𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗙𝗧 ! - 𝗣.𝟭

beckondorf is soooo european/aus. ‘methinks’??? ‘git’???? ok english boy…

AKSO OMG ONG ONG THIS CHAPTER,??!

⋆· ༘* so american !

pairing ★ jock!luke castellan x drum major!reader

synopsis ★ the one where things start wrapping up too fast. the seasons change, and suddenly everyone knows something that you don’t. (3.4k)

content ★ no reader pronouns, cliches ie PROMM, major actually kinda knows but dismisses it as being delulu, s-tier clownery, will they won’t they? - i think they will !!

notes ★ double take dhruv carried this so hard bless that genius man for making thee song abt falling in love w ur friend

series masterlist

Sports | Castellan flys high into final season, speaks about future

Heralds Vol. 77, Issue 10

[ IMAGE: a shot from a low down-up angle. Castellan’s jersey is black and orange, his surname and jersey number 11 in white block lettering. His back is silhouetted, arms stretched for a spike, the gym lights haloing his outline in a fuzzy white. ]

It’s all thunderous cheers when senior and varsity vice-captain Luke Castellan nails his final spike through the blockade. Zeus City High School played its final game of regionals against Kane Academy—famous for its strong blockers and—won 3-2 last Thursday.

“It’s a really great feeling,” said Castellan. “Spiking through that block was tough, but getting the points is all that matters.”

Castellan is an outside hitter and has been doing sports since he was a child, passing a volleyball to his mom at three. He also participates in football, and capped off his last season with an unprecedented win.

“I’ll definitely miss football,” Castellan commented, and joked that he while he will miss his teammates, he will not miss practicing. “The team spirit was really good, we really had synergy this year. I’m glad that we did our best in the championship, and I hope we do good with volleyball too.”

The team will advance to the state championship, and perhaps junior nationals, where they can fully showcase their athletic abilities to recruiting colleges. Castellan does not plan to attend a higher institute of education on a sports scholarship, citing that he would like to explore other interests.

“I’m gunning for engineering,” he shared. “It’s been an interest of mine since I started watching motorsports, which is like—forever. I’ll still play, but not on a super competitive level because I’d like to focus on my education.”

You aren’t quite sure how you ended up sandwiched between Luke and the door of your locker.

‘Cause the thing is, you’ve got your back facing the open maw of your locker, and Luke’s nearly chest-to-chest with you, saying something about Silena and Charles. Your shoes are side by side, faces hidden by the door.

Your locker is located next to a wall—a lucky assignment for privacy so—to the average passerby, well, it looks like he’s very close to you. Maybe even kissing, although you blink that thought away in a fluster.

“You okay?” Luke asks, touching his knuckles to your forehead. “You look like you’re getting dizzy.”

Becoming ‘friends’—the context of which you use extremely loosely—with Luke comes with some lessons on his character. Lesson one: he enjoys football, likes volleyball, and loves motorsports. Two: he wants to be an engineer and a photographer and also a full-time couch potato gamer-slash-F1 commentator. Three: he’s naturally touchy because him and his mom’s love language is physical touch, and it is a constant of which can never be changed.

( You’d stopped by the Castellan residence every day after school during last semester’s final project for stats. She’d greeted you with a hug each time. )

“I’m fine,” you grit, hands tightening around your dusty textbooks. They’d been in your locker for the entire year, and now you’re about to be late for returns. You take a breath—oh, now his cologne is invading your senses. “I just—uh, I have an appointment at the library for these.”

You lift your books. Luke’s mouth parts in an oh and he steps back, holding his arm out dramatically. “After you.”

You slam the locker shut.

[ IMAGE: two pairs of beat-up sneakers peeking out from under the door of a locker. Luke Castellan is unmistakable, curly hair and tall frame half-obscured, one arm bent to hold the door. The tag on the metal is hard to see, but if you went to the school, you’d know exactly who that locker belonged to. ]

Liked by tankadreww and 715 others

centaurlookout 😮

“You going to prom, major?”

You look at Travis, eyes narrowing. There’s something incredibly off about his question, something suspicious in his too-wide eyes and smile.

You pinch your lips together, regarding him. “Maybe….”

The junior beams, eyes glittering. You squint suspiciously at him with a sidelong glance when he doesn’t leave.

“Need anything else or…?”

Travis shakes his head adamantly, curls bouncing. “Nah, just wondering.”

You nod slowly, drawing out the syllables. “Right.”

“G’day, major.” Travis begins to slink backwards, keeping his eyes on you.

“Uh-huh, yea.”

You recount this to Luke during lunch, gravel crunching under your feet as you walk to one of the fields.

Now that football isn’t in season, the practice field behind the bleachers is empty and overgrown with clovers. You sit in the plush greenery and pick at a blade of grass that still has some remnant of white paint on it.

Luke agrees with you as he unwraps his sandwich. “That’s so weird. I mean, the only interest he’d have in prom—”

“—would be to pull pranks, yea,” you finish, peeling back the plastic of the instant noodles. Luke nods, repositioning himself to lay on his stomach, elbows pressing into the grass. “I dunno, everyone’s been weird now. Percy called me major last week, like actually major and not sarge.”

“Maybe they’re sad that you’re leaving?”

“Nah,” you tell him, uncapping your bottle and pouring water into the noodle cup. “Connor uninvited me to his sixteenth birthday party after I ran him off the platform in Smash. I thought it was a joke until I showed up and he slammed the door on my face.”

Luke grimaces mid-swallow, mouth twisting. “Wait,” he says, propping himself higher on his elbows. The sun’s barely out, hidden behind a wall of grey clouds that shouldn’t even be there because it’s mid-May. “Are you actually going to prom, though?”

You shrug and stab a spork into your noodles.

“I already have tickets,” you confess, fiddling with the handle of your flimsy spork. Luke inclines his head, taking another bite of his lunch. “On-duty discount for Heralds.”

“You’re working on prom night?” He says like less of a question and more of a what the fuck, major, I thought we’ve gone over this before.

“For like, a few hours,” you say. Luke frowns and rolls over onto his back, thigh dangerously close to your kneecap. “What? It’s the last issue of the year.”

“It’s prom.”

“It’s an expensive party with free food and bad DJs. Gradnite’s more worth it.”

Luke shrugs and sits up; his nose almost runs into yours, the point of it sliding a hair’s breadth from your cheek. Here, you can see every individual eyelash of his and the flecks in his irises.

You can’t breathe. “Uh—I’m….”

Luke leans back a little. “Going to have fun during your last months as a senior, right?”

“Yea,” you say, the words sounds decidedly stupid, “course. I’ll have fun for you.”

Oh god, what are you getting into?

He smiles, the curve of his mouth small and real enough to snap you out of it. You rip your gaze away from his mouth—why were you even looking there in the first place?—and gnaw at the inside of your cheek, waiting for something to happen.

Luke sits back on his elbows, gazing up at you. It makes something thrill along your spine. “So,” he draws out the vowel, licks his lips, “you have a date or—”

He’s cut off by a long, echoing blare—saved by the bell, literally. You dump your spork into your now empty cup of noodles and stand, slinging your backpack over your shoulders.

“Office hours,” you excuse, jabbing an awkward thumb in a vague direction towards the buildings. “Need help on—er, my stats final.”

You scream inwardly, because you’re both in stats and it’s a terrible excuse because you likely don’t have a stats final after the AP test and you’re such a bad liar that—

“Okay? Have fun.” He’s unbothered, gazing at the thin clouds.

Bless Luke Castellan and his all-around obliviousness.

TO: becky g

(12:50) what do i do (12:51) bc methinks that luke tried talking abt (12:51) prom dates infront of me 🤢

FROM: becky g

(12:53) oh so jts luke now?? (12:53) awfully interested for a frenemy 🤨🤨

TO: becky g

(12:54) ew what frenemy i still think hes stoopid

FROM: becky g

(12:55) uh u git called him ur friend last week

TO: becky g

(12:55) FREUDIAN SLIP 😭

FROM: becky g

(12:56) freudians r subconscious feelings yk 💀

TO: becky g

(12:59) STFU GO MAKE OUT SLOPPY UR GF OR SMTH 🖕

♫ Dhruv ・ double take

[ IMAGE 1: a 0.5x picture with the flash on. The camera is angled towards your forehead and you’re looking up at it with an exasperated expression.

IMAGE 2: a zoomed-in picture from far-off, most likely across the dance hall. You’re standing in formal clothes—black shirt and wide leg slacks, sleeves rolled up to your elbows, like all the other staff and volunteers—and holding a camera slung around your neck. The lights in the ballroom paint over your frame mesmerizingly, not unlike the time you had been in the Ferris wheel watching fireworks. ]

Liked by luvvbeaus and 528 others

lukestellans (the real) your highness of prom

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majmajmaj sorry i thought that I was the official photographer. what r u even doing on ur phone at prom.

↳ lukestellans what r u doing on duty at prom. ↳ luvvbeaus i’ll do u one better: why aren’t u two dancing together at prom??

“Come on, major,” and Luke’s got his fingers wrapped around your index, tugging, “you only get one prom.”

He’s in a pair of fitted slacks and a white shirt, the jacket of his suit long discarded at one of the tables, glasses reflecting prismatic party lights. You try not to pay attention to the exposed parts of his arms, where his sleeves have been rolled to his elbows like yours. Is it just you, or is it getting kind of warm in here? It must be all the dancing bodies crammed together on the floor.

( Why is he even wearing computer glasses to prom? Not that you’re complaining—they look rather nice on him. )

You tug back, insistent. “I just need a few more pictures.”

Luke groans and lets your finger slip from his hand. You’re about to give in to his demands when he begins to stride furiously across the ballroom, towards—ah, right, Hermes is chaperoning the dance.

