Why I Keep Twitter

why i keep twitter

Holy hell, am i the only one who is always attracted to side characters and villains? like have you seen Luke Castellan and Clarisse? and on the other hand i love Treech and Lamina. AND IT HURTS SO MUCH WHEN THERES NO FANFICS ABT THE SIDE CHARACTERS I LIKE. LIKE I WOULD GO THROUGH ALL OF THEM IN ONE ALL NIGHTER.

edit - HELP I JUST SEEN YOUNG HAYMITCH AND I WAS TRYNNA LOOK FOR FAN FICS AND THERES LIKE ONLY A FEW GOOD ONES 😭 ( and i’m sick like i’m coughing really bad, so updates will be slow sorry 😢 )

thinking about mags and coral rn 😕

okie okie could I req something for Lamina x mentor reader (Kinda slow burn but your choice)? Where reader is anti-district like Arachne, bad mouths the districts, ends up getting assigned to Lamina (she's like can't believe I'm stuck with the girl who always cries). But after visiting the Zoo and interacting with Lamina over the few days (like interviews and tour of the arena etc) They warm up to each other and R defo get's attached. Interacting with Lamina changing her view of the districts! Also a little bit of R comforting Lamina when she cries (probs during the interview with the mentors)! Thank you sm, and feel free to make any changes! Take your time love <33 - N

power trip - lamina

requested? - yes

a/n - very unedited, there are a lot of typos in here, i may have messed up the timeline slightly because it's been a minute, you've been warned. I loved writing mean capitol reader, and yes, I did include the tribute sandwich cliché, but it makes the story entertaining. Bite me lol. Lastly, I definitely went a little overboard so I had to do some hcs thrown in with the fic so it would get done sometime this century. I hope you're okay with that <3

ship - (probably ooc) Lamina x Capitol! Fem! Reader , Arachne Crane x Capitol! Fem! Reader if you squint

cw - swear words, violence, mean reader at the beginning, classism? arachne's death is mentioned but not explicitly, angst, everyone's bad at feelings

You would argue there was absolutely no honor in dealing with the crying District Seven girl, but you (graciously, you might add), held your tongue. Maybe you were wrong about her, but really, when were you ever wrong?

                                                 ⊹ ⋆🎀 ⋆⊹

As a part of the Captiol Academy, you'd had the "honor" of being selected to mentor a tribute and knew it would be rude to refuse

besides, there wasn't any harm in recognition

you would argue there was absolutely zero honor in dealing with districts

you (graciously you might add), held your tongue though

You shared a look with Arachne, both knowing damn well why you were doing this. You wanted that recognition, and of course, the Plinth Prize couldn't hurt. Surely there wasn't anything wrong with a little friendly competition though. You'd already agreed to buy matching dresses for practically every event ou'd be invited to after this was all over, both coming from affluent and well liked families, even if you didn't win, you'd get respect. However, in all honesty, you knew yourself and you knew her. It was going to be one of you winning this thing.

For the first time in your life, you waited eagerly for Dean Highbottom's announcement. The sooner you could deal with whatever grimy tribute they assigned, the better. You had a social life to attend to, after all.

Sure enough, there she was. Your tribute, the one that was supposed to bring you glory, looking at the camera, crying. You sighed. Great, you got the crybaby. Just your luck. Maybe she would pull herself together when you met. Hopefully. Arachne always said you were too much of an optimist.

you'd found out where your tribute was being held and thought it was worth a shot visiting her

you could use the media attension and you'd have to visit her sometime to make sure she had a shot at winning anyway

so you decided to bite the bullet, put on your red uniform and favorite perfume and go see what that girl's deal was

Realizing all too late as you picked your way to the enclosure, you'd gotten dressed up, even tried to make that horrible uniform look good for nothing. Your tribute sat a ways away from the bars, slumped over, practically blending in with the enclosure. Noticing your presence, you saw her glassy eyes flick up from the ground, scanning your face, jewelry, uniform, and finally, your shoes. Feeling very strange, almost judged, you fixed your shirt, reminding yourself that girl probably wouldn't recognize a designer shoe if you threw it at her.

