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[lilmaymayy]

ya girls sick so any sick fic recs would be amaze😍😍😍

[lilmaymayy]

my baby kneww my cai wasnt cutting it anymore😫

[lilmaymayy]

holy holy holy he just looks SO FUCKING GOOD

these are my most favorite images on this earth and I think everyone should know that because look at him

[lilmaymayy]

WOOOO GET READY YALL BCQUEEN IS BACK WITH ANOTHER UPDATEEE😫😫😫😫

SERENDIPITY

a/n: so sorry for the wait, but anyway, here it is! we are now at the official start of luke and maya's relationship! 💘 to everyone that helped me with this chapter, thank you! wouldn't have done this without you guys!

If you guys wanna be added to the SERENDIPITY taglist, just ask!

luke and maya masterlist

Anyway, onto the story!

word count: 8,719  

CHAPTER TWO: NEWBIE

June 15th, 2016

In the depths of the night, Luke Castellan lay beside his little sister, staring outside into the darkened velvet sky. Hours had passed since he and Annabeth stepped inside the camp’s borders, but the memory of what had just happened was still fresh, flashing in his mind again and again, haunting him. 

June 14th

“Luke, I’m tired,” Annabeth whined, tugging on the hem of his shirt. They had been walking for hours, unable to find a place to stay for the night without monsters finding them.

Luke sighed. Despite being tired as well, he knew stopping wouldn’t do them any good. “We’ll stop soon, I promise,” he managed to say, giving the girl a small smile. “Just hold on, okay?”

“But I’m so tired,” Annabeth whined once more. “My feet hurt from all the walking!”

Thalia stopped in her tracks, hearing the younger girl. “I’m sorry, Annie, but we have to get going or those bad monsters will catch up on us.”

Annabeth looked up at the older girl, electric blue, meeting hers. “But, I’m so tired….”

“I know we all are, kid. But stopping won’t do us any good, the monsters we faced just hours ago? They’ll find us, and we’ll be too weak to fight. Grover said we’re almost there, so we need to get going,” Thalia explained, hoping to convince the little girl to tread just a little further.

“Thalia’s right, Annabeth,” Luke said, backing up the raven-haired girl. “Come on, you can ride on my shoulders for a few hours.”

Annabeth stared at the ground, and eventually, after a few seconds, she nodded. “Okay.”

Thalia patted her on the shoulder before ruffling in the back pack she had in her arms. “Here you go,” she said, passing Annabeth their last granola bar. “Eat up; you’ll need it, kid.”

Luke smiled at the sight of Annabeth taking the granola bar from Thalia, relieved that she wouldn’t be whining again anytime soon and they could resume their journey. “Come on, let’s get going.” Luke chuckled. Despite being so drained and worn out, he picked up Annabeth and placed her up on his shoulders.

If Luke had anything he was thankful for, it was the fact that he found family regardless of the circumstances.

“No, no, no!” Annabeth screamed, snapping Luke out of his trance. “Monsters!”

Luke whips his head around almost immediately, reaching for the little girl and wrapping his arm around her, pulling the screaming child close to his chest. “Shh, Annie, it’s okay,” Luke whispered, hoping to soothe the younger girl. “I’m,” he said, taking a deep breath. “...here.”

Annabeth buried her face in her older brother’s chest, sobbing. “Thalia…” she murmured, tears absorbing into Luke’s tattered shirt.

“It’s okay, shh,” Luke whispered, rubbing circles on her back in an attempt to calm her down. “There aren’t any monsters anymore; we’re safe, you’re safe….”

Luke choked back his tears as he comforted his sister back to sleep. He was hurting too; he had lost Thalia too.

“Don’t, don’t be stupid, Thalia!”

“No time! Run!” Thalia screamed, hoping to buy Luke and Annabeth some time to get to camp unharmed. “Don’t stop until you’re inside the border!” 

“But-”

“Luke, think of Annabeth! Go!”

Luke placed Annabeth on his hip, turning to run despite wanting to stay with Thalia and help fight off the monsters attacking them.

“Run!” Thalia screamed once more, her voice cracking. “Run!”

The monsters roared, ringing in Luke’s ears, not daring to look back as he knew what was going to happen.

Annabeth cried, clinging to Luke tighter. “No more, no more!”

“I-It’s okay..it’s okay, don’t worry, we’ll be safe soon,” Luke whispered, fighting back his tears as they approached the borders with Grover running closely behind.

As soon as Luke crossed the barrier, he finally looked back. He saw Thalia fighting off as much as she could when one of the cyclopes grabbed her, throwing her hard against the ground with a loud thud.  

Thalia lay on the ground, gasping for air, slowly dying. Before Luke could react, there was a loud boom of thunder, scattering the monsters away from Thalia’s body.

And right before Luke’s eyes, Thalia’s body turned into a large pine tree. 

“We’ll be alright,” Luke whispered to Annabeth’s now-sleeping form. “I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you ever again.”

June 16th, 2016

Maya Williams has lived a relatively normal life as a demigod.

Maya was eight when she arrived at Camp Half Blood. She had run away when she was six years old, a scared little girl who didn’t have a clue why her mother abandoned her as a baby or why her father hated her so badly. Maya had been on her own for almost two years, fighting her hardest to survive in a world not fit for a child, let alone a child of the goddess of love and beauty.

Unlike other demigods, Maya was technically safe from monsters. Her scent was significantly sweeter than that of the average child of the gods, making her—or any other child of Aphrodite, really—safe from monsters. Still, Maya wasn’t safe from the monsters of the mortal world.

Children of Aphrodite radiate beauty, some more than others. Some would think it’s a blessing, but for the children of the goddess of beauty—at least for Maya—it’s a curse more than it is a blessing. While on the run, Maya had not-so-good encounters with older men—or, as she called them, monsters.

Maya tried to avoid men as much as she could, mostly hiding behind large garbage cans or running as fast as her little legs could carry her. One time, she resorted to biting and kicking, which ended up leaving her with a large scar down her arm because the man used a pocket knife on her arm an effort to pry her teeth off of his arm.

And then Ferdinand came into the picture. 

At first, Maya was skeptical. Ferdinand had the legs and horns of a goat, and that isn’t something she’s seen in her life before. And then he told her there was a safe haven for children like her. A place where she’d never get hurt again. She’d have someone—her half siblings—to guide her in the world she had no clue how to live in. 

It was a splash of color in Maya’s young life, solace in a world full of terrors. She finally had a place where she belonged.

Now, Maya is four months away from being fourteen years old. The eldest out of fifteen kids residing in cabin ten, which she was made head of when the former head went off to college when she was twelve years old.

Throughout the years, Maya has learned to be the perfect child of Aphrodite. The scared little girl who arrived at camp six years ago was long gone and replaced by a beautiful, smart, strong, and independent young woman who is the epitome of perfection by camp half blood’s standards.

At nine years old, Maya understood that beauty is a weapon—for children of Aphrodite, at least. Children of the goddess of love are most known in camp for breaking hearts, as a rite of passage for a child of the goddess to prove themselves to their mother, like how her sisters and brothers had done before Maya had even arrived in the camp built for the children of the gods.

“Yeah, sorry, this isn’t working out,” Maya sighed dramatically, her French-tipped manicured hand against another one of her conquests’ cheeks.

The son of Apollo smiled, the look in his eyes saying otherwise. He’d been in a relationship with Maya for less than a week, and she’s already breaking up with him. He should’ve expected it. After all, Maya had a reputation for the last two years—breaking hearts like it’s nobody’s business. It didn’t help that she had charm speak, easily luring boys into her game.

“Can…can we still be friends, Maya?” He looked up, meeting her kaleidoscope eyes. 

“Hun, I think it’s better if we don’t.” Maya looked at him with a faux apologetic look in her eyes. “It’s for the better.”

The boy sighed, giving Maya one last smile before turning away—another heart broken by the vixen of cabin ten. 

“Maya, that’s the sixth one this month.” Nine-year-old Silena sighed, watching another Apollo kid walk away, devastated after trying his luck with her sister and failing. “Poor guy.”

“Not my fault he wanted me,” Maya rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest as she started to walk in the direction of the Big House. “I really don’t know why it’s such a big deal.”

“He’s what? Guy number fifty? Sixty? I lost count,” Silena muttered, counting on her fingers.

There were the sons of Ares—who claimed that Maya should be theirs as her mother was their father’s partner—who would woo her with their fighting skills. There were a few sons of Demeter who’d give her an assortment of flowers—from roses to sunflowers, to tulips. A lot of sons of Apollo—just like the one Maya recently dumped—tried wooing her with haikus, poems, and musical numbers—a trick their father Apollo did to win over people he liked, which never worked on her because, in her opinion, they were annoying. A few of Hephaestus’ sons would give her contraptions, like that magical hair dryer that could dry her hair in five seconds or that vanity table she had in the Aphrodite cabin, which had a lot of drawers and lights easily changed by a click of a button. And finally, some of Athena’s sons—which was funny considering they were supposed to be the logical ones yet they fell for Maya’s charm. It was terrifying how her sister could smile and boys would just fall at her feet, like idiots, despite knowing what their fate would be. 