They exchange words, Luke gesturing passionately with his hands and his dad looking so fucking lost that you almost have to laugh. Luke and Hermes must have come to some agreement, because the jock—well, he’s a lot more than that now—is crossing the ballroom with an insane speed, legs working overtime to reach you.

He smiles, face all soft under the party lights. “You’re welcome, I just got you released from duty.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Why would I talk to my dad willingly?” Luke laughs, warm hands coming up to cover yours. You’re holding the camera together now, and he finds the off switch easily because you’ve learned that he has a Sony like yours but prefers the navigable interface of Nikons and the quality of a Canon.

You frown and look at anything else but him. “I’m serious, I wanted to be on duty. There’s more fun in pictures than dancing.”

It’s half truth buried in a full lie. You like taking good pictures, and the lighting here challenges you, and you did want to be on duty, if no one else signing up for photographer meant that. And really, you’re not comfortable with dancing, but the way Luke’s looking at you with full, glassy eyes and a pleading upturn of his brows makes you want to.

Not that you’ll admit that.

“Listen,” he starts, pulling the camera strap up and off your neck, “remember when I cornered you in the hallway? That was like, a so long ago.”

You nod dumbly, confused as to where he’s going.

Luke continues, “Point is, life’s short. I want you to have fun while you can, so if you aren’t gonna do it for yourself then you should do it for me.” He holds out his hand expectantly, beckoning. “Come on, I know you want to.”

You laugh in defeat, handing over your camera bag. “You win, Castellan.”

His smile at that is so bright that it almost hurts. Hell, he’s so pretty under the soft, colorful lights that it shreds something in your chest to a bloody pulp—that might be your heart. Of all the ways you thought your senior year could go, this was definitely not one of them, though the surprise is welcome.

“One more thing,” and he’s looping your index fingers together, and you have to hold back the urge to take his hand fully in yours. Luke leads you to the tables, weaving around deflated balloons and crumpled streamers until he stops at a chair with a jacket slung over the back.

He sets down your camera bag gently on the seat, kneeling to rifle around his suit pockets. When Luke stands, he’s got a bunch of flowers wrapped around his wrist and—oh, he’s attaching a boutonnière to your breast pocket with a pair of safety pins.

You laugh awkwardly, face burgeoning with a warm blush because it’s starting to get really hot in the ballroom.

( Right? Right? )

“Y’know, usually girls wear the corsage,” you tell him, and he shrugs, puts a palm on your shoulder.

“So what? I think it’s pretty,” Luke responds, looking at the flowers on his wrist. “Plus, it just means that everyone’s gonna know I’m here with you.”

( It sounds like he’s asking you out on the lowdown, but alas, you try not to read too far into things even though the thought of you and him is…well. )

“Funny,” you manage through the fluttering of your pulse, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were flirting with me, Castellan.”

He laughs airily, tilts his head in suggestion. He still hasn’t moved his hand away, fingers moving cautiously to graze against your nape.

“Maybe you shouldn’t know better, major.”

( Oh, what the fuck, what the fuck. )

You’re in the dark area of the ballroom, haloed in pink and shadowing Luke from disco lights. Somewhere far off—you hear it muted by the rush in your head—plays slow music for the prom queen and king, except you can’t find it in yourself to care, because it’s just you and Luke here.

On that brilliantly bright field, in his car nerd room, in that lit-up Ferris car, and here too, some nowhere dark corner in a ballroom with a stupid bawdy love song playing in the background and pink-blue-purple lights all around.

“Your laces are loose,” Luke mumbles, averting his eyes. His head is bowed, and if you strain hard enough, you can see his eyelashes. He’s so close. “You’re gonna trip when we go dance—”

You lift his head—oh, he’s closer than you thought and—mumble shut up against his mouth. In the back of your head, you think that this is such an American cliché, first kiss at prom, but it’s in the back of your head for a reason. So.

Luke tilts his head and suddenly you find yourself very, very deep in this whole…you don’t even know what it is. His glasses are slipping down his nose, pressing against your skin and he’s pulling away, ripping them off, and reeling you back in, hungry.

You think that your teeth clack together, feeling that blunt blow and you crane away to let out a laugh—Luke’s already chasing your lips, pecking senselessly until you grab him by the waist and pull him flush against you.

You register faintly that he’s stepping back and hitting the wall, his hands grasping at the front of your dress shirt and yours in his hair and you’re sucking face at prom and it’s all fireworks and polaroids and stadium lights in the space between your lungs because you don’t give a damn.

FROM: becky g

(22:42) what happened to hanging out w my best friend at prom where r u 😭😭 (23:15) silena said u might be at the back tables?? i think i see u w luke (23:15) OH NAH NVM 😨‼️ (23:15) goin home early i’ve seen ENUFF

Some tongue and no more teeth—he’s a fast learner and—soft fingers tracing shapes on your waist and hands tangled in his hair. Half-leisure, no fucks given and maybe-oohs in the background, some money passed between palms.

Everything, nothing, something. Tangible and free-falling at incredible speed and oh, Luke’s hugging you close and hiding his warm face in the juncture of your neck. He smells like curl products and Sprite. You can taste the soda bubbling in your mouth too as you catch your breath.

Luke smiles against your skin, reverent. You throw back a glance, checking your surroundings with a grin that freezes when you make eye contact with Charles, standing bewildered—eyes wide and open mouth wider—in the middle of the tables with his phone in hand.

( Oh—fuck! If there were an emoji depicting your mortified face as you stare at your best friend who just caught you making out with your rival turned friend turned friend whom you kissed passionately with tongue at prom, it would probably be 😃. )

“Uh,” you manage, and Charles starts doing a double take in disbelief, “maybe we should go?”

Luke kisses you full-force. It’s brief and hard and knocks your breath away and when he pulls back, his pupils are blown to black hole proportions.

He grins, “Dancing, yea?” The sugar-kiss-drunk flush of his face keeps your gaze captive as he twines your fingers together and tugs you towards the dance floor.

You turn to look at Charles one more time. He’s going through the five stages of grief with his head in his hands.

At least Silena’s there to comfort him. Except, she’s jumping up and down in celebration.

Well. You don’t look each other in the eye for the rest of the night.

FROM: Castellan (Maybe)

(23:59) text me when u get home (23:59) also u up for 3am taiwan popcorn chicken after gradnite 😛

TO: Castellan (Maybe)

(00:01) ur paying for it right (00:20) im home hbu??

FROM: Castellan (Maybe)

(00:21) yea jst took a shower

TO: Castellan (Maybe)

(00:21) wayyy too much info mate 😨😨

FROM: Castellan (Maybe)

(00:22) we’re splitting the snack bill bc equality (00:22) and i think we’re more than mates now?? ur a good kisser btw 😮‍💨

[2 updates]

Maj. Major changed Castellan (Maybe)’s name to suzuka boy

suzuka boy changed Maj. Major’s name to monza baby

♫ PONCHET・ I Like You The Most

[ IMAGE: Luke’s corsage-adorned hand braced against your sternum, on the side where he’s pinned the boutonnière against your black dress shirt. The flowers match, baby’s breath and pale orange roses, the lights a pink-purple-blue, everything grainy and dim to give the appearance of a nostalgic, Y2K digital camera photo. ]

Liked by perciusjakcsn, lukestellans and 357 others

majmajmaj guess who 🫱🫲

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lukestellans where my hug at 🗣️‼️

↳ luvvbeaus need me to walk u to class 😏😩 ↳ beckydwarf STOP IM TRAUMATIZED 😭😭😭 ↳ perciusjakcsn SUPER SENIOR AHH POST

conmanstole i just dont think hes good for u

↳ travstole how do u know whats good for major ?!?! ↳ conmanstole THATS MY OPINION 🗣️🤬👺‼️😡😾😾🤡🤡🤡

p.s. ★ rip luke 'tryna strike a chord' castellan, u wouldve loved where my hug at. but honestly that book scene was so icky and tho i enjoy luke as a complex character i will NOT defend him like some ppl ive seen. anyways one more chapter left >:)

sharing is caring, so pls rb and also lmk ur thoughts ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ᡣ𐭩

luke tags; @melllinaa @amortencjja @arsonnaire @ma1dita @m00ng4z3r @saltair-and-palemoonlight @witch-lemon @ahh-chickens @spiderbeam @jennapancake @traumatrios @omg--bluexx @dangelnleif @apolloscastellan @hiraethavis @lukecastellandefender @bookshelfminstrel @cherr-y-eji @solangelotus @liviessun @thaliagracesgf @ddarling-ddearest-ddead @l1a-pjosversion

© klineinie 2024 — do not plagiarize, translate, or use ANY works to train ai

congrats on ur followers!!! i love ur content sm and when u post it makes me super happy :)) good luck growing more in the future!!

STOP ILL START CRYING AGAIN <3

please please please please THEYRE SOOOO CLOSE THEYRE SOOOOO CLOSE IM GONNA CRY

⋆· ༘* you belong with me !

pairing ★ jock!luke castellan x drum major!reader

synopsis ★ the one where you come back from winter break and start operation cupid. meanwhile, charles and silena meddle in your affairs on their own mission. (3.9k)

content ★ no pronouns used for reader, lowk photography/carnival date weewoo, bad matchmaking shenanigans, will they wont they, best viewed mobile obv

notes ★ ngl this went in a slightly skewed direction than what i put in the synop, subtext reading may be needed to figure out what charles and silena r doing to meddle.

series masterlist

operation: cupid aka super evil plan >:)

NO ↓ ← yes ← ABSOLUTELY NOT

— blind date

— CARNIVAL @ ANTHOS FEST ^^ ok thats good

— get hmart napa 4 mom NOT A GROCERY LIST!!!

— fake dating? OPINION REJECTED

— SAYING TO GO SMWHERE AND THEN DITCHING THEM TOGETHER ^^ is this a romcom or smth??

You shift your shoulder to let your phone press closer to your ear, cringing at the uncomfortable warmth from the screen.