"District Seven, yes?" You attempted a halfhearted wave.

She nodded. What was her name again? You’d tried to remember it, but couldn’t really bring yourself to care much. It was something odd, Lily? Laminate? Laboratory? Leather? Leslie? Regardless, you were suddenly face-to-face with only bars separating you.

"I'm Lamina" Her voice was slightly thick from crying but low and softer than you'd expected.

"Oh. Lovely" Forcing yourself not to take a step back, you suddenly became very aware of the smell of unwashed bodies and the general odor that came with a monkey enclosure.

I'll be your mentor" Holding a hand out cautiously, you wondered for a second if she didn't understand what you meant to do, if perhaps she might try and bite it. Fortunatlely, she took it and you did your best not to flinch at the sight of her rather grimy nails.

This was so not worth it.

later Arachne, who had been almost impressed by your altruism, regretted asking you how your little trip went

it was like you were in love the way you were that obsessed with your District Seven girl and how much of a "total lost cause" she was.

she quite honestly wished you'd just shut up and ignore the damn tribute. That's what everyone else was doing!

You just weren't that smart! She always knew she was the brains in the friendship

She did enjoy hearing about Coriolanus' mentoring though (especially when it came to him failing at said mentoring)

Arachne almost felt bad for that little District Twelve girl who according to you, was very clearly the man's next fling

In her opinion, Coriolanus had never hesitated to come on to anything with legs. not long ago, you.’d been one of his victims. He'd been so desperately trying to get you as a date to one of his parties only a few months before, and you were so much better than that. He was just tragic

Surprisingly, Arachne had decided to go visit her tribute before you that day, and news of what happened had reached you soon after. You'd tried to tell her the idea wasn't good, but she just hadn't listened. She never did. That was the end of your friendship with Arachne Crane. Maybe one of your closest friends had been killed after doing something very very dumb, but you needed a good public image and you weren't going to let her ruin it.

You had decided to come back to the enclosure, this time with a meal and a half-assed attempt at a mentorship plan, half hoping Lamina wouldn't be there. She was though, looking through the bars, crinkled clothes, dirty nails, a tear-stained face and very clearly scared as always. Maintaining your distance, you pushed a bag of food through the bars with a bored look. Grime did not come out of your gloves easily. You’d learned that the hard way. You weren’t stupid though. She had to eat.

You weren't sure what district people ate, so you'd settled on a bowl of fruit, a bottle of sparkling water, and a sandwich. You couldn't have your tribute fainting in front of the entire Capitol, you'd be a disgrace. You’d never cooked much, but you’d tried. On second thought, maybe Caviar, Pistachio, Cucumber and Pepper Jelly hadn’t been the combination you’d thought it would be though. feeling oddly self conscious at the girl looking at the food suspiciously, you gave her a hard look,

“I didn’t poison it, you know”

Lamina didn't seem convinced, but she took a bite, still eyeing you as if you might pounce.

"It's probably time to start getting ready for the games, but that's where I come in." You figured that was a good place to start. "Basically, I'll be making sure the other tributes don’t try to kill you first.” You paused noticing the horrified look on her face. "Oh, right! And, don’t worry. I’ll also help fix this. I’ll make you- passable in no time. You’ve definitely got potential.” Gesturing towards her clothes, you earned a small scoff. That was the most attitude you’d seen, but maybe you did have a shot at her winning. That was something.

normally, Lamina tried to see the best in people, but she was having a very hard time with you

you were pretty, she wouldn't deny that, but your personality just didn't match. you were just another prissy spoiled capitol brat who only wanted to help her in order to look good

you were confusing though, you had (clearly) cooked food for her and put in effort where few other mentors did, the thing was, she was pretty sure you weren't aware of it

you continued to confuse her as you returned daily, sometimes twice to "coach" her through getting sponsors, creating a solid story for her interview, and survival tactics.

you were confused too

Some people from the Capitol Academy were concerned, they had a right to be, they knew how close you'd been with Arachne, but in all honestly, you didn't want to talk about her. You had other things on your mind.

