Invisible String

—invisible string

pairing: isaac lahey x fem!reader

summary: the three times isaac and you realized that you were connected by an invisible string

warnings: none i think

note: just imagine kitchen and dining room of the mccall house being in different rooms please!!

1. when you guys met for the first time

isaac lahey did not expect anyone to jump to his rescue, let alone give him a home in a world where he had no place to go. maybe it was just because he always thought that he did not deserve that kind of care. and he had been right, right until he had met scott mccall at least.

the boy that had made it his mission to save isaac and bring him home with him. like a friend, or even a brother.

at first it was hard for isaac to face that it was just incredible kindness that motivated scott to do what he did, he didn't have a reason for it, it was not of any worth, no, actually, it was just nice.

"tell me if you need anything else" scott patted his shoulder, before he left the guest room, leaving isaac sitting on the bed.

"thank you" isaac muttered more to himself than anyone else, hiding his face in his hands and breathing out in relief. he was safe and he knew it.

when he came down to dinner later, scott was already setting the table. isaac turned his head to look into the kitchen, but there was no sight of melissa, just an unfamiliar girl, who was stirring a pot.

the first thing that he noticed were the amount of bracelets that covered your arms, they did not have any specific color, they were ranging from pink to brown to green and they nearly covered your entire arms up to the elbow.

you were also incredibly beautiful, as you were starring into the pot in deep concentration, not even noticing his eyes on you.

"isaac?" scott called and isaac turned his head, walking away from the kitchen and back into the dining room.

"where's your mom?" he asked, taking the glasses from scott and setting them down on the table.

"she had to take an extra shift" scott explained.

"okay" isaac nodded "who's the girl in the kitchen?"

"girl in the kitchen?" scott repeated laughing "are you trying to prank me?"

isaac shook his head, unsure if scott was joking or if he really didn't know that there was a girl in his kitchen.

"she's cooking" isaac shrugged and scott furrowed his brows, seemingly just now noticing the smell of warm and delicious soup that was hanging in the air.

"mom left us some soup" scott said "but i still have to warm it" he looked between dining room and kitchen in confusion. "girl in the kitchen" he repeated again, muttering to himself.

"i already warmed it for you" you said as you entered the room, under both boys surprised shrieking, the pot filled with soup in your hand. you set it down on the table.

"y/n" scott breathed, directing a hand to his chest as he sighed in relief.

"hey" you smiled, before you hugged the boy. "you must be isaac" you shook isaacs hand smiling "i'm y/n"

"what are you even doing here?" scott asked, before isaac was able to answer the greeting "i thought you weren't back for another week"

"well i got off a bit sooner, but thanks for beeing so cheerful about it" you laughed, walking into the kitchen to get a plate for yourself.

"is she a friend of yours?" isaac asked "and if so, why have i never met her?"

"yeah, she's stiles' younger sister" scott explained as he sat down and isaac followed his example "she was studying abroad for a year"

"stiles should be here any minute" you noted, taking a look on your phone as you sat down across from the boys. "but i think it would be alright if we began to eat without him"

"so you're back huh?" scott nodded "and the first thing you decide is to come back here.. wait, how did you even come inside?"

"oh" you laughed, filling your plate with soup "i came through the window"

"if that isn't the typical stilinski manner" scott muttered disapprovingly.

"i could come through your bedroom window and step onto your face if you would like that more" you said defensively, "i thought the kitchen window was a good alternative, not my fault you leave them open all the time"

"i'm sorry" scott rolled his eyes, deciding that it was no use to fight with you. "how have you been?"

"good" you smiled "look at these" you raised your arms, displaying the colorful bracelets "my kids made them for me before i left"

"your kids?" isaac asked, hesitantely engaging in the conversation.

"i trained a dance team" you explained "all the girls made me bracelets so that i wouldn't forget them"

"that’s cool” isaac muttered, before he quickly looked down when your eyes fell on him.

you smiled. "so scott told me you're living with him now, how's the mccall household treating you?"

scott chuckled at the motherly tone you were speaking in, always the protector.

"it's pretty fresh" isaac answered and felt a lot less uncomfortable when he looked up and saw you smile "but i really appreciate it"

"that's great" you laughed. isaac noticed you opening your mouth to maybe ask another question when you were interrupted by a sound upstairs.

a mere second later, stiles was walking down the stairs. "hey guys"

"could you both please stop coming into the house through the windows?" scott asked "it's weird"

"no it's not" you and stiles said at the same time. your brother smiled as you patted the seat next to you. "i made soup"

"no" scott corrected "my mom made soup, you just happened to break into my house and warm it up before i got the chance to"

"your mom... your house" you muttered "these are harsh words to throw at someone who's been practically saving your ass since middle school, scotty"

"yeah, aren't we all a big family?" stiles asked outstretching his hands in scott's direction, who looked unamused at the siblings chatter.

"yeah" isaac nodded.

"not you blondie" stiles hissed, quickly smiling again as he noticed scott's disapproving look.

"oh, how i missed you both together" scott sighed, continuing to eat, while stiles and you started a discussion about the ending of the most recent star wars film.

isaac watched amused how everything seemed to set back into place, your dynamic making it clear that the three of you were like siblings. deep down he wished that he had something like this as well, a friendship that could make all his sorrows disappear.

later when isaac was up in the guest room, unpacking a few things, there was a knock on his door. thinking that it was scott, isaac called the person in without looking.

"looks pretty comfortable" it was not scott, but you who was now standing in the door.

"uh, yeah" isaac answered unsurely, clutching his hand to the back of his neck.

"scott told me about derek" you said, catching him off-guard "and i just wanted to say that i know that he can be harsh sometimes, but he'll come around"

"thank you" isaac nodded, sitting down the last of his pictures.

"is that your mom?" you asked, walking closer to him. isaac nodded and you smiled "i think i have seen her before, i think she went to high school with my mom"

"really?" isaac asked suprised at your revelation.

"we met her a few times" you continued "my mom told me a few stories, they were friends i believe"

"huh" isaac huffed "funny"

"yeah" you smiled "it really is"

his body felt lighter at the warm feeling of familiarity that entered his chest. maybe, after all, the kind of friendship he was longing for wasn't so far away.

2. picking you up from the worst date of your life

the phone vibrated off the night table, but isaac caught it before it could hit the ground. he wasn't really awake yet, having gone to bed a bit sooner than normal. as he threw a look at his alarm clock, he noticed the time being well past midnight.

"hello?" his voice was hoarse, but it seemed like the person on the other end did not mind.

"isaac?" you asked and he sat up straight as he recognized your voice.

"y/n?"

"yes, it's me" he could hear you cry into the phone "could you come and pick me up?"

he was already putting on his pants, before your voice had even come to the end of the sentence. "where are you?"

it took a few seconds for you to respond. "i'm at the school, i'm walking there now"

"are you alone?" isaac asked surprised, recalling the date with a boy from your year you had told him about just a day before.

"yes" you muttered into the phone. isaac walked out of the house and got into his car. "the date was horrible"

"i'm sorry" he said, unsure what he could answer instead, as he drove onto the street "i'll stay on the phone, okay? i'll be there in five minutes"

"i'm sorry for calling" you cried, the guilt lacing your voice "i probably woke you up, but i didn't know who else to call"

"it's alright, don't worry about it"

"no, it's not" he could hear you shake your head "i would've called stiles or scott, but they've gone on that stupid trip to who knows where trying to get this artifact"

"yeah, yeah, i know" isaac could already see the school coming closer "are you there yet? at the school i mean"

"yeah, i'm standing on the parking lot"

just a moment later, the car came to a halt and you opened the door, sliding into the seat next to him. you were wearing a black dress, one that was making you look even more beautiful than normally. your hair was flowing over your shoulders and your make up was ruined by the black mascara that was still dripping over your cheeks.

"hey" isaac said softly "you look beautiful"

you laughed, closing your eyes "i look anything but beautiful" you argued "thank you for coming, i would've walked home, but-"

he interrupted you before you could finish your sentence "-i'm glad you called"

"thank you" you said again and isaac just smiled, driving the car back onto the street. he pressed the radio, making the cd that was still in it start to play.

"paramore?" you asked susprised "i wouldn't have held you for a fan"

isaac laughed "i even went to their concert a few years ago"

"really? so did i" you gushed "which year?"

"2006"

"me too" you laughed "who would've thought"

your sadness evaporated into thin air, as you continued to listen to the music, both isaac and you singing along to it softly, making you laugh at how terrible the both of you sounded.

isaac's body felt lighter at the warm feeling of familiarity that entered his chest for the second time since the both of you had met. maybe, after all, there was a much more important reason why your date had went the way it did. maybe something had changed.

3. discovering you were soulmates all along

you were following your brother and scott into the basement of the old church, careful not to trip over the ruins that were scattered all around.

isaac was close behind you, holding your hand to stabalize your walk.

derek was already down there, calling for the four of you to hurry up, which made you roll your eyes.