“Sixty-five, Silena, keep up.” Maya chuckled, turning to face her sister and reaching to flick her long hair back.

“You’re hopeless,” Silena said, shaking her head. “You’ve proved yourself to Mom two years ago, and you’re still at the game.” 

“You have to understand that it isn’t my fault, little sister,” Maya said, eyeing a son of Ares who was sparring with his siblings. “It’s mom’s blessing’s fault.” 

Silena rolled her eyes at her older sister. “You keep on blaming Mom’s blessing.”

“You’re too young to understand, darlin’,” Maya cooed, patting Silena on the cheek. “I’m going to go and ask Chiron about that fashion show,” she said, turning her heel and colliding with someone else—a boy. 

“What the-!” Maya almost shrieked, trying to regain her balance. Maya looked up, emerald green meeting chocolate brown.

“Sorry.” The boy apologized, his hand on Maya’s arm.

“Let go of me!” Maya snarled, yanking her arm away. “Next time, watch where you’re going, dummy!” 

The boy scowled. “No need to be rude, princess.”

Maya scowled, looking him up and down. He had dark, curly hair and a mischievous look in his chocolate brown eyes that held pain and misery at the same time, paired with a cocky smile. Maya had to admit that the boy in front of her was handsome.

“Are you done staring?” The boy teased, a smirk etched on his lips. “I’m Luke, by the way; we’re new.” 

“Do I look like I care?” Maya snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“I’m Silena!” Silena piped up from behind Maya, a wide smile on her pink lips. The boy—Luke—smiled at Silena, and Maya was sure she’d be hearing about him for the rest of the day. She didn’t need her sister babbling about this person.

“Luke?” A little voice asked. Maya’s eyes darted down to a little girl with striking gray eyes—a clear sign that she was an Athena kid (Maya dated a few Athena kids, so she’d know). She couldn’t be older than seven—a little younger than Maya when she first arrived.

Luke smiled at the little girl, patting her on the shoulder. “Go on, Annie, introduce yourself to our new friends.”

“I’m Annabeth, daughter of Athena,” she mumbled, shuffling her feet, not daring to make eye contact with the older girls in front of her.

Maya had a soft spot for little kids, especially those who were the same age as her when she arrived at camp. She had a feeling that little Annabeth had the same childhood as her; the same pain she had was evident in her eyes. 

Maya kneeled down to Annabeth’s height. “Hi Annabeth, I’m Maya. It’s an honor meeting you, little one,” she smiled, her whole attitude just minutes ago fading—much to Luke’s surprise.

“Hi,” Annabeth said, giving Maya a tight smile.

“Wow, one minute she was rude, and the next she’s a saint,” Luke muttered, earning a glare from Maya. Gods, he’s annoying.

Maya stood up, the smile still on her lips—although this time, it’s fake. A talent she’s mastered for the past five years. “Welcome to camp! Like I said, I’m Maya, and I’m one of the camp counselors-” 

“You’re a counselor?” Luke asked, cutting her off, his lips curled into a teasing smirk. “You’re the same age as me, aren’t you, princess?”

Maya glared at him, like it was the most natural thing that she was born to do. Who does he think he is? To talk to me like that. “As I was saying, I’m one of the camp counselors, being the head of cabin ten—the Aphrodite cabin. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to come to me.” 

Luke flashed her a boyish grin. “Oh, I won’t.”

This guy was really pushing Maya’s buttons. Normally, someone would never speak to her unless they were from cabin ten, or she’d be the first one to initiate—which was flirting, most of the time. “All right,” Maya said through gritted teeth before turning to her sister. “I’m going to go find Chiron. My sister here would be glad to tour you guys around camp. How does that sound?”

Annabeth’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, can we, Luke? Can we?” She pleaded, tugging on Luke’s shirt, her big gray eyes pleading with him. 

Luke chuckled, patting Annabeth on the head lightly. “Alright, alright, we’ll take that tour.”

“That settles it!” Maya clapped her hands, pushing Silena forward slightly, eager to get away as soon as possible. “I’ll leave you to it, sis.”

Silena rolled her eyes at her sister. At nine years old, she already has an attitude—much like Maya’s, although tamer than hers. “Alright. But you better get Chiron on the idea, Maya! Everyone’s counting on you!”

Maya grinned, tucking a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear. “I know, I know, I’m on it.”

“On what?” Luke asked, genuinely curious about what the Aphrodite kids were planning.

“None of your business, newbie,” Maya said, a little harsher than she intended in the presence of a kid. Maya sighed. He’s getting on my nerves. “It’s for our cabin, a little event for us.”

“Can we join?” Little Annabeth asked, big gray eyes looking up at Maya. Gods. Who was Maya to deny a little girl who’s reminding her of her when she was a little girl—alone and scared, just wanting to be loved and to belong.

“Tell you what, kid,” Maya chuckled. “I’ll try to get the idea approved. And when Chiron does, you’ll be the first one to know. How does that sound?”

Annabeth smiled up at Maya. “Thank you,”

Maya clapped her hands. “Alright, I’ll leave you guys with the tour.” She cast a look at Luke, rolling her eyes at him, before turning to leave—finally, getting away from him.

“What’s got her panties in a twist?” Luke asked as Maya’s flaming locks faded into view.

Silena groaned, shaking her head at the thought of explaining her sister. “She’s, well, you know…”

Luke looked at her, his brow raised. “What?”

“She’s a good person, alright?” Silena sighed, starting to walk opposite of the direction her sister went.

“Doesn’t seem like it. She’s snappy,” Luke muttered, the scene of her snapping at him replaying in his head. “Is she always like that?”

“Actually, she’s the opposite,” Silena muttered. “She’s the best sister anyone could ever ask for. She always makes sure we have everything we need. But yeah, Maya has an attitude sometimes. Anyways, this is the dining area.” Silena pointed to a pavilion framed by large Greek columns overlooking the sea.

Luke scanned the pavilion in awe. He’d never seen a place so sophisticated, just as a place to eat. Luke’s eyes darted to Annabeth, whose eyes were as big as saucers as she looked around. Silena led the two inside, pausing abruptly in the middle.

“There are twelve tables corresponding to each cabin, meaning each cabin is supposed to sit at their designated tables. Athena kids with Athena kids,” Silena looked at Annabeth apologetically, who was gripping Luke’s arm, not wanting to be separated.

Luke kneeled down to Annabeth’s level, his hands holding hers. “Don’t worry, you’ll be alright with your brothers and sisters there. They’ll take care of you. And besides, I think they love architecture, like you! It won’t be so bad, I promise.”

“But you’re my brother,” Annabeth murmured. Luke sighed, his heart aching for his adoptive little sister. They were family, but Annabeth had siblings of her own that she had to at least try to get along with.

“I know, but you can have lots of brothers and sisters too, you know? Just like me and Thalia,” Luke explained gently. “And it’s not like I’m going to forget you while you’re with them. You’re my little sister; I’ll always be by your side, no matter what.”

Annabeth’s lower lip trembled, still wary of being with others and the possibility of Luke leaving her. “You promise?”

Luke chuckled, ruffling her hair. “I promise. It’s me and you against the world.”

Annabeth seemed to relax a bit, her eyes darting to the sixth table with twelve other kids already sitting at it.

Silena smiled at Annabeth. “You want me to lead you to your table?”

Annabeth shook her head, making Luke laugh at her stubbornness. “I got it, thank you.”

Luke watched as Annabeth trudged forward to the Athena table, where her siblings were waiting for her with big smiles. Annabeth so far was the youngest; judging from the smiles the older Athena kids gave her, Luke knew she was in good hands.

“Don’t worry ‘bout her; she’s going to be okay. You see that girl with blonde hair?” Silena pointed to the girl at the Athena table, welcoming Annabeth. “She’s the head of the Athena cabin; she’s going to take care of little Annabeth.”

Luke smiled, his eyes still glued to Annabeth, who was already smiling and talking to her older siblings. “She’s gonna be alright; I know she will—she’s a fighter, you know?”

“I bet she is.” Silena chuckled. “So, who’s your parent?”

Luke turned to face her, his face turning sour for a split seconf at the question. “Hermes.”

“There,” Silena pointed to a table with kids with the same mischievous look as him. “Just ‘cross ours,” Luke said, turning to table ten, across cabin eleven’s. There were very beautiful girls and very good-looking, handsome boys laughing together.

“Wow,” Luke muttered, his eyes still on the Aphrodite table.

Silena waved at her siblings. “Hey guys!” 

The group of good-looking kids waved back, one of them beckoning Silena to come over. 

“Did Maya get it approved?” One of the girls asked as Silena walked forward, Luke following behind.

“Not yet,” Silena answered, sitting beside a blonde boy around her age. “She’s getting it approved right now, I think. She just went to the Big House.”

“I hope it gets approved; I’ve been dying to show off my new Chanel dress!” A brunette girl squealed. 

Silena laughed, absentmindedly forgetting Luke was standing behind her. “Oh, I almost forgot! Guys, this is Luke.”

