#post tlt

Based on Moth to a Flame by the Weeknd & Swedish House Mafia

Post-tlt!Luke x Apollo!fem!reader

3.1k

warnings: suggestive themes, angsty, Steve is a warning 💀, reader is cheating with Luke, SPOILERS FOR THE LIGHTNING THIEF AND A TINY BIT OF SEA OF MONSTERS.

It wasn’t him. 

That was all you could think about as your boyfriend kissed you passionately in front of the whole camp. Sure, he was an excellent kisser, but it wasn’t as nice as it could’ve been. 

If it was him, he would’ve known to leave the breathtaking kisses for private. Known that you hated to make a scene. Would’ve put your comfort before his lusty need to kiss you-

You couldn’t think that. He was evil. And he had hurt your terribly. You refused to say his name even now, six months after his departure. He had left you and betrayed the whole camp and was conspiring with Titans, trying to start a war. 

Steve…. Wasn’t like that. 

You liked him. He was nice and treated you like you should be treated. He was a spectacle to be around. 

You still remembered all the drama from when he’d first asked you out. It was a story, all right, just like Steve liked.  

You hadn’t been in a great place then. You cried every night over him - you still did - you avoided the Hermes cabin like it was a plague, and you just felt numb and empty every day. 

And then he’d asked you out. Steve was from the Ares cabin, and after he had left, the red team had been having a lot of luck with winning Capture the Flag. 

It had been another one of Steve’s victories, and he’d been triumphantly waving the flag around before he passed it to his teammate, and drew the camp’s attention.  

“So, thanks to me, we get the best chores, best privileges. Thanks Chiron.” And Ares cabin roared as Chiron nodded awkwardly. “Still, I want one more thing. I have to have one more prize. Her. I’d like to ask y/n l/n to be my girlfriend.”

And your friends had talked about this for a while before, how they seemed to just know Steve had a crush on you - even though you couldn’t see it - and how they thought you guys would be perfect together. And how it would help you get over him. 

You said yes. 

And it was a fairytale from there. 

Every time he won Capture the Flag, (which was every week just about) he’d pick you up and spin you round, kissing you. It became a tradition, a victory kiss. And they were long, burning, breathless kisses, and he would continue even when you tired and stopped. He was passionate that way, all about making your pulse quicken. But not as much as did when he-

At dinners in the pavilion, you would share a peck before every meal while you queued. He was always next to you, and although it was kinda dull having him dismiss your friends so he could talk to you privately, at least you had the company right? And you always shared your extra food with him when he was hungry, and sometimes he would try to feed you sandwiches teasingly, which everyone cooed at. You wished they wouldn’t-

On weekend nights, you’d come back with him to Ares cabin secretly, and he’d make out with you in his bed, telling you he deserved his girlfriend after a long and hard week. And you would kiss and kiss and kiss and your lips would be swollen, your head would be spinning and people would roll their eyes and talk about how stupidly in love the pair of you were. 

Like a fairytale. 

Except, it had a bit of a twist. When he finally tired of your body and lips, and let out a few gentle snores, then you would escape. 

You started the habit the first time you couldn’t sleep after one of your make out sessions. 

It was idiotic, but you couldn’t fight the way you were still loyal to the traitor you had called your lover, how you felt sick to the stomach each time you felt Steve’s arms around you, tighter and more cage-like than his had ever been. You couldn’t fight the way your mind flitted between the two boys, comparing and contrasting between them to the detail, draining you of your sanity as the night stretched on. Hypnos didn’t bless you with rest, and you cursed the god that had ever created overthinking. 

You’d walked out, your arms huddled around you like his should be, and you stumbled in the cool darkness all the way to the beach. 

And in the obscurity of the night, you would let your heart break properly, as completely as it needed to. You would sin, become the villain of your own fairytale. 

You would whisper his name, over and over and over, as you would tell him everything that had happened to you. Every event that had transpired since he left. Eventually, you’d bring old Polaroids of the pair of you you’d hidden away, and an old flickering torch to view them with. A lot of the time you simply sobbed your heart out, whispering his name again and again into the sands, this beach the only place you could ever continue to love him. 

Usually, you were out for a while, bathing in your midnight misery, sometimes until Apollo deigned to let the Sun give light to the sky. 

It wouldn’t make you happier. 

Once everything was visible, occasionally you stared at the ocean, spotting the distant specks that were ships. You wondered if any of them were his, stupid Princess Andromeda, with all the horrifying monsters aboard you’d heard about. 

It was torture, thinking like that. That he was one call away, that you might scream across the waves and he would hear, and yet you were worlds apart. 

Once the sunshine heated your skin, you would drown your love in the daylight, and head back to Steve, your… lover. 

It was an awful, unhealthy routine. You knew that, and felt so many tremendous ways about it. 

But it was also beautiful in a painful way you’d grown to love. 

It was much the same tonight. 