"it's not like i'm a werewolf who can run down there without getting hurt"

isaac grunted at your words, squeezing your hand.

when the four of you entered the dark room, derek was already leaning against the wall, arms crossed staring at you disapprovingly.

"i hope you didn't have to wait for too long" you smiled sarcastically and derek rolled his eyes, making a displeasured sound.

"what are we even searching for?" isaac asked as he watched scott and stiles walk through the room, looking around.

"anything" scott shrugged and stiles grimaced at his best friends words.

"to put it clearly" the boy said "we don't know yet, but i'll guarantee that you will as soon as it enters your hand" he patted isaac's shoulder, before he continued searching the room.

"fine" isaac muttered and you followed him to look at an old desk that was overflown by stacks of paper. silence flew over the five of you, as you continued sorting through the papers, only interrupted by isaac or you giggling when one of you would make a whispered joke.

"woah" scott's voice bounced off the walls and made all of you turn your heads at the mccall boy.

"what the—" stiles said, joining scott's side and looking at whatever it was that scott was holding in his hand. even derek had grown suspicious, lurking over the heads of both boys, before all three, scarily at the same time, looked up at isaac and you across from them.

"what?" you laughed uncomfortably, not enjoying your friends surprised staring. "did i accidently ruin a christian artifact again?" you asked as no one answered.

"again?" isaac asked you confused, you shook your head, silently telling him that now was not the right time to talk about your past mishaps.

"what is it?" you were slowly reaching the point were slight annoyance was ready to turn into anger. "can one of your start speaking?"

"it's a picture" derek said in typical derek manner.

"wow, thank you" you smiled sarcastically, before you crossed the room, snatching the picture out of scott's hand. your blood ran cold when your eyes fell on it and your smile died.

you looked up, watching isaac, then your eyes darted immediately back to the picture. you continued doing that over and over again.

"y/n?" isaac asked, unsurely. he had hoped that you getting the picture from scott would allow him an answer to your friends weird behaviour, instead you were now acting just as weird.

he stepped closer to you and without a word, you turned the picture and held it in his direction. it was a picture of the exact church you were in right now, taken in front of the alter.

there were two people, dressed formally, no doubt husband and wife, who were both smiling into the camera. isaacs eyes darted across the picture, searching for any kind of information, maybe this was just a joke.

"marlene and ian lawson" he read "june of 1847"

"this is a joke, right?" you asked. it had to be, because both people in the picture were looking like carbon copies of you and isaac.

"i don't think so" scott muttered behind you.

isaac's eyes were still fixated on the picture. using his finger, he gently slid over the woman's dress, the white gown easily slipping over the floor of the church. while she was looking into the camera, her husband was only focused on her, his smile so precious that you could read the love from it directly.

"it has to be" you insisted "isaac"

he looked up suddenly as his name rang out from your mouth. his body felt lighter at the warm feeling of familiarity that entered his chest. his eyes were crashing into yours and your look of anger was gone, softening your features.

"i don't think it is a joke, y/n" isaac shook his head "i think it's more than that"

isaac had never felt the feeling he was experiencing now, but it almost felt like a part of his soul was connecting to yours, intertwining them like two hands that had been searching for each other for a long time.

you furrowed your brows "you think this means something, something for us?"

"i don't know" isaac shrugged "it could"

just watching you, was like flowing in warm water, the water never rose, it was always calm, safe from every storm.

your friends turned around, not quite understanding what the two of you were talking about, going back to their initial task of searching for clues, as you took the picture out of isaac's hand. you opened your bag, slowly pushing it inside.

"i will keep it for us" you assured, before you kissed his cheek, doing the same as the others and going back to work.

isaac felt something in him sink, not in a bad way. more like an anchor that was thrown into the water, making sure that the ship would not leave the harbor, making sure that he would never leave you.

this was too good lmao 🤭🫶🏻

Tell me you want this

Isaac Lahey x Fem!Stilinski!Reader

Warning(s): canon-level stuff, blood, making out, mentions of sex

Summary: In a life that is constantly on the move, you appreciate the small moments much more. Especially if they're with Isaac.

"It'll just heal in a few minutes, you know," Isaac said.

"I know," you replied, sitting on his bed next to him.

You pulled a baby wipe from its package and held Issac's chin between your thumb and forefinger, moving his head to look him over.

It had been a particularly bad fight, for everyone. The kind of fight where you needed the rest of the night to just heal; physically, mentally, emotionally.

And, of course, you wouldn't let Isaac do it on his own.

You began wiping at a spot on his face, gliding the cloth over the apple of his cheek.

"If Stiles finds out about this, he's gonna be upset," Isaac said, watching your face contort as you worked.

"Yeah, well," you moved his head to the other side, frowning at the mention of your brother. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

You and Isaac had known each other forever. Being in the same grade, it would’ve been hard not to notice one another, but even besides that you had a connection. You were sort of friends.

Not the kind that hung out outside of school, but the loners who ate lunch under the bleachers and spent free periods in the library.

You also covered for him whenever he wasn’t in school, finding out about his home life after his dad had a particularly bad day.

You’d cleaned him up then, too.

Isaac gently grabbed your wrist, "and Derek-"

"Derek's not gonna hurt me."

You'd long since perfected sneaking into Derek's loft to see Isaac. You suspected that he knew you were there. Being a seasoned werewolf, you were sure he could hear the extra heartbeat, if not smell your scent.

But you didn't care, and clearly neither did he.

But Isaac? Isaac cared.

Ever since he became a werewolf, and you were further pulled into the bullshit that came along with that, he’d been protective in a way he hadn’t before.

You weren’t sure if it was a wolf thing or if Isaac felt some kind of obligation to you. Either way, you wouldn’t let him keep you out of it.

Tossing the wipe in the trash, you put your hand to his now clean cheek. "Relax."

He eyed you for a long moment, searching, before he took a deep breath and leaned into your touch.

The shape of his jaw pressed into your palm, his hand wrapping around your wrist gently, as if just to touch you.

Silence surrounded you, only the sound of your heartbeats and breathing cutting through.

That and the tension that hung palpably in the small space between you.

"You know," he pulled at the new hole in his shirt. "I think you better get this one, too."

You smiled, shaking your head. "I guess I better."

He wasted no time in pulling the material over his head and tossing it somewhere else in the room, making you laugh.

You scooted closer to him, crossing your legs under you and pulling another wipe from the package.

"Oh, Isaac," you said, taking in the wound. "It must've hurt."

He shrugged. "You'd be surprised how much the adrenaline can mask...and I'm used to pain."

He was so close now, close enough you could feel his breath on your cheek as you cleaned him up.

You focused on the task at hand because if you didn't, you'd notice the way he was staring at you. And you weren't sure what you'd do if you met his eyes.

He was fitter than he used to be, the tone of his chest and abs more prominent, his arms more muscular.

You unconsciously lifted your other hand to drag it down his chest.

He shivered under your touch. "Y/N..."

You swallowed, stilling your hand on his shoulder as you continued to clean him up.

"Y/N," he said again, making you look up at him.

His eyes were already on you, as you suspected, looking at you with so much intensity you wondered what he was thinking.

"Yes?"

He was so beautiful, especially this close.

You could see every line on his face, every freckle, every mole. The sculpt of his nose, the part of his lips. The dim light made the blue of his eyes seem darker, or maybe that was just the way he was looking at you.

He lightly pushed down your hand that had stilled on his chest so that he could lean closer, brushing his nose against yours.

"Tell me you want this."

His breath fanned your lips, and you sucked in a breath. "Isaac-"

"I can hear your heartbeat," he said. "I can tell how nervous you are...don't be. Tell me you want this."

You released the breath, shakily. "Yes. Yes, please, kiss me."

He leaned in, pressing his lips softly against yours.

You kissed him back, hesitantly. So hesitantly that he stopped, but didn't go far, allowing you the power to continue if you wanted. And you did.

More confidently this time, you kissed him. And he kissed you back.

You didn't realize how much you'd wanted this until now. How kissing him felt akin to breathing; natural, easy, like if you stopped, you might die.

It was a natural progression that he pulled you closer by your waist, his hands rough but gesture gentle, slow.

Your hands slid their way over the shape of his arms, then shoulders, then neck before they finally stopped to tangled themselves in his hair.

He hummed into your mouth, dragging his tongue over your bottom lip, and you parted them. His tongue slid over yours, experimentally, trying to find a rhythm.

You tugged against his hair.

That caused him to moan.

His fingers were ghosting just under your shirt when-

"Isaac, I need you to- oh my god."

You jumped apart, faces burning, as Derek stood in the doorway of Isaac's room.

It was pointless to try to look innocent, Isaac was shirtless for Christ's sake.

"Okay, I've clearly let this go on too long, I don't need you having sex in here."

"We weren't going to have sex!" Isaac protested, and you hid your face in your hands.

"Maybe not yet," Derek replied, crossing his arms. "How'd you get here anyway?"

"Walked," you replied sheepishly.

"Great, now I'm going to have to take you home. They're going to think I've kidnapped you."