“So the festival’s a go,” you say, loud enough to be heard over the dishes. “All VAPA will be there early for the parade. Make sure you get to Hesperides Park at noon and meet at the big apple tree.”

“There are, like, fifteen apple trees in the park,” Luke says, voice bouncing around the tinny speakers of your phone. “Besides, the festival’s in February. We have weeks.”

“We’ve started practicing already,” you tell him, adjusting your shoulder again. “There’s a run through on the track next Tuesday, if you need some shots for yearbook.”

Luke hums and you hear him shift around over the phone, the noise captured between satellites. “Okay, I’ll be there. What are you doing right now?”

A plate clinks into the prongs of the drying rack, water running rivulets down your arm. You cringe when the soapy streams reach and soak into the edges of your rolled-up sleeves.

“Finishing the dishes,” you tell him after a moment.

You think Luke bites back a grunt, moving around again. There’s background noise with him, soft and faint. You think you can hear music, too.

“I’m getting napa cabbages for my mom. She’s been practicing kimchi,” he tells you, and then you hear the whine of a grocery fridge. “Do you like Asian soft drinks, by the way? Got a coupon.”

You consider it, turning off the sink and drying your hands. They feel all crunchy now, skin tight over your bones with the winter’s absence of moisture. You really need to remember to put on some lotion.

“Nothing too sweet, maybe fruity. I’ll pay you back if you buy Pocky.” You exit the kitchen, fuzzy slippers padding on the floorboards. You hear a staticky thud, and the whirring from the fridge stops.

Luke sighs, the sound nestled pleasantly in your eardrums. You flop onto your bed, listening to the not-silence. He talks faintly, words far-off and lost in the background, whirs and beeps and plastic crinkling.

He speaks finally, “I didn’t know how much you wanted…so. You owe me ten.”

You scoff, sardonic and not at all serious. “Fuck you, man.”

His world on the other side goes quiet for a heartbeat.

“Well,” he says, breaking the pause, “I’ll see you on Monday with the goods.”

“You sound like a dealer.”

“Yea, a dealer in love.” He sneers out the last word, a smile sewn into his voice.

You groan and hover your thumb over the hang-up button. “Cringe, go back to watching your Grand Prix or whatever.”

“Hey, pre-season testing hasn’t even started.”

“Whatever,” you grumble, sliding a palm down your face. “I’m hanging up.”

Not even five seconds after you press the red button, he calls you again. You swipe to accept begrudgingly, and then Luke’s voice cracks back into existence.

“You forgot to say goodbye. That’s bad manners, you know.”

“Good-fucking-bye, Castellan.”

He laughs, the sound of it swirling in your stomach strangely. “Thank you, major. See you Monday.”

You toss your phone to the foot of your bed when the line cuts and tangle your legs in the blankets, mortified at the heat curling around your neck.

♫ TV Girl ・Taking What’s Not Yours

[ IMAGE: a photo of you in your band uniform, baton in hand and a silver whistle looped around your neck. The jacket is orange with a pale yellow lining, gold buttons glimmering, and you wear a pair of black, straight-legged slacks. Your face is half eclipsed by the shadow of your cap. The photo may have been taken with an old digital camera, giving it a washed-out, nostalgic look. ]

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lukestellans sweepstakes at anthos fest, congrats @.majmajmaj

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majmajmaj dont tag theyre gna find me

↳ travstole fratrnisng w the enemy ICKK 🫵🤮 ↳ anniebethc That’s not the right spelling for ‘fraternizing’. You should enable auto-correct on your device settings.

The weather under the fruit trees is better than out in the street. You’ve shed your itchy uniform jacket, opting to just wear the loose, white under-tee to cope with the temperature. At least the metal of your camera keeps your hands cool, and the dry breeze that filters through the verdant boughs sends soothing, dappled shadows stretching across the grass.

It’s hot, and unbearably so. Marching down Zeus City Boulevard from the high school to city hall was hell; it’s only late winter, almost early spring, and the temperature is already in the high seventies. You can only dread the heat come summertime.

“If you told me it was this tree,” and Luke’s coming around the trunk, camera strap strung over his torso and glasses hanging from his shirt collar, “I could’ve gotten here sooner.”

Castellan pats the bark, disregarding the sign that reads DO NOT TOUCH welded to the small fence that encircles the roots. You try not to look at his arm, lean and veined, the pale stretch of skin under his bicep growing larger as the sleeve of his airy polo rides up.

You clear your throat, fiddling with the settings of your own camera. Around you, children shriek and dash in the alleys between the carnival game stalls.

“This is the apple tree, everyone knows that.”

“I told you,” Castellan says, rolling his eyes, “that there are a ton of them here.”

You snap a quick shot of some teens sharing a big, pink cloud of cotton candy. They’re smiling wide, wrinkles of joy arrowing around their mouths. It would have been a nice picture if not for the overexposure—you kiss your teeth and delete it.

“Sorry, was I supposed to say the biggest apple tree planted by Mayor Hera’s great-grandmother, coincidentally also named Hera, in the park next to city hall?”

He shrugs, making a face of agreement. “It would’ve helped. You also could’ve mentioned that it was the golden apple tree and not one of the red apple trees.”

You snag a fallen fruit off the grass, turning it in your hands. “Does this look lustrously golden to you?”

“Fine, the yellow apple tree.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, slipping it into your camera bag. You can already feel the imminent sweat stain forming under where the thick strap rests on your shoulder, and hope that Castellan won’t take notice

“You aren’t supposed to take the fallen apples, you know.”

You look at him, brows raised innocuously. “Who took what?”

Before he can chide you again, Charles steps up to your side, wearing the same black slacks and white under-tee. Castellan doesn’t seem fazed, unfolding the arms of his thin-framed glasses and pushing them up his nose.

Your bandmate stiffens when Silena skips over, still in pep uniform, her manicured fingers wrapping around Castellan’s shoulder. It’s the first time you've looked at Silena closely, all shiny black hair and round face—she’s more cherubic now that she’s right there in front of you, full-bodied and not as slight as you’d previously thought she was.

She waves at you, cute nails glimmering pale pink in the dappled shade.

“Hi,” she’s smiling, a little giddy, honeyed kick to her voice, “I’m Silena. Luke told me a lot about you.”

( Now you kind of get why Charles and half the guys and girls at school have a crush on her. )

You try to play it cool. “Really? I didn’t know he talked about me.”

She nods, and her dark hair sways mesmerizing with the movement. Castellan looks away, embarrassment creeping up his neck. You elbow Charles in the ribs when he stays silent for too long.

He speaks, although the words are punched-out and tremoring. “I’m Charles Beckendorf.”

Silena smiles politely, lips pink and glossy, eyes a bit too wide. “I know.”

Charles is a big, tall guy. Most people who don’t know better would think he did football and go about their lives not knowing that he used to be four feet zero and played piccolo since sixth grade.

So when the cheerleader of his dreams smiles at him, you can quite literally feel his body temperature rise, the skin of your arm prickling even though he’s standing half a foot away.

“I think,” Castellan pipes up, strained, his eye twitching, “I actually have to go take some pictures for yearbook.”

He’s really fucking bad at this matchmaking shit.

“Yea—” and your voice comes out in a near squeak too “—uh, Charles, you can go with Silena. I need stuff for Heralds too.”

Okay, you’re just as bad as Castellan.

Charles shifts, confused. “You sure? We could just all go together and hang out while you do your thing.”

You and Castellan—and Silena too?—nearly shout in protest. The cheerleader laughs it off and stiffly walks over to Charles, taking his wrist gently and tiptoeing to whisper to him. The rate at which the air around your fellow drum major heats up could be considered exponential.

Charles chuckles awkwardly and steps back, wrapping his hand around Silena’s in return. “Yea, right. We’ll meet back at sunset?”

“Sure,” Castellan says, putting up a hand, arm too stiff to wave. “See you.”

Silena skips away with Charles behind her. You breathe a sigh of relief in unison and drop down onto the grass, legs splaying over the green blades.

Castellan joins you on the ground, pinching his shirt and flapping it in an attempt to cool off.

“That was fucking painful.”

“No shit, major.”

You huff, prickles creeping up your neck. The shade barely does anything against the heat now, a stiff breeze blowing hot air through the fibers of your loose shirt. Castellan looks as worse for wear as you do, nose crinkled and hair gone wild.

A puff of air makes its way out of his lips. “So what now?”

You groan and stagger up, standing on weak legs. “We should follow them just in case.”

Castellan squints up at you, dappled shadows burnishing his face, curls bouncing leisurely in the wind. He groans and holds up his hand, jello-limbed and sloth-like. You take him by the wrist and heave until he’s standing.

“The first thing Charles does when he gets set loose in a carnival,” you tell Castellan—he’s chasing your steps doggedly, blushed from the heat, “is buy cotton candy.”

“So what do you do?” he asks, a hand shielding his eyes from the unforgiving sunlight.

“I’m gonna pay the stall operator to make an extra large one so they can share.”

“No, I mean what do you normally do at a carnival?”

You slow down momentarily, nearly tripping over yourself. “Uh…I kinda skip the festival most years. It’s too hot most of the time.”

“Oh,” he says, a little dumb with the way his mouth hangs open by a smidge. “I normally get tickets for the games first.”

“Cool,” you tell him absently, searching for the volunteer-run food stalls, “we can try that next year.”

He’s weirdly silent, the blunt of the sudden quiet unnerving you.

( You do not realize your mistake until after the festival ends. )

Percy and Annabeth are operating the cotton candy stall, perspiration beading at their hairlines and ridiculous aprons hung over their white tees. It seems that everyone in band decided to forgo the ugly-ass jacket, and for good reason.

You sneak around the back, Castellan not far off, pulling two five dollar bills from your pocket.

Hissing, “Percy, Annabeth.”