Relief like a tsunami washing over you, as you began to feel the sleepy inhales and exhales of your boyfriend. The fifteen minutes it took you to softly slip out of his embrace unnoticed, and how they dribbled by slowly. A quick check for harpies, a speedy walk to the beach down the faint path your careful steps had created. 

Than the silence. 

Agonising, serene silence. 

The stars would hear his name again, as you spoke, the only witnesses to your traitorous actions. 

You’d only said his name once, listening as it faded into the sounds of the night, the chirping of insects and breeze in the trees. 

Crunching footsteps disturbed the peaceful aura. 

Instantly, you were on your guard, cursing yourself for lacking in a weapon. No matter how heavy the clunky torch was, it would be no match for fangs or talons. You held it up regardless, circling around on your feet as you searched for the source of the sound. 

“Is that a torch? Man, I’m outta here.”

You might’ve died. Your heart stopped. Your breath caught. Everything inside you froze. 

It was him. 

Him. 

Your torch lowered as he approached, the moon casting a holy glow on his face and distinct scar. 

He looked exactly as you remembered. 

Tall, lean, eyes deep, dark and entrancing, curls the rich colour of cocoa. 

Handsome as Adonis-

No. You raised your torch again, as you reminded yourself who this boy was, what he had done to you. No, you did not trust him, even if you missed him. 

“It’s me. I’m not here to hurt you,” he reassured, approaching you softly as if you were the dangerous one, “you don’t have to be on guard.”

Being you isn’t enough anymore, you wanted to scream. 

“What are you here for then? Are you planning some attack at camp?” You asked instead, horrified. 

“What are you out here for? Are you planning to join me?” He whispered back, smirking. 

“I- no, no. I could never do what you’ve done- what you do, no-“

“Yeah, yeah, I’m horrendous, I get it,” he interrupted, impatient, “but you’re still out here. And you were saying my name.”

The last sentence was almost… sensitive and hopeful. You didn’t like the way that vulnerability made you feel. 

“I did not. I have not said your name since the day you left, the day you betrayed us.” You denied, shaking your head and backing away from him. He followed you, even as you feet moved left and right. 

“Please, stop,” you begged, scared now as he continued to step where you stepped. 

“No, I came back for you,” his expression and voice changed, no longer smug and smirky. He was desperate, genuine. “There hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought of you. I still love you, y/n, and the biggest mistake of my life was leaving you here.”

Your eyes welled at his words. This was all you’d ever wanted to hear. 

“You can’t just say that, you- you-“ your voice broke, and you finally stopped your retreat as your back hit a tree. “You left me for six months. You can’t just come back randomly, if you loved me you wouldn’t have left and-“

There was only a foot between the two of you. And it was rapidly closing, each steady footstep bringing you nose to nose. You couldn’t stop it, and you didn’t want to. 

“I-I- what are you doing, I can’t do this, whatever this is- I have a boyfriend and um, what-“

Your foreheads were almost touching. He was frowning, your guess was at the mention of Steve. Your eyes met, and you glanced away, knowing if you met his gaze once more you would give into anything he requested. 

“If you loved your boyfriend,” he breathed, each word becoming hotter and breathier as it neared your lips, ”you wouldn’t be out here crying and saying my name like a prayer.”

It was impossible to resist. Your eyes met again, and it felt as if you didn’t have a choice as he leaned down to kiss you. Your body was just following what it yearned to do. 

It was just as fantastic as you remembered. 

Blazing, spectacular, thrilling fireworks all through your body. On both of your lips burning and tingling with electric attraction, as they moved at a seamless speed. On your shoulders, as he massaged the bones, his hands brushing the length of them. In your blood as every particle of you seemed to hum in joy and satisfaction. It was an eager, sweet kiss, and it was precisely what you’d been missing. 

Why had you been trying to be a princess in a fairytale?

It was one of the only things you and he agreed on. You hated fairytales. 

You preferred thrillers. 

In sync you drew apart for breath, panting hard and grinning. After a short pause, you couldn’t hold it in anymore,. 

“Luke,” you said.

It was like saying a dirty cuss word that held powerful meaning. A secret no one wanted revealed. This was the loudest you’d ever said it in months, and you felt glad at the release of his name from your heart. 

It was the magic word for Luke. 

Immediately his lips were on yours, and there was no restraint this time. If that kiss had been hungry before, these were starved. 

Every ounce of anything either of you had felt was developed into that kiss. It was a myriad of different emotions, conflict and similar feelings rebelling and intertwining as your lips and tongues danced. I love you. I hate you. All I want is you. I’ve missed you. All I think about is you. I’ll never love someone how I love you-

“Come with me,” he begged, breaking apart as you shuddered for breath, and how could you refuse if he looked at you like that?

Luke beamed at you, seeing as you weren’t rejecting him and eagerly took your hand in his. The familiar warmth almost caused you to faint. 

And then he was leading you swiftly away from the beach, into the woods, and towards another part of the shoreline. 

