life. 

you missed home. you missed playing capture the flag and training in the arena and having breakfast in the dining pavilion. you missed your friends, the ones you’d grown up with. 

you missed —

no. you tried not to let your mind wander towards him, or the consequences of what he did. you both drew blood the afternoon he confessed his sins to you, but he was the one who twisted the knife. he was the reason you couldn’t stand your life as a half-blood anymore. 

you just tried to focus on the mortal, mundane things that now composed your everyday life, like the stage you would be performing on in 30 seconds. 

before every show, your bandmates went through different degrees of anxiety. you didn’t get stage fright like them. they called you fearless, but the reality was that you had just gone up against much worse. 

and yet, that night, you almost froze mid-set, just as you started a cover of the joan jett’s “you don’t know what you’ve got.”

ironically, luke had gotten you a cd of this album for your 15th birthday. 

i was caught so unaware, when you made other plans.

think of the devil, and he shall appear.

it couldn’t have been him there, though. last time you heard of him, luke was growing kronos' army somewhere on the west coast.  

you pushed through, even though your concentration was shaken. 

i can’t stand to hear your name

you had to shake off the feeling of him watching you. 

it was just that — a bad feeling, right?

 you missed another beat, and mo turned around to give a concerned yet frustrated frown. joan had hinted that there might have been an agent in the audience, and you couldn’t afford to mess up. 

oh baby, you really blew it.

the song ended, and your blood ran cold.

it had to be a trick of the light, seeing luke in the crowd, but just the thought of being in the same space again made it impossible to be up on that stage, so exposed. 

as the band was getting ready for the next song, you slipped away, out the back door and into the alley for some fresh air. with shaky hands, you brought a cigarette between your lips and pulled out your lighter. it was a terrible habit, you knew.

those were always the ones hardest to quit and you needed a vice to keep you grounded. 

so there you found yourself, shivering in your black tank top, just cropped enough that the fishnets you wore underneath red leather pants were slightly visible. the bricks were cool against your back and you exhaled into the soft evening twilight when you realized it hadn’t been a trick of the light. 

“you look like buffy the vampire slayer.”

you rolled your eyes, because of course luke would do that. you were on opposite sides of an impending war between gods and titans, a world-ending conflict that luke directly enabled, and he led with a light-hearted comment like you were still the best of friends. 

as if you hadn’t been on the receiving ends of each other’s blades ever since luke revealed himself to be a traitor. 

“give me one reason why i shouldn’t kill you right now. ”

“because i’m alone.”

“you could still be here to kill me,” you reasoned. “or at least try.”  

after everything, you wouldn’t put it past him. you known him to do a lot worse, all to people he claimed to, in a past life, care about. 

luke tried again. 

“because you always liked a fair fight. i came alone and unarmed.” 

you scoffed, dropped your half-finished cigarette to the ground, and snuffed it out with the toe of your chunky patent boot before walking over to stand in front of luke. he put his hands up in surrender as you approached him. 

“if you’re not here to fight, then why are you here?” you demanded, fingers brushing against the switchblade in your pocket. you always kept a celestial bronze weapon on you in case you came across any monsters in the city. you looked at the one in front of you, and wished you had brought a bigger knife.

“i just….i wanted — needed to see you.”

your eyes grazed luke carefully.

he looked rough. deep shadows under his eyes, hair disheveled and partially matted down, shirt wrinkled like he’d been on the run for days. his hands caked with blood and dirt, his face, too. a nasty bruise on his elbow, and what looked like another one disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. 

you bit down the urge to care. you had to remind yourself that luke was dangerous, cruel, and heartless. you couldn’t stand to look at him for one more second, at least not without biting his head off, or at the very least the cut on his lip. 

“no. you don’t get to just —”

the door slammed open, echoed throughout the alley. stella poked her head out, guitar still strapped to her shoulder. from inside, you could hear the crowd cheering.

“jesus christ, y/n! where have you been?” 