"I can walk home."

"After that fight today? I'm surprised you made it here, let alone getting back."

"I can take her back," Isaac offered.

"And have you get busy in my car? Yeah, no, thanks."

"We wouldn't-" Isaac groaned. "Fine."

"Let's go. Now."

Too embarrassed to protest, you stood and followed Derek out the door.

Boyd and Erica were sitting in the main room and looked at you with wide eyes when they saw you come out of Isaac's room.

Great, you thought. Now it looks like a walk of shame.

"Y/N, wait."

You turned as Isaac came out of his room, holding your jacket in his hand.

"You, uh, forgot this," he said, blushing as everyone looked at him.

Face hot, you took it from him. "Thanks."

You put it on as Derek grabbed his keys and the two of you disappeared out the door.

Then Boyd and Erica's eyes drifted back to Isaac.

"...what?"

Erica split into a grin. "So, Stilinski, huh?"

"Shut up."

today my boyfriend drove to a bookshop an hour away just because he saw on their instagram that they had my favorite book in a collectors edition. to be loved is to be known

help i can’t do this anymore, you’re cruel, love 😭🫶🏻

the magic school bus to mount olympus

part five — the killerverse masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of ares reader

summary: luke chaperones the winter solstice field trip to mount olympus, and you both have your own very interesting interactions with the olympians

content: talks about luke’s childhood and arguing

notes: set before tlt. enjoyy

“Eleven, twelve— Shit.” Luke’s brows furrow as he scans his crowd of campers again. “Connor, I swear I’ve counted you three times now.”

The boy is glaring. “I was in the bathroom, so that was Travis the first time, dickwad. And I think you’re just shit at counting.”

“Watch it,” you say absently, zipping up the boy’s jacket all the way to his neck. Connor unzips it again just to annoy you. “And there’s all fifteen, Luke, I counted.”

“How are you yelling at me for cursing?” Connor asks, genuinely confused. “You’re the one with an actual problem. Mr. D has threatened to wash your mouth out with soap about ten times.”

You make a show of turning around every which way, like you’re looking for something. “Well, good thing Mr. D’s not here, so he can’t say jack shit to me. And you’re younger than me, so you have to listen to what I say, asswipe.”

You add the last part just to watch him scowl.

“Hey—”

“Killer, stop arguing with the kids,” Luke says, chewing on the end of his pen. He checks a couple things off on his paper before tossing it haphazardly into his bag.

You stick your tongue out at Connor, and Luke tugs you away from him before the boy attempts physical harm.

“Then why don’t you listen to Luke?” Travis pipes up, materializing out of thin air. He’s grinning, because he knows he’s pushing your buttons. “He’s older than you, but you never listen to him.”

It’s your turn to scowl.

“He’s not the boss of me,” you defend, despite the way it makes you sound six years old. “But sometimes I listen to him ‘cause he gets this really scary and ugly look on his face when he’s mad at me.”

Luke laughs while he tries to wrangle one of the younger campers back towards the group. “Actually, she listens to me because she knows better.”

You make sure the brothers can see the way you roll your eyes.

“You got all yours, Luke?” Danny asks.

Danny’s one of the other older campers who agreed to come chaperone the trip. Victoria’s the other chaperone who’s standing a little further down the street with her pack of kids. Composed of the more well behaved campers, her group laughs quietly amongst themselves. You can practically see the mini halos above their heads.

Luke had drawn the short end of the stick. He yells at one of his siblings to not stand so close to the street before clearing his throat.

“Yeah, Dan. There’s all twenty—“

“Fifteen,” you correct.

“All fifteen of them,” he affirms.

Danny must be too tired to notice his slip up, because he gives him a nod before ushering his own campers through the revolving doors of the Empire State Building.

New York is absolutely frigid in December, and the wind bites at every exposed part of your face. It had snowed a bit ago, so there’s piles of brown slush packed by the sides of the street, making it a true Winter Wonderland.

You haven’t been to the city in forever, so you try and enjoy every second, no matter how bitterly cold. You’re so happy you even ignore how the wet ends of your nice pants stick uncomfortably to your ankles.

One of your brothers mumbles something about sneaking off to go to the restaurant down the street, so you take care to hook your finger in his hood and tug him in the direction of the rest of the group.

Victoria leads her kids through the doors after the last of Danny’s group files through, so you and Luke take up the back of the pack. It’s funny how clear the difference is between her group and Luke’s — her kids enter single file, quietly oohing and ahhing at the skyscraper or the pretty plants by the door. The second Luke’s group starts entering, a few of them run full speed through the revolving doors, forcing the ones already inside to try and dodge the spinning door coming to whack them in the back.

The inside of the building is nice and warm, and the entrance hall is glowing and gorgeous. You look around for Annabeth, who’s slack jawed at the sight of it. You think it’s pretty, but you’re sure she’s enjoying it in only the way an architecture buff like her would. Her eyes seem to glow at the sight of the details on the walls and all of the technicalities that probably went into it.

You aren’t quite sure what’s so special about it. It looks pretty ordinary to you, but you think the way her eyes shine is cute.

“We’re gonna have to drag her all the way back to camp,” you whisper quietly to Luke, and the corner of his mouth ticks up in a half smile.

Danny flashes some sort of card to a security guard standing off to the side, who gives him the most confused look imaginable. Sheepish, he moves a little further down to the elevators, where another security guard regards him and his little card with more recognition.

As the rest of your gaggle of children nears the elevators, Danny turns to address you all.

“Wait patiently for your turn, guys. No more than ten at a time, and Ben,” he says pointedly, narrowing his eyes at a boy in the crowd. “If you even think about mashing all the elevator buttons, you’re walking back to camp.”

He deflates, his plans foiled. “I wasn’t gonna.”

Luke’s barely paying attention, too busy flicking through one of the pamphlets he’d taken from the stand by the door.

“Good read?” you ask.

He grunts in response, and you know he’s not listening. You force yourself into his personal space, dropping your chin onto his shoulder.

“You’re seriously reading up on the history of this thing?”

“Dunno,” he answers, sounding far away. “Thought Annabeth might want it after me.”

His eyes stare unmoving at the page, so you can tell he’s just turning the pages without actually looking at them. As you stare more intently at the papers, you realize it’s not about the history of the skyscraper at all, but advertisements for NYC tour companies nearby.

That does it for you — you give in. “Are you okay?”

Luke’s been off since the bus left camp a couple hours ago. You would’ve assumed he’s just busy being a responsible chaperone, but you won’t pretend like he’s doing a super stellar job at that. At the rest stop earlier, he nearly let the bus drive away without one of the kids.

Quicker than he can process, you replace the pamphlet in his grip with one of your own hands, shoving the paper into your back pocket. He does that thing you hate where he crushes your hand in his, making your bones shift weirdly.

“You’ve been spacey ever since we got on the bus,” you push. “What’s up with you?”

He grumbles something that’s not quite a response, still working your hand in his own. His eyes look glazed over, and you have to tug him forward when the group in front of you steps closer to the elevator. He won’t meet your eyes, staring dead ahead where the security guard is talking to Victoria.

“Luke,” you groan, drawing out the syllables of his name.

After a second of silence, he lets his eyes scan over you. Thankfully, his vision looks clear and less like his head is up in the clouds on Olympus.

“Hey,” he finally answers, a few responses too late. He lets go of your hand to drape an arm around your shoulders, tugging you close. “You okay? I like your shirt.”

It’s peeking out from your now unzipped jacket, one of your nicer tops that isn’t riddled with cuts and holes from messing around at camp. “Thanks, hero. But I’m the one asking you that question. Are you okay?”

Your words disarm him. For a second, he looks genuinely nervous. It only takes you another second to realize what could be bothering him.

You drop your voice low, so your words echo only in the space between you.

“Is it your dad?”

It feels like he slips right through your hands again. His eyes slide skyward, away from your stare.

You let him sit with his thoughts for a second, deciding not to push it. You settle for watching the kids in front of you mess around and tease each other.

When Luke speaks again, it's both soft and bitter. “It’s kind of everything, I guess. I don’t know.”

You know all too well that Luke’s relationship with his father is more strained than normal demigod-parent relationships are. Just being here at the Empire State Building must be a lot for him.

“You could always go up there and then fake sick,” you offer. “We could stay in the cabin the entire time.”

He gives you a sad smile. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

You wish he knew that he doesn’t have to be okay when it comes to his dad. The hurt there runs a lifetime deep, and would likely take another lifetime to recover from.

You press the side of your face into his shirt. Luke is dressed nicely too, even if he won’t admit it. You wish you could describe the smell of his cologne like they do in the books your friends read, but don’t know how. You don’t know what the hell sandalwood smells like, and honestly, ‘patchouli’ sounds like a made up word.

But he smells nice. He smells like Luke, and you resist the urge to tilt your head and dig your teeth into his shoulder.

You haven’t seen Hermes since the one time your little group had needed to go back to Westport. You don’t know if Luke has seen him since, and if he has, he hasn’t told you. But you don’t blame him for keeping it to himself if he has, because you know how hard it is for him.