Silena’s siblings turned to face Luke, and suddenly he felt his cheeks grow hot. Who wouldn’t when attractive girls were staring at you? Luke awkwardly waved at them. “Hi,”

The girls smiled at him, batting their eyelashes at him. “Hi, Luke!” They squealed, earning the looks of everyone else in the pavilion.

“Easy, guys, he’s new.” Silena laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t overwhelm him.”

“I’m okay,” Luke smiled, causing the girls—minus Silena—to squeal. Luke was sure he had popped an eardrum at how loud a girl’s squeal could be. He was glad Thalia and Annabeth never did, or he would've gone deaf earlier in his life.

Luke turned to face the eleventh table, where he was supposed to be. Cabin eleven, the cabin of his father. Luke took a deep breath before making his way to the table.

“Hi, I’m Luke.” The son of Hermes introduced himself to the oldest kid at the table, who looked around seventeen or eighteen. “Your brother, apparently.”

The older boy smiled, rising to his feet. “Welcome, newbie,” he greeted Luke, reaching out a hand for a handshake, which Luke took. “I’m Matt, head of eleven. Come on in, take a seat.”

Luke gave the older boy a nod, taking a seat beside a dark-haired boy around Silena’s age at the other end of the table.

“Hi, I’m Chris, Chris Rodriguez!” The younger boy introduced himself. “I just got here too!”

Matt chuckled, reaching for the goblet in front of him. “Chris, he got here two weeks ago.”

“I’m nine!” Chris raised up nine fingers, wiggling them in the air, making Luke laugh slightly. Chris was very different from Annabeth; he seemed like a normal kid, unlike Annabeth, who had been forced to grow up so early in her life, fighting for her life at only seven years old.

Judging from how cheery Chris was, Luke thinks he had a good childhood, perhaps a stable mother.

“Have you gotten a tour yet?” Matt asks, taking a sip from the goblet with orange fizzy liquid.

Luke shook his head. “Silena’s only brought me here, so far.”

“I’ll continue that tour for you,” Matt offered. “That is, if you’d like?”

Luke shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve got nothing to do anyway.”

“Oh, there’s a lot to do around here,” Matt smiles, his eyes shining with a familiar mischief. “But of course, we have to get you settled at eleven. It’s a little bit crowded, but it’s home.”

Luke raised a brow. “Crowded?”

Matt gave him an apologetic smile. “Undetermined kids stay at our cabin. That’s why it's often crowded. But don’t worry, I think we have a sleeping bag to spare.”

Before Luke could utter a reply, a loud squeal—which Luke was starting to hate—echoed throughout the pavilion. 

Luke whips his head around, only to see the girl who he was sure had called him stupid just earlier.

The girl—Luke thinks her name was Maya—ran forward to table ten, her hair dancing like fire in the wind. She had a huge grin plastered on her pretty face, her green eyes sparkling with excitement, making them shine like emeralds in the sun.

As soon as the girl was in earshot of her siblings, she started squealing again.

“Typical,” Matt says, rolling his eyes at the table next to them.

Luke keeps his attention on the fiery girl, absentmindedly smiling in her direction.

“Chiron approved the fashion show!” Maya happily announced, smiling from ear to ear. “He says we can start planning!”

Cheers erupted from the table, earning groans from some of the other campers. “I knew you could do it!” Silena beamed, mirroring her sister’s excitement. 

Maya sat down beside Silena, pushing strands of her out of her face. “I always get what I want,” she chuckled, reaching for a strawberry from the plate in front of her and popping it in her mouth.

“Don’t get fooled by that pretty face,” Matt warned. 

Luke turned his attention back to Matt, brow raised. “Why’s that?”

“That girl is heartless,” Matt simply answered.

Luke furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean? She looks sweet.”

“Sweet?” Matt snorts, rolling his eyes at table ten. “That girl is the devil.”

“Care to explain?” Luke asks, his gaze momentarily moving to the said devil.

“Aphrodite is known for breaking hearts,” Matt explained, glancing at the children of the goddess. “And it’s said that to prove themselves to their mother, they have to make someone fall in love with them and break that someone’s heart.”

“Break their heart?”

Matt nodded. “And that girl, Maya,” He jerked his head in her direction. “She has held the record for the most heartbreaks since she was twelve.”

“T-Twelve?” Luke choked on his own saliva. “Twelve years old?”

Everyone around the table nodded.

Luke turned to look at Maya again. She was talking to her sister when the son of Hermes noticed some boys looking at her like she was the only girl in the world.

Luke had to admit it; Maya was pretty—stunning, even. Beautiful like a rose forever in bloom, gorgeous like a summer sunset.

“I think I can handle her.”

Matt choked on his drink. “What?”

“Two can play the heartbreak game,” Luke smirked, turning to look at Maya, who coincidentally turned his way and rolled her eyes at him.

“Are you crazy?”

“Are you stupid?”

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND!?”

Luke turned his attention back to the table, a lopsided grin on his lips. “I can do this; don’t worry.”

Matt shook his head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, brother.”

“How hard can it be?” Luke mused, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve got nothing to do anyway.”

Matt groaned, shaking his head. “It’s your funeral, man.”

"C'mon, let me prove myself,” Luke smirks at his older brother, adjusting his shirt and moving a bit too confidently to the girl with an attitude as ablaze as her hair.

“She’s gonna kill him, I know it,” Chris mutters, watching as Luke makes his way to the girl in question. “Never thought we would lose someone this early like this.”

“No, no, it's okay, Chris,” Matt replies, eyes narrowing and arms now crossed. “Guess he had to see it for himself. Maybe he’ll learn his lesson.”

As Luke reached the table, he directed his eyes to the girl with flaming hair, earning all of the members of cabin ten’s attention on him, a few girls smiling at his return, others snickering anticipating his next move.

“Hey,” Luke says coolly, only now earning a side glance from the head of their cabin, a quirk in her features suggesting he continue. Oh shit, Luke thought, mildly intimidated by the girl. “Uh, why don't you show me around?” He asked, softly smiling, trying his best to feign confidence.

Maya, now annoyed, sensing his intentions. “Didn’t Silena show you around?”

Silena shook her head beside her sister. “Only got to bring him and Annabeth here, sorry. ”

Maya sighed, tilting her head to the side. “I’ll be busy,” she said, then turned her attention to another one of her sisters—the ones who have been smiling from ear to ear at the sight of Luke. “Maybe Lou can show you around?”

“Oh, but princess,” Luke drawls, a cocky smile forming on his lips. “I want you to show me what this place is all about.” 

That shows her.

“Wrong move,” Matt mutters from table eleven, shaking his head, knowing what will happen next.

Maya stood up, smiling sweetly at Luke, which was never a good sign to anyone else. He was sure her eyes changed colors in a split second. “You want me to show you around?” She asked, her voice as sickeningly sweet as honey.

Luke nodded, looking a little arrogant as he leaned forward. “What do you say, princess? Are you up for the challenge?”

Maya’s expression turned sour, and before Luke could comprehend what was happening, the daughter of Aphrodite’s fist collided with his nose, causing him to stumble back as gasps filled the pavilion.

“Never ever call me princess again, yeah?” Maya smiled sweetly at Luke, her green eyes shining mischief like dazzling emeralds. "Because, baby, I can hit so much harder than that. Got me?”

Luke groaned as he clutched his nose. Maya knew how to punch; he was sure that she had broken his nose at how hard her fist collided with his nose. But she didn’t seem bothered by the impact, as she didn’t even check her knuckles to see if they were bleeding like Luke’s nose was. The way she threatened him? It was enticing, as if her voice had power over him.

“Aren’t you just a little vixen?” Luke spluttered, blood still dripping from his nose.

Everyone around them started whispering. It was like Luke was in one of those movies he once watched as a child. He glanced at table eleven; Matt was groaning, Chris had his eyes closed shut, and the others were shaking their heads as they suppressed their laughter.

Luke faced Maya again, although he moved two steps back just in case. “Princess,” he bent his head down, slowly looking up at her, still as arrogant as ever.

“You’ve got three seconds to run before I-” Before Luke could finish hearing Maya speak, someone pulled him from behind, dragging him away.

“Are you insane?” Matt hissed, pushing Luke to sit down. “We told you not to mess with her! Look what it got you!”

“What? I made progress,” Luke grinned, wiping off the blood oozing out of his currently broken nose and making a mental note to go back to the infirmary for maybe some ambrosia or nectar.

“P-Progress?” Matt says incredulously, shaking his head in disbelief at the new member of his cabin, who was just as annoying as their father. “You call that bloody nose fucking progress!?”

“I mean, I think she likes me,”

Chris snorts from beside Matt. “I think she knocked his head hard,”

Everyone around table eleven started laughing at poor Luke’s misery, making him scowl. “What’s so funny?”He grumbles, wiping his nose once more.

“You,” one of the younger kids chuckled. “Maya did rock your world.”

Fits of laughter broke out, as if they had just played off the greatest prank of all time. Luke sighed, taking another glance at table ten.

Maya was smiling and talking to her siblings as if she hadn’t punched him just a minute ago. The audacity of this girl, Luke thought. Being pretty and all that, who does she think she is?

Matt, as if sensing his thoughts, gave Luke a pat on the shoulder. “Come on, brother, let’s get that nose of yours fixed.”