The girl turns, braids swinging in the air. They nearly hit Percy across the eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Annabeth asks in a high-pitched whisper. She does a double-take at Castellan. “What are you doing here?”

Percy looks over Annabeth’s shoulder curiously. “Is that money for me?”

“No time to explain—if Silena and Charles order two cotton candies, I need you to lie and just give them a super huge one, okay?”

A grin splits Percy’s face wide, eyes gleaming devilishly. You think that the time the Stolls spend bothering him is starting to influence his behavior.

“Is this what I think it is?” he asks, fixating on the bill, completely ignoring the customers waiting for their sweets. “Charles getting the girl of his dreams?”

You groan and hold out the money vehemently. “Just take the fucking bribe and act normal!”

The speed at which Percy snatches the two fives could be considered non-human. Yea, the Stolls are definitely rubbing off on him, but he splits the bills, gives half to Annabeth; she often says that she doesn’t care about money, but her eyes sparkle nonetheless.

Huh, interesting.

Castellan pulls you away to hide behind a thick tree trunk. You hold your camera up to your eyes, zooming in on the couple as they converse with Annabeth at the register. Her customer-service smile is strained, eyes wide, a little nervous.

You were right—Charles and Silena hand over their money separately.

Percy gives them a huge cloud of wispy pink sugar—it’s nearly thrice the size of his own head and—makes some lame excuse, probably that they ran out of cotton candy sticks because he’s literally hiding the paper cones behind his back.

Silena asks Charles something and he gives her a nod of agreement. She holds the candy between them—they’re walking shoulder to shoulder now, Charles picking off small clumps and Silena almost skipping with how peppy her steps are.

Mission one accomplished.

You tail them for some time, occasionally snapping pictures of kids playing rigged games and couples holding hands. When you hold up your camera, Castellan does too, and you stand back to back sometimes, taking in every angle of the carnival.

“Wait,” Castellan speaks, putting a hand on your shoulder and pointing the other towards your friends, “they’re walking out of the park.”

You frown. “It’s not even sunset yet.”

He hums—right next to your ear. “I think she’s taking him to that boba shop she likes. It’s close by.”

“So that’s good, right?”

“Yea.”

“So mission accomplished, I can go home?”

Castellan chuckles, sliding his hand cautiously from your shoulder to your wrist. His touch is light, barely a feather’s weight.

“Nuh-uh,” he grins, shit-eating. “We’re playing the games.”

You protest but don’t make any move to break away, “They’re rigged, dumbass. It’s a waste of money.”

“We need to pass the time somehow. Remember we’re meeting back at sunset to watch the fireworks?”

“Ah, fuck you.”

He leads you all the way to the ticket booths, fingers sending tingles burning up your arm when he secures a wristband around your wrist. Castellan tugs you along by the wristband thereafter, flitting between rubber duck and ping pong ball and dart games.

He wins some, loses some. You win none and lose a lot. It’s mainly him catching prizes, and you have to cross the street to get a bag at a nearby grocery store to hold all the cheap stuffed animals.

You pass by the boba shop, brightly lit and colorful, and Charles waves at you from inside. Silena makes an enthusiastic heart with her hands and Castellan blushes, looping his fingers under your wristband and darting away.

♫ Sonic Youth ・Sunday

[ IMAGE: Two pairs of beaten sneakers facing each other on a well-tended stretch of grass. Luke’s scuffed Air Forces are easily recognizable with a small Spiderman doodle at the toe. His middle and index fingers extend in a peace sign at the top of the frame, meeting the points of yours at the bottom in a diamond shape. ]

Liked by lukestellans and 255 others

majmajmaj sunday comes n sunday goes

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perciusjakcsn CHAT R U SEEING THIS 🫢

↳ naka.ethan git saw them holdin hands n walking round the fest 🤢 ↳ conmanstole sm1 ask annie if we can disown a drum major or smth

travstole sarge connor says he was joking n to pls unblock him 🙏

FROM: becky d

(18:32) so silenas kinda tired (18:32) gna walk her home

TO: becky d

(18:34) oh? 😏 (18:34) wait no ur gna miss the fireworks (19:00) BECKY ANSWER ME WHAT ABT THE FIREWORKS (19:01) fake friend bc now m stuck w castellan until fireworks 😭

FROM: becky d

(19:45) yk u dont hafta stay right… (19:45) cant even take good pics in the dark w out lookin goofy in flash

Charles had texted you halfway through sunset, the sky beginning to pinken along with broad, orange brushstrokes of sunlight—yet you still hang around between the apple trees and the carnival stalls. It’s well into the night, temperature dropping steeply, and the once stiff breeze has you suppressing a shudder.

Castellan must be feeling the change too, because he stands so impossibly close that each time the space between you two decreases by some increment, sparks begin to unspools from your nerves and smart along your skin.

“Fireworks in a few,” remarks Castellan, pocketing his phone. “D’you know Phaestus does them?”

You pick absently at the skin beside your nail. “Like the woodworking teacher?”

“Yea.”

“Cool.” It’s stilted, stiff and brittle. Now that you know for sure that Charles has left you for the wolves, you don’t see much reason in staying longer. The only problem is getting out without feeling guilty for ditching Castellan—not that you’d feel bad for him. “I dunno if I can stay, though.”

The boy furrows his brow, a little line forming on his forehead. “Why not? It’s barely eight.”

How do you tell Castellan that you want to be far, far away from him? That at the same time, you want to press yourself into and through his skin and twine around his bones?

“Uh…I need to finish my apps.”

“College apps got submitted like, a month ago.”

Fuck, shit, fuck again. You desperately need to take a masterclass in lying your way out of situations. Castellan slides his warm fingers under your flimsy wristband, tugs on it lightly.

It barely makes a mark in your skin despite the fact that he’s been pulling on it for practically half the day. The cheap material scrapes against your wrist when he tugs it again, something skating too quick to place up your spine.

He smiles, small with undisguised encouragement. “Let’s try the Ferris wheel.”

“No way.”

Castellan laughs and wraps his fingers gently around your wrist, thumb pressed to your pulse point. “Look, we haven’t gone on any rides, and honestly, the Ferris wheel’s a lot better than that.”

He tilts his head towards the Kamikaze ride: two hammer-shaped structures swinging around in 360 degree arcs like a pendulum. You can hear someone wailing faintly, cries fading in and out in time with each rotation. You aren’t too sure, but it sounds vaguely like that one sophomore trombone kid…Grover Underwood?

( At least, that’s what you think his name is. It’s hard to keep track of who’s who when the Stolls’ stupid and distracting antics preoccupy a majority of your attention during practice. )

You rub the strap of your camera between your thumb and index finger, weighing your options.

“Fine.”

Castellan cheers, pumping his fist and pulling you towards the empty line. People begin to race to the queue as the time for fireworks begins to near, but you and Castellan beat them all to it.

He slides onto the bench and you take the one opposite of him, placing the bag of cheap stuffed animals next to you. You take one—a squishy black cat—and squeeze it, watching the plush expand between your fingers.

Castellan’s got an angry-looking dog in his lap, playing with its soft polyester ears. You see him backlit by artificial light, all carnival colors and little house windows. From a distance, a rocket gets set off, a faint boom echoing sputters of red.

Without thinking, you raise your camera up and snap a picture of the firework’s colors splattering over his frame. A snap of the shutter and then you find he’s looking right at you, eyes gleaming, face softened by the night.

You’re then distracted by a flurry of pops, a bright, phosphorescent shower sparkling on the horizon. Your head feels hazy, cloudy, too stuffed with sugar like a half-developed photograph of what’s happened today.

A shutter, a snap. Castellan holding his camera up to his eyes. You both lean together, foreheads magnetic, pulling up the pictures you just took. The fireworks continue to sound off, faint and forgotten.

In his photo of you: your shoulders are relaxed, lips in a shallow part. The black cat plush is squished under your forearm, camera half-held by your loose fingers and all-hanging from the strap looped over your neck. Everything’s backlit blue and green and white like an aquarium, sea foam threaded in the phosphorescent fireworks.

In your photo of him: he’s painted a pale red, carnival lights splashing anywhere else they can. You can’t even tell what the color of his shirt really is like this. Castellan’s hair has the image of it being freshly mussed, like he’s been running his hands through it. The angry dog lays lopsided in his grip, expression warped under his fingers.

You’re about to open your dry, dry mouth when the wheel comes to a stop and a worker yanks open the door roughly. You hurry out with Castellan not far behind.

“I gotta go,” you say, jutting your thumb towards the end of the street. You’re really telling the truth this time; it’s nearly nine and you have a stats test on Monday. Or, tomorrow. You can’t really think straight when Castellan’s right next to you.

He touches your shoulder, fingers careful. “Send me that picture, ‘kay? See you tomorrow in math.”

Castellan’s hand peels away when he begins to step backward slowly, waiting for you to say something before he leaves. You wet your lips quickly, molars teething at the inside of your cheek.

“Yea, I’ll see you. Good luck on the test.”

His lips quirk, smile lines arrowing in his skin. He waves, and you wave back. Like two ships passing in the night.