“Well, we’re here together,” you promise. “So don’t worry. I won’t let you fend for yourself up there.”

He tightens his grip around your shoulders before letting you go.

After another minute, the two of you crowd into the elevator with the last of the campers. As you watch the metal doors slide shut behind you, it feels heavy and final.

You smile back at him when a familiar song crackles through the elevator speaker. The familiar sounds of synth and Christmas time fill the small space.

“Which of the Olympians do you think queued this one?”

It’s Last Christmas. A respectable choice.

“My dad loves Wham!” someone chimes in. It’s one of Apollo’s younger daughters, smiling up at you.

Memories from his last visit to camp flicker through your mind. You remember the way you had Careless Whisper stuck in your head for weeks, and how loud the campfire sing-along had been that night.

Apollo is the biggest George Michael fan. You should’ve seen that one coming.

—

A satyr ushers the crowd of you through the major sights. He walks you through the parks by the entrance, where he points out a very miniscule New York City in the distance. It reminds you oddly of some skyscraper Annabeth had told you about once, where you can stand on a glass floor and look straight down to see empty air and the hundreds of stories beneath your feet.

You all follow the satyr up a grand staircase (that the kids start using as a race track) that leads to a nice view of the countless gardens that decorate Olympus. And of course, he leads you straight to the grand palace itself.

You don’t know a word that could ever truly encompass the sheer size of the throne room. It puts everything into perspective — you and the other campers are pretty much insignificant.

The thrones, which are built like the size of houses, are rearranged around a hearth that burns bright in the center of the room. Everything here just radiates power, like even the slightest contact with a single pillar would send electric jolts through your body.

Annabeth’s eyes glitter at the sight of the domed ceiling, but your eyes are still trained on the sight of the thrones in front of you.

They’re empty, as expected. But you can’t help but feel antsy, knowing your father is around here somewhere.

Luke snaps you out of the trance you’re in, his tongue sharp. “Don’t worry. We have at least until the presentation before any of them even think about showing their faces.”

Your eyes widen slightly in surprise, and you can’t help but toss a wary glance over your shoulder. “You’re lucky Thalia’s old man isn’t here to smite you.”

It’s no secret to you that Luke isn’t the gods’ number one fan. But everyone knows they should at least be treated with some level of respect — unless you’re willing to test how far their kindness goes.

The mention of Thalia seems to shift something in his eyes. Luke brushes something off of your shoulder, his voice chilly.

“Lucky me.”

—

The presentation is over quickly, which you’re rather pleased about. You watch the Apollo kids that go before you put on their best show, glowing bright under the dark night sky. After they’re done, you and your siblings take your turn to throw around a couple of weapons under the watchful eye of your father.

You know you shouldn’t care too much about what he thinks, but still find yourself trying just the slightest bit harder than you normally would.

The moment your little show is over, the Olympians clap briefly. You think it’s just to be polite, because it doesn’t seem like anyone enjoyed it too much.

The satyr from earlier announces the beginning of the feast shortly after, and you turn your head to see a large collection of naiads, nymphs, and satyrs filling the center of the courtyard outside. They’re all crowded around a large table that’s filled with the usual foods that you see at camp — a massive variety of fruits, vegetables, cheeses, breads, and meats.

You’re surprised to see that none of the campers rush out the grand doors like they do at camp when dinner starts. Everyone gives each other tentative looks before walking at a snail’s pace out the door. Their usual rowdy behavior is no doubt mellowed by the presence of your parents. It’s funny.

A rough voice behind you says your name in a near growl, and your entire body moves to straighten like a conditioned soldier. The heavy hand that accompanies the words nearly tips you over when it lands on your shoulder, so you spin on your heel to face him, your back straight as a rod.

“Dad,” you rush out, trying to tamp down the surprise in your voice.

He lives here, you remind yourself. You were bound to see him eventually.

He’d at least been willing to come to you in his non-giant form, but you still have to angle your head to look him in the eye.

His chin is constantly tilted upward — a fact you hate. You always leave conversations with him with a strained neck and a tension in your bones. His black sunglasses are perched high on his nose despite the complete lack of sun, and his heavy boots seem to shake the ground when he takes another step closer to you.

He bares his teeth at you in a way that almost resembles a smile.

“There she is,” he starts, his voice loud and booming. “Camp Half-Blood’s mightiest warrior!”

A few stray campers turn to look at the commotion Ares is causing with the sound of his words alone. Heat rushes to your face.

“Have you been making me proud?” he continues. “Defeat another Nemean Lion? A drakon, maybe?”

You laugh as best as you can. “Uh, no. There haven’t been any quests since…” You don’t dare let your eyes stray from your father’s gaze to scan the crowd. “Well, there haven’t been any in a while.”

“I see,” he says, sounding disappointed, like you had stopped the flow of quests all by yourself. “Well, daughter, I’d better see you out and about soon. You’re a child o’ mine for a reason, yeah?” He takes his hand off your shoulder so he can knock you around with playful punches, miming an uppercut or two. “Don’t embarrass me.”

The first joking punch he lets graze you nearly knocks you back a foot, and you grin through it despite how sore your arm feels. “Yes, sir.”

A sudden wave of relief washes over you, and you can tell Luke is standing behind you before he even says anything. He presses a hand against your back, and you turn just enough so you can grab his other arm like a lifeline.

“Dad,” you begin, relaxing into a more normal stance. You didn’t even realize you’d been standing at attention, your entire body stiff. “You know Luke. He’s—”

“Hermes’ boy,” he finishes for you. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, scrutinizing Luke from over your head. He’s sizing him up, like he’s threatening the teenager to pick a fight with him.

The thought is ridiculous, but you hesitate for a second. Inspiring anger in people is something your dad is great at, and you wonder briefly about the possibility of Luke tussling with your dad.

For a second, recognition shows in Ares’ face. “Logan, was it? Or Liam?” he asks, despite you giving him his name seconds before.

“It’s Luke, sir,” he corrects, the usual traces of insolence wiped clear from his tone. You turn fully to face him, trying to keep the shock off your features.

Luke Castellan? Biting his tongue when disrespected? Who would’ve thought.

“You’re the boy from the failed Ladon quest,” your dad muses, stroking the thick hair of his beard in thought. “Hermes’ pride and joy, or whatever.”

Luke goes stock-still behind you. Your mouth goes dry at the mention of his father, and you flounder for something to say to get the heat off of him.

It doesn’t quite matter, though. The conversation ends immediately, because someone else is calling for you.

It’s practically a squeal, an affectionate slew of words. “Oh, my. Look at you two.”

Another form appears from behind your dad. The sight of a glimmering white gown makes itself clear, reflecting the fire of the hearth and turning it into pure starlight.

The sight of the woman takes the breath right from your lungs, and you know immediately who it is.

“You’ve both grown so big and tall!” you think she says, but you’re busy trying to uncross the wires in your brain. Her eyes have softened, and she presses a hand to her chest while she pouts at the sight of you, the way someone would look at little puppies at the park.

She’s gorgeous. Beyond that, actually. You fight for words to form.

“Hi,” you manage, trying to clear your brain of the haze that’s settled over whatever part forms rational thought. Aphrodite is glowing at your dad’s side, and you and Luke can do nothing but stare. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hi.” Her eyes twinkle when she looks the both of you up and down. “Oh, you two are just the cutest.”

She actually reaches forward and pinches Luke’s cheek, and the blush creeps up his neck so fast you worry his head will explode.

“Look how handsome you’ve gotten!” she croons, familiarity in her words and disposition.

Luke’s just able to school the confusion off of his features, though his face is still tinted red.

“I forgot how fast demigod children grow,” she adds, more for herself than for you. “I’m glad to see you’re both doing good. I’m so obsessed with you two.”

“You know who we are?”

The idea sounds so absurd. Your head is still spinning from her knowing your name.

She laughs, like she wants to say well, duh.

“Did you hear that? ‘You know who we are?’” she repeats to Ares in disbelief. Your dad is looking less than thrilled at the topic at hand. “I just adore young love, don’t you?”

You fight the way your jaw begs to fall open.

Jokes like that have followed you and Luke around since the start of time. It was embarrassing at first, sure, but you’ve gotten so used to it over time it stopped being such a big deal.

But for the goddess of love to be saying this? You wonder how disappointing your dad would find it if your cause of death was embarrassment.

Luke clears his throat, and you think a muscle in his face actually twitches. “Oh, uh…”

You wonder briefly if you should drop your hold on his wrist to save whatever scraps of dignity you can manage. “We aren’t dating.”

She waves you off. “Well, I knew that. But the early years are always my favorite!”

You lock eyes with Luke and know the two of you share the same sentiment.

What the actual fuck.

“There are so many juicy things waiting for you two, I just can’t wait!”

It’s like she’s waiting for the next episode of her favorite show to come out. All you can do is smile politely.

“How old are you two again?”