“sorry, stel. i needed a smoke break and then i ran into a — ” your voice caught on the word friend. “luke.”

his name left a poisonous taste in your mouth, and you swallowed its bitterness. 

she saw luke then, who gave her that charming smile of his you hadn’t seen in forever. he extended a hand towards her, but stella just scowled at him and turned back to you.

“are you coming to finish the show?” stella demanded. 

“i need to deal with this,” you told her. “i’m sor—”

stella huffed and slithered back inside before you could finish apologizing. 

 “great,” you laughed cynically. “now one of my best friends is pissed at me, and i might get kicked out of the band. my luck just gets worse every time you force yourself back into my life, castellan.”

you weren’t quite sure how to make of the way he looked at you — maybe apologetic, possibly desperately, definitely some sort of disguise. 

“i know….i fucked up, karma.”

you glared at the use of his old nickname for you, feeling a shudder run down your spine.

“yeah, you fucked up. and now everyone, the whole world, is suffering the consequences. me, annabeth, your mom —”

“please,” luke begged once more, voice shaking now. “if you ever loved me —”

“don’t.” you barked. “if you ever loved me, you’d accept that the next time we see each other, it’ll be fighting on a battlefield. until one of us is on the ground, bleeding out, or never again.”

luke stared at you. you glared back at him. 

“sorry i’m late, lukey. did i miss much?” a sickly sweet voice cut through the tension. 

you turned and saw a cheerleader. she looked relatively normal, but the mismatched legs — one bronze, another furry — along with the red eyes and fangs gave her away. 

“you said you were alone,” you pointed out, tilting your head towards the monster. “looks like you brought company.”

“i didn’t,” luke insisted. “kelli’s been hunting me down.”

kelli pouted. “i thought we were playing hide and seek. but it’s over now — i win. please don’t be mad, baby.”

baby. you could have laughed. 

“i guess you moved on, castellan.” you meant your words to come across as mocking, so you hoped luke couldn’t sense the resentment behind them.

kelli giggled, and you thought your ears might bleed. 

“he sure did,” she cooed and moved closer to luke, running a long red fingernail down his chest. he pushed her away abruptly, and kelli pouted once more. “we miss you, luke. i miss you. please come back home with me.”

“that’s not my home.”

out of everything luke had said, those were the words that got through to you. you glanced at him once more — his hands curled into fists, jaw clenched, and eyes locked on yours, panicking and pleading at the same time. 

you had to give in to those pleading, panicked brown eyes. 

luke didn’t have any weapons on him. all you had was a tiny pocket knife and some combat skills you’d been maintaining through kickboxing classes with your roommate, but you were willing to put them to good use.

you stepped in front of luke. 

“listen — kelli, was it?” the empousa growled at you. “call me sentimental, but i can’t let you take him.”

kelli gave you a snarl, and you whipped out your switchblade. admittedly, it looked a little pathetic compared to her deadly fangs and sharp claws. 

“aw, cute!” she mocked, and then pushed you backwards. 

you expected to tumble into luke, but he had disappeared. seemed like you did make the wrong choice, to trust luke again. 

again — the worst, most sinister habits were the hardest ones to break. 

it briefly crossed your mind to chase him down after this for leading you into a trap. for now, you had a shapeshifting cheerleader to take care of. 

you managed to side-step kelli’s next attack, and sliced across her arm in the process. she shrieked. her hair bursted into flames, as if your day could get any worse. you tried to get another jab in, but kelli managed to be quicker this time. she punched you in the jaw, then kicked you, hard, with a hoofed foot, causing a dull crack to your ribcage upon impact. the kick sent you spinning towards the brick wall; it stopped you from falling, but knocked the air out of your lungs. you spat, your mouth thick with the taste of blood. your ears were ringing, and you couldn’t locate your knife. 

you were definitely out of practice. 

“kelli!” 

you both turned your attention towards luke, standing at the entrance of the alley with his sword in hand.