”I have to wear one of those ugly ass uniforms and deal with that until this shit show is over” you said, pointing an accusatory painted nail at the picture of your tribute you'd set on your desk, so you didn't forget. Obviously

"Still a total baby?" The girl was concerned, clearly. You'd only talked a few times, but she was nice enough and you needed someone, anyone, right now.

you paused “Yeah, she just can't stop crying. It's unnerving"

Shaking her head, the girl brushed a glitter varnish over one of your nails. "You’ll figure something out”

You hoped so.

"Arachne's idea was stupid. I tried to tell her so, but she thought she knew best. She always did. Any ideas I had were irrelevant, even if she mentioned them first, it didn't matter. The second I said something out loud, it was a complete joke. It's no wonder her tribute killed her. I would've done the same if I was in her place."

You were shocked at how bitter you sounded. A wave of guilt washed over you. Bad mouthing your now deceased best friend was so gauche. You ignored the guilt though. It wasn’t like she would’ve had any issue doing the same if she was in your place. You really wished she was there though. Having someone like her to complain to about your assigned charity case with would be nice.

Later that night, even after changing into a silk robe, and removing your makeup, you found yourself still thinking about your tribute. You hoped she was alright wherever she was. Was she thinking about you? That was an odd thought. Since when did you actually care about your tribute? You figured you needed some rest. you always thought odd things before bed.

Through the next few days, you visited Lamina. you weren't sure why

It wouldn’t have been hard to just say fuck it and forget about her, Plinth Prize be damned. Your family could've probably started their own namesake prize if they truly wanted to.

Still, you found yourself walking back to that same monkey enclosure, more food (that you’d bought this time, thankfully) a selection of drinks, a blanket, and a box of small desserts in hand

Walking over to where you waited against the bars, she looked at you warily. "What’s that?"

you pushed the box through the bars as gently as possible.

“Dessert”

She tilted her head to the side, confused “Why?”

“They’re for you. I saw what happened with Trech. If you need to get anyone to like you, there’s enough to go around."

"Alright-"

"What? Bribery is a tactic! They have fighting skills, but you have desserts. That's definitely something!"

Lamina didn't seem convinced, but she did look slightly amused. It was better than nothing.

after the food, it was slightly easier to get through to her with your mentorship plan

for someone with that much experience in faking smiles, you had no idea how you were failing so horribly in teaching her.

even after practicing for at least an hour, the only thing that you succeeded in was producing cringes and wobbly frowns

you watched as her tragic attempt crumbled. tears were running down her face again. you wanted to be irritated, she just couldn’t get it together for a few minutes! you couldn’t manage it though.

something just felt off- similar to how you'd felt after saying those things about Arachne. your face was growing hot, you suddenly wanted very badly to crawl into a cave and stay there until this was all over.

you weren’t sure why, but you felt yourself reaching through the bars and awkwardly patting the girl on the arm

"Is something um- wrong?"

you were quickly finding that you were awful at comforting people

She sniffled, looking at you “Everything's wrong”

Lamina hadn't known this at first, but she was quickly catching on: you were very stupid. She really would have to spell it out

What was wrong? Well, she'd been forced to fight other children for the entertainment of The Capitol, people like you, who couldn't care less if she lived or died, not really. just as long as they got a good show and had the opportunity to feel good about themselves after sending a bandage to a child dying of infection.

Next, even if she did win, she'd still be known as the child who killed everyone and being celebrated for it even if the guilt was eating her alive.

Finally, Lamina knew she wouldn’t make it, she knew she didn’t want to kill, and she knew she wouldn’t see her family ever again, even though she promised they'd see her again and she hated breaking promises.

that was what was wrong, you idiot (she kindly left the last part out)

"Oh- Oh no" You were shaking your head now, blinking furiously.

You lifted your hand slightly, unsure if you were doing the correct thing, but she quickly placed a hand on yours. Looking at you now, she wondered if she'd spent too long crying and the tears had somehow glazed her eyes over but no. She was studying your face, the face of the person who was supposed to be teaching her how to achieve a perfect smile, and you were crying. Crying. She couldn't help but feel a bit of satisfaction.

You noticed her staring and turned away sharply.

