Too Busy Being An Academic Weapon Ill Post A Fic This Weekend Maybe Idk No Promises

too busy being an academic weapon i’ll post a fic this weekend maybe idk no promises

e. lockhart, author that you are

yall crazy for writing homelander fics

this one’s got a kick to it

i know you.

pairings. luke castellan x daughter of zeus!reader.

summary. when luke starts sneaking back into camp to see you, he’s changed.

fillemarlou says. being a daughter of zeus isn’t relevant at all to the story i just needed an empty cabin to use LMAO.

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you thought back to the first time you noticed it.

it wasn’t the first time he visited, or the second, or even the third. it was right around when you got comfortable with him again, when you began to forget that luke was no longer welcome here and that you’d be a traitor all the same.

the sheets of cabin one were never scratchy so long as he lay in them. his bare rising and falling chest was rhythmic underneath your ear, the only sound being a mixture of leveling breaths and a distant wind chime hung at the big house.

minutes had passed and still he was wordless. breaths kept hitching as if he were going to say something, but suddenly thought better of it and let go.

his delicate hands rested on your body, one hand mindlessly moving up and down your exposed back, the other on the forearm of yours that was strewn across his abdomen. this was typical of his visits, though the lack of conversation was not.

not that he’d tell you much, he was always reluctant to give answers or explain himself, something you had to adjust to from being so used to a luke who’d divulge all his secrets from just the bat of your lash.

but he did love to ask about you, what were you up to? what new skills had you learned? did you miss him?

the answer to the latter was always, of course. and on cue he’d lean in closely, a lovely hand on your chin to make your eyes meet, and whisper, “soon you won’t have to, i promise.”

but tonight there was none of that. he was silent and as much as you tried to ignore it and simply enjoy the time you had, it plagued your mind. shifting your eyes to see him, his gaze was fixed on the wall ahead, his expression indiscernible.

fully lifting your head from its place of rest, if he wasn’t touching you, you would’ve thought he didn’t even know you were there. the spaced out look on his face was slightly unnerving, causing your hand on his stomach to reach up to his cheek. leading his face to yours, his eyes slowly peeled off the wall to you.

there was a pause in time, where it seemed like he was just looking through you. windows to the soul were facing each other but his were boarded up and sealed off. concern rose in your chest while also feeling slightly dejected, though it might’ve been selfish to think that way in the moment.

with a soft and kind face, your thumb ran tenderly along his scar, the way you used to do all those years ago. like a shift in the tide, he immediately awoke from his trance, closed his eyes, and heaved a great sigh.

the smallest bit of relief came to your aid in knowing that trick still worked. he was still your luke.

upon opening his eyes, they shot back and forth between yours, his hands miraculously remembering you, and flexing for a stronger hold. though you were in his arms, something told you he was still worlds away.

he reached forward and brushed his lips to yours, with the gentleness of handling porcelain. the warmth of his skin was a brief reminder that despite your worries, blood circulated his body, he was here; he was real. he guided you back to his chest, and now, even the wind chimes were silent.

he’d wait for you to fall asleep before he left. however, a secret you’d take to the grave was that you never were sleeping- only pretending- in an attempt to savor his touch, his scent, his very essence. you never did know the next time he’d grace cabin one.

the light had gone out long ago, moonlight now clinging to the walls. his flesh left yours, and your distorted gaze fell on his back. it was littered with scars, mostly old but a few noticeably new- you suddenly understood why he’d insist on holding your hands when sharing a bed.

you watched his large frame lean down, acquire his shirt, and slip it on. as routine he’d sit on the edge of your bed, tying his shoes, readying to creep out the door and away. he once again wore that disturbingly blank expression.

he then did something out of the ordinary: he continued to sit. you tried your best to maintain an even breathing pattern, to raise no suspicions, but it didn’t seem to matter- he hadn’t cared to look back at you a single time.

moments passed on before his head fell to his hands. you could make out the arch of his spine beneath his shirt as his face pressed into his palms. he labored multiple breaths and you fought the urge to take him in your arms, to cradle his fretting mind.

more and more time passed and you found yourself genuinely dosing off, the long day- and now night- catching up to you. your eyes inherently closed and your mind half gone, you finally heard the distant sound of luke’s footsteps and a familiar creak of the door, before allowing a world entirely of your own take over.