Luke gave him a small nod before rising to his feet, feeling a little light-headed but managing to walk nonetheless. The son of Hermes took one final glance at table ten before Matt pulled him out, Chris following closely behind.

As soon as the trio were out of earshot of the pavilion, Matt stopped in his tracks, causing Luke to almost trip on a rock. “Hey! What was that for?”

“First thing’s first,” Matt started, taking a look around to see if there was anyone else nearby. “Amaya Williams is never a good idea.”

“Yeah, you told me the first time.” Luke rolled his eyes, mildly getting annoyed at his older brother. “Anything else?” He asked with a sarcastic tone.

“As I was saying,” Matt continued, grabbing Luke by the shoulders. “She is the devil reincarnate. I swear to the gods, Luke, that girl is more terrifying than Zeus.”

“You’re terrified by a girl four years younger than you?” Luke snorts, raising a brow teasingly.

Matt glared at him, letting go of his shoulders. “Yes, I am; as a matter of fact, I’ve been one of her victims.”

“Wait, isn’t that illegal?”

“Yeah, well, nothing’s stopping that girl when she’s set her eye on something,” Matt sighs. “She was thirteen; I was seventeen. I know, I know, it sounds wrong, but she managed to break my heart in a week.”

“A week?” Luke chuckles, impressed by how quickly Matt got his heart broken. “Wow, that might just be a world record.”

Matt smirked, turning to walk forward. “Her record is three days.”

“Three days!?”

“Come on, lover boy, keep up,” Matt called over his shoulder, laughing slightly. “We gotta get that nose fixed!”

“Yeah, keep up, Luke!” Chris grinned, walking backwards along Matt.

Luke watches his brother’s figure slowly fade from view as he stands there, dumbfounded.

Three days. Maya Williams’ record is three goddamn days.

This is going to be harder than I thought. Luke wasn’t one to be like her, breaking hearts and all that. He was rethinking his decision; he wasn’t sure if he could handle the girl—she was a hurricane of sugar and spice, and it was enough to lure Luke into her blazing winds like an idiot. Who on earth would get into a hurricane for fun.

Sure, Matt and the others have warned him about her, but when has Luke ever listened? He’s lost count of the number of times Thalia has called him a stubborn little shit.

Luke thought back to Maya, her pretty emerald eyes, and how they sparkled with the same mischief he’s seen in his own eyes. He was sure her irises changed into blue, brown, green, and even pink, like a beautiful kaleidoscope of colors. If Luke had stared at her eyes longer, he was sure that he’d be a. hypnotized, and b. attacked for staring at her for a long period of time.

"Luke, are you coming?” Chris’ voice snaps him out of his thoughts, remembering his broken nose.

Instinctively, his fingers touch his nose. It was crooked from Maya’s punch; the blood that spilled a few minutes ago was already dry from the summer afternoon breeze. “Yeah, coming!” Luke calls back, running towards his younger brother. “Where’s Matt?” 

“Matt went to the cabin, he says he’s gonna go fix a place for you so it’s ready after your nose gets fixed,” Chris explains, wiping sweat off his forehead. “Let’s go, I think Sofia’s still at the Infirmary.”

“Who?”

“Sofia, camp’s head healer. Don’t worry, she’s good! She’s healed me too, twice, I think?” Chris raised his arm up, revealing a long scar. “I got this yesterday when we were training with swords with Marco Leon.”

“You good with a sword now, Chris?” Luke asks, smiling at him as the Big House comes into view.

“I think,” Chris says, unsure. “I’m still getting the hang of it.”

“I can help you, if you’d like?”

Chris’ eyes light up at the offer. “Really?”

Luke nods, remembering the times he fought monsters with the sword he and Thalia came upon months ago. “I’ve gotten good with a sword, I guess.”

“Teach me, teach me, teach me!” Chris begs, causing Luke to chuckle.

“Of course,” Luke agrees, still chuckling. “Tomorrow, then?”

Chris smiles at his older brother, wrapping his arms around Luke, causing him to stumble back. “Thank you!”

Luke smiles back, patting the boy awkwardly on the back. He’s never had anyone else hug him like this other than Annabeth. For a moment, Luke thought about his little sister. Would she be jealous that he has another sibling? It was nice to have someone rely on him as an older figure. He felt that for the first time, when he and Thalia first found Annabeth, Luke felt responsible for the first time in his life—he had a family, one he didn’t have growing up.

“You’re welcome, kid,” Luke chuckles as Chris pulls away. “Now come on, let’s get my nose fixed.”

The two stepped inside the Big House, Chris leading Luke to the infirmary.

As soon as the duo entered, Luke was engulfed with the smell of freshly baked cookies. It must be the ambrosia. There were cabinets—a lot of them—lining the walls; they were filled with jars of nectar and cubes of ambrosia wrapped individually and sitting in baskets. There were also tables with medical equipment—like bandages, gauze, antiseptics, and more. Luke wondered why he and Annabeth hadn’t noticed the contents of the room earlier; maybe they were just too tired to even notice.

“I see you have a broken nose.” A voice spoke, startling Luke. The girl looked around Matt’s age; she had short blonde hair with pink ends and was wearing scrubs. She reminded Luke of the nurse in the show Thalia showed him once. “Hi, I’m Sofia.” she smiled, reaching out a hand for him to shake. 

“Luke,” Luke smiles back, taking her hand. Sofia seemed kind; that was good. Luke had a fear of nurses before; when he was in kindergarten, he needed a flu shot, and the nurse who gave him the vaccine was not very nice.

“Let me guess, a certain Aphrodite kid?” Sofia asked, pulling her hand away with a knowing smile.

“How’d you know?”

“Well, with the number of kids I had to fix up in the past two years, I’d say I know who the culprit is. A pretty little devil, she is.”

Chris sat down on one of the beds, his feet swaying back and forth. “Maya punched him super hard, and it’s his first day,”

“And on your first day?” Sofia chuckles, making her way towards one of the cabinets, grabbing a basket full of ambrosia and a few jars of nectar. She placed them on one of the tables; maybe it was a refill of stocks, but Luke wasn’t sure. “You’ve got guts, huh?”

“You could say that,” Luke laughed sheepishly. “I just tried to be friends with her.”

“Yeah, right,” Sofia laughs, not believing Luke in the slightest. “Sit beside Chris, I’ll clean that blood off,” she says, jerking her head in Chris’ direction.

Luke nods, making his way to sit beside his brother as he watches Sofia get some cotton balls and alcohol from the tables around the room.

“Here, eat this,” Sofia gave him half a square of ambrosia. It smelled like the cookies his mother used to bake—the good ones that weren’t burned to a crisp. Luke muttered a quick thank you before taking a bite.

Sofia poured alcohol onto the cotton ball. "Okay, so what did you do to earn a broken nose?”

“He tried flirting with Maya,” Chris answers with a grin. “We tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“You should’ve listened,” Sofia hummed, cleaning the blood off Luke's skin. “That girl? She’s a feisty one.”

“Yeah, a real spitfire.” Luke snorts, shaking his head slightly. His thoughts went back to the girl in question, her voice as sweet as honey replaying in his head. Luke wondered if every child of Aphrodite was like her, with a voice so enticing.

“There,” Sofia says, putting the used cotton ball to the side. “All clean! Just finish up the ambrosia, and you’ll be good, unless you get acquainted with Maya’s fist again.”

Probably will. “I won’t, thanks.” Luke hopped off the table, Chris following suit.

“Thanks, Sofia!” Chris waves before getting out the door with Luke.

“Don’t get into trouble!” Luke hears Sofia call out, making him chuckle. Trouble, what a strange concept for a runaway son of Hermes.

“Come on, let’s go to our cabin. I bet Matt’s already got you somewhere to sleep.”

“Why is everything so far apart?” Luke mutters as the two walk out of the Big House.

“Dunno,” Chris shrugs. “I think everyone’s just gotten used to it.”

“You’re used to it?”

Chris shakes his head. “No, but I try to. I mean, I’m not gonna get anywhere if I don’t walk.”

“Fair point,”

The two continued to walk, passing by the volleyball pit with high school age kids playing a heated match and then the canoe lake, where a few kids were chatting and others were paddling on boats. 

Finally, they arrived at the cabins. There were twelve of them, nestled in the woods by the lake. They were arranged in a U, with two at the base and five in a row on either side. Each had a large brass number above the door (odds on the left side, evens on the right), and they looked absolutely nothing like Luke expected. 

Number nine had smokestacks, like a tiny factory. Number four had tomato vines on the walls and a roof made out of real grass. Seven seemed to be made of solid gold, which gleamed so much in the sunlight that it was almost impossible to look at. They all faced a common area about the size of a soccer field, dotted with Greek statues, fountains, flower beds, and a couple of basketball hoops. In the center of the field was a huge stone-lined fire pit. 

Out of all the cabins, eleven looked the most like a regular old camp cabin, with an emphasis on Old. The threshold was worn down, and the brown paint was peeling. Over the doorway was a caduceus. Inside, it was packed with people, both boys and girls—way more than the number of bunk beds. Sleeping bags were spread all over the floor. Luke thought Hermes was the god of money, and he can’t even afford a bigger cabin?