[ IMAGE: a blurry, unprofessional, iPhone camera photo angled towards the sky and extra-zoomed in on two unidentifiable teens sitting on opposite sides of a Ferris wheel car. Their outlines are lit in neon carnival lights and soft fireworks, heads bent together. ]

Liked by anniebethc and 214 others

perciusjakcsn why r the rides diabolical af 😭

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tankadreww waittt whos in the ferris 😮

groovewood FUCK kamikaze all my homies HATE kamikaze i almost saw god three times

↳ anniebethc Can confirm, the Kamikaze was terrible.

majmajmaj werent the fireworks past ur bedtime percival,,,

↳ perciusjakcsn NO AND FYI ITS PERSEUS JUST LIKE HOW UR MAJOR NOT SERGEANT ↳ majmajmaj THEN WHY DONT U CALL ME MAJOR U FUCKING DUMBASS

p.s. ★ nearly finished w this, we have two more chapters left!! might take a small break next week until finals season and journalism summer work is done obliterating me

sharing is caring, so pls rb and also lmk ur thoughts ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ᡣ𐭩

luke tags (closed); @melllinaa @amortencjja @arsonnaire @m00ng4z3r @saltair-and-palemoonlight @witch-lemon @ahh-chickens @spiderbeam @jennapancake @traumatrios @omg--bluexx @dangelnleif @apolloscastellan @hiraethavis @lukecastellandefender @bookshelfminstrel @cherr-y-eji @solangelotus @liviessun @thaliagracesgf @ddarling-ddearest-ddead

© klineinie 2024 — do not plagiarize, translate, or use ANY works to train ai

remus lupin taking the train bc he’s poor and he has depression and his friends are all dead or in jail :(

KILLER

spiderman!luke castellan x reader

part 1 || part 2

★ "i am sick of the chase but i'm hungry for blood, and theres nothing i can do"

ABOUT - luke castellan is new york's very own 'friendly neighbourhood spider-man'- because of course he fuckin' is. to make matters even better, you're the only one at school who knows. lucky you.

WARNINGS - australian slang yet again (sorry guys, i cant help it. its in my blood!), swearing, first person?? idk i thought it'd be cool. sorry if it sucks. lol. mentions of adderall (she has ADHD) and vaping. reader is a rich girl and the leader of the sassy girl apocolypse.

"are you okay, ma'am?"

"dont call me ma'am, luke."

"okay, what the fuck."

that's how i found out the nerd in my AP chemistry class was spider-boy. i mean, obviously i had caught on to his whole 'superhero thing' like, a week after the news articles started flooding in. it was so obvious.

luke is probably one of the only guys in the world dumb enough to put on a latex suit in order to help old ladies cross the street. sure, he's a good samaritan- and sure, he's saving small businesses from being mugged into bankruptcy and shit; but who cares?

every night, i see him swinging from building to building like a fucking weirdo. it gets old after the first 100 foot drop down from the hilton hotels building. like, we get it. you're spider-man. good for you.

sadly, my cynicism was brought to a halt as soon as he saved me from being brutally robbed on my way home. of course i got mugged on the one day i decided not to wear my doc martens. just my luck.

i used to cut through this sketchy alleyway to get to my bus stop because it took way too long walking around the block- that was my first mistake. DO NOT GO INTO SKETCHY ALLEYWAYS IN NEW YORK. NOTHING GOOD HAPPENS IN AN ALLEYWAY.

my second mistake was deciding against popping my second addy during 5th period, because if i had, then maybe i'd be alert enough to clock what was happening before this druggie had his glock pointed at my head. well, at least it wasn't his dick. praise the lord!

the druggie snuck behind me, before literally grabbing me by the neck and pushing me up against the wall of the dingy alleyway. then, he pulled out a WHOLE ASS GUN from his pocket and held it to my head, using the sleeve of his sweater to cover its form.

my breath hitched as the water bottle inside my backpack pressed against my spine. that was my third mistake. frank green water bottles hurt when they're pushing into your bones.

"you're gonna give me all the money you've got on you, kay?" he asked in a low, raspy voice. he definitely smoked 5 packs a day.

nevertheless, i nodded and reached into the side pocket of my backpack. i pulled out my cute little mimco purse and started taking out all the cash in it. it hurt my soul to get rid of it- that money was supposed to go towards my new vape. bummer.

my hands were shaking as they held the messy assortment of bills, waiting for him to take it from me and just leave me alone.

"good. thanks- dont be tellin' anyone about this, or else i'll find you,' he threatened, slowly pulling the gun away from my head.

"i wont, i swear!"

"you're taller than him, ma'am. why dont you just kick him to the curb?"

i furrowed my brows, my eyes scanning the alleyway for the origins of the voice. the origins of luke's voice.

his nasally tone was so distinct, i could recognise it with my head underwater.

"the fuck?" called out the short, ugly smoker with my money. he whipped his head around furiously, suddenly a lot more alarmed than when he was robbing me. suddenly, the nerdy loser in latex swung down and pushed him onto the cold ground.

spider-boy grabbed his wrists and held them behind his back, before webbing them together in some homemade handcuffs.

"are you fuckin' kidding me?" the guy grumbled, his voice muffled by the gravel pushing against his mouth as spider-dork held his head to the ground.

"nope, not kidding you," he sighed, using his webs to secure the man into his position on the ground. he dug into the mans pockets and pulled out my money.

yep, that was luke castellan all right.

spider-nerd leapt off the constrained druggie and walked over to me, handing me back my assortment of bills. "are you okay, ma'am?" he asked, looking downwards a bit to meet my gaze.

thats exactly how luke looks at me. he's gotta be luke- he HAS to be.

i had been watching luke for weeks. i had been analysing his every movement, every strange look and awkward gesture. i was 99.9% sure that spider-man was luke castellan.

but there was only one way to find out.

"dont call me ma'am, luke."

luke choked on air, taking a step forwards as he clumsily held onto the wall in shock. "okay, what the fuck?"

i laughed dryly, my eyes narrowed as i stared at him. the whole ‘spider-man’ thing really did suit him.

"you know?" he stuttered out. i nodded, before pointing over at the guy still squirming under his webs. "maybe you should get rid of him," i said calmly, crossing my arms over my chest after stuffing my money into the pocket of my jeans.

"oh. yeah, right."

before i knew it, luke had quite literally kicked the guy in the head to knock him out.

"are you allowed to do that?" i asked, my eyes wide in shock.

"nah, not really," luke shrugged, before looking down at his watch and pressing a few buttons.

"i thought you were supposed to be a friendly neighbourhood spider-boy," i retorted. luke scoffed, looking back up at me with what i could only assume to be a sly grin from under his mask. "its spider-man,” he corrected.

“and criminals who mess with pretty girls deserve to be curb stomped."

okay. yeah. he had a fair point. i am rather pretty.

then, out of nowhere, luke grabbed me by the waist and aimed his wrist towards the sky. before i knew it, he was swinging us towards the sky like a fucking lunatic.

“luke! what the fuck?!” i screamed, wrapping my arms around his neck and clinging to his body for dear life.

“what’s your addy?” he asked, his toned arm keeping me in place as it pressed against the small of my back.

‘what’s your addy?’ seriously? what a fuckin’ loser. i would’ve made fun of him for using snapchat lingo if it weren’t for how strong his arms were. jesus christ, they were so big and toned… no wonder he skips gym class every lesson; he doesn’t want to show off. what a humble king.

“uhh- greenhead avenue!” i cried out, digging my head into the nook of his neck. gods, he smelt good.

luke nodded, holding me tighter as he swung us through the air. “rodger that.”

“thanks for like… saving me, or whatever,”

i stood inside my bedroom, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as i clung onto the window frame. luke took off his mask as he stood on the balcony, leaning against the railing. he shot me a meek smile, tilting his head to the side as a way to play down his cocky demeanour.

he’s never gonna let me live this down.

“don’t worry about it.”

he paused, letting his smile drop. “just- promise you won’t tell anyone?” luke asked, his voice low as he leaned forward.

of course i wasn’t going to tell anyone- i’m not a total cunt. i have morals… sometimes.

“i promise, luke.”

he smiled, pulling his mask back over his head before taking a step back. “great. see you on monday,” he called out, jumping off the railing and swinging away from my apartment building.

as soon as he left, i face planted against my bed.

luke castellan was spider-man. i fucking knew it.

that was fine. i knew that.

but what really got me was how hot it was when he held me by the waist, how good he smelt, how raspy his voice was- WHAT THE FUCK.

no. what the fuck. are you kidding me. god no. no no no no no no no. i’m going to jump off the balcony. this is it.

of course. just my luck.

that day i confirmed my suspicions of luke being spider-man.

i also realised why i cared about it much.

fuck my life.

strangers

regulus black and remus lupin engage in some polite banter

1976, 2:45 AM

astronomy tower

as the end of the school year started approaching, regulus black began noticing the many changes happening at hogwarts.

for starters, the days lasted much longer than he liked, the sky only starting to darken around 6:30 PM.

the air became very wet as well- not warm, but not cold either. the clouds seemed to trap the warmth of the sun, composing the constantly humid weather that graced the school grounds.

finally, the people that he surrounded himself with began getting restless. constantly giddy and overexcited for summer, every conversation turned into plans to hang out over the school holidays.

“reg! you should come visit me and my family paris!” said rosier, who was sitting comfortably on a dark green couch in the slytherin common room. his limbs were lazily dangling off the side as his head rested on the worn down cushions.

regulus looked up from his textbook, meeting evan’s excited gaze.

“i’ll have to ask my mother,”

“why are you reading a potions textbook? let alone one from last year?” dorcas asked, her dress shoes tapping on the hardwood floor as she enters the room. she wore a dark red blouse with long, flowing sleeves and denim pants that flared out by her ankles.

regulus looked her up and down, one brow raised higher than the other as he leaned back in his chair.

“and why are you dressed like that?” he retorted. dorcas smiled, moving her arms rhythmically as her sleeves flowed around her.

“pandora and i are going to see a band,” dorcas shrugged, sitting down next to evan. he tilted his head backwards to meet dorcas’s eyes.

“why wasn’t i invited?” evan pouted, sitting up defensively. dorcas rolled her eyes, crossing one leg over the other.

