Right By My Violets

— right by my violets

luke castellan x fem reader / cw suggestive content

title from n side by steve lacy. loosely related to the killerverse so its only semi canon and u don’t have to read the series to understand ! i’ll call this ch 8.5

Your favorite time to jumpscare Luke is when he’s just come fresh from a shower right after training.

He always smells like that tropical shampoo he likes and never fails to collapse in his bed face down, perfect for scaring him so hard he jumps.

You throw yourself into the space next to him, and the bed nearly collapses under you.

Luke groans, his face pressed firmly into his pillow. “Ow, killer.”

“I didn’t even jump on top of you this time!”

You try not to be too upset at how unsurprised he was at your jumpscare — you’ll have to start finding other ways to scare him — while your eager hands reach to pull back his top sheet.

You freeze in place when the sheet makes it below his shoulders.

“Luke?”

He grunts in response.

“Why are you naked?”

His startled laugh is muffled by his pillow. “‘m not. Now lay down and quit it.”

Your greedy eyes eat up the sight of his bare back, but you don’t let his nice skin get to you that easy. “I’m not lying down with you if you’re naked, you perv.”

He catches you by the fabric of your shirt when you slide away from his tickling fingers.

“I’m wearing shorts.” Luke rolls onto his back before he nudges down the sheet around his waist. Black fabric you recognize as an old pair of basketball shorts peek out from underneath.

You very respectfully do not let your eyes linger for too long when you take a seat next to him. He laughs anyway. “Sorry, babe. I know how upset you get when my clothes are on.”

You run your thumb over his waistband. “I’m devastated.”

Luke likes to act cocky like this, but you press the back of your hand against his face and feel how flushed he is. You smile a little evilly when you kiss his cheek.

You rest your head against the junction between his shoulder and upper arm, a spot he always insists you lay on even when his arm goes numb after an hour. He wastes no time linking one of your hands with one of his.

“Your farmer’s tan is starting,” you point out, letting your free hand travel up and down his chest. The skin of his torso and upper arms, spots usually covered by his camp tee, are just a few shades lighter than the rest of his lower arms. He feels very soft. “I think that means you should start training without a shirt on.”

“I’m sure everyone would love that.”

You trace a vein that goes down his arm before you wrap your hand around the skin of his opposite bicep. “I sure would.”

He sighs a little while he shifts to get more comfortable, probably sore from throwing around his sword all afternoon. “Don’t worry. You’re wearing my last clean shirt, so I guess it means I’ll have to.”

You wrinkle your nose. “You’re such a boy, hero. Is that why you’re half naked right now? You didn’t do your laundry?”

He groans when he presses half of his face into your hair, like the thought of washing his clothes is enough to make him sick. “I’ve been busy.”

Too busy. He’s been putting in extra work lately.

“I know. It feels like you like Claudia more than me.”

Claudia’s the old training dummy that was retired to the back of the storage closet. Luke unearthed her a few weeks ago and hung her back up next to the new ones, giving her a second chance at life. She was already battered and falling apart before, so Luke’s new training regimen means she’s bordering on decomposing.

Luke cracks your knuckles with his hand, and you do the same for him, pressing down on his fingers until you hear the snapping sound. “I care about you both equally, sweetheart.”

You try reaching behind his head to smother him with his pillow, but he yanks it out of your hands so he can chuck it across the room instead. Without any other viable weapon, you throw your leg over his side and reach for his neck.

Play-fighting with Luke is funny because you both are perfectly aware of how strong the other is. He’s watched you decapitate a line of Telekhines with one blow and you’ve watched him wake up to kill an Empousai before going back to the nap he’d been having.

But the second you’re messing around like this, it’s like the two of you have never seen a day of fighting in your lives. You press against Luke’s arms with the same strength you’d use to open a bag of chips, and he pushes back with the same effort.

“I hope you and Claudia will be happy, then,” you say, squealing in fear when he sits straight up. “Won’t be able to force her to give you massages, though.”

Luke stands up and you tighten your legs around his waist so he has to carry you around. Your arms go around his neck because he’s too tired to support you with anything other than a lazy arm under you, and he taps along your back as he moves closer to the door.

A shiver goes down your neck when he catches your earlobe with his teeth like the weirdo he is. “Don’t tell her. But you’ll always be my favorite.”

“Thanks, I guess.” It feels like your external body temperature has jumped a few degrees since Luke is so warm. He makes his way over to the en suite bathroom and flicks the light on, and you realize boredly that he’s getting ready for bed.