“luke!” kelli said like he was her long lost lover. she batted her eyelashes at him, the murderous grin she had given you melting away to something more enticing. “you came to help me finish her off.”

luke tilted his head. “not exactly.”

luke threw the sword towards you. despite a split second of surprise, you caught it; made a sharp diagonal cut. before kelli knew it, she was reduced to nothing but dust.

you dropped luke’s sword and fell to the pavement, adrenaline coursed through your veins from the first near-death experience you’d had in months. even with your body bruised and broken, fighting was a thrill like no other. 

luke came to kneel in front of you, sneakers crunching over the ashes of his ex-girlfriend.

“you said you were unarmed.” your voice sounded muffled. you spat out another mouthful of blood.

“half-bloods are walking monster bait. i’d be an idiot if i didn’t have any celestial bronze on me.” 

to emphasize his point, luke tucked your switchblade carefully back into your pocket. he moved his hand to the hem of your shirt. it was your instinct to keep him from lifting it up, and he stopped when he noticed your hesitation.

“i’m just trying to see how bad it is,” he informed. his lips then formed a bemused grin. “besides, i’ve already seen everything.”

“shut up,” but you smiled weakly even if it made your cheek hurt.

the skin where kelli had kicked you was turning an alarming shade of purple. luke tried to touch it, but you let out a sharp breath when pain emanated across your ribcage, and he recoiled. 

“okay, we need to get you —”

“i’m fine,” you groaned. you struggled to stand up, but you urged yourself to walk away. in your mind, the scales were already balanced. 

the moral, logical side of you was in danger of yielding to the wicked desire you always tried to suppress — to be with luke, even once more, just like old times. your quest for vengeance could only be stopped by your hunger for something more, and you needed distance from him before you gave in too much.

“i don’t need your help,” you insisted. “i protected you from kelli, and you gave me the sword that saved my life. we’re even.”

you started to limp away, but luke grabbed your side before you could get too far. you yelped at the contact.

“sorry,” he winced. “just — let me at least get you to a hospital.”

“what do i look like, a rockefeller?” you scoffed, and then grimaced when it felt like a giant was crushing you from the inside out. “i can’t afford that. i have some emergency nectar and ambrosia at my place, anyways.”

“let me at least get you back there, then. please.” he grabbed your hand. “i owe you.”

looking into those deep brown eyes, something in your stomach snapped. 

bad habits were always the hardest to break.

“fine,” you coughed. “but one wrong move, and i swear: i’ll go full vampire slayer and pierce a wooden stake through your heart.”

luke nodded once, lips curling into a smile. “seems fair.”

you groaned as luke wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you steady, his hold terribly familiar as he carried you back home. 

(vii. he loved you — and you weren’t sure if that was a fact or a weapon)

your apartment was only a few blocks away. luke must have gotten stronger, because he was able to carry you up the fire escape to avoid too much attention.

“i’m not sure if my roommate is home,” you whispered as luke set you down on the carpet by your bed. “so we should try and be quiet.”

you told him where you kept the supplies. he snuck away and emerged from the bathroom a minute later with clean hands and a first-aid  kit.

luke knelt down in front of you. 

“can i take your shirt off?” 

you nodded, trying to keep your eyes from fluttering closed. you were so bloodied up, more so than you initially let on, so you let luke do whatever he needed to do. he took off your shirt, assessed your injury and apologized when the pressure from his fingers made you wince. he wiped the blood off your lips and coaxed your mouth open to feed you some ambrosia, offer you a sip of nectar. 

there was no doubt about it: luke was taking care of you.

at first, you imagined your bones stitching themselves back together, and maybe some pieces of your heart, too. 

what were the odds that he was manipulating you, though? certainly not zero.

and then you noticed something when he reached over to place the canteen of nectar back with the kit. he was moving slowly, his breathing shallow and fresh blood seeping through his shirt.

“wait. what happened?”

“nothing,” he winced. luke was always good at hiding his pain.

“luke.”

“it was a few days ago. a hellhound bit me when i was trying to escape from….”

kronos’ army. he didn’t need to say it for either of you to remember. 

wordlessly, you switched your positions, led him to prop himself up on the bed frame while you crouched in front of him. 