-

the crunch of the underbrush made your stomach whirl with each step.

“luke-”

“shhh!”

he was a fair ways ahead of you, weaving through the trees with stealth. he wore a long sleeve underneath his t-shirt, indicative of the chill in the air; you were in pajamas, indicative of just getting out of bed in a rush.

you were tossing and turning this night, unable to forge comfort in your bed, when you heard the snaps of twigs in the distance. the last wordless visit from luke still reeling in your mind, even after weeks, allowed you to peek out of the window, just to be greeted with the far shadows of familiar broad shoulders. so here you were now, trailing behind him in the woods.

the lack of light made it hard to pinpoint where you were exactly, but it seemed familiar enough not to panic. luke was here, he’d never let anything happen to you.

“luke!” your plea was as hushed as you could make it, still hoping for him to stop.

his turnaround was harsh, almost deliberately so. “what?”

his voice ran through the gaps in the trees, causing him to peer around quickly, fearing he’d been too rash. he took a deep and silent breath before stalking back to you.

standing in front of you, the moonlight streaming down encased the two of you just enough to create an illusion of privacy.

he repeated, “what?” he spoke just above a whisper.

“i w…” he practically winced at your tone, a silent reminder alongside his eyes bearing into you with expectance, “where are we going?”

luke had an affinity for being unable to conceal his facial expressions, especially when he was met with a question he thought was stupid. you hated being the subject of this look.

“i just need to check some things out, i’m not staying.” his bluntness would’ve been a sufficient distraction of its own had it not been accompanied by obvious impatience.

with best efforts, you ignored this, always finding it in your heart to be rational and sympathetic. your manner softened as if handling a temperamental child while giving him the opportunity to reciprocate, “i just,” a breeze brushed hair over his shining eyes, “i miss you.”

he was once again boarded up and sealed off. the lack of acknowledgment written on his face was equally hurtful as it was frustrating. seconds passed with his unfazed expression searching yours, and finally, unable to take the haunting gaze, you reached a hand up to brush his moon-illuminated cheek.

without hesitation he maneuvered away, fervent with avoiding your touch. he cleared his throat, “you should go back to your cabin.”

slowly recoiling and folding your arms in front of yourself to conserve what little warmth you had, he didn’t take a second look back before starting on his trek again.

you couldn’t even begin to feel hurt when anger was seeping in and taking over. years of relentlessly critical thoughts came flooding back all at once; how passive he was, how much you were willing to risk for him, how his face would fall to dissatisfaction when he thought you weren’t looking.

unable to help yourself, you called after him, “what do you want from me, luke?”

his halt was abrupt and he peered over his shoulder, “what?” he sounded incredulous, like the proposal of this question was just as stupid as before. his head whipped back to you, his eyes fixed and dark.

tension that had been built over time was boiling now, “you’re shutting me out! you left!” hopelessness was rising in your chest as his jaw clenched in challenge, “what am i supposed to make of that?!”

wind whistled passed trying to take your clothes with it. his familiar nose twitch gave away your getting to him, though he was quick to relent. you spoke again, “tell what it is that i’ve done. tell me what you expect of me.”

“i don’t expect anything of you. i’m not here for you.”

you were staring into his eyes, desperately scouring for something more yet you were met with stone. gods he was so beautiful. why was he breaking your heart?

with a release of pained air, your face remained carved with fury; you were not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. you began taking steps back, feeling your head shake slightly but being set on letting that be the last words that hung between you.

turning to leave, he was quick to grab your forearm, his grasp tight and unwavering despite your flexes. you were met with an unnerving glint, “don’t even think about going to chiron.”

the most painful part all of this was luke believed you could betray him just as he did you. never once did the thought of telling cross your mind.

the fatal flaw of loving luke castellan was that even now, looking up at him for a fleeting moment, there was a longing for his comfort. eyes flicked to his chest and you felt as though you could fall right into it without conviction. but the trees rustled above, and reality swept in.

you wrenched your arm from a hand that was once so loving, and unable to stand his gaze much longer, followed the path of least resistance back to camp.