“girls only.” she replied bluntly, ruffling evan’s bleach blonde hair.

by 12:00 pm, all of regulus’s friends had gone off to attend to their lousy attempts at rebellion or recreation. barty crouch jr was fooling around with a quirky little hufflepuff, evan rosier was getting stoned with a strange selection of people- all different ages and houses, and dorcas had taken pandora to a bar to watch a fleetwood mac cover band.

regulus would’ve rather taken a stroll over to the whomping willow than join in on any of their little endeavours (especially barty’s, obviously), so he decided to spend the afternoon alone again.

regulus black had began spending his nights in the astronomy tower at the beginning of his third year. he barley had any real friends, nor did he make any effort to gain some. despite his lack of initiative to form relationships, it seemed like one had whimsically fallen into his hands.

little 14-year-old regulus was annoyed at first when his older brother’s friend began coming up to the astronomy tower to chainsmoke and read shitty classic novels. remus lupin had the type of quiet energy that demanded solitude. he didn’t tell regulus to ‘go away’ but he sure heard it.

after 2 more nights of remus disturbing his peace, regulus spoke up.

“are there no other places on campus you can loiter around in?”

those few words turned into a few hundred, which turned into a 2-hour long conversation about the ethics of hogwarts as an institution. the conversation turned into a discussion, which turned into yawning and parting ways for the night, only to continue the very next day at the same time and place.

after a few weeks, remus stopped coming. regulus wondered why, but they had never talked about anything personal with one another. regulus didn’t know if he wanted to talk about personal matters with someone seemingly so close to his brother.

a month later, remus returned. this time, regulus didn’t hesitate to ask why he was back. why he wasn’t running around with those clowns he called friends. and remus answered.

“do you ever feel like there’s a weird distance between you and everyone else? and like, you don’t actually want it to be there, but you keep on like… making that distance?” remus asked, his voice tired, but his words fast.

regulus paused. “yeah.”

regulus was now 15 years old. the people that called him a friend were out partying, sleeping around, enjoying themselves- and here he was. back up in the astronomy tower for the first time in months.

he was sitting in a quiet corner, smoking on a cigarette he had stolen from the pocket of evan’s discarded puffer jacket. he flipped through the pages of his old potions textbook as the sound of footsteps echoed from the staircase.

“why are you reading a potions textbook from third year?” asked a husky voice, seemingly coming from the other side of the room.

regulus looked up, only to find a taller version of the boy he once knew. he walked over slowly, a newly formed limp stunting his pace. he was somehow even skinnier and much more pale despite the warmth of the early summer sun.

“just revising.” regulus replied bluntly. remus sat down next to him, leaning against the wall sloppily.

a few moments of silence passed, before regulus decided to speak up.

“we haven’t talked since april.” he stated. his voice was cold, but somewhat inquisitive. remus nodded, offering an affirmative smile.

“i’ve had less trouble sleeping, i suppose,”

remus pulled out a small metal box from his pant pocket. the act of opening it released a soft stench of tobacco and weed. he took out two cigarettes, before closing the tin and setting it down next to him.

regulus put out his first cigarette, taking the one remus had just offered him. after lighting both with his wand, remus took a inhale.

“your brother is a dickhead.” remus stated, letting the smoke exit his lungs.

“yeah, no shit,”

“i’m serious. he’s a full cunt.”

regulus looked at remus, his eyes curious, but his mouth too stubborn to give into his desire to know more.

remus turned around to face regulus as he noticed the look of intrigue in the younger boy’s eyes.

“did i ever tell you what happened on my birthday?” remus asked. regulus shook his head, letting copious amounts of smoke exit his mouth as he debated his response.

“no, you didn’t.”

remus looked down, smiling softly to himself. it wasn’t a smile full of fondness, but a smile that seemed to lovingly scold his past actions and feelings.

“i’m gay.” he said, slowly bringing his head up to look at regulus again. he rested the left side of his body against the wall as he waited for regulus to say something.

regulus’s voice was monotone, as if he didn’t really care rather than mind. it was apathetic, yet understanding. “okay,” he started.

“what does that have to do with your 16th birthday?”

remus took one last hit of his cigarette before putting it out on the wall.

“your brother kissed me.” he said bluntly. regulus nodded, urging him to continue.

“i had a thing for him, i guess. still do. but after that kiss, it all went back to normal, except it didn’t?”

remus rolled his eyes. “he was still constantly fooling around with random girls, but at the end of the day, he would come back to me.”

regulus was confused to say the least.

“for months we’ve been fucking around, pretending like everything’s normal- but i can’t help but feel so fucking angry at him.” remus said, his voice mellow.

“he’s very easy to be angry at.” regulus let out a dry laugh, putting out his cigarette and stuffing the bud in the corner of the wall.

“sirius- my brother, i mean…” regulus corrected himself. refusing to say sirius or james’ names seemed to be a strange expression of respect to each other- a promise of secrecy.

“my brother has a nasty habit of ignoring people like that. we would play card games with each other after he took beatings from my mother. you know, to get our minds off it.” regulus explained, looking to the side of the room as he spoke.

“but as we grew up, he got much colder. i’ve talked to him maybe three times this year. he acts like he doesn’t know who i am.”

remus listened intently, nodding in understanding.

“it’s funny- at family gatherings we still stick together. joke about our cousins while we hide in his room. but as soon as we come back to school, he sees me as nothing. another black family member to watch out for.”

regulus scoffed quietly, turning back to remus.

“i wish he knew you the way i do” remus said casually, lighting up another cigarette. “this would be much easier for the both of you.”

‘i wish he knew you the way i do’

those words lingered in regulus’ mind for a while. did remus know him? of course he did- but he didn’t see him- not the way sirius once did. he didn’t experience regulus- he didn’t talk to him outside of the astronomy tower.

but nonetheless, they were much closer than either of them had liked.

remus paused.

“you know he still loves you, right?” remus asked, looking into his eyes, only to meet an unnerving stare. unwavering in its coldness; its refusal to blink.

“of course he loves me. he’s my brother. but i don’t like it’s the type of love most people are familiar with,” regulus said.

remus tilted his head to the side. “how so?” he asked.

“you know how you love someone because you have to? like, you have to love your parents, even if they’re terrible.”

remus shook his head. “don’t have ‘em” he laughed pitifully. regulus smiled- a rare occurrence. “okay, okay- like… your caregiver?” he asked.

only then did remus nod in understanding. he thought of the coordinator at his boys home. she was an arse, but he still would visit her in the hospital if she got hit by a bus.

“i don’t love my brother like that. i don’t love him because he’s my brother and i have to. but, i also don’t love him as a person? like how you love the red head and her two little friends.”

remus pursed his lips. “so you just love him? not out of obligation or fondness, just cause?” he asked.

“not ‘just cause’. it’s involuntary, yet careful.”

regulus looked at remus, trying to gouge a sense of understanding from the other boy. a sense of understanding in which he received.

“i know exactly what you mean.”

two weeks passed and hogwarts was now empty. remus was couch surfing around wales with a few drug addicts and university burnouts, sneaking into bars and reading in messy rooms while his friends light up in front of him. he didn’t care though, as long as he wasn’t in the boy’s home.

regulus was wasting away his summer at his family home. his spare time was spent in front of his bedroom mirror, practicing polite smiles and agreeable gestures for the endless amount of dinner parties he was forced to attend.

regulus would hear yelling from down the hall as he stared at the mirror, forcing eye contact with himself.

he imagined himself as the voice from the hall, proud and stubborn. and as he looked in the mirror, he saw it.

he saw her.

when his brother knocked on his door in the middle of the night he was half asleep. he got up slowly and carefully. but when regulus finally mustered up the courage to open the door, there was nobody there.

regulus wondered if remus would understand what it was like to live so carefully. he sure didn’t act like it- running a muck around the school and such. but he would know better than to get up for a ghost, wouldn’t he?

or at least, he hoped he would.

it wasn’t until around october of that year that regulus talked to remus again. when regulus came to the astronomy tower for the first time since that night before summer break, remus had changed.

remus now knew what it was like to be more than ignored by sirius. he had been destroyed by him.

a/n: LOL i got like 4 reposts and a comment on that moonwater post and i felt like i JUST HAD to write u guys sumn. i haven’t proofread it bc i can’t be bothered, but i’m sure it’s somewhat comprehensible lol.

anyways!! i really hope i did the characters justice!! i might do another 2 parts for their talk abt the prank and christmas 1976 and for their first few meetings in regulus’s third year ^_^

also sorry if the timeline is messed up, i’m on the beginning of my third re-read and the last time i finished it was in march lol

have a merry christmas !!!

i hate it when i look at my screen time and it’s 5 hours on tumblr. what is this?? 2012???

♕ jegulus royalty au - 1

previous ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ next

*chanting* BAND AU BAND AU!!

I SCREAMED!!! i haven’t read it yet. but i will come back

⋆· ༘* GOT THE SUN IN MY MF-ING POCKET !

pairing ★ jock!luke castellan x drum major!reader

synopsis ★ the one where you lock in for your fall final project. you and luke spill your guts and then hatch a plan. (3.9k)

content ★ no pronouns used for reader, luke pov!!, bad teenager humor, very vague smau, read psa at the end pls

notes ★ luke literally cannot catch a break here, read his mind and all u hear is incoherent screaming and bawling like olivia in all-american bitch

series masterlist

TRANSCRIPT EXCERPT: DAILY BULLETIN FOR DECEMBER XX, 20XX

PACE: […] And here are the upcoming events. Football - come to the media center to celebrate the end of the season, say goodbye to departing seniors, and welcome new team members. Although we didn’t get far in regionals, Coach Ares would like to give kudos to Luke Castellan for making the most touchdowns this season.

MIYAZAWA: Seniors - the counseling office is holding their last session to revise regular decision college applications in the Career Center. Please RSVP by Wednesday with the QR code provided by your English teacher. [pause] Speaking of school, ASB will also be hosting tri-weekly study halls starting next Monday in preparation for finals. Good luck on your tests!

PACE: And now it’s time for our joke of the day. Hey, Alice, what do you call an edible farmer that takes care of chickens?

MIYAZAWA: I don’t know, Malcolm, what do you call an edible farmer that takes care of chickens?

PACE: [flatly] A chicken tender.