“can i take this off?”

luke nodded. 

the first thing you noticed was that his muscles were more defined, yet his body was more beat-up than you'd ever seen it. there was a pretty nasty bruise on his shoulder. your eyes traveled down to the bitemark at his hip, and the haphazard stitching job luke must have done to himself. it looked like it could be infected, and with the activity from today, it was no wonder the wound reopened.

like he had done to you just seconds before, you took care of him.

“so…how are our friends?” he exhaled as you ran a cloth over his skin to clean off some of the blood.

our friends. it didn’t feel right that luke could still call them that. 

“i’m guessing you know what happened to chris….” luke grimaced, and you hoped he felt a little guilty at sending one of his best friends into a madness-inducing labyrinth. “clarisse and lena broke up, and neither of them will tell me why. beck is doing fine, always coming up with stuff in the forges. i guess that’s as good as anyone can be now, inventing new weapons for a war none of us wanted.”

you couldn’t help but add that last part. 

“and the kids?” luke asked as though you were divorce parents and he lost the custody battle. 

you looked up at the gray streak in luke’s own hair, remembering that he had manipulated annabeth and percy to hold the weight of the world, a burden that they couldn’t seem to shake.

it made you more than a little uneasy, luke showing any sense of caring for the people he seemed to leave behind and hurt so easily. you wished he hadn’t been so tender and attentive, like all the fighting and animosity had been a bad dream. 

luke just had to make everything so complicated.

“they’re fine, all things considered.”

you didn’t offer anything more, anything less. 

he was quiet for a moment.

“you seem to be doing alright, though?”

you ignored the question completely that time, focusing on getting the job done. you gave luke some ambrosia and nectar, watched as the infection magically disappeared. the wound didn’t completely heal, and there were many bruises that lingered. you were about to give luke some more when he shook his head. 

"you should save the rest for emergencies," he suggested, chin jutting towards your diminishing supplies. "in case something happens."

"is that a threat, castellan?" you asked, only half-joking. 

"no." luke reached out to touch your face, perhaps a move to reassure you, but then he redirected himself. "besides, i'll be fine. just need to cover it with some gauze." 

"you should take a shower before, then. i'll see what we have to eat." 

you helped him up, and sent luke into the bathroom. you changed into clean clothes before going to look for some food.

the ambrosia and nectar made your body feel more powerful than it had in days, even before getting kicked around by a demon cheerleader. no wonder the gods felt invincible, if that was their diet. meanwhile, all you had in your kitchen was a half-empty box of cinnamon poptarts and packets of instant coffee. 

you could hear your roommate singing from behind her closed door. you were quiet in toasting the breakfast pastries, and then slithered back into your room to look for something that would fit luke.

luke didn't hear you knock, so you just entered and closed the door behind you gently. on the bathroom counter, you set a pair of sweatpants that an ex had left behind, along with an oversized shirt of yours. before you could leave, there was a knock on the door. luke heard this one, and poked his head from behind the shower curtain. you gestured at him that you’d take care of it. he nodded, and closed the curtain again.

"yeah?"

"do you have any tampons in there?" your roommate's voice was muffled through the door.

"yeah," you replied. "i'll be out in a minute."

"do you mind if i just come in now? i'm bleeding out, out here." 

you were about to protest, but the doorknob started to turn, and you panicked. you slipped behind the shower curtain with luke, who looked at you wide-eyed. you placed your hand over his mouth before he could say anything. 

you were lucky earlier, that stella's mind was so preoccupied she didn't notice how beat-up luke was. you didn't want to take another chance. you didn't need your roommate asking questions. 

once the sounds of shuffling through cupboards stopped, and you heard a small thank you followed by the door closing, luke bit your palm.

"ow!" you hissed, pulling away from him.

"she's gone,” luke shrugged. “you don't need to muzzle me anymore.”

you rolled your eyes. “i put some clothes out for you, and a clean towel.”

luke caught your wrist before you could leave. 