You were almost giggly, as he pulled you along, over logs and past dense patches of lush shrubbery. It was like you were sixteen again, sneaking away from harpies and head counsellors so you could stargaze and kiss. 

You made it to his ship soon enough, the Princess Andromeda.

It was certainly fit for royalty. 

The style and size of the boat caused you to stop a moment, your jaw dropping. 

Luke continued to tug at your hand, pulling you along and towards the deck before you could reconsider. You figured you were too far gone to turn back now. But you didn’t want to either. 

“C’mon,” he urged, as you rapidly ascended the steps onto the ship. He led you inside, and down a few corridors, before he opened a door to what looked to be his room. 

It was grand, stylish. A double bed stood in the centre, a desk and ensuite to the left, and a wardrobe and bedside table to the right. You knew then that this was probably bigger and better than anything he’d ever had in his life. You wondered if he ever got lonely in the large space, or simply always felt like a king. 

Your thoughts were removed almost violently out of your head as Luke kissed you abruptly, pushing against you and using your back to close the door behind you. 

“I missed you,” he muttered against your lips, his arms twisting around you and hoisting you up, as if you were a bride. 

You laughed then, giddy, and said it back to him. 

He placed you on the bed softly, grinning and giving you time to shift about and be comfortable before he climbed over you, hovering above. 

The romantic assault ensued soon after. He tasted and smelled the same, and even though you were in new surroundings, it was like coming home. 

 “Your boyfriend,” he panted, laying heated kisses like freckles down your neck, “does he kiss you like this?”

“No.” The answer was breathy but definite. 

You could feel his smirk on your collarbone. “He doesn’t know, does he? About what you do out there. Try and talk to me, look at photos of us, cry. I’m your secret.”

And he was exhilarated to be your secret it seemed, because the kiss he gave you then was heart-stopping and sped up, like all the love scenes in thrillers. 

 And then the kissing stopped, because you both stupidly needed to breathe, and he lowered his head to your neck, his nose brushing the hollow of it as he regained oxygen. 

You sat up yourself, and while he continued panting, reached for the hem of his shirt. He froze, his eyes meeting yours in shock. He nodded insistently. 

It wasn’t the worn edge of his camp t-shirt you were used to, but the smooth fold of a new, better-fitting, more expensive one. 

You pulled it off, slowly, your fingers scraping against his sides in ways that made him shiver. It finally travelled over his head, and you tossed it somewhere on the floor, before cupping his face in your hands. 

“I’ll never get over you. I never have. Steve is just Steve and you’re you.” You whispered, lovestruck. 

You were sure he would’ve answered back something just as personal and romantic, but your fingers had found their way to his scar, the ridged line he’d loathed and you’d come to adore. All the words seemed to have evaporated from his mouth. You traced the length of the scar softly, before kissing every centimetre of it. His eyes had fluttered closed, and he was still. It was one of the only times his face looked so delicate. 

He sank down into the mountain of pillows,  yanking your shirt off and tossing it, and you hovered over him, tracing and smoothing your hands over the tense planes and valleys of his chest and shoulders. He inhaled and exhaled sharply, and you knew how much your care and adoration of him and his body meant to him. 

He was even more muscly than before, somehow, and you marvelled at the strength and might of your beloved boy, as you began leaving a burning line of kisses from the hollow of his neck to his navel. 

He shuddered, making little noises at each touch of your lips to his chest. 

Once your lips had finished that journey, up and back, you settled into his side, tucking your head under his chin and on his chest. 

His heart was racing, and as was yours, and the close, intimate feeling of it all was enough to make you beam. He turned his head to face you. His eyes were earnest, shining with clarity and joy. 

“You’re the only good thing in this world. I love you.”

And the world seemed to stop once your lips met again, because everything was perfect. 

Your heart, mind and body, all in the right place, cradled in his arms. 

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Thrills only last so long before they wear off. 

The sunshine that streamed in through the porthole was like a warning from your father, a reminder that your actions were against everything you loved. Everything you believed in.

A reminder that while you loved Luke, you loved Camp Half-Blood more. 

You left your heart there, tucked between his sheets, nestled in his warm embrace. The loss of it tore your chest, as you tiptoed through the corridors, gasping at the monsters you could now see and swearing at yourself as tears flooded your vision. 

Maybe you should’ve woken him, you thought, given him one final kiss. 

You never would’ve been able to leave. 

You settled for leaving a note. 

You will always have my heart. 

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He was awake. 

Of course he was. You’d always been restless, while you overthought and he’d woken as you tossed and turned softly. 

And he knew. 

Knew then that you were going to leave him. 

It was all over. 

He’d wanted to hold tight then, keep you as his, and never be parted from you. 

But he couldn’t. 

He knew he couldn’t even though he wanted to, even though he had promised himself he would never lose you again as you fell asleep entangled with him. 

It was the hardest thing in his life, feigning sleep as you silently slipped away, as you brushed his cheek in goodbye. 

You will always have my heart. 

They would always love each other. 

Always be torn apart.