“Look what you did! There's water on my face” you huffed, frantically dabbing at your eyes so your mascara wouldn’t run with your free hand. You didn't move away though.

You continued your little lesson after dabbing at your eyes a bit more, and didn't mention what had happened for the rest of the day

the next morning she woke up to your very annoyed voice arguing with a Peacekeeper, getting louder until you yelled a very exasperated "Thank you! Was that so hard?"

"Visiting hours barely started, why are you here so early?"

"Well excuse me if I want to help you out a little, I brought breakfast!"

Lamina still seemed confused

“Why are you being so kind? ”

“I- don’t know! I think I made a mistake" You weren't sure what had been going on, but you felt like being here was the right choice. Rather, you had. Right now you were really wishing she would stop asking questions and just take the pastries and coffee you'd brought

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, okay? You’re making me feel some odd things and I don’t understand any of them, so please don’t ask-“

“Did you really say please?”

“Yes!" You looked at her, smiling slightly now, and wished for a moment that she'd go back to crying. Anything would be better than that strange little (oddly endearing) smile of hers. "Now please shut up! I’ll be back later!"

"You’re not so bad, you know."

Turning to leave, you shook your head. She was just now realizing it? Sad.

"Of course I'm not! I'm perfect?"

She gave you a look

"I know you don't want me to take that back."

"You. Wouldn’t. Dare.”

"Really?”

You gasped, almost laughing now.

"You're mean, Lamina!"

Hearing you say her name like that made her feel very strange

Something wouldn't let you stop thinking about that little interaction, even through the arena tours, even up until the interviews.

It had been the closest thing you'd had to an actual connection with someone since Arachne had gone off and done- that, but still, this felt better somehow. The connection felt better with your tribute. You shuddered, what was happening?

All you knew was you cared about getting her through the games in one piece now, for better or for worse.

At your interview, you'd dressed well, deciding to finally ditch the Capitol Uniform for a large lacy purple dress and exaggerated gold eye makeup, lamina still in her clothes from before

It had gone well enough, however she had broke down crying once more. You couldn't even bring yourself to feel any irritation anymore, only wishing you could wrap her in a tight hug and tell her how sorry you were about everything. you didn't though

Instead, you'd done your best to use her tears to make any spectators feel connected to her, and had done a damn good job if you said so yourself, people loved her and you honestly didn't blame them

towards the end, she slipped her hand in yours. Your first instinct was to pull back, hissing “Don’t touch me!” but something made you stay still, giving her hand a small squeeze

Unfortunately, after the interview, she was still very clearly in distress

“Are you alright?”

She shook her head, shaking.

“Come” You lead her to a corner and sat down on a plush couch, pulling her into a hug. “It’s going to be okay”

“It’s not”

You cringed realizing she had a point

“Please try to be okay. Your family won't want to loose you. Honestly, I don't want to loose you either.” You cringed as she only shook more in your arms, deciding the best course of action was to just keep hugging her until she decided to move. Minutes passed and her breathing became calmer as she got up, cringing at the tear stains she'd left on your dress, looking at you now, almost like she was studying you.

“Thank you.”

”You really don’t need to thank me. I've been horrible to you and I would completely understand if you wanted nothing to do with me after this”

“I want to though. You’re kinder than you think you are.”

"What?"

“When I met you, I thought you were horrible. Pretty, but horrible. You don't notice it, but you’re not. You care about people so much even if you try not to. God, you brought me desserts just so I could build trust between the other tributes, even though I know you thought I wasn’t worth the time. What's most important is that you realized you were in the wrong and you're trying to understand why.

You sat in silence for a while, Lamina knew you were confused, you'd only recently realized the district people were worthy of respect and were taking on a lot of information at once regarding that general subject.

what she hadn't expected was being hugged and hearing the words "I don't want to loose you" or even "Thank you" from the same girl who'd been afraid to touch her a week ago.

You spoke, almost sounding choked up,

"You're going to be okay. When you win, you'll see."

"If" she corrected

"Don't even think about it. You will get through this."

You nearly froze as you felt her head fall back on your shoulder again .You settled into the couch, scared to move in case it disturbed her. She seemed calmer this time though, at least you hoped so.