“wait. my shoulder is killing me. do you mind…would you maybe help me….” 

his question trailed off, and you furrowed your brow when he pointed the shampoo bottle in your direction.

“you practically carried me down 3 blocks and up 4 flights of stairs, but you’re too hurt to wash your own hair?”

“i guess the pain just caught up with me.” his cheeks flushed and he cleared his throat. “sorry, i shouldn’t have —”

something pinched in your chest, hearing him stumble for forgiveness, even if it was so mundane. you caught yourself saying:

“i’ll do it.” 

before you could decide if it was a bad idea or not. you got rid of your shorts and tied your shirt up around your waist to prevent the clothes from getting too wet. luke blushed even more at your panties and exposed stomach, as if he wasn’t fully naked — which you were, of course, trying to ignore.

neither of you said anything as you focused on the task at hand, massaging shampoo and then conditioner into luke’s curls until they were rid of the grime trapped within. all you heard were luke’s soft sighs as your fingers scraped across his scalp and steady stream of water hitting the bathroom tiles. luke seemed so relaxed that his eyelids fluttered closed, and he almost toppled over. with your own sudsy hands, you brought his hands to sit at your waist, steadying him. 

the space was a little foggy, slightly too warm. you and luke had been intimate before, but never like this. it was almost enough to make you forget.

once all the soap was washed away, you brushed your fingers over the scar on his face, down to the sword tattooed along his collarbone, before you realized what you were doing.

“sorry,” you whispered, pulling your hand away.

“it’s okay,” he hummed, and he moved his hand up to brush against the very same tattoo you had on your sternum, touch burning through a layer of cotton.

you wanted his hands elsewhere — around your neck, between your legs.

the water was running cold by then, and it jolted you back to reality.

you had to keep your desires in check. luke was manipulative and cruel and ruthless — you were enemies, not friends or lovers. you weren’t supposed to want him carnally.

you reached behind him to turn the shower off without another word, and left the bathroom so he could get dressed. 

neither of you were armed, but the situation was dangerous. you were barely healing from the claw marks luke left on your life and yet…. 

part of you wanted him to dig his fingers back into those wounds — to feel him again, even if it bled you dry in the end. 

luke’s sword, backbiter, leaned against your windowsill, a menacing reminder of who he had aligned himself with. luke was essentially kronos’ right hand man. he was your enemy.

what were you doing, bringing him into your home, taking care of him and letting him do the same to you?

leaving yourself vulnerable to him, letting your guard down?

now that you thought of it, if his guard was down, you could probably grab your own knife and just —

you heard luke clear his throat and you turned to see him standing in your doorway, shirtless and sweatpants hanging low. it was embarrassing how much you wanted to lap up the drop of water traveling down his chest.

luke must have noticed, so cleared his throat again. your body felt warm all over when you met his gaze, and he gave you an annoyingly confident smirk.

“so, here’s the thing. i’m pretty sure you’re either thinking about wanting to kill me, or wanting to fuck me.” 

you rolled your eyes at his arrogance, but couldn’t help but play along. 

“sounds like you’ve accepted your fate either way.”

“well, i do have a preference,” he quipped. “i just don’t particularly care as long as it's in your hands.”

it didn’t get past you that luke was checking you out, too, eye trailing over the exposed skin of your legs and lingering on where the t-shirt hugged your chest. 

how bad would it be to, for one night, indulge? no concern about what was right or wrong, about titans or gods; no worries about what a prophecy foretold or which side of a war you’re on. 

just you and luke: giving into your own twisted desires, and dealing with the consequences later.

another droplet trickled down luke’s torso. it disappeared underneath the band of his sweatpants, and you just couldn’t take it anymore.

you strode over to him, about to crash your lips into his when —

luke stopped you with a hand wrapped around your neck.

“no kissing,” he warned. 

“what’s the matter?” you smirked. “i thought you liked it when i bite. worried that you’ll turn away from the dark side if i do?”

luke swallowed thickly.

you were taunting him, relishing in how his breath caught in his throat and gaze seemed fixed on your lips.

it was cute, how luke tried to hold onto some semblance of control, but couldn’t hide the slight tremble in his voice. 