“Luke, over here!  ” Luke heard Matt’s voice calling him over. He made his way towards Matt while Chris sped off to some of the other campers who were all hunched over something Luke thought to be interesting to a nine-year-old.

“I got you a sleeping bag.” Matt jerked his head towards the sleeping bag on the floor. “And some toiletries from the camp store. Grover brought over your things too.”

“Thanks, Matt,”

“No problem.” Matt smiles, giving him a pat on the arm. 

Luke took a look around the worn-out cabin. All the campers were younger than him, even the ones during lunch were significantly younger too. He wonders how on earth Matt managed to look after a cabin full of kids. Since with Thalia and Annabeth, Luke was on the verge of pulling his own hair out.

“Hey, Luke?”

“Yeah?” Luke hums, his attention going back to Matt.

“I’m going off to college by the end of August,”

“Oh,” Luke murmured, wondering why he’s telling him that he’s going to college in two months. “Good for you.”

“You’re the oldest, after me,” Matt explains. “I think you’d be a great head counselor for eleven.”

“Me?” Luke asks, confused as to why Matt thinks he’d be a great counselor.

“Yeah, you’re the best candidate, since you’re fourteen and quite responsible.”

Luke sighs, shaking his head. “I’m honored, Matt, really, but I don’t think I can handle it.”

“Of course, you can! You’ve taken care of a kid before, right? Annabeth? It’ll be fine, trust me. And besides, you’ll get my bunk!”

Luke raises a brow at him. “That’s comforting, how?”

“Come on, it’s a good deal. I mean, you get a comfy bed.” Matt pushed, hoping Luke would agree.

“Again, how?”

“You’d have a few benefits, like staying out late, chaperoning trips to Olympus, and giving out orders and punishments.”

Luke thought about it. Staying out late did sound nice, especially when he wanted to get some time alone. Chaperoning seems a little overwhelming, but giving out orders and punishments is tempting. “Alright, I agree.”

Matt clapped his hands together. “Great! I’ll tell Chiron by the end of next month. But you’ve got to keep it a secret, alright? We don’t need people getting mad about the decision.”

“My lips are sealed,” Luke chuckles, running a finger over his lips, as if he were zipping them.

“Now, come on, let’s get you toured!”

Luke stumbles into the dining pavilion with Matt and Chris, laughing heartily. The boys, sweaty and hungry, made their way to their table for dinner—barbeque brisket and mac and cheese, which made Luke’s stomach grumble at the smell alone.

“I’m starving!” Chris says, plopping onto one of the seats of eleven. “I think I can eat a whole bowl of food!”

Luke sat beside him, grinning from ear to ear. “Me too; I think I could eat a whole pegasus,” he laughs, reaching for a grape from the bowl in the middle of their table as he takes a look around the pavilion in search of Annabeth.

He spots Annabeth, smiling happily at one of her sisters, as she explains something—about architecture, Luke assumed, since Annabeth babbles about it most of the time—to her. Luke waves at his little sister, who beams at him and waves back before turning back to face her sister.

Luke's gaze then fell on the table right across his, flaming red hair settling into his view. Maya had her hair done in some sort of braid, Luke didn’t know what it was called, but it was pretty. It made her look like a Greek princess—duh—as she talked to one of her brothers, a strawberry blush on her cheeks and lips matching her locks.

“You’re staring at her,” Matt whispers in his ear with a chuckle. “Careful, you don’t want another broken nose.”

“I wasn’t staring,” Luke scowls at his brother, rolling his eyes. “I was thinking of how to make her fall in love with me.” 

“Tough luck, kid!” Matt laughs, shaking his head. “She’s a hard one; as I’ve told you, she’s the–”

“I know, she’s the devil reincarnate, you’ve been telling me the whole day.”

Matt sighs, taking a sip of his drink. “So, stop trying your luck, it’s not worth any of the trouble.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got to admit that it’s fun.” Luke chuckles, reaching for the goblet in front of him. “What do I do again with this?”

“Ask it for whatever you want to drink, non-alcoholic, of course,” Matt answers before chugging his own drink. “Like so, raspberry lemonade.”

Luke watches as the cup fills on its own with pink liquid. “Woah,” he mumbles, before turning to his own. “Cherry coke.” The goblet in his hands filled as quickly as Matt’s did, fizzy dark liquid right in front of his eyes. “So cool!”

Luke wonders what Annabeth asked for in the goblet. His little sister never liked fizzy drinks; she says it makes her tummy feel funny. Maybe she went for a lemonade, like Matt, or an orange or pineapple juice because of its benefits, as she’s told him and Thalia so many times to even count. Thalia would prefer a crisp root beer. No more questions with that; Luke’s learned that the hard way.

Luke’s eyes landed again on Maya, making him wonder what her favorite drink is too. Maybe strawberry soda? Or maybe she doesn’t like soda? Maybe she prefers juice, like Annabeth does. Whatever she preferred, Luke was sure it was delicious, like his cherry coke.

“You coming to the bonfire later or are you heading straight to bed?” Chris asks through bites of food, sounding a little unintelligible, but Luke manages to understand.

“What do you guys even do at bonfires?”

"Well, for starters, we sing,” Matt chuckles. “But usually, the Aphrodite kids request songs that are, in my opinion, better than what we got used to singing. Down by the Aegean? Hell no, Uptown Girl is better.”

“I heard Chiron’s going to announce whether we have Capture the Flag next week.” One of the campers in table eleven piped up.

“Capture the flag?”

“It’s a camp tradition, kind of like War Games,” Matt answers, seeming a little excited. “It’s a weekly game, although it’s been canceled for the last two weeks because of a flu outbreak. It’s where two teams are given a flag each to protect. To win, one team must capture the opponent’s flag and bring it over the creek, which is the border.”

“Sounds fun,” Luke comments. “Which team are we on?”

“Blue,” Matt grumbles, turning to look at the Ares table. “With cabins six and seven.”

“Athena and Apollo, right?”

“Yeah,” Matt nods, sighing softly. “The losing team.”

“Red always wins,” Chris says, a frown making its way onto his lips. “Ares, Aphrodite, Demeter, Dionysus, and Hephaestus. Matt says it’s been years since Blue won a match.”

“Aphrodite plays in the games?” Luke snorts. “Aren’t they supposed to be prissy princes and princesses?”

“Wish they were,”

Luke turned to look back at table ten. Maya was sitting on the table, legs crossed over each other, as she laughed with a boy around their age. Luke was sure that the boy wasn’t her sibling—judging by the way he looked at her, that weasel of a boy had intentions. Luke wasn’t that worried, since Maya looked like she knew what she was doing. Another notch on her belt, perhaps, that boy.

All of a sudden, an idea came into Luke’s mind. The son of Hermes stood up from his seat, fixing his shirt (as if that would help) and messing his hair up slightly. 

“Where are you going?” Matt asks, eyes narrowed at Luke. “Don’t you think about it, Luke,” he warned, despite knowing that Luke would.

“Watch me get the girl,” Luke smirks at his brother, before sauntering over to the table right across eleven’s.

Matt groaned, shaking his head. “Why must you give me stubborn siblings, Dad?” He mutters, running a hand over his face in frustration.

As soon as Luke arrives at table ten, he smiles at the daughters of Aphrodite before slinging his arm over Maya’s shoulder—who didn’t seem to notice his presence until now.

The head counselor of cabin ten glares at him, but before she could utter a word, Luke turned his attention to the confused boy in front of them. “Hey man, what are you doing talking to my girl?” Luke asks, raising a brow at the boy standing just a few inches away.

Maya scoffs, pushing Luke’s arm off of her. “I am not-”

“You can go now,” Luke tells the boy, waving his hand and dismissing him like a servant he’s seen in shows before. The boy glares at Luke before making his way back to his own table, which was Hephaestus’.

“You son of a bitch!” Maya hisses, pushing him away from her. Her eyes turned an angry shade of black, and she glared at him intensely. “Do you have any fucking idea who you’re messing with!?”

“My, my, princess, such vulgar language,” Luke grins, leaning forward, leaving little over an inch of space between him and the devil.

“Let's not repeat lunch, shall we?” Maya says through gritted teeth, her eyes shifting back to emerald green as she takes three steps away  from Luke.

"Oh, but princess, I don't think you'd want to hit me with Chiron around, do you?” Luke smirks, leaning against the table slightly, looking a little arrogant for Maya’s liking.

“You think I won’t, newbie?”

“I think,” Luke starts, rubbing his chin dramatically, like he’s seen Thalia do before when they acted out shows for Annabeth. “You’re pretty hot when you’re mad.”

“You’ve got some nerve, don’t you?” Maya scowls at Luke, folding her arms over her chest.

“What? I’m just trying to be nice, princess.”

“I swear to the gods, if you call me that one more time, newbie,”

“You’ll what?” Luke taunts, taking a step forward, a smirk on his annoying face.

“You’re fucking asking for it.” Maya growls, grabbing his arm and twisting it over his back with a hard thrust. Everyone was looking at them, and it got Luke wondering why anyone hasn’t stopped her yet. 