"I don't really want to loose you either"

*Bonus hcs because I've lost my mind. You're welcome.*

if she wins (she does because I said so) and gets out of the arena, the first thing she notices is someone running towards her at full speed in a floor length blue gown and very jingly jewelry. You’re there practically smashing into a wall, hugging her like you’re afraid of letting go.

The first words out of your mouth were "I told you so" and she had half a mind to throw her first ever punch, but then, your face melted into a huge smile and you were whispering how proud you were. You'd been wrong, everything was not alright, she'd killed more people than she'd ever wanted to and was undoubtedly going to be working through guilt for years after, but everything was better.

next thing she knew, she was asking if she could kiss you, you nodded, and her lips were on yours

you buy her gifts constantly. She doesn’t care about material things as much as you, but knows it’s one of the ways you show love, besides you have a way of finding fun trinkets, accessories, and hair products she ends up loving.

Visiting her district and meeting her family was something you'd been nervous about, but wanted to do. they did threaten you with an axe before they knew who you were, but after your talks with Lamina, you understood why.

getting a splinter your first day in District Seven, convincing yourself you’re dying, and giving a very dramatic speech, practically eulogizing yourself while she just watches before finding some tweezers and pulling it out. You nearly fainted.

You're one of the only people she makes fun of (kindly of course) She can't help it. There's just so much for her to work with.

a place with you; luke castellan

wc: 2.8k (got a little carried away whoops)

pairing: luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: luke is used to people coming in and out of hermes’ cabin without a second thought. so when you’re having a hard time adjusting to camp life, he doesn’t expect you to stick by his side, even after you’re claimed.

warnings/notes: shy reader going through a tough time, hurt/comfort, pining, kisses, fluff, potential ooc luke i don’t know what i’m doing, most of this is prob inaccurate lol, i got wayyy too attatched to this i am sorry, title inspired by dragon eyes by adrianne lenker

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s used to delivering, passing things along, letting them enter his life and leave him. Sometimes it makes him angry. At his father, at the world, at himself.

So when you passed through the Hermes cabin for the inevitable few weeks before getting claimed by your Godly parent, the last thing Luke expected was for you to stay.

When you first got to camp you were terrified. Luke remembers that much. He can still picture you in Chiron’s towering shadow as he led you up to Hermes cabin. He gave you the usual spiel about the cabin, the land of the unclaimed, but it clearly hadn’t quelled your nerves. You were wringing your fingers together when Luke first spotted you, your eyes blown wide in what he knew as shock and a sort of . . . grief. For a life you’d left for what Luke knows as a life you’d never really have. He’d seen it in so many campers before you. He’d see it many times after.

“This is Luke, Hermes’ head counsellor and one of Camp Half-Blood’s finest,” Chiron pointed him out to you at the entrance. After Chiron introduced you, Luke held your name in his memory. Not because there was anything particularly intriguing about you at first, to be honest, because he’d seen a lot of people like you that needed help settling in (although maybe not many his age). It was harder for some people to adjust than most. He knew that better than anyone.

“Nice to meet you,” he stuck out his hand for you to shake after Chiron left. “I’m Luke.”

You sniffed, shaking it without looking at him. You were so, so embarrassed. This whole time you’d been too stupidly overwhelmed to process anything. Why was this so hard for you? Was it this hard for everyone? “Hi,” you managed, and that was it.

Now, weeks after your first meeting, you’ve concluded that it was not, in fact, this hard for everyone. The camp is crowded but full of life. You’ve never seen more happy kids in your life. There’s a sense of community on the wind.

So why can’t you feel it? Why is it so hard to connect with people? To participate in the fun? Everywhere you look there’s people but it’s all just so . . . lonely. You don’t fit. You’re lost.

Luke wakes up at night when the cabin door creaks open. He’s already tossing, so it’s no surprise he catches it. Unfortunately, he’s supposed to be a good counsellor—sneaking out at night is against the rules, and you’ve gotta reign the strays back in before they cause a ruckus. Sure, Luke’s not exactly a stickler for the law, but the least he owes is to make sure everyone’s safe.