Before you can start complaining, he sets you down on the counter so you can talk his ear off. Luke is very focused during his nighttime routine, his brow knit while he washes his face thoroughly and tries to keep track of how long he’s been brushing his teeth for.

You entertain him with the story of how one of your younger sisters is trying and failing to let this Hephaestus kid know she likes him. He squeezes your thigh intermittently, and you let the point of your foot nudge his side while your legs swing.

He spits into the sink and then runs the water. “Halle actually tripped into his arms like that?”

You nod morosely. “Faked slipping and everything. It felt like something you would do, it was that bad.”

He looks so offended at your comment you can’t help but smile.

“I’m not that bad,” he defends, choking on his own laugh when you squint in disbelief.

“Luke, you pretended to get a concussion during volleyball so you could sit out with me.”

He shoots his hand under the spout to try and flick water at you, but it ends up being more like having a hose shot at your face. Cold water drips down your chin and onto your shirt, making dark spots in the green fabric.

You look up at him. He’s giving you a wide eyed look, his hands up like he’s facing a feral animal. “Wait, wait, wait—”

The two of you wrestle for the handle of the sink.

You win, though.

Luke ends up having to wipe water from his eyes and use his towel to dry off his chest, which is now dripping with water. “I deserved that.”

You kiss his cheek when he steps between your legs. “Thank you for admitting it.”

He plants one on your lips, too. He tastes minty, so you kiss him again, a little bit difficult now with the way he’s smiling.

“You ate my gum?” he asks.

“No,” you lie, shifting forward off the counter so your chests are pressed together. Your noses bump when you tilt your head for him.

“I hope you enjoyed it.”

“There were only two left.” Your eyes cross as you try and stare into his despite how close your faces are. “And those sticks are small, Luke.”

He’s still smiling, but his eyes have trailed down to your lips now. “Kiss me again and I won’t be upset.”

You give him a peck before sitting back.

Luke frowns, his brows knitting so deeply it’s like his face is going to wrinkle in on itself. “That doesn’t count. I didn’t even feel it.”

You give him another brief kiss along his jaw. “Find me a dry t-shirt and I’ll give you a real one.”

You’re surprised you aren’t physically blown away from how fast he leaves the room.

The sound of him tearing through his dresser is loud. He trips over something during his search, mumbling stuff under his breath as you hear him unzip something.

“And it better be clean, Luke!”

It takes him a few minutes to come back to the bathroom, his face flushed and chest heaving.

The shirt he presents you with is ugly and old.

“Holy shit, dude. Did you find this in a museum?”

You remember making these a few summers ago before a bunch of you and Luke’s friends left for the school year. The shirt’s been through the wash too much and the marker has faded, but the front and back are littered with Luke’s failed tie-dye job and the names of old friends. You find your name written in block letters along the neckline.

“Nope.” He shakes his head a beat later while he catches his breath. “Found it stuffed under your clothes in your drawer.”

Luke’s dedicated a section of his dresser to you, and it's always full of your stuff. You slide your hands down his arms and give him a look.

“Why’d you go through all my clean clothes just to give me your old shirt?”

He’s grinning, trying to lean in already. “You’re not allowed to wear your own clothes here. It’s not right.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, but you’re very quick to let him splay his hand across your back.

He pinches the wet shirt off of your skin. “D’you want me to help you take this off?”

Freak.

You let him do it anyway.

He’s basically giggling the entire time, the process taking so much longer because he’s trying to keep his eyes on the ceiling while also working your new shirt back on. The second your head pops through the neckline, he’s crowding you into the counter again.

He leans in so close that your mouth parts on instinct. “So, when do I get that kiss that you—”

You give it to him, and he shuts up quick.

You think it’s sweet how he always kisses you like he’s never done it before — starved of the taste of you and the feel of you under his hands.

Luke’s hands stray to the sliver of skin at your midriff. His fingers are calloused but never harsh — he squeezes your sides, and he has to kiss you hard so you stop smiling.

His left hand follows your spine up under your shirt and lands on your opposite shoulder, holding you so close to him there’s no room to move away.

“Luke,” you complain. You wish he were standing closer to you.

“Yeah, yeah.” His hands scoop under your thighs and he lifts you off the counter again. “We gotta work on your patience, babe.”

You flick off the bathroom light for him while he takes you over to the chair by his bed. It’s old and small and definitely not made to fit two people, but he collapses into it anyway, and you follow with no other choice.