PACE and MIYAZAWA: [exceeding fake laughter]

PACE: That’s all for today, Centaurs. I’m Malcolm.

MIYAZAWA: And I’m Alice!

PACE and MIYAZAWA: Bye!

Dr. Medes is a sweet old man. He’s on the stout side, hair and beard gone completely white, arms freckled with liver spots and eyes starting to get that watery blue line around the irises.

He gives extra credit often, grades forgivingly, loves talking about circles, and throws Dum-Dum lollipops at volunteers even if they get the answer wrong. Stats is a shitty class but Dr. Medes makes it a bit better.

Except, when Luke walks in on an unassuming Monday, there’s a crowd of kids pushing around at the back board. Some look happy when they walk away but most…. Well, they aren’t too pleased.

He jostles his way through his classmates. The fight to see what’s on the board is all sharp elbows and yelps from stubbed toes. Luke’s pretty sure that there’ll be a bruise blooming on his side by the end of it.

It’s a spreadsheet. Big black letters line the top, all bold and all capitalized:

AP STATS FALL FINAL PROJECT PARTNERS

Fuck. Luke’s eyes scroll down the sheet, scanning the bars for his name. He finds it, sweep his eyes to the adjacent box. Double fuck.

Your name in black, 12px, Arial font grins back at him tauntingly.

Luke curses Dr. Medes and the randomizer from Google that he always uses. Triple fuck, because there’s a warmth at his back and you slide into the edge of his periphery.

You notice him, head turning in slow-motion, mouth coming down to solidify into the grimace of the year. He wants to run away but the frown lines arrowing in your skin keep him captive.

“Hi partner.” The boy manages a little wave, a sharp grin. It’s as genuine as he can get without encountering the nervous fear of you punching him.

Tire-flat, “Castellan.”

“So,” he draws out the vowel and juts his thumb at a pair of desks the corner, “let’s talk about it.”

He knows he has a steady voice. He controls his breaths well, speaks carefully, slowly, with purpose. Luke thinks you’re about to fall asleep by the time he’s asking if you have time after school to iron out the details. The question snaps you out of your reverie.

“Er,” you blink a few times, groggy. “I’m free until I have to show up for drills.”

He hums, nods. “So from after sixth period to five, right?”

“Yea.”

( Why did he remember your practice time? Now he feels weird. )

He types a reminder into his phone and shuts it off, sliding the device into his pocket casually.

The words come out without thinking, “How do you feel about my house?”

What the fuck was that. Luke’s panicking; you’re barely cordial with each other—hell, you hate him and he’s pretty sure that he feels the same—and he just invited you to the most intimate place of his life.

“Excuse me?”

Luke tries the best he can to salvage this. “I mean—like, for work. It’s just a block away, and I have the stuff we need to make the presentation.”

Please say no, please say no, please say no.

“Oh, yea, just—” your eyes go out of focus as you think “—well, I guess I could.”

Very strained, molars practically dust, “Great. I’ll text my mom and let her know.”

The voice in his skull is banging at his bones and shrieking FUCKING KILL ME ALREADY. He pulls out his phone again to shoot a frenzied text to his mom as soon as you turn away to work on something else.

TO: mom

(11:26) mom plz i swear ill do all the dishes n put them away scrub the toilet find u hmart coupons n drive u there ANYTHING U ASK just PLZ can u get poster board and markers b4 i come home 🙏🙏

(11:26) for stats its a project. my partners coming over too

FROM: mom

(11:30) Ok. You better keep the HMart promise lol 🤣

“All good?” you question, zipping up your backpack. There’s a gleam of curiosity hiding under the hood of your eyelids; the sight of it makes something cold slither down his spine. Like you want to slice him open and eat his secrets alive.

The bell rings.

“Yea. Just fine.”

( It’s really not. He goes to the restroom straight after, splashes his face, and zones out in front of the mirror as the water dries. )

TO: silena 🎀

(11:32) what would u do if u accidentally invited the person who reciprocates ur hate for them to ur house for a project that u had to sell ur soul to ur mom to get the supplies for

FROM: silena 🎀

(11:40) LMFAOOO R U TWEAKING 😝 (11:41) oh wait is it the drum major… (11:41) ask whether if beckendorfs taken for me pls 😘

TO: silena 🎀

(11:43) WHAT THE HELL BRU 😭😭😭

FROM: silena 🎀

(11:44) what can i say, im an opportunist at heart 🩷

TO: silena 🎀

(11:46) boooooooo 🗣️🗣️

Luke flies by the seat of his pants. It’s a good quality, especially when plans don’t work out on the field. But because his quality of being impetuous benefits him in one way, it must be unbeneficial in an another scenario. There must be balance in life, and now is no exception, to much of his chagrin. Exhibit one: his mom has now whisked you away onto the couch and—good lord, she’s pulling out his baby album from under the coffee table.

He suppresses his shriek of mortification to a pathetic squeak as you turn a page and see a grainy photo of little him—cheeks flushed, hair long, curls loose, a pair of garish upside-down sunglasses with gold frames sliding down his nose.

“He loved swimming when he was little,” is what his mom is telling you. “We used to go to the beach almost twice a month.”

“How cute.”

Your eyes are shining with mirth and something evil. Luke wonders if he could walk right back outside and scream at the sky.

“Mom,” he ekes out, strained. “We need to work on our project.”

May Castellan does a little thing with her eyebrows, mouth pressing into a thin line and eyes scrutinizing.

“Okay,” she says after a moment of thought. Her voice sounds small but Luke knows that his mother is anything but with that devious glimmer in her eyes. “Make sure to leave your door open.”

Luke thinks that you almost choke. He feels a prickling sensation burn all the way up his back, face warming up. “Mom….”

The woman hums absently, looks straight into his eyes with an innocuous lift of her brows.

“What?”

You ease off the couch and excuse yourself to the bathroom, wandering down the hallway. Luke immediately erupts into a furiously hushed whisper.

“Mom, we’re not like that.”

“But I think your partner is a good kid. Very sweet.” His mother put extra stress on ‘partner’, even throwing in a very obvious wink that she tries to play off as an unbalanced blink. Oh, if only Luke could stop getting embarrassed by the people in his life.

“Bro….”

“Who? I am your mother, I gave birth and raised you, bro.”

Luke bows his head like a kicked puppy. “Sorry, mom.”

She bobs her head side to side, skeptical. “Mhm, be a good host and show your guest to the bathroom.”

Luke pads away, floorboards squeaking under his socks. He finds you leaning straight-faced against the door to his bedroom, the Sesame Street-themed sign with his name on it pinned into the wood behind your shoulder.

“Not a word,” he hisses, stepping forward to reach for the knob. Like always, he regretfully acts before he thinks, subsequently caging you between the wall and himself.

You make a face, half-bewildered and all-disgusted. “Yea, like everyone wants to know about your ugly baby photos.”

The parts of Luke’s neck hidden under his hoodie flush. You’re so close that he can feel your words rattling in his nerves, as if you’re speaking right into his skin. He twists the knob quickly and skitters into his room.

You step in without another word, scanning his things. Luke kisses his teeth; he should’ve asked his mom to hide everything in the closet too because there’s a grin creeping into your mouth the longer you look around.

“Didn’t know you were a nerd, Castellan.”

He represses the urge to sweep the toy race cars off the topmost shelf and rip the blueprint posters off the wall. Burn the baby blue duvet on his bed with the Ferrari logo stitched in the corner, he doesn’t care—anything to save himself from the embarrassment.

You pick up a mini Mercedes from the shelf, turn it in your fingers, and set it back down wordlessly. Luke wants to kiss the feet of whoever controls his luck that you don’t insult him further.

“I, uh,” he manages, strained, “I’m gonna get the materials.”

You hum noncommittally and turn to read the white text on his Blueprint of an F1 Car poster. Luke skitters away, grabbing the poster board and marker box at lightning speed.

His mom gives him a weird look—brows raised and mouth pinched—as he sprints back.

Luke decides along the way that you aren’t so bad, because—well, you let him choose the topic of the project to be motorsports.

FROM: silena 🎀

(16:28) did u ask abt beckendorf 🩷

TO: silena 🎀

(16:30) girl bffr how can i do that if i cant be social w haters

FROM: silena 🎀

(16:30) www.wikihow.com/how2talk2urcrush (16:31) hope this helps 😊😘

TO: silena 🎀

(16:31) WHAT THE FUKC

Luke forgot one crucial thing in his panic: you’re in Heralds under his father. He’s lettering the topic of your presentation on the board when he hears the front door snick. His marker nearly slips.

“Uh—” you snap your gaze up as Luke’s mouth begins to open and close like a fish, fumbling for the words “—don’t you have to go to practice?”

You regard him momentarily before squinting at the screen of your school-issued laptop. “In half an hour.”

Luke thinks, just rip off the band aid.

“I’m gonna try to say this really nicely, but my dad just got home and I need you out of my house before it gets awkward.”

You don’t take offence, shutting the computer and squeezing your hunched shoulders back. “Thank fucking god, I’m free.”

“Luke!” His mom’s voice is faint, somewhere far-off in another part of his house. “Does your friend want a snack? Maybe dinner before practice?”

And then, “Luke brought someone over?”

He doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry at the sound of his father’s voice, but he definitely wants to die when his mom mentions you by name.

Luke watches the light leave your eyes when you listen closely to the footsteps padding along the floorboards.

“Sergeant, I didn’t know you were in the same class as Luke.”

You notably do not correct sergeant to major.

“Sir, hi,” you say, visibly cringing at the sight of his father standing awkwardly in the doorframe. “I’m actually just leaving.”

“Nonsense!” His dad smiles at you easily, envy digging between the rungs of Luke’s ribs. “Why don’t you stay for dinner?”

Luke jumps in, “Band practice.” And he really doesn’t mean for it to come out as disrespectful as it did, but when the man he’s wanted the most approval from gives it readily to you, the person who hates him most…well.