-

the smell of campfire engraved itself into your clothes.

stepping onto the marble stairs leading up to your cabin, you bid a goodnight to the friends you’d be leaving behind for rest. the echo of laughs and avid chatter filled the cul-de-sac of cabins, the camp turning in for sleep with spirits still souring after a night at the amphitheater.

the hearth in the center of your earth raged on, casting everyone in a homey glow. shouts of sleep well! and don’t let the stolls bite! were strewn across porches. giving your final farewells to the outside world, the door of cabin one was opened.

immediately you saw him. to be fair, it wasn’t like he was hiding, and it wasn’t difficult to spot the only person inhabiting the whole place. he sat on the edge of your bed, facing the door, his head hanging into his hands. you felt as though you’d seen this before.

“luke?” your voice seemed impossibly small in the expansive room.

his shoulders instantly tightened as he looked up. catching his full appearance, you took a discreetly sharp inhale of surprise; he was pale, an indescribably striking pale, accompanied by a tear stricken face. his cheeks were glossed from leaking eyes, and his hair was slightly tousled, like he’d been running his hands through it too many times.

this was unlike anything you’d ever seen before, let alone from luke. straight edge, always tidy, never-let-them-see-you-at-your-worst- luke.

you began to thank every god quickly and individually that none of your friends had asked to come back to your cabin to continue the fun, as they usually did after campfire.

“i’m-” his voice was hoarse, “i’m sorry, i…” he shook his head, not finishing his thought before shutting his eyes in an attempt to stop his tears.

you stood frozen at the entryway, still taking in the sight. you truly didn’t think you’d be seeing him again, or at least not like this. you’d been trying your hardest to beat down any remaining soft spot for him after his dismissal of you last time, trying to hold true to your anger.

he wasn’t making it easy.

the air had become stiff despite a breeze sweeping through and a sour taste was advancing on your tongue.

he lifted an arm off his knee and extended it to you. such a small act, yet it incited an internal battle between your heart and your mind. you weren’t sure when the dense pit in your stomach had arrived but were sure it was here to stay.

your eyes on his- they seemed a harsher brown than you were used to, in contrast to his newly stark complexion- they were filled with the most desperation one could have. he was pleading.

he slowly became closer and closer, yet he hadn’t moved from his place on the bed, and you found yourself no longer in the entry way. your heart had presently won. it hammered in your chest, shouting words once spoken aloud, i’m here regardless of the pain, a promise.

reaching his strong hand, placing fingers in his palm, irreverent shock jolted you into the moment. he was cold to the touch, iciness spreading up your arm and tying itself around your neck.

it made your next action quick and practically thoughtless, taking an immediate seat on the edge next to him, still holding his woeful eyes. his heavenly face trembled with more emotion than it could handle, and he fell hastily into your shoulder with a heart-shattering sob.

he clung to your torso like a lifeline, tears warming through your shirt. you deemed the feeling of his shivering body against yours the worst you’ll ever know.

as if his torment was a weight now on both of your shoulders, you two slipped onto the floor, melting into the foundation. but your arms never relented from his. the hiccups of his cries seemed to echo in the vast space.

“i’m sorry.”

“i know.”

“i’m so sorry.”

“i know.”

and so this continued. his consistent beg for forgiveness and your incessant declaration of understanding, repeating it so many times it didn’t even sound like english by the end.

cradling him and his fretting mind now, the way you were sure may castellan had when he was young and scrapped his knee, making claims of knowing the pain he was experiencing.

a hand reached down to his cheek and led his face to yours. as a pure act of admiration, your thumb ran tenderly along his scar. watching him intently, you saw a flicker- if only for a second- of the boy you loved, once not hurt by the world he was subjected to.

a whispered, “i know.” meant you did, a solemn swear. it meant don’t tell me to go away from you because i know. it meant his anguish was not his to bear alone.

it meant you knew him regardless if he could recognize himself while looking right in the mirror.

“i know you, luke.”