The two of you kiss slow and sweet — the kind you think are your favorite.

Sometimes, your kisses are the opposite. They can be sweltering and quick, ones that are just out of sight and ones that happen only when you manage to sneak away from your cabins for long enough.

You can’t quite tell how long you and Luke sit in his chair for. But it’s long enough for your hearts to start beating in sync and long enough for your legs to grow tired from the stupid chair.

Luke’s lips are red and a little swollen, though he doesn’t seem to mind at all. He doesn’t let you get more than an inch away before he’s dragging your lower lip between his teeth and pulling you back in.

You tell yourself you’re going to pull away at least ten different times, but then you feel his hand inching interestingly high and then he sucks a mark underneath your shirt where your name is written and then you feel limp and then you don’t pull away anymore.

“Hi,” he says, when you drag him off you so you can take oxygen into your lungs again. He has to look up at you since you’re kneeling over him. “Catching your breath?”

And trying not to pass out, you think.

You swipe your wrist over your lips, which are a little bit slick with spit. “Yeah. Hold me?”

“No,” Luke deadpans, though he’s already encouraging you to sit down on him to shift your weight off your knees. He brushes hair from your face when you tuck yourself against him. “Wanna sleep now?”

You’re a little lightheaded, but you don’t want to sleep. Your eyes slide closed involuntarily when you feel his chest rise and fall against yours. You smile because you can feel the heat emanating off his skin. “Nope.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

Luke laughs while he fusses with the way your shirt sits on your shoulders. His fingers trace over where your name is inked on the fabric. “You going to give me more than one word answers?”

Your mouth runs a little dry when you remember he doesn’t have a shirt on. You poke at him and the little bit of sunburn on his shoulders you know will turn into a tan soon. “No.”

His mouth pulls up at the sides. “Okay.”

You groan when he throws you over his shoulder and gets up from his uncomfortable little chair. Luke spins you around a bit, giving you a 360 degree view of his room before he tosses you onto the bed. He yawns but doesn’t lay down, just smiles down at you.

“What’re you doing?” you ask. You hook your leg around his so you can drag him closer, and he just grins, amused.

“Nothing much.”

The bed shifts when he settles over you, one of his knees between your legs and the other digging into the space next to your left thigh.

Words die out quickly — mostly because you’re busy slipping your tongue into Luke’s mouth. But the coherent thoughts only leave your head when he takes your waist in one hand and reminds you just how much he likes you too.

🤭🫣

TMNT Raphael x Reader: Trendsetter

 Summary: Raphael is jealous of your obsession with Tik Tok and decides to create his own out of spite. This would have been fine if it weren’t for the fact that they’re all thirst traps. 

Genre: Fluff, Mutual Pining, LOW QUALITY QUICK FIC TO SCRATCH MY ITHCY BRAIN

Warnings: Swearing, Spicy thoughts. 

Song: 

“’Cos I love you for infinity, I love you for infinity.” 

The same song lyric had been on repeat, the volume low but just enough for Raph to have heard. With a scowl, he peered over the railing from where he had been resting from a set. 

Beneath him you lay sprawled out across the couch on the level below, watching the same 15 second video on repeat. At first, he had been ready to throw a piece of gym chalk at your head for the distraction from his session. However, upon further observation, he noticed what you were watching. 

Some human pretty-boy was holding a ring light and smiling towards the camera. Raphael cringed at the sight, it was one of the rare moments he was glad he wasn’t apart of the same species. 

However, it wasn’t until the chorus hit that he realised what this was. The man pulled the light behind his body and with a smooth transition he was shirtless. The screen was black besides the glowing light slowly being dragged upwards from behind his head. The soft glow in contrast to the darkness contoured every single divot and dip along the length of his body. 

Raphael’s scowl deepened. 

Keep reading

"is that my shirt?"

summary: a collection of the various times you and luke get caught wearing each other’s clothes OR three times you denied wearing luke’s clothes and the one time he completely owned it.

word count: 1.6k

featuring: 3+1, aphrodite!reader, crop top luke & the headcanon that each cabin has cutsey chb themed shirts

one: luke’s gray zip-up

the dining pavilion is always the quietest in the morning. at least it normally is, but you overslept today. somehow you missed all your alarms, the ruckus of all your siblings waking up, and silena and drew’s fight over whether or not the other stole their makeup. so no one really blames you for walking into the pavilion well after the start of breakfast. 