“Oh. How was your day, Luke?”

“Fine,” he grits, standing up quickly despite the way it makes his head spin. You get up too, patting at the imaginary dust on your pants.

His dad smiles at you again with his eyes twinkling, and when you walk past the doorway, he pats your shoulder fondly.

“Luke can walk you back.”

The both of you look at the older man, bewildered.

“What the hell?”

“Sir, that’s alright, I really don’t need an escort.”

May Castellan calls from that far-off place in the house. “Luke? Please walk your friend back, it’ll get dark soon.”

Luke uses his sweetest, mommy’s-dearest-boy voice while looking his dad dead in the eye. “Okay. You need anything else?”

“Just come back safe, baby.”

“Okay, love you.”

You look out of place, fingers wrapped around the straps of your backpack, tongue poking at your cheek. Luke cautiously puts his hand between your shoulders and steers you towards the door.

The both of you skitter out before anything else goes downhill, sharing a sigh of relief.

“So,” Luke starts once you’re halfway down the street. The toes of his sneakers catch in the concrete gaps, cushioned by the weeds growing from them. “Is Beckendorf single?”

You whip your head around, a small part to your mouth and eyes narrowing.

“Asking for a friend,” he adds quickly. “My girlfriend, actually. I mean, not my girlfriend, just my best friend who happens to be a girl.”

“He’s single, alright,” you admit after a moment of pause, hands hanging heavy in your pockets. “But he’s got his eyes set on someone already. Who’s your friend?”

Luke’s mouth twists. Should he really tell you? From what he knows, band kids are vicious with gossip. What if Silena’s senior year got ruined because of him?

You speak again, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Are you dating Silena, by the way?”

He’s quick to answer. “No, she’s my best friend.”

“Mhm.” You nod, deep in thought. “So she likes Charles.”

Fucking hell, Luke’s stupid. So, so, so fucking stupid. Now you know Silena’s biggest secret because he’s got a big fucking mouth and acts before his brain can fucking think and—

“You wanna get them together?”

He blinks, nearly tripping over an uplifted slab of sidewalk. “Huh?”

“They probably both think that the other is dating one of us…so.”

Luke never learns from his mistakes. “So, what? We pretend to kiss so they can get over themselves and do the same?”

Loose fucking cannon, you, goes the voice trapped in his skull, can’t ever keep your damn mouth shut when you need it to be.

“I mean,” you mutter, eyes cast onto the ground, sheepish with the way you begin to palm at your neck. He wonders if parts of you also itch and flush when you’re with him. “Never mind, that’s stupid. We’re just setting them up, there’s no need to do all that extra shit.”

Luke laughs, embarrassment creeping in hot. “Yea, sorry. That’s just insane, like—”

“—something out of a movie, I know.” You’re laughing with him too, mouth stretching wide and smile lines digging into your skin. He kind of gets why you’re his dad’s favorite now—you’re both similar in humor and expression.

He quells the thing in his stomach that continues to grow the longer he stares at your smile lines. “Okay, so obviously just pushing them towards each other, and it’ll happen naturally.”

You nod. “And after we’ll just go back to hating each other, yea? There’s no need to pretend.”

“But why do you hate me?” Luke loathes how involuntary his speech has become. People don’t just ask why others hate them. For the nth time that day, he wishes to crawl into a hole and—

“It’s not really you, I just have a vendetta against the football team in general. And I guess I felt pressured to hate you specifically ‘cause that’s what everyone expects, y’know?”

Oh, okay.

He starts—voluntarily, this time, because you deserve to know the same, “I don’t like you because of my dad.”

( Well, it was what he wanted to say, but not exactly how he wanted to say it. )

“You’re like, his perfect successor,” Luke continues, pushes on like he always does with every unfortunate mishap that befalls him. “I thought I could make him happy by doing my own thing. He wanted a track star for his team and I became football captain. And to really rub it in, I used his camera and got into yearbook instead of Heralds. Did you know he has beef with Ares and Clio?”

You shake your head, incredulous. The both of you have stopped moving, feet coming to a standstill on the broken sidewalk.

“That’s a dick move.”

He shrugs, a small smile gracing his face. “I know, it’s kinda too much, even if I was pissed. But looking back, I guess I’m happy with where I’m at.”

“I think that matters a lot more than your dad’s approval,” you tell him sagely.

“Yea,” Luke agrees, the toe of his sneakers leaving an indent in the gravel. “So we’re good, right? Friends?”

Your face pinches, mouth going sour and a little tender. “I wouldn’t go that far. I still hate grossly overrated sports.”

“Yea, and I hate writing in Associated Press.”

Your mouth tilts in an almost-smile, backlit pink by the horizon. It’s far enough into the year that the sun starts setting at five, and it’s chilly too, breaths starts to wisp.

You nod you head awkwardly in the direction of the school—he didn’t even realize that you’ve walked this far already.

“See you around, Castellan.”

[ VIDEO: a clip of someone’s living room decked out in festive lights. A group of rowdy teens are clumped together on the floor, a few older kids on the couches. The film is shaky and so is the audio, but the teens are clearly rapping—badly—along to Hamilton, which is playing on the TV.

The camera briefly zooms in on you and Charles sitting next to each other on the couch, you closing your eyes, knees slung over his thighs while he belts along to the singing portions of the song. The view then flips over to show Travis as the cameraman, tears in his eyes, a sugar-rush flush to his face before the video ends. ]

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travstole gna miss my favorite seniors 😞

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majmajmaj what happens at the semester end party STAYS AT THE SEMESTER END PARTY

perciusjakcsn GTFO THIS IS ACTUALLY WATERGATE FOR BAND 😭👎

conmanstole if i can prove that i never touched my balls 🗣️🗣️‼️‼️

↳ travstole can u promise not to tell another soul whatchu saw 🫵😩😰

“I need your number,” you tell him on the last day of finals, to a backdrop of students rushing out of class. He doesn’t know how you found him right after fifth period, but he doesn’t dare question. “I forgot to get it when we were working on the project.”

Luke only has the pen he used to fill out his physics exam, so he takes your hand gently and scrawls the digits onto your palm. It’s a little hard to read, kind of—very—smudged, but it works.

“See you after break?” he offers, clipping the pen onto the collar of his soft sweatshirt. Luke fidgets the longer you look at him, scratching at the stubble he missed during his morning shave, readjusting his computer glasses.

“Obviously,” you tell him after a lifetime—really just a split second—of deliberation. “Don’t forget.”

“I couldn’t if I wanted to.”

You raise your brows just slightly, a little furrow forming in your skin. There’s a small tilt to your mouth, almost disbelieving, skeptical.

“Congrats on MVP, by the way,” you tell him just as he’s about to awkwardly step away. “That was a better season than I expected.”

“Really?” He grins; his face nearly hurts from the force of it.

“Football’s still ass.” You shrug and step back, thumbs looped in the straps of your backpack. “Don’t go too far. I’m expecting an assignment on volleyball soon.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Luke feels so stupid when you give him a sardonic little grin in return, head beginning to pound at a hundred kilometers an hour.

( And then he remembers that he’s American and doesn’t actually know what the fuck a kilometer is outside of physics. See? He’s decidedly bam-fucking-boozled. )

The bell for the sixth period final rings, and he’s snapped out of it, realizing that he’s standing dumbly in the courtyard. He’s in sports—he doesn’t have a sixth because that’s the period reserved for practice, which he doesn’t have.

When he comes home to kickstart winter break, Luke actually—albeit curtly—greets his dad.

[ IMAGE: a screenshot of a DM. On the left side of the chat, two messages that read:

wild guess but maybe luke likes the band kid that everyone calls sarge or smth i saw them walking together after school and they met up when finals was over

anon pls

The right side of the chat has a message with one shocked emoji and a thumbs up. ]

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centaurs.confess movie plot ahh rumor 💀

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drewtanka ONG?? 😦😦

naka.ethan bruh i’m reporting this for misinformation on behalf of marching band as a whole #CASTELLANSUCKSASS

↳ damienwit #CASTELLANSUCKSASS ↳ travstole thats my cousin ur talking abt do it again #CASTELLANSUCKSASS

FROM: silena 🎀

(18:52) so i find out thru insta huh. ur so fake lucas castellan 🖕

TO: silena 🎀

(18:53) woahh those r some wild accusations silena beauregard (18:53) and thats not even the name on my birth certificate. its just luke.

FROM: silena 🎀

(18:54) how does it feel to be the most hated man at school #CASTELLANSUCKSASS 🎙️

TO: silena 🎀

(19:00) in a student body full of neanderthals thats a fucking badge of honor

FROM: silena 🎀

(19:01) what about the rumors abt ur crush on ur dads fav editor in chief 🎙️

TO: silena 🎀

(19:01) STFUU WHO SAID THAT EW 😨 (19:01) we legit hate each other idk what ur talking about. anything else u heard is misinformation bruh it was just a project

FROM: silena 🎀

(19:02) yall hear smth?? (20:00) SMH LEFT ON READ. BESTIE PRIVILEGES RE FUCKING VOKED.

p.s. ★ on the topic of #CASTELLANSUCKSASS - this is purely a work of fiction, and although this is based on real things that teenagers do, it is never funny to cyberbully people. if u are being cyberbullied, report, block, and tell someone who can help, like a counselor or trusted adult (also dont forget to have screenshots as evidence), and if u are someone who cyberbullies others, gtfo of my blog bc ur not welcome.

sharing is caring, so pls rb and also lmk ur thoughts ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ᡣ𐭩

luke tags (open); @melllinaa @amortencjja @arsonnaire @ma1dita @m00ng4z3r @saltair-and-palemoonlight @witch-lemon @ahh-chickens @spiderbeam @jennapancake @traumatrios @omg--bluexx @dangelnleif @lukecastellandefender @apolloscastellan

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