Groaning, he draws himself out of the comfort of his bunk but doesn’t get far when he spots a familiar silhouette slipping out the door. He knows it’s you. He’s been hearing crying at night, and this is confirming his suspicions. It makes him ache in a million different places. Every time he thought about approaching you he shut himself down almost instantly, because who the hell wants some random guy coming up to them in the middle of the night and drawing attention?

This time, though, he’s a little worried.

It’s chilly tonight but not too bad, especially when you’re huddled up in a ball on a hill in front of the lake, grass tickling your ankles. Your tears keep you warm.

It’s a sorrow that feels bottomless. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You don’t know why everything’s so hard.

There’s a scuffling of shoes, and your name is carried to you on the heels of a breeze. Oh God. There’s someone else here.

You sniff and smear your tears on the palms of your hands the best you can but a little part of you only wants to cry more now that you’re all anxious, and you only have a few seconds to collect yourself before you turn around and see Luke, your cabin leader, with furrowed brows. “Oh, h-hi, Luke.” It’s hard to ignore the splinter in your voice. You curse yourself a thousand times.

“Hey,” he says hesitantly, eyeing you in a way that makes you feel entirely exposed. “You, uh, you know you’re not technically supposed to be out here, right?”

You start to scramble to your feet with an apology on your tongue but surprisingly he laughs, a gentle sound, and beckons you to sit back down. “No, no, I’m not gonna get you in trouble or anything, just . . . letting you know.”

It’s uncertain if you should keep sitting, but you decide to because well, you’re already down here, and things can’t go lower than this. Luke comes to sit next to you and you stare out into the sea like your life depends on it. “Wanna talk about why you’re out here?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Luke sighs, scooting a little closer to you. “Most people don’t up and leave in the middle of the night because they’re having a great time.”

The answer is too hard to say so you don’t reply.

Again, Luke sighs, and you try not to look at the shadow the moon casts on his admittedly handsome face. “It’s hard settling in, I know. It happens to a lot of people. I’ve . . . I’ve seen a lot of them, and it doesn’t get any easier.”

“Well it sure seems easier,” you snap, and your self-control flies away before you can stop it. “I have no idea why I can’t just suck it up and fit in here. Everyone seems so happy and it’s driving me nuts because I’m just so confused on why I can’t—why I can’t—process any of it.” Tears burn your eyes. “I’m just miserable. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

In the corner of your view, Luke’s face falls. “I’m your guide, you know that, right? I can help you.”

You sniff, embarrassingly pathetic. “I know.”

He comes even closer. “So why didn’t you ask?”

“Because I—I don’t know, you’re busy all the time with all the people in there, so I’m sure your job’s already stressful as is, so—”

“My job is to help you,” he says, a hand on your shoulder. “That’s what I signed up for. If you need something, I’m the one to ask.”

“I’m not sure you signed up for me crying like a baby,” you swallow, the ripples of the lake blurring together. “I mean, I’m like, older than half the kids here, and they’re all so much better than me. I’m not good at a—anything, and I’ve tried it all, and nobody’s claimed me yet, and I feel so weird and old and alone and . . .” It’s too much to think about so you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, hoping the sting wards off the thoughts. “What if I’m nothing? Why am I here?”

You’re crying again, hiccuping into your hands. Shame sears into you. Luke’s arm curls around your shoulders and you realize how cold you are when he’s warm, so warm, and you want to cry even harder. You don’t even know him, but it’s the most tenderness you’ve received in what feels like years. “Hey, deep breaths,” he murmurs, rubbing your arm with his other hand. “It’s okay. Look at me.”

It takes a ridiculous amount of strength to heed him. His hand catches your cheek and you can’t bear to pull away. Something strange rustles in your stomach.

Luke’s taught instinct when faced with situations like these is to reassure that the Gods always have a plan. But he doesn’t feel like much of a liar tonight. Both his hands steady your face towards his, your skin damp and cold beneath his thumb. “It's not your fault. It always takes a little bit of time for people to get claimed, it’s never . . . well, you can never tell.”

“What if I don’t get claimed?” You say it so quiet you can pretend it was imaginary.