“could you at least look a little more put together?” carmen, your sister who values tidiness in all aspects of her life, asks as you take one of the only open seats at the table. 

you look down at your outfit: high-top converse, denim shorts, a camp half-blood shirt, your camp necklace, and a gray zip-up to combat the unexpected chill of the morning. not too shabby, you thought, especially considering the fact that you even managed to tame your bedhead and put on some basic makeup. 

“i am put together. aren’t i?” you respond, reaching for the mug of hot coffee damien slides your way. 

“you look fine,” he assures, but his eyebrows furrow as he focuses on your sweatshirt. “is that new?” he continues.   

“what this?” you ask, pointing at the material. 

“yeah. i’ve never seen it on you before,” he continues. 

“don’t you know, damien, that it’s luke’s. he’s like always wearing it,” drew butts in. “they’re like a thing now, or whatever,” she continues, waving her hand as if swatting a fly. 

you huff at her annoyed tone, and the fact that you’ve been called out by your younger siblings. in an attempt to defend yourself you say, “it’s not luke’s. it’s mine.”

drew, damien, and carmen all open their mouths to object, but they don’t have the chance too because luke leans over from the end of the hermes table: “i’ve been looking for that sweatshirt everywhere, but you can keep it. it looks better on you anyways.”   

you feel your cheeks heat up, and luke has the audacity to send you a wink before turning back to his breakfast.

two: luke’s blue flannel pajama pants

friday night sleepovers were basically an aphrodite tradition at this point. what started out as a self-care night full of facemasks, manicures, and gossip sessions for the older campers quickly turned into an all-cabin sleepover complete with a movie, pillow fight, and fort. 

you’re sitting between peter and rosie, the ten-year-old twins from fairfield, connecticut. the two of them were polar opposites; rosie was talkative and outgoing, while peter preferred the quiet and keeping to himself. it was surprising to everyone when he sat next to you and watched intently as you painted his sister’s nails. 

rosie was yapping away, telling you all the details of her day. you were humming along, occasionally adding in an “oh yeah” or “really?” when needed, but for the most part, you were focused on not smudging her nails. peter was leaning against your side, fighting sleep as he listened to his sister. 

“i remember these pants,” he interrupted, fingers tracing the blue, white, and black pattern on your thigh. “luke was wearing them when i had that nightmare about fractions,” he finishes softly, a small bluish coating his pale cheeks. 

“was this the time one third was crushing you?” rosie asks, leaning forward to be closer to her brother. 

peter nods timidly and rosie springs into action, mumbling words of comfort. you, on the other hand, are completely rigid. your back is as stiff and as straight as a board as you look straight ahead, trying not to make eye contact with any of the siblings your age seated around you. carmen opens her mouth, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, but you snap your head in her direction. 

“don’t say a word,” you threaten. 

one look of your vicious glare has her miming zipping her lips. 

three: luke’s ac/dc shirt

this is the third time luke’s sifted through the stack of shirts in his dresser. it’s also the third time he’s come up empty handed. he huffs in frustration, running a tired hand down his face in annoyance. between the overflow of campers, keeping connor and travis in line, and now losing his favorite shirt, luke castellan is at his wit’s end. 

“has anyone seen my ac/dc shirt? y’know the one with the tour dates on the back?” he asks, looking around the cramped cabin. 

several people shrug. some of the younger kids start asking what ac/dc even is, and he does not have time to go into that right now. a few people offer to look through their stuff, saying maybe someone mixed up the wash, but the general consensus is that no one has seen the shirt. 

luke groans in annoyance. he’s starting his fourth attempt at finding the shirt when penelope, one of the younger unclaimed campers, tugs on his cargo pants. luke crouches down to her level, placing a comforting hand on her back while prompting her to talk to him. 

“i think i saw someone else wearing it,” she whispers, shyly twirling around the hem of her cotton dress with a butterfly pattern. 

“who?” luke asks, a little too loudly and abruptly. he clears his throat, taking a deep breath, before repeating much calmer, “who was wearing it, penelope?”

“that girl you like,” she answers, gently kicking the toe of his red converse with her bright pink twinkle toes. 

luke smiles softly at her, rubbing her back. “thanks pen. i knew i could count on you,” he answers. 

penelope giggles at his words, “but you didn’t even tell me to look for it!” 