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drabble!! | no warnings | 📼 — uiscefhuaraithe; hozier

thinking about luke’s little things, the everyday mundanities of him;

he ties his laces tighter around his toes than his ankles because he runs fast and doesn’t want his shoes falling off, but he also likes being able to slip them on and off conveniently.

his favorite socks are gifts from you, worn for so long that they've gone thin, grey, and soft around the soles—they’re white, yellow around the toes and heels, and have a badtz-maru pattern at the ankles. the knit underside of them have been inexpertly darned over and over again, blue and black and grey and orange thread crisscrossing over each other like a mismatched tapestry—his very own theseus' paradox. he only wears them on saturdays, his favorite part of the week.

luke loves cheeseburgers, especially the ones that camp serves on tuesdays, even though he gets stuck in the latrines for an hour because his stomach can’t handle dairy. he eats mandarins at breakfast for vitamin c but forgets that acidic foods on an empty stomach also make him need to take a shit.

he knows exactly three mandarin phrases (ni hao, xie xie, bing qi ling), is bad at spanish because chris talks too fast and can’t teach, and only knows that ‘aishiteru’ means ‘i love you’ in japanese because it’s what his mom always repeated when he was a kid.

luke walks with a little tilt to his shoulders, his right side heavier than the left by just a hair's breadth; it's because he holds your hand on that side more often. he can't sleep without caging you in his arms, and you struggle to get out of his bed for the bathroom at the eggshell crack of dawn because he holds on so tight.

he says that he only listens to alt/indie, but if you asked him to name a song off the top of his head, he'd say something like 'olivia rodrigo'. he knows hamilton's 'non-stop' bar for bar, can rap and sing all the lyrics by heart but slightly off-beat. he thinks that the musical itself is a stupidly inaccurate portrayal of hermes' favorite son, and oftentimes wishes that his father would stop posing as lin manuel miranda.

luke has a mottled scar on his right palm, just under the first joint of his thumb, from when he'd burned his hand fighting the dragon ladon; he had picked up his sword, skin still blistering, and cut a claw from the beast. when he cups your face, you tend to turn your head and kiss it softly.

his skin is a canvas with a constellation of freckles and scars, many of which are either raised or concave, and silver-like stretch marks arching like lightning. he tells you that the most vulnerable part of a swordsman's body is his back but doesn't say anything when you trace your hand down the indents and dimples of his spine, fingertips bumping over the thirty three juts of bone.

luke takes off his shirt often because he gets hot easily, but sometimes he does it just to see you avert your eyes in shyness. he likes it when you connect his freckles to his moles to his pockmarked scars with the barest brush of your nail, how the tingle of it jitters through his nervous system when you reach the base of his neck.

he tells you that he loves you in the morning, at noon, after curfew hits, and any time in between—just in case something happens, you can have peace, knowing that he loves you. he kisses you soft and sweet like a longing fulfilled every time you part ways, even if you'll see him again in an hour; you always have something to look forward to.

so yea, luke's little things. how he loves, the foods he likes and the worn-out socks he wears and the way he laces his shoes, the stories folded into the star-spun, white gold stretch of his skin and the way his spinal cord juts out when he lays stomach-down on the bed.

p.s; umm procrastinating on jubi but i’m still thinking abt luke. sorry for being a freak about him it will absolutely happen again...also- the part about 'aishteru' meaning ily is bc google says that charlie's mom is half japanese so i thought it'd be cool to include that as part of luke's character :) + star dividers from a post by @/driaswrld

comments, asks, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

luke tags (open); @melllinaa @amortencjja @niktwazny303 @arsonnaire @mischiefmoons

A Quiet Moment

Luke Castellan x Fem!Daughter of Persephone Reader

Description: You and Luke get a rare quiet moment in Cabin 11 accompanied by some troubling thoughts. Luke's always there to make you feel better and you know him better than anyone else.

Can be read as a stand-alone or part 2 to Poison Ivy

Warnings: mentions of alcoholism, mentions of mental health (season depression), making out, I think thats it?? Also not edited sorry!!!!!!!

“Luke, this is not good,” you’re pinching the bridge of your nose in exasperation. The cabin is in total disarray, you’d left Luke and a majority of other campers there to begin to clean it while you helped the Demeter kids in the Strawberry fields. You’d come back to, though a smaller mess, a mess nevertheless. 

 Cabin inspections are later tomorrow afternoon, and you can already tell the Hermes cabin is so totally screwed. Cabin 11 is chaotic as always, to be fair it isn’t Luke’s fault, Hermes houses his children, unclaimed children, and minor gods' children alike. As a child of Persephone, you’ve only ever known the Hermes cabin as home other than the few nights you’ve spent in the Demeter cabin with your friend Katie, you fit in there as a child of Persephone and your power of chlorekensis makes you fit right in. Chiron in a desperate attempt to make more room in the Hermes had asked you if you’d like to move into the Demeter cabin permanently. You’d told him no, Luke needed your help managing the campers, but you’re sorely regretting it now. 