Luke is barely able to get his answer out before she squeals in excitement.

“Already?”

“Yeah,” you say with a bit of a forced laugh. Your dad is definitely judging you, so you try your best to wrap it up fast. “Aging, huh?”

Luke smiles politely at her. “It was… nice talking to you.”

His next words are directed towards you. “I’m uh, headed to the food. That deli sandwich from earlier wasn’t so great, and I’m starving.”

“Me too,” you say slowly, trying not to seem too eager to leave.

Luke squeezes your shoulder before nodding once at your father, a small show of respect. He slips away, giving you a few moments alone.

You’re more grateful than you let on. You and your dad aren’t close, but you have no idea when the next time you’ll see him is. You’ll probably be five years older and a lot different.

You turn your attention to your father first, extending your hand for him to shake. “Bye, dad.”

It’s the firmest handshake you’ve ever received. His hand envelops your own and whips it around. “Beat up those punk kids at camp for me.”

Your grin is genuine. “You got it.”

When you turn to face Aphrodite, you find your tongue tied in your mouth again. She’s really pretty.

“It was really nice meeting you,” you say, after a few moments of silence.

She smiles, and your face goes a little warm. She winks at you. “Goodbye. To you and your boy.”

When you and Luke walk away, he pulls you closer with an arm around your shoulders.

“Have you met her before?” he asks the second you’re at a reasonable distance.

You nudge him lightly. “I was about to ask you that, Mr. You’re-So-Tall-And-Handsome-Now.” He sighs with his entire chest when you pinch his cheek the way she had. “How sure are you that you’ve never met her before? She seemed to be really familiar with you.”

The two of you reach the table where the buffet is set up, and your conversation is paused for a second while one of the younger Hephaestus kids asks Luke what he thinks is peanut-free.

“She knew who you were too,” he points out, after the boy scurries away with a salad soaked in dressing. “I’m getting the feeling we’ve both seen her and just had no idea.”

“It’s not impossible, I guess. We’ve met a lot of people over the years.” You take the bowl he hands you filled with grapes the size of rocks and mangoes so perfectly ripe that the sight of them makes your mouth water. “It’s weird thinking that Aphrodite could’ve been one of them.”

He hums, but doesn’t say anything more about it. And though Luke may be pretty calm, you feel like you’re going to tear your hair out.

The goddess of love just insinuated that you and Luke were going to be something. About fifty times over.

You have no idea whether to believe her or not. But you have a hard time doubting the goddess of love on issues concerning your love life.

Is that really what was going to happen? Was that really you and Luke’s future?

“Hey. Are you coming?”

Luke’s standing a few feet away, nodding in the direction of where the rest of the campers are. They’ve taken to making their own firepit in the center of a park a good distance away from the palace.

You follow dutifully behind him just to give your mind something to do other than ruminate over being something with your best friend.

The bonfire is louder than it’s been in a while — it’s like it’s the summertime when camp is at its largest. Even though you can barely hear anything they’re actually saying over the noise, your friends cheer when the both of you show up. Everyone scooches over to make room for you and Luke in the circle of campers, and you settle side by side against a log.

“You two!” your friend Alana nearly yells. She’s rubbing her friend’s back soothingly. “Mieka’s devastated. You could barely tell she went off key during the show, right?”

(It was totally noticeable. You had to elbow Luke to get him to stop laughing during the presentation.)

You play dumb. “You went offkey?”

There’s a chorus of people chiming in with various versions of, See? and I told you so.

Mieka gives you a bashful smile, and you know you don’t feel bad for lying if it made her feel better. “Thank goodness. I almost walked out of the throne room, ‘cause my face was on fire!”

“You guys were amazing, I promise,” you insist, and that part is honest.

“Wait! I almost forgot!” one of the Hephaestus boys exclaims. “Did anyone else see Gavin almost catch Kenny on fire?”

The boy’s face goes bright red. “That wasn’t my fault!”

It feels like the fire grows ten times warmer when all of you sit and listen to Gavin’s ridiculous story of what really happened, and how it was all Anika’s fault, technically.

It definitely wasn’t, but you all dogpile on her just for fun.

You all sit and talk for hours, trading stories and talking about your parents even though they’re just around the corner. And it must be the warmth of your heart that draws you so close to sleep. You yawn, your eyes sliding shut while you listen to someone’s awkward recount of the first time they met Athena.

When you open them again, you’re slumped against Luke’s side.

“Welcome back,” he teases quietly, trying not to disturb the peaceful silence around you.

The fire is close to dying out in front of you, and only you and Luke are left by the pit.

You almost knock into his chin when you sit up, looking around. You hear voices coming from behind a small cluster of oak trees, but it’s clear it’s been a while since anyone else has been here. “Where’d everyone go?”

“Danny yelled at us to go to bed a bit ago ‘cause we gotta wake up early, or something stupid like that.”

You yawn again, so you tuck yourself closer to Luke’s side. “And you didn’t wake me up?”

“Thought I’d let you sleep in for a little. You looked tired.”

“I was. Thanks, Luke.”

“I got you.” He squeezes your side. “Want me to set up for tonight?”

You kiss his shoulder, pouring as much of your gratitude into it as you can. You’re going to need a minute or two before you use your legs again. “If you insist.”

“Don’t get lost,” he jokes, nodding in the direction of the group of trees nearby. “The cabin’s just through there, and you can’t miss it. It’s the size of the White House.”

You promise him you’ll be able to walk the hundred yards all by yourself, and he winks at you when he disappears into the night.

You let yourself sit back against the log, a lot colder without everyone out here with you. It’s just you and the full moon and the wind and—

“Hey, kid.”

The voice inspires so much rage in you, you’d think it was the god of war himself, encouraging you to pick a fight. But it’s not.

You don’t bother hiding your scowl when you turn your head.

“Hermes.”

He looks like Luke. It makes you sad, because Hermes doesn’t deserve to. He’s not really his father, and doesn’t deserve to share any resemblance to him.

“You and my boy have grown so much,” he says quietly. He walks towards you, moving around the log so he can stand right across from you.

With your dad, you tend to stare straight into his eyes, something he treats as a sign of respect. Out of spite, you decide not to look Hermes in the face once.

You glare holes into his loafers and his tailored pants.

“So I’ve heard.” You cross your arms in front of your chest, already itching for the conversation to be over.

You haven’t stood up, and he hasn’t sat down, so it honestly feels like the both of you are talking to yourselves. You wonder when he’ll crack, because you know you aren’t going to stand up for him.

“I’m happy to see you two are alright.” His voice is light and kind and so genuine it stings. “Have you been doing better?”

You scowl harder than you ever thought possible. “The last time we saw you, we’d been running from monsters day and night for five years. I think anything would be ‘better’ than that.”

You triumph in the way he winces. “Right.”

The fire crackles slightly behind him, and you wish Luke were here. You wonder how long it takes to set up two sleeping bags.

You curl further into yourself when a breeze wracks the small clearing you’re in. The last of the fire is snuffed out.

“May I?” Hermes asks, gesturing to the grass in front of you.

That was faster than expected.

“Be my guest.” Your voice is chilly, but it doesn’t deter him from sitting down right in front of you.

Hermes shifts awkwardly, brushing his hands free from grass before crossing his own arms over his chest. He seems at a loss of what to say.

“Why are you talking to me?” you can’t help but ask. “I’m not your kid.”

You bite back your additional remark of how he doesn’t talk to them, either.

“Even though you’re not my kid, I watched you grow up,” he answers simply. He adjusts the sleeves of his button up again. He’s nervous. “May never stopped talking about you. I met you and your mother when you were just a few weeks old, you know.”

The mention of Luke’s mom stings like a new wound. But Hermes had met you as a baby — you hadn’t known that.

“And I’m also talking to you because you’re important to my son,” he adds. “Which means you’re important to me.”

Ah, there it was.

“I’m important because you want me to talk to him for you, right?”

When he purses his lips, you know you’re right.

Your laugh is bitter. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Look,” he starts slowly. “I know it’s hard for Luke to talk to me—”

“Of course it is,” you hiss, before you can stop yourself. How dare he come up to you, pretending to care about how you were doing, just so he could use you to get to Luke? “You’re a terrible father.”

Hermes’ lips flatten out into a straight line, his patience thinning. “Kid, I know you’re smart. You know we can’t interfere with mortal affairs.”

You hadn’t meant to start off so strong, but the words have started and you can’t stop them.

“I don’t care,” you seethe, anger warming your face. “Was it too much for you to ‘interfere’ when he would hide in his closet because he was terrified? Was it too much for you to ‘interfere’ when he decided he wanted to leave home forever? He was eight. Luke was a baby, and you did nothing.”

You clench your fists, trying to reign in the anger that's spilling over in waves. Hermes is taking every second of it.

“He would come crying to my house. Biked all the way there because he was so scared, and sometimes it was every night.” You practically spit the words in his face. “I was a kid, and I was all he had. Me and my mom are more of a family to him than you are.”