His eyes crinkle at the sides when he says, “Well, Hermes’ll always have a place for you.”

I’ll, Luke wants to say, I’ll. His father is not responsible for his cabin’s kindness.

“No one really prepares you for how overwhelming this is,” he continues, thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek. Your vision is clearer now, and Gods, he is handsome, isn’t he? Even when his eyes are forlorn. “It’s harder in a way when you’re older. More to leave behind. Less to look forward to. It’s easier when you have a friend. Or a great cabin head.” He tilts his head with a faint smile, “Lucky for you, I’m both.”

It almost makes you laugh, and that’s enough. “It’ll get easier,” he promises softly. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Your cheeks burn. It’s hard to keep his gaze, so you blot at your eyes with your hands as Luke gently slides his off your face. “Thank you. Sorry for, um, all that. And the crying.”

He chuckles, “Don’t even worry about it.” You watch him rise in the throes of starlight. He offers you a hand. “Aren’t you cold?” He asks after pulling you up, and you sheepishly nod your head. He tosses you a sweater he’s been wearing, and it smells like firewood. Nostalgic, in a way. “I’m gonna poke around for some tea. Wait for me back at the cabin.”

Before he leaves, he squeezes your arm and that thing happens again in your stomach. “No need to be embarrassed, by the way. You can come to me anytime. I’m probably less busy than I look.” As he walked away, he added, “And don’t worry about the crying. You’re pretty either way.”

Either way. The tea doesn’t seem important anymore because your face is on fire.

Time reveals that Luke is right. He is a great cabin leader and a friend, and it’s hard to tell which he’s better at. You fall in with him right away. Soon enough, you’re drawn into your new life, so slowly you barely realize it’s happening. The days get shorter and you start wishing they were longer. The nights get easier. And when they’re not, Luke tucks you into his bunk and folds you in his arms until you drift off. You pick up a bow. A sword. Luke tells you to straighten your shoulders with a hand on the small of your back, and you swear it always lingers. You braid garlands of carnations for your cabin mates and they wear them with pride. It’s warm, your cheeks hurt from smiling, and things start to feel like home.

Until you’re claimed.

Now you’re a ghost in Hermes cabin, another empty bunk to be filled, and Luke stares at it until he can remember every last detail of what it looked like when it was yours. A beautiful, gentle daughter of Demeter, no longer in arms’ reach. He should’ve seen it coming.

He sees you with your siblings all the time. You’re so happy and he envies it. You belong there, he knows that, the way your face lights up at the dinner table and how you giggle when your half-sister presents you a flower. But sometimes your eyes wander, and something inside them dulls, until you look at him, too.

Luke’s place at camp is to be nothing but a funnel for lost campers to find their home. He’s a temporary stop in everybody’s journey. He’d made peace with it a long time ago. But here you are, messing it all up, because you still don’t leave him.

You beg him to give you another sword-fighting lesson. You sit next to him at bonfires. You pick him for partner camp activities. It doesn’t matter how many younger boys want to latch onto him for guidance—he sees you heading towards him, and he can’t imagine choosing anyone else.

But you’re always whisked away by your siblings, separated at meals and in sleep and in activities so it’s never, ever enough. Why did he delude himself into thinking you’d stay forever?

After weeks of distance from you, he’s elated when you have even a fraction of a conversation. “Hey, Luke!” You call out to him, and he finds you instantly. You’ve broken away from your siblings to get to him.

“Hey,” he smiles, and hopes he doesn’t look too pleased.

You lean a little towards his ear, and you smell like every wonderful thing in the world. “Can we hang out tonight? On the hill?” You’re a little bashful when you say it and it’s entirely endearing. Even now, you’re still so unsure. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he says almost instantly, and it makes you look less nervous. “Yes. Absolutely. But don’t get caught breaking curfew now, you hooligan.”

Someone calls your name and you give a curt, playful nod. “Yes sir, camp counsellor sir!” He carries your laugh close to his heart until night falls.

You’re already there when he arrives, a vision in the moonlight before he even sees your face. “Hey, angel.”

When you turn around you look flustered. He won’t pretend like it doesn’t flatter him. “H—hi, uh, hello.”