Your boyfriend pouts at you from his bunk where he’d collapse in exasperated exhaustion just moments before you’d return. “This whole thing is rigged, how’re we expected to be clean, we’ve got like triple the campers?” he groans. Then he sits up on his elbows eyeing you up and down. You’ve discarded your camp half-blood t-shirt and are left in your forest green spaghetti strap and dark denim shorts. He smiles like he’s won the whole damn lottery. You're exasperated resolve melts a bit when he speaks again.

“You look pretty,” he compliments you. You smile, blush, and roll your eyes before collapsing on his bunk beside him, ignoring the campers scurrying around you to get to their activities and clean up their own messes. 

“Thank you,” you whisper as he reaches over and moves a piece of hair out of your face. “Anytime Poison,” he replies, a cheeky smile on his face. Then as if remembering something he sits up and addresses the few campers that are still scrambling about the cabin, “Go enjoy the rest of your free time, we’ll take care of the rest of the damage in the morning.” They all cheer and thank him, but you know this was just a clever ploy for Luke to get the cabin empty for a second. 

“How was your day?” you ask him, sitting up and sitting crisscross on his bed. He follows suit facing you and interlacing both your hands between you. “You’re looking at it sweetheart,” he gestures around to the mostly not clean cabin. 

“This took you all day?” you tease. Luke flicks your forehead, you laugh in response. 

“Don’t be mean.”

“Who me? I’m not being mean.”

He shoots you a look.

“Well now you know how I feel, you’re always teasing me.”

It’s takes about five seconds for Luke to wrestle you onto your back, knee slotted between your thighs, while both of his hands mercilessly attack your side. Your writhing beneath him, laughing so hard you can’t breath. 

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” you squeal, he halts his movements and pokes the dimple by the corner of your mouth, that only shows when you’re laughing hysterically. 

“That’s what I thought Poison, you know we’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” he’s slowed his movements, now one hand still stroking you cheek, moving down to your hip and pressing you depper into the mattress, his other hand holds him up so he’s not completely crushing you. You blush furiously at his implication, the last time the two of you had been in this position, it had been sinful, granted you weren’t in your cabin where anyone could walk in at any moment, but still. “You’re gross,” is what you decide to respond with, but he just laughs and leans down to kiss you anyways. 

Kissing Luke is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. You’ve kissed other boys before him, but something about the way he kisses you, you know he’s absolutely ruined you for anyone else, he kisses you in a way you know will screw up forever. You don’t know what you’ll do if he wakes up one day and decides he doesn’t want you anymore. The thought makes you kiss him harder, and pull him closer. His thumb rubs soothing circles against your exposed skin from where your shirt  had ridden up a bit. One of your hands rests at the base of his neck pulling him closer, begging him to kiss you harder. Your other hand hovers at his lower back, when you try to pull him closer there too, he pulls his face back from yours, breathing heavily. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks you, he kisses your check once on both sides softly and then looks at you again.

“Nothing, just keep kissing me,” you tell him before pulling him back to your lips. 

He mumbles your name against them, but then indulges you for a moment, your brain is going a million miles a minute, you don’t know why you can’t turn it off sometimes, but the thought of loosing Luke plagues your mind too often, were you destined to be like your father, who loved your mother in the spring only to be left again by the fall, he had never truly gotten over his one great love, Persephone. You couldn’t imagine ever getting over Luke either, especially with the way he’s kissing you so tenderly now.

He pulls away again, making you pout. 

“I can hear you thinking, what’s up?”

You almost tell him but he’s always trying to make you feel better and for once you want there to just be nothing wrong. You’ve always been a little more darkness than Luke, you think. He’s the camp golden boy, perfect in all the ways that count. You’re Persephone’s only (claimed) daughter, who grows plants from nothing, and grows vines of poison ivy around people who piss you off. Your moods change with the seasons, and as Fall grows nearer you can feel yourself growing darker. You just want a moment with your incredibly hot boyfriend to not think of the impending darkness that’s right around the corner.