“Ouch, woman! Violence is never the answer!” Luke struggled in her grasp; for a girl, the son of Hermes had to admit that she was strong—stronger than Thalia, perhaps? Maybe Luke could beat the daughter of Aphrodite in a sword fight, though. 

Maya let go of his arm, pushing him slightly away. “That should teach you,” she smiled, that sickeningly sweet smile of hers that was beginning to grow on him. The head of cabin ten turned around, making her way back to her seat, her long hair dancing like flames in the evening light.

“Damn, princess, you’re making this harder for me than it is for you,” Luke smirks, shaking his arm to make sure he can still move it after Maya’s attempt to break it. 

Maya stopped in her tracks, just barely an inch from her seat beside Silena, and before Luke Castellan could avoid it, Amaya Williams charged at him, her fist colliding with his face, again.

taglist: @lilmaymayy @mxtokko @ma1dita @jennapancake @sc4rl3ttdafoxx

[lilmaymayy]

AWEEE THE LONG GAMEEE it was worth the waitt

one year with luke castellan

↳ january 14 (again) featuring mr. d

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of apollo reader

word count: 4.1k

summary: you and luke have a great day, and mr. d remembers he is not getting paid enough for this

content: the caught kissing trope my beloved

notes: gifting you all a sunshine pov for the finale <3 for @luvieborealis this whole series was for u

The usually calm and serene arts and crafts cabin is rather tense today.

“Luke, please,” Annabeth begs, her eyes softened and her hands clasped together. It’s the same trick she’s been pulling ever since she first met him, the sad eyes that always make Luke feel guilty and give in. “Grover’s sick so he can’t bring us, but Sally’s making special blue blueberry muffins tonight. What kind of people would we be if we canceled?”

The guilt tripping works, sure, but Luke’s a man who’s made prior commitments. And as a guy with some big plans, these prior commitments are especially important.

“I really can’t take you guys today, I’m sorry.”

“Why not?” Percy presses. He tilts his head at him, squinting and scrutinizing. “What are you doing today that’s more important?”

Luke shrugs, trying for nonchalance. “I’m busy.”

You snicker at his side, adding another knot into your friendship bracelet.

Luke had dragged you away from your volleyball tournament just after lunch to teach him how to draw, and even though he’d given up after a couple of minutes and begged for you to do something else instead, he’d at least tried, which you think is admirable.

(It’d gone a lot better than your attempt last week at teaching him to paint, at least. He’d sat and watched as you worked the entire time and hadn’t picked up his paintbrush once.)

You’d ended up shifting over to bracelet making, a much simpler art. But the kids ambushed him about fifteen minutes ago, so his bracelet sits mostly unfinished in front of him.

“Why are you being so mysterious?” you can’t help but ask.

“Percy’s being nosy,” he says, gesturing at the kid like he’s not there. “I don’t have to tell them anything if I don’t want to.”

“Scared of being teased by kids?” you ask, amusement creeping into your words. You look up at Percy and Annabeth, smiling. “Me and Luke were going to make plans for tonight.”

“Oh,” they say in unison.

Though Annabeth doesn’t seem too surprised, Percy is clearly a little shocked, a reaction you seem to get pretty often these days. Even though you and Luke have stopped bickering nearly as much as you used to, people look at you like you’ve grown another head whenever they find out that the two of you are actually close now.

A little more than close, actually.

“What were you guys planning on doing?” Annabeth asks, not prying, just curious.

Percy must let his frustration get the best of him, because rather unhelpfully, he says, “Probably vandalize my cabin again.”

Luke gives him a flat look. “Percy. How many times am I gonna have to tell you that that wasn’t me?”

He puts his hands up. “Look, I’m just saying the timing was really convenient—”

“Special blue blueberry muffins sound really great,” you say, stopping Percy before he can start on this topic again.

He’s still convinced Luke had something to do with the little bags of alive goldfish left all around Cabin Three, and has been pestering him for a confession ever since. Luke hadn’t been the one to do it—you’d both watched the Stolls hop in and out of one of the windows with the bags in their hands—but Percy refuses to believe it could've been anyone but him.

You tie off the end of your bracelet and cut off the extra string while Luke shrugs next to you.

“The muffins are great,” he admits, letting you fuss with his wrist so you can loop the bracelet around it. “But we already have plans, so I’m not going. And neither are they, I guess.”

The kids protest vehemently, but both of you ignore it, looking instead at the woven string around his wrist. Luke runs his opposite thumb over the chevron pattern before kissing the side of your face and mumbling out a thank you.

His bracelet for you has taken a little longer since he’s had to redo a few knots, but it’s still turning out very nicely. He’s also not nearly as bad at bracelet making as he had claimed to be earlier, and you have the sneaking suspicion that he was just pretending to not know how so you would hold his hands while you showed him.

“Anyway,” you start. “Me and Luke didn’t really have any real plans. So if he doesn’t care, he’s all yours today.”

Percy and Annabeth burst into cheers, and you think for a second Percy’s about to bow down and thank you. You’re awfully amused, but you turn to Luke and see the clear signs of panic in his eyes.

“That’s not true,” he protests quickly, catching Annabeth’s hand in mid-air when she tries to high-five Percy. “We do have plans. She just forgot.”

You give him a weird look that he returns.

You’d literally talked at length an hour ago about how you had no idea what you should do tonight, and here Luke is, lying to the kids about having plans.

He must not want to take them really bad.

“Oh, yeah,” you say slowly, watching as the terror on Luke’s face eases up. “My bad, I forgot. We have that thing later.”

“Yep,” he agrees, waving the kids away from the two of you. “We have that thing. So it’s not even possible for either of us to take you.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Annabeth huffs. “It doesn’t even seem like either of you know what the thing is.”

“Big plans, Annabeth,” he insists, getting up from his seat when neither of them stop looming over him like two dark clouds. He grabs them both by the back of their shirts and drags them towards the door, depositing them on the other side like they’re nothing more than decorative furniture.

“Can you please just consider it?” she begs.

Luke leans against the doorway, looking up at the sky while he pretends like he’s thinking about it.

“Fine. I might consider it. Now get out.”

She groans, giving him a mean glare. “Seriously? ‘I might consider it’ is basically a no, and you know it. You’re not going to think about it.”

“I’m glad I didn’t have to tell you that myself,” he says cheerily, giving her a sympathetic pat on her shoulder. “You’re absolutely right.”

“You won’t even think about it? Not even for your sister?” Percy tries, the both of them masters at the guilt card.

“I think she’ll survive another few weeks without a blueberry muffin.”

Annabeth crosses her arms, immediately forcing Luke into one of their quick conversation-arguments you always have trouble following.

Admittedly, you feel bad for them. As someone who used to argue with Luke on a daily basis, you are unfortunately very familiar with how stubborn he can be once he’s made up his mind.

Once, you’d argued over a stupid fact for an entire day because he refused to go back on his original opinion. It’d been “the principle of the thing,” apparently, and he’d argued and argued and argued even after you’d literally taken out an entire book to prove him wrong.

Percy would probably have to hold Luke at gunpoint before he agreed to skip out on your plans tonight, whether they were real or not.

“Sorry, guys,” you say, giving them a sympathetic smile you hope they can see. “Maybe next time.”

All hope that might’ve been swimming in their eyes dies out immediately, and it makes you feel bad. The two of them grumble their entire way out of the cabin, huffing and complaining about how unfair Luke is.

When he kicks the door shut, he turns to you with a massive grin playing on his face. He practically dances all the way back to his seat, sitting down next to you with a relieved sigh.

You give him a look. “You could’ve been nicer.”

He shrugs, focusing again on his bracelet. He looks pleased with how it’s turned out, a chain of sunflowers that he’ll wrap around your wrist when he’s done.

“Don’t worry. They’ll get over it.”

—

Percy and Annabeth do not get over it.

You catch them talking to Mr. D on the porch of the Big House—presumably about going into Manhattan by themselves—and the conversation goes about exactly as you’d expect.

He laughs in their faces, and they walk away, dejected. When you see the look Percy gives Luke, you tell him it’s probably for the best that you both stay clear of any body of water for the near future.

And sometime after you’d left the arts and crafts cabin, you’d seen Annabeth by the volleyball courts. You’d waved at her from across the grass, but she’d done nothing but stare menacingly at you, even letting the volleyball hit the floor right in front of her.

“The look she was giving me was scary! It felt like I was in a horror movie,” you complain to Luke out by the fields. “Those kids are haunting me.”

“You serious?” He curls his sword around yours while you’re distracted and whips it into the dirt, the clatter of it kicking up dust. “You didn’t even do anything. I was the one who kicked them out.”

“I lied to them, though,” you huff, putting your hands on your hips. “Do you not feel bad? They’re always so excited coming back from Manhattan, and they’ve probably been looking forward to this all month. Percy probably just wanted to see his mom.”

Luke doesn’t answer, too busy appreciating the disarm maneuver he’d just done. “Was that three hundred eight to three hundred nine?”

“Luke, I know for a fact you aren’t counting our wins right now.”

“Yep. I’m not. Sorry, babe.”