Hermes looks sad. His eyebrows crease the slightest bit, and you see the face of Luke Castellan plain and clear in his features.

Him and his son are so similar, and he’ll never know.

The thought of it is so sad that the kindest part of you wants to lay off of him. But then you think about holding Luke in your childhood room while he wondered why his dad didn’t love him, and the anger returns tenfold.

Hermes’ voice wavers when he says, “But you did it because you care for him. You love him.”

“Of course I love Luke.” There’s so much force behind your words it rattles your chest. “Do you?”

“More than anything,” he insists desperately. “But I need you to understand that I couldn’t. I couldn’t, no matter how much I wanted to. No matter how much I still want to.”

Luke calls your name from the place beyond the trees. He’s talking in the way that tells you he’d just been laughing about something, his voice amused. You know he must not be able to see the two of you with the way there isn’t a trace of tension in his voice.

Hermes has turned in the direction of where the sound came from, and he looks pained in a way you’ve never seen a god look before. There’s pure anguish amongst the calm he tries to wear on his face. He looks human.

For the first time, you meet Hermes’ gaze. You recognize the look in his eyes immediately.

It’s love, written all over his face.

You falter.

You understand what it’s like to have so much love for Luke Castellan that it hurts.

“I don’t think he’ll ever be able to forgive you,” you say honestly.

Hermes nods, his expression melancholic. “I know.”

Luke says your name again, louder this time. He’s going to come into view any second.

Hermes grips your shoulder firmly. There’s so much sadness there in the intensity of his gaze it makes you suck in a desperate breath. “Take care of him for me.”

“You didn’t have to ask. You know I will.”

“I know. But promise me. He’s going to need you. Stick together, no matter how bad it gets, you understand?”

It’s you and Luke until the end. Forever. You’d already planned on that, anyways.

“I promise.”

He smiles for a second, his tight grip letting up. “Thank you. For now and for all the years I was gone.”

“Don’t thank me,” you say softly. “I need him just as much as you think he needs me.”

Hermes is walking backward now, back in the direction of the throne room.

“Take care of each other, then. Luke’s sweet on you, he always has been.”

Luke’s father and his sly smile disappears the second his son appears between the grove of trees.

He’s grinning in the way Hermes had just been. “Gods. Took Danny fifteen fucking minutes to give up his spot.”

“Yeah?” You can’t speak loud enough for him to hear you because your head is spinning.

You study his face as he walks closer to you, his hands outstretched. The resemblance scares you.

A huff of air escapes him when you wrap your arms around his chest. He squeezes you so hard in return it hurts your ribs.

“It’s been less than twenty minutes,” he teases, but he keeps you trapped in his arms nevertheless. “Something happen? Or did you just miss me that bad?”

You have a good idea of how he’d take the idea of you getting into it with his dad on his behalf. He’s never been a big fan of other people fighting his fights for him, and his relationship with his dad is such a sensitive topic you know he’d be more than annoyed if you told him.

The lie almost chokes you on its way out. You hide from it in the crook of his neck.

“Just tired. You know how it is.”

You can do nothing but hope that he buys it. He always messes with you about how clingy you get when you’re tired, so you’re not really lying. Not really.

He scoffs, but it’s not mean. He just doesn’t believe you.

“Sure. I got us the spot by the door though, so you don’t have to wake up the entire cabin when you leave to piss fifteen times in the middle of the night.”

You groan, finally freeing him from your hug. “I don’t do that.”

“The amount of times I wake up to you trying to wrestle away from me is ridiculous.” He slips your hands together, and you squeeze. You’d been too embarrassed to do this in front of your dad and Aphrodite, but you’d missed him. So, so, so much.

He changes his voice in a bad impression of you as you head for the trees. “Luke, get off me. Luke, let go. Luke, you’re suffocating me. Luke, Luke, Luke—”

You pull his head towards you to rub your knuckles forcefully into his scalp. “I’m going to give Danny your spot instead. Quit it.”

He pushes you away, his laughter loud. “Bet you’d still find some way to sneak over to me though. Luke, I’m cold. Luke, I can’t sleep. Luke, I love you so much, will you ever so kindly hold me in your massive arms and lovingly run your hands through my hair—”

You think your face actually catches on fire. “Now you’re just making stuff up!”

You definitely never go into that much detail.

He’s grinning. “Sounded pretty accurate to me.”

Your sleeping bag is cold and dreary and not at all like your usual uncomfortable twin mattresses at camp.

You miss them. And you miss the way they let you turn your entire face into Luke’s shoulder when it was cold.

Luke’s sleeping bag is a few feet away from yours, and the distance feels weird. Though it’s not like the two of you never sleep without the other, it’s too cold to be by yourself.

Luke looks more than warm in his red sleeping bag, his pillow sandwiched between his arm and his head. His eyes are shut.

You hate to prove him right. But you’d rather humiliate yourself than freeze to death.

“Luke,” you whisper, careful not to disturb any of the other campers. The cabin is probably as long as an apartment complex is tall, but mostly everyone chose to sleep in the same area anyway. Old habits die hard.

After a few seconds, his eyes flutter open. “What is it?”

“I’m cold.”

He’s just woken up, but the smug look on his face is clear as day. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. Please move closer.”

“No way. It’s so warm in here, and you’re a clinger.”

“Warm? It’s December, and we’re on a floating island in like, the stratosphere. Come closer.”

The other campers seem to share the same sentiments as you. Everyone’s wearing an extra layer or two of clothing under their blankets.

Luke sits up, and you would cheer if everyone wasn’t sleeping. But he doesn’t move closer. He wads up one of his blankets and hits you in the face with it.

The black fabric is warm where he had been pressed against it. It smells like him, too. You pause before layering it on top of your mountain of blankets.

“Aren’t you gonna be cold?”

He yawns weirdly. “I won’t need it. It’s all yours.”

“Alright,” you say tentatively. You really did wish that he moved over and held you, but don’t want to be too annoying. “Thank you.”

“Course. Go back to sleep.”

—

You dream of glowing green eyes and a slamming screen door and sand sticking to every part of your body. Before you wake up, you dream of a hand on your face and pressure on your forehead.

You don’t sleep through the full night, and instead wake up a few hours after you fell asleep, feeling the opposite of well rested. Everyone else is dead to the world except for you.

And Luke, apparently.

Sometime in your sleep, you’d rolled closer to him, probably seeking his warmth. You’re no longer where you’d fallen asleep, but skewed to your left. His sleeping bag is mere inches from yours, though it’s empty. His other blanket has been added to the ones already piled on top of you.

You fall asleep waiting for him to come back.

—

You hand Luke your backpack and yawn. He shoves his hand into your mouth.

“What’s even the point of waking up this early?” you groan, after you push him away.

He huffs a laugh. He looks funny, carrying both of your bags at the same time. Yours is slung over his front while he has his own on his back. “Our parents probably wanted us gone as fast as possible.”

“What’re you talking about?” You feign a gasp. “I’m sure they’re stoked for the next time they’re forced to see us.”

“Luke?” Danny asks, leaning off the first step of the bus. “Got your kids?”

“All fifteen.”

You follow Luke onto the bus, everyone significantly quieter now that you’re up at the crack of dawn. “I’m so proud you remembered how many kids you were supposed to watch.”

“Thanks. Counted to fifteen all by myself.”

“Wow! That’s five more than last time.”

He nearly trips you.

Luke lets you sit on the inside of the two seater so you can go back to sleep without falling into the aisle. Your bags at your feet make it a tight fit, but you slot your head against his shoulder and look out the window as the bus starts down the road.

You’re happy to leave. The sky is dark and angry above you — no doubt Zeus’ doing. You wonder if he hated seeing you all that bad.

Sitting on the yellow school bus, you let yourself pretend what it would be like if you and Luke weren’t demigods, and just two kids on their way home from school. The mortals starting their days rush around on the streets next to you. They have no idea how much you want to be just like them.

Luke nudges you when the East River comes into view. “You tired?”

You shake your head as best as you can against his shoulder. He’s so stiff you have to readjust every few seconds, but it’s better than the vibrating window to your right.

“I just want to look at the view. It’ll be a while before we’re outside of camp again.”

He’s quiet when he lets his head come to rest against yours. The two of you look out on the water and watch the cars drive alongside you on the bridge.

You fall back asleep before you even reach Queens.

—

Luke studies your face, the sky rumbling furiously overhead.

He’d seen your father last night. He’d fought him. And he would’ve won too, if he hadn’t been so overconfident.

Luke shifts uncomfortably against you, but not without grimacing. The slash running up his side is superficial. Ambrosia will heal it fast, before you’ll even notice he has it. He’s lucky you’d been too tired to notice the way he’d been favoring his left side earlier.

His arms still ache from the weight of his sword in his hands. Your sword skills were something you’d clearly gotten from your father. He’d never struggled in a fight as badly as he had last night.

—

The gash that shreds the skin over his ribcage burns immediately, the adrenaline rushing through his veins not even enough to dull the pain.