“I’m okay, really,” you tell him, he’s not convinced clearly because he stays hovering over you but he won’t lean back down to kiss you. “Luke, c’mon we’ve got like–” you check your watch, “30 minutes until the first round of campers are back.”’

“But you’re worried about something, I can tell,” he mutters, “It’s almost September, that’s what’s buggin’ you huh?” 

Sometimes you hate how well he knows you, “Okay, yeah, you’re super duper smart now do you wanna make out with me or what?”

He laughs, and leans down to kiss you again, it’s a peck not at all what you were looking for and you groan. “Luke–”

“Look, I’m all for making out, and I’ll distract you if you really want me to,” his voice is husky in your ear, in the way he knows you love, but then he pulls back to look at you again, “but we both know this is still gonna be buggin’ you afterward, and I just want to make you feel better.”

You sigh, cause you know he’s right, annoyingly right, and stupidly handsome, you still really want to make out with him, but you don’t want him to feel like he’s a distraction, because he isn’t. He’s Luke, and you love him with everything you have.

“You’re never a distraction,” you promise him eagerly, you move to sit up and he follows suit, leaning against the headboard of the bunk and opening his arms wide for you to snuggle into is chest, you place a kiss over his heart. “You’re the main event baby.”

He snorts and pulls you closer, “That was incredibly corny Poison, you going soft on me?”

“Oh yeah, for sure. But seriously, you're incredibly sweet."

You lean up and kiss his jaw. He kisses your forehead in return.

A moment of silence passes before he asks the burning question on both of your minds. 

“Are you going home this year?”

You’d spent most of your time at Camp Half Blood being a summer only camper, but the last two years you’d been a year rounder. Your dad had never really been the same after Persephone disappeared from him, never to return, at least according to your aunt. When you’d been younger you’d been a handful and provided your dad with a distraction from his sorrows. But as you’d grown older, made friends, and forged your own life, your father had started drinking again. The more he destroyed himself, the more he destroyed you and your already almost non existent relationship with your mother. You resented him, but you resented her more for leaving him with nothing more than a hollowed shell of who he used to be. He’s been writing you letters, but you can’t bring yourself to respond.

“Probably not,” you admit finally, “I don’t want to see him and besides,” you curl into Luke more, “I want to stay with you.”

Luke’s arms tighten around you as he peaks down at your face, “You do?”

“Of course I do.” 

Luke kiss your head, you smell like flowers and goodness and the things he loves. He thinks he could stay right here with you forever. “Are you sure?” he asks you. 

“Do you want me to stay?” you ask, feeling self conscious now, you don’t have the opportunity to let your anxiety consume you for long before Luke is reassuring you. 

“Are you kidding? Of course I want you to stay. I love it when you’re here, you know that.” 

You smile up at him softly, his brow furrows, a little crease at the center where you can tell he’s thinking really hard about something. You reach up to smooth it out, but he catches your hand with his own. “You do know that right?”

“Yeah,” you nod, and you do. You really know it, in the back of your mind, you know Luke loves you as much as you love him. 

“Good, because sometimes I think you don’t get it, how much I love you. I’d do anything for you, just say the word,” he lets you reach up to smooth the crease from his brows.

“What’re you doing?” he asks.

“You get this little crease between your brows when you’re worrying about stuff, did you know that?”

Your pinned back down on the bed before you get a response, he’s kissing you like you’ve been wanting him to this whole time, Hot and searing with his hands in all the right places. You could die happy, right here, wrapped in his arms, his lips pressed against yours, and his tongur sneaking into your mouth. You stay like that for a few minutes, unaware of the time ticking away. You both pull away a little breathless. 

“I love you,” he says quietly, “a lot.”

“I love you too,” you reply kissing the bottom of his scar softly, “a lot.”

He leans down to kiss you again but you place a hand on his chest pushing him away from you. “We should probably clean the cabin now,” you relent, sighing as you look at your watch, the first round of campers should be returning in about five minutes, Luke takes a look at your watch and groans.

 “You were right,” he admits, head tucked into you neck as you play with his hair.

“I’m sure I was but youre gonna have to be a little more specific babe,” you reply matching what you’re sure is his cheeky smile buried in you neck. 

“We should have just made out.” 

You push him off the bed.