There’s a moment where the world is still. The two of you, alone, for the first time in ages.

He sits down next to you, and it’s like the first time all over again. You get to talking, about your days, your anecdotes, your cabins. The strangeness of it all. “It’s so weird waking up in the morning and not having you yapping in my ear,” you remark, and he teasingly pushes your shoulder.

“Well, one of us has to be the talker, and it’s clearly not you,” he retorts.

You fiddle with blades of grass between your fingertips, weaving them together. “I’ll have you know I had a cabin-wide conversation about Capture The Flag yesterday, and I contributed greatly.”

“Oh, really?” He grins, knocking your elbow to steal your attention. “Look at you, coming out of your shell. I’m so proud.”

It’s hard to hold his gaze for more than a second. You’re afraid you’ll do something stupid if he keeps looking at you like that, but you almost want to. “Oh, shut up.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder. “No, I’m serious. I’m proud.” His eyes rake over your face. “You’re flourishing. You found your place.”

You can’t stop yourself from saying, “I kind of miss my old one.”

There’s a way he studies your expression that makes you feel utterly helpless. You wish you could dish it back to him, but you know you just look awestruck whenever you stare at him for so long. He’s quieter when he replies, “I miss it, too. A lot. Sometimes, I—” His face scrunches up like he just tasted something sour. “Nevermind.”

Frowning, you prod, “What? What is it?”

He sighs and turns to the horizon. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him struggle. “Sometimes, I wish you hadn’t been claimed. Sorry, that’s . . . that’s awful, I know.”

His surprise is evident when you say, “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t either.”

He turns back to you. “Really?”

“Really,” you nod, staring at the beads on his necklace. “You’re the only reason I’ve adjusted here at all.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

“It’s true. And I miss you.” A few months ago you would’ve kicked yourself for saying this. But Luke has a way of inspiring confidence in people.

“I miss you, too. So much.” He gently prys the grass you’ve been weaving out of your hands, now a small necklace. “But look at how talented you are. I’ll tell you, I’m lucky you’re still sticking around. For most people, Hermes is touch-and-go.”

Luke leans forward to tie the garland around your neck, and your pulse picks up. “This isn’t about Hermes, Luke,” you try to be firm but it comes out soft. “It’s about you.”

His hands stop fiddling and rest on your neck. When he speaks, you can feel his breath on you. And you have no idea that he’s been waiting to hear that his whole life. “What’s about me?”

It’s not fair, your inability to string sentences together only worsens right when a beautiful boy is this close to you. “Hermes isn’t—it’s not special because of your father, it’s special because of you.”

There is nothing else you can possibly think of saying with the way his fingers trace up your neck and hold your jaw. “Yeah, well,” he murmurs, “The only reason anything in my life is special is because of you.”

You don’t know if it’s a lie or not; you don’t care. His nose nudges yours. There’s a moment where you wonder if this is as close to Elysium you’ll ever get. Then he slips a hand to the back of your neck and pulls you to his mouth.

He kisses you in a near fury, then when he knows you’re not going anywhere, it’s the gentlest thing you know. It’s hard to believe this is even happening. Your hands weave through his curls but he holds you steady, and thank the Gods for that because you’re pretty sure you’re melting. You kiss again, and again, and again, until you genuinely think you’re going to pass out and you have to pull away.

“Aw, look at you,” he murmurs when you can’t meet his eyes, a playful lilt in his voice. “Still so nervous.”

“Would you shut up?” You press your face into the crook of his neck with a huge smile.

He kisses the top of your head. “Love to, angel.”

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s supposed to believe he’s bringing the best of humanity to the Gods and glory above.

But screw the Gods. He’s keeping this one for himself.

What do you mean Finnick is dead?

The Finnick that makes Annie and his son cute little bento boxes everyday?

The Finnick that takes his family on excursions to Districts 7 and 12 to meet Uncle Peeta, Uncle Haymitch, Auntie Johanna and Auntie Katniss every year?

The Finnick who likes to throw Johanna and Katniss into the ocean whenever they manage to make their way over to District 4?

Nah. Finnick isn't dead.