Luke loosens his hand on the hilt of his sword for a fraction of a moment. But that's all Ares needs.

His sword clatters to the ground in a matter of seconds, and the cold point of Ares’ blade presses right into Luke’s sternum.

“Not the worst I’ve seen,” the god admits. It’s the closest thing to a compliment anyone will probably ever get from him. “I was skeptical of you at first, punk. But I’d say you’re even worthy of my daughter.”

Luke Castellan stares the god of war in the eyes when he spits at his feet.

Ares is being kind when he plants his foot into his chest and forces him to the floor. There’s a crack when Luke’s head collides with the ground, and he sees stars. He struggles to breathe in air for a few excruciating moments, but tries not to let it show. His vision is dancing with black spots.

When Luke meets Ares’ gaze again, it's like the skin is melting straight off his bones. Ares’ stare is pulverizing — so hot Luke feels like he’s being welded to the floor. He fights back a groan of agony when Zeus’ master bolt crackles with electricity a few feet away.

“You made it all the way to New Jersey with these items of power,” Ares booms, his voice so loud Luke feels like he’s blasting a speaker straight into his ears. Is this a concussion? Or is Ares seriously just this loud? “This is as far as you go.”

Fear seizes Luke’s heart, his hand fumbling for something he knows is too far away.

This is it. This is how it ends. He’s going to die before he could even change anything, before he could make the Olympians even begin to pay for what they’ve done.

Just as Ares lifts his sword, a different kind of terror grips at Luke’s heart. It’s the familiar feeling of ice freezing over his body, starting at his head and working its way down to his feet. He hears the familiar rasp of death echoing in his head, and the words start tumbling out.

Luke watches as Ares falls for it almost immediately, like a fly to honey. He’s smug, his eyes gleaming with glee at the thought of it — a world-ending war between the gods, and all at his hands.

Your father lets Luke go with his life and with nothing but the gash up his side. He makes it back to Olympus before the sun even comes up.

Luke changes out of his bloodied shirt and shoves it to the bottom of his bag, settling back down in his sleeping bag. He doesn’t want to risk you waking up and catching him out of bed, or dressing this now unexplainable wound.

You’d moved closer to him in your sleep earlier, and it had taken everything in him to stop you from holding on too tight. But his mission is complete now. It was a success, so he lets you curl around him in your sleep.

Luke watches the sun paint your face in gold as it rises through the window by the cabin door.

Danny wakes up the rest of the cabin about an hour later. You groan, tired and unwilling to move, but find the strength to sit up when one of the kids tries rolling up your sleeping bag with you still in it.

Your eyes are still half-shut, but you still find it in you to smile tiredly at him. After he pokes at your messy hair, your hand comes up to flatten down the little bits of hair on his head standing up with static. “How’d you sleep?”

Luke looks into your eyes.

They hold the same fire as your father.

Unease washes through his entire body, and he coughs to try and dispel the unsettling feeling in his stomach. His head feels so light that he has to choke back the urge to vomit.

Facing you, Luke cracks a cocky smile. “Like a baby.”

explanation of the ending

the killerverse masterlist

notes: please so kindly let me know if u enjoyed :) it fuels my writing!!!! and this was 8k words i have no idea how or why bc this was supposed to be a shorter chapter omg.

i think the difference between their interactions with the other’s dad is so funny. killer yells at hermes while he tries to be nice and ares and luke have a fight to the death over the master bolt a few hours later theyre just insane

tags in the rbs!

omg, thank youuu!! felt so motivated to write for this challenge!! 🥺🫶🏻

—gorgeous

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: being in love with your best friend might be a bad idea, but drowning your sorrows in alcohol might be your worst one yet

warnings: underage drinking, partying, no usage of y/n, a few suggestive remarks

notes: this is my official entry for the hogmarch challenge of @thatdammchickennugget using prompt 2: “are you speaking parsletongue or am i really that drunk?”

the night was rushing fast away in front of your eyes, easy chatter, at the start of the party, quickly turning into drunken singing and shouting along to the music that was drowning out everything else.

the dim blue light that was shining through the ravenclaw common room did it‘s best to worsen the drunken state many of your classmates were in.

mattheo was sitting on a couch, wearing his usual cool demeanour and being surrounded by his friends. they were known for getting a bit drunk, but never making an embarrassment out of themselves through loud singing or obnoxious dancing.

and normally you were known for sitting right next to them and doing the same.

even though it was dark, you could see mattheo's head turn and his eyes searching the crowd for you. you had excused yourself to get something to drink. that had been over ten minutes ago and you were really debating to just go to bed.

the night had turned out differently than you had expected and you weren't really in the mood to act like it hadn't.

"someone is looking for you" a voice behind you said and you turned around startled.

"harry" you said relieved when you recognized the boy.

it wasn't like the two of you were friends, after all you were coming from vastly different groups, but since a project in astronomy you had become acquaintances, sometimes sharing a few nice words at parties.

"why are you standing here all alone? why aren't you with your friends?"

"why aren't you?" you shot back, making harry quirk an eyebrow.

"well played" he complimented and smiled "i was trying to get away from dean and ginny making out"

"ouch" it wasn't really a well known fact that harry fancied ginny, but you had noticed it right away a few parties ago and he had been able to read you well enough to know that you had known.

"it's alright" he shrugged "i just don't want to sit next to it"

"who would?" you asked sarcastically as you eyes fell on the couple, hungrily making out on the couch, successfully pushing seamus off.

it seemed that a few people felt way too comfortable in the ravenclaw common room.

"oi, it's no fun with these two" seamus complained, sympathetically hitting harry's shoulder on the way to the table with the drinks.

"back to you" harry grinned, seemingly uncomfortable with talking about his secret crush on ginny weasley more than necessary "why are you avoiding riddle? i thought you two were the best of friends"

"i'm not avoiding him" you said defensively, taking a big gulp from the vodka in your cup to prevent yourself from saying any more.

harry took a moment to study your facial expression, before he sighed in a tone that almost made you tear up "oh"

"no" you shook your head "no 'oh', stop looking at me like that, potter"

harry laughed dryly "too late" he shrugged "so, being the best of friends is your actual problem, huh?"

you didn't answer his question, but took another sip from the cup. immediately regretting it.

harry cringed "if you continue drinking at that rate you won't be able to speak a coherent sentence in a few minutes"

"maybe i don't want to speak coherent sentences anymore"

"so we're already at the point of drowning our sorrows in alcohol?" he raised his cup and took a sip "no, you're right, it doesn't look like you're unluckily in love with riddle at all"

you sighed "okay, fine, you're obviously smarter than you look" you rolled your eyes.

"well, ouch" harry said offended, but you could see a hint of mischief in his eyes. "am i allowed to join your little club of self-pity?"

"sure" you nodded "the more the merrier i guess"

"there's no better way to spend a party than drown yourself in self-pity with the girl you're kind of on good terms with"

"yeah, totally" you grinned "but i think if we continue talking at that rate we will be able to call each other friends in an hour"

"deal" harry laughed, before he grabbed the bottle of vodka on the table behind you, filling both your own and his cup back up. he put the bottle back and held his cup in your direction "to unrequited love" he said dramatically.

you grimaced, but raised your cup to clink against his. "to unrequited love" you toasted "and unexpected friendships" you added.

"yeah that too" he smiled before you both took a big sip from your cups.

"vodka is fucking disgusting" you complained and harry nodded, making a face that would allow the assumption that he had been thinking the same thing.

"at least it does the trick"

you and harry spend the next hour recklessly sipping vodka, while you were telling each other ridiculous stories. the vodka had a quicker effect than either of you had thought, making the both of you dance and refer to each other as friends sooner than you had predicted.

just as 'dancing queen' began to play and you were twirling on the dancefloor, did you notice the empty spot on the couch occupied by your friends. there was only one of them missing. before it could really register in your brain who exactly was missing, a voice rang out next to you.

"make room, potter" you and harry both turned around, looking surprised at the arrival of mattheo riddle.

"matty" you laughed after the few seconds it had taken you to recognize your best friend.

mattheo's arm darted to the side, catching you before you could fall to the ground. you had made the attempt to hug him, missing his body by a few feet. you had been closer to hugging cormac mclaggen who was standing off to the side.

"there you are" mattheo noted, gently taking your cup out of your hand, sniffing the contents and grimacing at the strong sent of vodka, mixed with a bit of orange juice.

"do you want some?" you slurred, grinning up at the boy, who's arm was still holding you steady.

"how many of these has she had?" mattheo asked harry, thinking he would be a little less wasted than you.

"like thirty-four thousand?" harry answered before him and you broke into simultaneous laughter.

"had to have been a lot" mattheo muttered, noticing the way you were laughing with the chosen one, gripping his arm, like you were old friends.

he let go of you, taking harry's cup as well, emptying the both into the bucket under the table with the drinks. he came back right in time to witness you saying goodbye to harry with a dramatic hug, kissing both his cheeks and lastly his forehead.