“no kissing. that’s my only condition.”

“okay.” you took off your shirt, positioned yourself on the bed to punctuate your point. “as long as you’re fine sleeping with the enemy, castellan.”

luke stared for a few seconds before accepting his fate. 

he caged you in with his arms, settling his hips between your legs. his lips traveled down your tattooed sternum, nipping and sucking and re-bruising your skin until he reached the waistband of your panties. luke pulled it up with his teeth, the elastic snapping back when he let go. you whined his name and he looked up at you with dark eyes. 

“can i?” his breath fanned over your navel, his nails digging into your hips as he waited for your answer.  

“yes. please.”

you hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but you could feel luke smirk against your inner thigh before sinking his teeth into it. you whimpered, and luke salved his tongue over the area to ease the sting before removing your underwear. he positioned your legs over his shoulder for better access to where you needed him most.

luke manipulated his tongue and fingers in all the ways he knew ruined you. in return, you gripped his black curls, tightly, and uttered praise in all the ways you knew ruined him. 

“just like that, pretty boy,” you encouraged, practically melting into the mattress. it felt so good — dangerously good — to be devoured by luke. “keep doing a good job and i’ll return the favor later.”

luke’s moan vibrated throughout your body and he became harsher, bringing you over the edge. he left a few more bites on your body on his way up to meet you and when he did, luke’s lips and chin were still shining with your release.

you leaned forward slightly to lick it up. you ghosted your mouth over his, and luke groaned when you pulled away.

“no kissing,” you mocked and ran your thumb over his tattooed collarbone. 

luke tightened his grip on your hips, surely leaving bruises for later. his eyes feral, his curls a terrible mess, when he grumbled:

“you’re such a —”

you twisted your calf around luke’s leg and you flipped your positions before he could finish his sentence. he grunted as his back hit the mattress. 

“don’t worry, sweetheart. i’ll still take care of you,” you drawled, starting to trail your tongue down luke’s body, occasionally incorporating your teeth or sucking brutally, imprinting a constellation of bites and bruises. his skin smelled like your pomegranate mango body wash, and it was more than a little intoxicating.

you weren’t soft or gentle, because you knew how luke liked you — rough, raw, a little ruthless. luke once told you that the wounds you left on his body weren’t the type that left him bitter; they were the type of wounds he wished would never heal.   

in a moment of weakness, you left a kiss — just one — on the semi-healed wound on his hip. luke sighed at the gesture and reached a hand down to gently brush his fingers against your cheek. 

“i missed you so much, karma,” luke almost sobbed. 

slightly shaken out of your lust, you weren’t sure whether to smirk at the hold you had on him, or sob at the reality that you missed him too. 

sensing your hesitation, luke removed his hand and told you to continue.  

you made quick work of luke’s sweatpants. luke, already hard and throbbing, didn’t last long with your lips wrapped around him. you swallowed him whole, and then some. 

“always such a good girl for me,” luke praised when you were face to face with him once more. his thumb swiped over your wet lips to gather what you missed. you granted him access to push into your mouth, and luke groaned when you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked his thumb clean. your teeth scraped the skin on his way out. 

what followed was a brief squabble over who should be on top. you won out. 

there you were, luke sitting up against the headboard, you on his lap with his length nestled in your cunt. you scraped your nails down luke’s chest, and then curled your hands around the base of his neck. he gripped either side of your waist, thumbs pressing circles into your back encouragingly. luke looked up at you in awe, desperate sighs leaving his mouth as you rutted your hips against his. it felt sinful and wonderful, feeling luke buried deep inside you again, stretching you deliciously. the two of you exchanging animalistic grunts as you used the other's body, chased your high.

when you rolled your hips into his at just the right angle, luke’s moans turned into whines. 

“fuck it. please — kiss me.”

you stilled your hips, and luke whined some more. “are you sure?” you asked, breathing heavily.

luke nodded and gently moved you to lay on your back with him hovering over you. he leaned close, nudging the tip of his nose against yours. 