He hands you your sword again, and you take it from him mindlessly, still thinking about the frown on their faces when Mr. D had laughed at them.

And you thought you’d been mean! Mr. D was a different kind of evil for laughing at them.

“He isn’t special for missing his mom,” Luke jokes, giving you a toothy grin. “He’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

It falls flat when you don’t laugh.

He clears his throat. “Look, Sunshine, you’re too nice. Just cause they’re kids doesn’t mean you can’t say no to them.”

“We could’ve both gone with them,” you suggest. “And we would’ve all gotten what we wanted. We didn’t even have any actual plans, Luke. I can’t help but feel bad.”

Realizing you actually do feel guilty about it, he sheathes his sword before dragging you closer. He even rubs soothing circles into your upper arms because it’s something that always seems to work on you, and your chest warms at how sweet he is.

“I’ll talk to Mr. D later,” he offers. “I’ll convince him to reschedule their trip when Grover’s feeling better, okay?”

“You will?”

“Of course I would, if it’d make you feel better.”

“It would,” you say honestly. “Thank you, Luke. You’re the best.”

“It’s no problem,” he answers, grinning. “But, uh…”

“But?”

“I think my disarm from just now should still count towards my score.”

“You’re still thinking about that?” you ask, and he’s quick to nod. “That shouldn’t have counted, I was distracted.”

“Gotta pay better attention, then,” he chides.

He’s smiling at you, his eyes lit up, and you try not to feel too bad when you pull his sword out from where it’s sheathed against his hip and hold it up to his neck.

“Should this count as my three-hundred tenth win, then?” you tease, watching realization bloom on his face. “Cause you were distracted.”

It takes a second for realization to bloom on his face, but then he shakes his head, unable to stop himself from smiling.

“We can’t just count everything as a win, you know. We weren’t even fighting.”

“I think I deserve it, though.”

“You think so?” Luke takes another step closer to you, making you back up—right into the point of a dagger.

You pat your side with your free hand, expecting to feel your blade, but coming up empty.

“Should this count as my three-hundred ninth win?” Luke repeats in a bad imitation of your voice, and you can’t help but laugh.

You slip his sword back into the spot at his hip while he puts your dagger back safely in the inside pocket of your jacket.

“I still have no clue how you manage to steal stuff from right under my nose,” you say while the two of you make your way back to the pavilion for dinner. Your hands brush against each other as you walk, your matching bracelets wrapped around both of your wrists.

Luke makes that face that tells you he’s about to make a stupid joke, and you almost laugh at how predictable his humor can be.

“Like the way I stole your heart?” the two of you say in unison.

The smirk flickers off his face. “How’d you know I was about to say that?”

“I could feel it in my bones.” You link your hands together while the two of you head past the Big House. “I have a sixth sense for your jokes.”

“Maybe that means we’re both just really funny.”

“Funny? That’s not the word I’d use to—”

You’re pulled to an abrupt stop when Luke stops walking, your body jerking backwards where your hands are still connected.

“Wait, I just realized I forgot something in here,” he says, nodding to your left. “Do you mind coming in with me? I’ll make it quick.”

The two of you are outside the arts and crafts cabin again, the curtains drawn shut over the windows and the lights outside the door turned off.

You shake your head. “Course not.”

You were planning on making up a fake detour to spend an extra few minutes with him anyway, and now you don’t even have to. Your fingers slip out of his grasp as you jog ahead, opening the door for him.

“Ladies first,” you insist.

“Funny,” he says, following you up the steps.

“What’d you forget, anyway?” you ask, peering into the dark room. It’s impossible to see anything past the threshold of the door, and it kind of freaks you out.

Luke leans against the opposite side of the doorframe, but he makes no move to go in. He’s just smiling at you.

All he says is, “Ladies first, I thought?”

You roll your eyes before stepping over the threshold. “How chivalrous.”

With the sun long set by now, the cabin is pitch black, but behind the divider that splits the cabin into two sections, you see the brief flicker of candle light.

You feel along the wall for the light switch but find warmth instead — Luke’s hand.

He links your hands together again as he shuts the door behind you, leaving the both of you in utter darkness.

The hair on the back of your neck stands up. You plant your feet, making him stumble slightly.

“Luke?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you lure me here to murder me?”

He sputters behind you, and he spins you around to look at him despite there being no way he can see your face. “The fuck?”

“This feels like a horror movie. You do realize that, right?”

Luke guffaws. “No, I’m not here to murder you, are you insane?”

“That’s good, then. I was worried. You wouldn’t beat me in a fight.”

“My three-hundred and nine wins say otherwise,” he quips, making sure to emphasize the fake win he’s added to his real score. “And hey, if I was a murderer, I would at least knock you unconscious first. Couldn’t risk my pretty victim running away, obviously.”

You shove him away from you as you move closer to the light source. “Hilarious.”

“I really do try.”

You see one candle and then two, lighting up the way to whatever is on the other side of the wall. You almost turn back to look at him before remembering the whole pitch black thing, so you just continue following the path made of tealights.

When you turn the corner, you find that all of the candles are surrounding something sitting oddly in the center of the floor. Luke lets go of you then, and you crouch down and crack the top of it open.

It’s a basket, you realize. And at the bottom of it is…

Food.

Your favorite foods to be exact. They’re arranged so gorgeously you almost don’t want to touch anything, but the light shifts and you catch sight of the sunflowers tucked into the bottom of the basket.

It had taken an embarrassingly long time, but you finally realize what this all is.

Luke wasn’t trying to murder you—he was going to take you out on another date.

“Did you do all this for me?” you ask, your voice wavering.

You can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “You think I led you here just for fun? I have the rest set up out by the beach.”

“I thought you were trying to freak me out with the dark room,” you admit, setting the basket down as carefully as you can.

Luke already has his hands outstretched for you, and you drag him closer by the front of his shirt to pull him into a long kiss.

You remember distantly Clarisse complaining about how Luke was good at absolutely everything he does, and you’re happy to say that she’s absolutely right.

Luke is a great friend, a great fighter, and a great kisser. His hands thread through your hair as the two of you stumble around the room for the nearest solid object, finally finding a table that he’s quick to help you on top of.

Almost immediately he’s pulling you into another kiss, but you try your best to get some words out.

“This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” you rush out. He’s standing kindly between your legs and is at the perfect height for you to smother in affection.

“‘m glad,” he mumbles, running a hand down your sides. “Sorry I scared you.”

“That’s okay—mmph—I was—”

Luke backs up for just a second, both of his hands on either sides of your face.

“Sunshine,” he says firmly.

“Yeah?”

“Please stop talking.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” you protest, swerving out of his way. “I have one more thing.”

He sighs. “Make it quick, please.”

“Is this why you refused to take Percy and Annabeth to his mom’s house?”

He gives you a look. “You’re still thinking about that?”

“Yes. Now answer.”

Luke kisses your cheek, laughing softly to himself. “Then yes. Surprise.”

He presses the next few kisses of his into the grin on your face, but he doesn’t seem to mind your smiling.

For a second, you almost forget about the picnic he’s prepared, too busy thinking about how cute he looks in his long sleeved shirt and how warm his arms are. You hadn’t expected this at all, but you honestly would’ve still been happy even if there was no picnic at all. You would’ve been perfectly fine if Luke had just dragged you into a dark, scary cabin to makeout with him.

He sighs against your lips when you throw your arms around his shoulders, and you shiver when he tilts his head to kiss you even harder.

You’d been a little spooked earlier, but the most frightening part of the night has to be when the overhead lights go on, filling the entire room with the harsh fluorescents.

“Alright, show’s over,” a very familiar voice groans. “Oh, great. It’s you two?”

Luke squints in the direction of the door, both of your eyes still adjusting to the harsh change in lighting.

“Hey, Mr. D,” Luke says weakly.

Your face heats up, and you pointedly look anywhere but in the god’s direction. You’d known it was him the second he’d opened his mouth, but it’s somehow worse now that Luke’s confirmed it out loud.

You glance back at the window behind you and wonder if Mr. D would chase you if you made a run for it.

Luke helps you off the table and you fix the collar of his shirt for him, bracing yourself for your camp director’s approach.

“I think I liked it better when you two were at each other's throats in the violent way,” he complains, completely unamused. “Please go back to trying to kill each other every other day.”

“Sorry, you—uh. Had to walk in on that, sir,” Luke answers, somehow still able to form a coherent sentence.

You aren’t quite sure what would happen if you opened your mouth to speak and don’t really want to find out. You look up at the man and see he has his nose turned up at you two, disgusted.

“You demigods get braver and braver each year,” he says, but he clearly does not mean it in a good way. “At least those troublemakers from a few years ago were smart enough to be secretive about breaking camp rules. And yet here you two are, in a rec room after hours, with all of the lights on! And you didn’t even lock the door!”

You and Luke meet eyes for a very quick and very confused second.

“You were the one who—”

Mr. D huffs. “Are you going to say something, at least?” he demands, crossing his arms over his athletic jacket.

You hesitate before responding. “We’re sorry?”

“We won’t do it again.” Luke suggests.

The god sighs, exhausted. He rubs at his temples furiously. “I don’t even know what I’m going to do with you two. If only those curfew harpies ate you before I got here.”