“but you’re so smart you knew i’d need it,” he praises, ruffling her hair good-naturedly. 

once she runs off, luke leaves the cabin. he’s on a mission to find you, but most importantly, he’s on a mission to find his ac/dc shirt. after a series of questions, and some misguided directions, he finds you standing on the shore of the lake, surrounded by a variety of nymphs, demigods, and satyrs. 

you meet his gaze once he calls out to you, and watches as the color leaves your face. 

“how did you even get this?” he asks, taking some of the fabric between his thumb and forefinger once he’s within reach of you. 

you scoff at his words, “this is mine.” 

luke huffs, crossing his arms in annoyance. he watches as your eyes briefly flicker to his biceps before meeting his brown ones. 

“really? and since when do you buy your t-shirts two sizes too big?” he asks, smirking confidently. he’s got you now. 

“um since i wanted this as a beach coverup. it’s not rocket science, luke,” you answer. 

luke licks his lip, annoyance flickering across his eyes. “name five songs then,” he demands. 

your mouth falls open. “why are you such a guy?” you ask, frustrated.

“if you love ac/dc so much that you’d buy one of their shirts, name some songs,” he continues, but his voice has turned teasing. 

he watches as your nostrils flare and you ball your hands into fists at your sides. it’s cute.

“fine!” you agree. “there’s thunderstruck, and highway to hell, and that one about sex.”

“which one about sex?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “there’s multiple.” 

“all of them!” you shout. “there! that’s five.” 

luke rolls his eyes, but still wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. “if you want my clothes, all you have to do is ask,” he whispers into your hairline before placing a soft kiss on your skin. 

one: your pink camp half-blood crop-top

“have you seen luke today?” silena asks, catching up with you as you walk from the strawberry fields towards the archery range. 

“no why?” you ask curiously. 

her smile tells you everything you need to know; it’s wide and luminous, but her pearly white teeth seem to twinkle with the knowledge she’s withholding from you. 

“oh. no reason,” she says, before trying to skip away from you. 

you grab her shoulder, pulling her back towards you. “silena, what did he do?” you ask. 

silena giggles this time. “it’s nothing really, just. gosh, your boyfriend is so handsome, did you know that?”

“yes i did,” you start, “but why are you smiling and giggling like that?” 

she laughs again, “i think you should check the volleyball courts.” 

you hate athletics, but you’ve never sprinted to the volleyball courts so godsdamn fast in your life. when you arrive, you’re not surprised to see the hermes boys and apollo boys playing a beach volleyball match. most of them are shirtless and sweaty (and the entertainment for about twenty other campers) but luke is on the only one with his shirt on. you don’t think much of it, until he jumps for the ball and you get a good look at the color; his shirt is light pink. it’s also very tight around his broad arms and shoulders, hugging the muscles nicely while also showing off his toned abdomen. 

you watch as he turns to high five some of his teammates after scoring a point. his brown eyes meet your intense gaze, and he smiles widely at you. he has the audacity to flex and shout, “like what you see, babe? i figured this color suited me.” 

you roll your eyes at his words, shaking your head side to side as you walk over to him. your fingers trace the collar of your his shirt, gently nudging against the clay beads of his camp half-blood necklace. luke visibly gulps, and you smirk as your gazes connect.

“i think you should keep this,” you whisper, trailing your finger down his chest. “it looks better on you than me,” you finish, stepping away from him.

🤣

Donnie: Name something a burglar would not want to see when breaking into a house.

*buzzer*

Donnie: Mikey?

Mikey: Naked grandma!

Donnie: Naked huh!?

*Raph laughs uncontrollably*

Leo: .....I don't wanna see that either.

*ding*

Mikey: WOOOOOO!! Grandma!! Woooo!!

Donnie: ಠ_ಠ

Source

imagine

So in this you work for Vox and your his favorite employee/soul. You work in the tower a lot, so you get along with the angel. You're his best friend's second to cherry bomb of course. Vox spends a lot of time with you, not just cause you work for him, you're also his favorite. Because of this val is very jealous of you. Almost exactly the same as Vox is of Angel dust. So fox dislikes angel dust because of how much time Valentino spends with him. And Valentino dislikes you because of how much time Vox spends with you. I find this rather entertaining because you nor angel dust know anything about this. So you and Angel just hang out all the time, unknowingly that the others boss hates you.

Two oof the best things in the world

Moon 🤝 Cowboys

Always work great together

Shut Eye AU Moon [remade]

This guy really needed a new reference-

So i present to you the renewed reference sheet of shut eye moon!!

uhm

💥