“please,” luke pleaded once more.

his brown eyes looked down at you with such hunger and passion, something deep within you ached. 

you kissed each other harshly, then. you still tasted him on your tongue and yourself on his. his sharp nose cut into your cheek, mouth attacking yours and vice versa. your nails pierced the skin of his shoulder as he resumed thrusting into you at a vicious pace. luke kept gnawing on your bottom lip until he made you bleed. you groaned, and he slipped his tongue back into your mouth to savor your coppery taste.

yes, luke could also be rough and raw and a little ruthless — which you always loved. but you knew, regardless, you were safe with him in that moment. all he wanted was for you to feel good.

you yanked his curls to force luke to look at you. he whimpered at having to detach himself from your lips.

“i missed you too, tiger,” you finally admitted, calling him that old affectionate nickname you promised yourself you would never use again.  “i missed you so fucking much.” 

luke gave you that troublesome smile of his. you connected your lips once more. you wrapped your legs around his waist to bring him impossibly closer, and luke wrapped an arm around your back to do the same. 

it wasn’t long until you both reached your peak, collapsing back onto the soft mattress, chests heaving. you each lied down on your side, facing each other. you admired luke’s mess of curls, his swollen-kiss-bitten lips, the rose-petal bruises you had left.

you wished the post-sex haze lasted longer, but then luke had to disturb it by saying:

“what you said earlier — i never think of you as my enemy, you know.”

you sighed and covered your face with your hand. “luke —”

“never,” luke insisted. he inched closer, took your hand in his and held it to his chest. 

you were overwhelmed by his heartbeat, strong and fast, so you pulled yourself away.

“we’re fighting on different sides,” you pointed out.

you could’ve said more, but all the things that have been said and done already hung heavy in the air, reoccupying the space between you and bursting your brief moment of peace.

“but we’ve always been fighting for the same thing.”

maybe that was true.

in theory, you weren’t against overthrowing the gods. but you couldn't reconcile with everything luke had done, what he was willing to do. you couldn't let your friends and thousands of innocent people die in the name of divine beings who valued power and control over all else. you couldn't hurt or betray people you loved for the sake of revenge. you couldn't turn that love against them, the way luke had, in search of justice. 

deep down, you knew it wasn’t right to have him there in bed with you. if it was so wicked, sinful, treacherous — then why did you want him to stay?

“i’m not sure they have a word for what we are,” you concede, returning to the conversation moments ago. 

"i guess not."

you let luke bring you into his arms that time. you rested your head against his chest. his heartbeat still steady, but a little slower. you idly traced your fingers across the marks you left on him, and you avoided the ones you didn't.

"how's your shoulder?" 

"it's okay," luke sighed. he lifted your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "whatever we are: i love you." 

those weren’t the words that were meant to make you sick, but your stomach churned — with nausea or desire, you weren’t sure.

you moved to straddle his hips. your eyes glanced over a scar you didn't register until now. the cut you had sliced across his cheek that afternoon he tried to kill percy, and then ran away from camp. you had a similar one that he had given you during that same struggle. 

matching tattoos, matching scars. there really was no word for what you and luke were to each other. 

"i love you too.”

at some point throughout the night, with luke’s strong arms wrapped around you and your legs intertwined beneath tangled sheets, it occurred to you that luke must have tracked you down for a particular reason.

maybe he was here to convince you to join kronos' army, to help him overthrow the gods and burn the world as you knew it; maybe he was here to break your heart all over again, just for the sick thrill of it; maybe he did just want to have one more night together, enemies or otherwise. maybe, maybe, maybe.

luke’s soft snores lulled you to sleep, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the scales of justice.

you'd figure it out in the morning. then you'd decide whether or not he deserved a blade to the heart.

Idk, imagine being Sophina Biblia's little sister and you like her co-divine missionary orter madl, and you just meet your sister most of the time 'cause you want to see him

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This is what I'd look like if I were in Mashle, What bout ya'll!!

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