"yeah, that's enough" mattheo said, dragging your body back against his when he noticed you going in to plant more kisses on harry's face. he looked bad enough, the red lipstick you were wearing leaving marks all over his face.

harry smiled before he waved at you and turned around, stumbling through the crowd of students probably in search of his redheaded best friend.

mattheo rolled his eyes. "you're absolutely wasted, darling"

you turned around to look at him and unconsciously bring a bit of space between the both of you "is it that obvious?" you asked.

mattheo watched with a smirk, how you tried to balance yourself out, to just be able to stand. your arm ended up stabilizing your own hip and you almost fell full on to the side, when you moved your leg.

"not really" mattheo grinned "come on, baby" he softly gripped your waist on either side, guiding you in the direction of your friends. you closed your eyes, leaning your head against his shoulder, letting him walk you through the room willingly.

"have i ever told you how gorgeous you are?"

"i am?" he asked laughing.

"so gorgeous that it hurts"

"you're flattering me" he smiled, nudging your arm. "but maybe you should concentrate more on walking in the right direction"

he was right. it was taking you way too long to cross the room, thanks to your inability to still walk in a straight line, even with his help.

"hey" mattheo greeted, making the eyes of his friends turn on him. "i'm bringing her to bed"

"already?" enzo asked skeptically, checking his watch "it's only two a.m."

"hey guys!" you greeted when your eyes snapped open. you bend forward, plastering a kiss onto enzo’s cheek. "how the party you doing? good? good!" you smiled, nodding as your eyes fell closed, as you leaned back onto mattheo again.

"what?" theo laughed at your slurred words that had not made the slightest bit of sense.

"yeah, i get it now" enzo nodded understandingly, trying to rub your lipstick off his cheek.

"she's only been gone for an hour" blaise said unbelievingly "how did she get that drunk?"

"she's had approximately like more than a thousand vodka-o's according to potter" mattheo chuckled.

"potter?" draco repeated disgustingly "what has she been doing with potter?"

"harry and i are best friends" you gushed, giving draco an angry look. he rolled his eyes in annoyance, but without questioning your answer.

"let's not get ahead of ourselves, love" mattheo argued, a bit of jealousy in his voice.

"you don't have to be jealous" you softly touched his cheek "you know i love you more than anyone, honey"

blaise let out a loud whistling noise "seems likes she's your girl after all, riddle"

"oh shut up" mattheo said at the same time as you said "of course"

"better bring her to bed now" theo advised and you could feel mattheo nod next to you.

"i'll be back in a few minutes" mattheo promised, as he softly turned you around to be able to walk you in the direction of the door.

"no he won't" you slurred, turning your head in the direction your friends, gripping mattheo's neck and winking at them.

enzo hollored and theo laughed, while blaise repeated the whisteling.

"cheers to that" even draco was amused about you, as he raised his cup in your direction.

"i'll be back" mattheo assured again, pushing you forward.

"no you won't" theo shook his head, smirking as he watched his friend roll his eyes and gently guide you through the crowd.

"how about a shot of tequila?" you suggested to mattheo, perfectly awake again. there was no hint of the tiredness that had consumed your body only a few minutes ago.

maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the sound of a familiar voice indicating the beginning of the song 'whatta man' by salt-n-pepa, which was now booming through the boxes.

"no, no more alcohol" mattheo shook his head, suddenly being the kind of responsible he had never seen himself to become.

"oh my god!" you gushed when you finally reconized the song "that's my favorite song! let us dance, matty!"

he was distracted by two hufflepuff boys almost running into him, when you saw the perfect opportunity to escape his hold. stupidly enough, that was the only thing you could see, as you had promptly gotten lost in the crowd of people.

mattheo was at your side only a second after, making you realize that you had in fact just turned around, without moving more than a feet away from him.

"if you don't come with me on your own accord, i'll have to carry you" mattheo warned.

you giggled, clasping your hands around his biceps "let us dance" you pleaded, completely ignoring what he had said.

mattheo furrowed his eyebrows, still waiting for you to reply to what he had said, but you were busy watching a few ravenclaws and hufflepuffs downing shots. "or we could down some shots" you mumbled.

mattheo took that as answer enough, clasping one of his hands around your forearm and the other around your leg, as he bend down to throw you over his shoulder.

"matty" you protested, as he began to walk you out of the common room. you gave up arguing and continued to sing along to the chorus of 'whatta man' as mattheo walked you both through the crowd of people.

as soon as the door to the ravenclaw common room fell close behind the two of you, you slumped down on mattheo's shoulder, the tiredness hitting you immediately.

"do you want to walk on your own now, baby?" mattheo asked, but he could feel you shake your head. "can you use you words?" he was growing a bit concerned at your sudden mood shift, trying to make sure that you were still somewhat alright.

"no" you pouted "i don't want to use my words"

"you just did"

"i never let a man tell me what to do" you slurred and mattheo had to chuckle.

"clearly" he muttered under his breath.

he walked through the halls of the castle quickly, making sure that you wouldn't be discovered by one of the teachers. you would probably kill him if one of them saw you like this. you never really got that drunk often, so it was on mattheo to make sure that no one found out about it now.

he should've searched for you immediately after you hadn't come back. he shouldn't have waited an hour. but he was scared of annoying you. you were always together and he had taken your absence as a sign for you needing some space.

if he could, he would follow you around all the time, preferably holding your hand while doing so. maybe in another universe you would want him to do that.

"when are we there?" you asked, your hand wandering across his shoulder, before it finally found it's place in his hair, gripping it tightly.

"any second now" mattheo was trying to make sure not to shake your body too much, as he quickly walked down the steps to the dungeon. he wouldn't want you to throw up. "do you feel sick, sweetheart?"

"no" you muttered "i just want to sleep"

"i know, i know" mattheo patted the back of your leg "we're almost at the door"

he hadn't lied. it only took a few more seconds, before he whispered the password and the door to the slytherin common room opened, revealing the familiar green lighting as he walked you both inside. he crossed the room, climbing the stairs to your dorm.

he took his time to set you down on your bed, making sure that no quick movement could make you feel uncomfortable. he unfolded your blanket, spreading it across your body.

he was ready to leave the room, before you called him back.

"matty" you cried and he perked up, walking back to the bed. you threw the blanket to the side dramatically, revealing your trousers and shirt. "i can't sleep like this"

"oh" mattheo said dumbfounded "do you want me to take them off?" he asked slowly, gripping the waistband of your trousers.

"are you speaking parsletongue or am i really that drunk?" you giggled at the joke with your eyes still closed.

"you're really that drunk" mattheo answered, rolling his eyes at your unseriousness "and it's not funny"

"it's a bit funny" you opened your eyes and giggled at his facial expression "why are you so serious, matty?"

"i should've kept an eye on you" he answered "you don't like to be drunk"

"i can make my own decisions" you argued, crossing your arms.

"obviously" mattheo nodded "should i take them off?" he repeated his question from earlier, but the tone of his voice made you sober up immediately, well at least a bit.

"are you really angry at me right now?" you asked surprised.

"i had to leave the party to bring you to bed"

"that's not the reason you're angry" you said, knowing him well enough to see through his lie.

"okay, fine" he sat down on the bed and you sat up, drawing your knees to your chest and hugging them with your arms. "maybe i'm a bit angry that you would rather spend your evening getting drunk with potter than speaking to me"

"matty"

"no, it's fine" he shook his head "i shouldn't be angry about how you choose to spend your time. goodnight" he stood up from the bed, walking to the door quickly, so voice rang out before he was able to twist the doorknob.

"can you please just stay?" you asked and he turned around in surprise.

"what?"

"maybe i chose to spend time with harry, but i'm choosing to spend the night with you. isn't that more important?"

"that's not how it works"

"okay, fine" you said, tired of arguing "do you want to know the truth? spending time with you is super hard while i'm madly in love with you" even though you were a bit more sober than before, he could still recognize the drunkness in your voice, especially because you were never that bold.

"madly in love with me, huh?" mattheo repeated surprised, his signature smirk immediately replacing the frown on his face.

“it’s embarrassing, i know” you buried your face in your hands, hiding your rosy cheeks from his eyes. he softly took your hands in his, freeing your face of them.

"don't hide from me" he smiled "and it’s not embarrassing, because the truth is, that i'm madly in love with you too"

you smiled up at him. “can you kiss me than?” he smiled at your question, but shook his head.

“no more kisses tonight” he muttered, softly stroking your hair “we can do that tomorrow, as often as you want to, when you’re sober again”

“okay” you nodded.

he gently helped you to exchange your trousers for pyjama bottoms, before he took of his shirt and climbed into bed next to you. you cuddled close to his chest, your hair tickling him whenever you moved.

"blaise was right" you said finally "i'm your girl after all"

"you always were" mattheo whispered back, softly kissing your forehead, before the both of you fell asleep, holding onto each other.

💛 - if ur over me by years and years

i rediscovered this song after literal millenia n started a new summer playlist bc of it }:]

i like the song!! it’s not quite my vibe, but it’s pretty cool!! 🫶🏻