“It’s not after curfew,” you say unhelpfully.

The face Mr. D makes at you is definitely classified as a scowl.

“Chiron is so much better at these than I am,” he complains, like this isn’t his job. Already moving towards the door, he gestures vaguely to the space around you and says, “Get rid of this.”

You and Luke look at each other again, stunned.

“That’s it?” Luke asks before he can stop himself.

You were honestly thinking the same thing. Compared to Chiron, Mr. D is known for doling out the more unfortunate punishments. You’re surprised he hasn’t already thrown you both into the woods with nothing but the clothes on your back, but you at least still know that talking back will make it worse, so you hit Luke’s shoulder and gesture for him to shut up.

Mr. D has a foot out the door already, a hand pressed to his eyes like he’s been blinded. “Just clean up. And then get out of my sight. Preferably forever.”

The door slams shut behind him, and there’s so much force behind it that it sends papers on a nearby table fluttering into the air.

It’s quiet in the cabin for a solid thirty seconds, with nothing but your breathing as a sign of life. You’re both standing unnaturally still.

“Luke,” you start slowly, unsure what to say.

Almost immediately, he erupts into laughter next to you, the sound echoing across the room and up to Olympus itself, probably. You’re absolutely mortified, but his joy is so infectious that you can’t help the shocked laugh that forces its way from your chest.

“I can not believe Mr. D had to walk in on that.”

He shrugs. “He could’ve walked in on worse.”

You snap your neck up at him. “Luke.”

“What? It’s the truth!”

You wrap your arms around one of his and press your burning face into his sleeve. “I don’t think I’m letting you kiss me ever again.”

“You don’t mean that,” he says, the smile on his face no doubt turning smug.

(He’s absolutely right.)

“I mean it, you asshole. You’ll be lucky if I ever even look at you again.”

“How long do you think you could go without talking to me?” Luke asks, pretending to think about it.

Both of you already know the answer: Not very long.

“I’d be fine,” you say, your voice wavering with the force of your smile. He runs his hands up your sides, drawing laughter from your throat. “You’d probably go crazy, though. Wind up in the infirmary with an incurable sickness.”

“Probably.” He leans in close to smatter kisses over your face, covering your cheeks with proof of his affection. “A sickness only cured with a true love’s kiss, I think.”

You make a face, but the adoration there is undeniable. “That’s dumb.”

Luke clears his throat dramatically, looking awfully confused. His next words are interrupted by his fake coughing.

“Oh no,” he says, eyes wide.

You’re grinning when you say, “You’re ridiculous.”

“I think the sickness might’ve already started.”

You put the back of your hand to his forehead, feeling for warmth. “You know what?”

“What?”

“I think so too.”

“I need medical attention,” he says through his smile. “If only there was an insanely hot nurse around to save me from this disease—”

You slide your hands into his hair so you can shut him up with a kiss, because you can do that now.

Because it’s January 14, which means you’ve been dating for three months, and you’re free to kiss Luke Castellan whenever you’d like.

Luke hums against your lips, drawing you deeper into his arms.

You’ll have to thank the gods that he was patient enough to play the long game.

notes: and it’s over omg </3 i had such a great time writing for sunshine and luke they are my everything!! its so bittersweet letting them go but thank you all so much for sticking around for this series :) i hope u enjoyed the finale and my apologies for how long it took lolol

[lilmaymayy]

ughh finny deserved to live this lifee😫

finnick and s/o during their honeymoon 🤗?

anon i love this so freaking much. i done hcs for this but im working on a blurb too, i hope that’s okay <3

some slightly nsfw thoughts are under the cut

finnick’s definitely a sucker for honeymoon sex. he calls you ‘my wife’ or ‘mrs odair’ and constantly praises you, telling you how well you're doing and how good you feel. there's also a lot of i love you's and the aftercare is just out of this world.

regardless of where you go for your honeymoon, it's going to be very romantic; rose petals on the balcony, breakfast in bed, soft kisses as he coaxes you awake.

finnick is always touching you in some way or another. he will kiss the back of your knuckles and pin you to the bed just to keep you there a few more minutes more. he is always holding your hand and pressing feather-light kisses to your forehead.

if this was set after the war, there would be a lot of relaxing involved. it would take you both a while to learn how to live without the threat of happiness being snatched away from you. you would spend a lot of time swimming or sunbathing while finnick does laps in the oceans.

its overall finnick doting on you to be honest <3

[lilmaymayy]

guys the worst fucking thing that could happen just happened. i just washed my jeans, before pitting them in i checked the pockets and i fucking found my tifanny bracelet stuck at the bottom of the washer. its so stupid of me i know but i was just pulling on it trying to get it out and it fucking RIPPED the charm still fucking wedged inbetween the whatever and now all i have is a banged up tangled chain of what was a bracelet my mom gave me

im crying so hard im so mad at myself, im supposed to be studying for my fucking final tomorrow and i cant stop crying WPRST fucking part tho is the way i cant find my bracelet online anymore, I CANT EVEN GET A NEW ONE

[lilmaymayy]

no bc hes TEEWWWW FRATTYYYY FOR HIS ONW GOOD

IM ACTUALLY IN DIRE NEED OF PEOPLE WRITING LIKE FRAT BOY GYM CRUSH LUKE LIKE-

AHHH IM ACTUALLY FOAMING AT THE MOUTH ATM

[lilmaymayy]

he just looks TEEWWWWWW GOOD

YALL IM SCREAMING BAE FINALLY POSTEDDD AHHAHA

LOOK AT HIMM OMG! THE COMPRESSION SHIRT THE GREY SWEATS WITRH THE GLOVES!

[lilmaymayy]

AWEEEEEJENDJEJE THIS IS SO CUTEEE love hoe they banter

heya!! i was wondering if you could write a poly!marauders x reader where r stopped smoking..? i’m 6 months clean from smoking nicotine and i haven’t told anyone (you’re the first!! lmao) just incase i break from a stressful day and so i don’t disappoint!! could you maybe write that into the drabble or whatever you do..? tysm if you do, and if you don’t then no worries!!

i love you mae and make sure to take care of yourself and keep being you!!!!

thanks for requesting gorgeous, i really hope you're doing well!! proud of you <3

cw: smoking, reader deals with addiction

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 936 words

Remus smells like cigarettes. He’s stopped smoking anywhere near you, but you’re sure if you look out the front door you’ll see the telltale smear of ash smashed into the sidewalk from where he’d stamped one out on the way in. The aroma brings longing and self-loathing, the former more potent than the latter, and you find yourself breathing in the fibers of his sweater for a whiff of it. 

Remus doesn’t catch onto the true motivation for your proximity. He takes it for cuddling, adjusting his hold on his book so he can read with one hand while the other wraps around your shoulders, encouraging you closer to his side. Underneath the heady smell of lingering smoke he smells like himself, like cinnamon and oranges, and you try to focus on that as your better sense fogs over and your fingers start itching for a cig. 

“Aha!” Sirius slaps his last card down on the table. 

James blows out a flabbergasted breath, leaning back on his hands on the floor. They’re playing some kids’ card game Remus learned in primary school and unwisely taught them. At first you’d all gotten into it, but after Sirius nearly took your head off for forgetting the rules and playing with two hands (“Sorry, gorgeous, you know I don’t mean anything I say when I’m trying to win…and I could have won, couldn’t I? No, I’m just saying, it’s about the principle—”) you and Remus had bowed out. James and Sirius have retained their obsession for days, each keeping a scoreboard in their own heads that seems to hold them in favor. 

“Angel?” 

You look up, meeting James’ knowing gaze. “Hm?” 

“He asked if you’re getting hungry for dinner,” Remus clues you in, toying with the ends of your hair. 

“Oh, sorry. Um…” You think hard. One of the more irritating things about quitting smoking is that now your appetite never seems to fully die down. You’re ready for your next meal all day long, and so you actually have to think about whether it makes sense for you to have it. “I had some carrots just after I got home, so I could eat whenever you want to.” 

“Alright…” 

You take another deep inhale, telling yourself it’s because Remus smells nice and losing your grasp on self-control all the while. 

“Are you tired?” Remus asks, and you don’t know how you didn’t notice it before, that extra bit of roughness that his voice takes on after he’s been smoking. You’re so envious you could die. “You seem distracted.” 

“I’m good,” you murmur. Though perhaps it’d be better if you did take a nap or something. You’re beginning to feel twitchy. You take in a breath through your nose like you’ve been practicing, letting it out through your mouth. 

“Ah.” Sirius scoots closer to you, laying his cheek on the couch cushion. “You want to have a piece of your gum, sweet thing?” 

You look at him guiltily. Remus makes a soft sound of realization. 

“You’re picking your nails,” Sirius explains, and you look down to see that you are. “I imagine that means you’re craving one.” 

It’s simultaneously sweet and irksome that none of your boyfriends will even say the word cigarette around you anymore. They’re trying to be considerate, you know, but it feels like they think your self-control is so tenuous that just one word could shatter it. You don’t have the heart to tell them. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, getting the pack of gum out of your pocket. Just the act of unwrapping a stick makes you feel instantly better. “I guess I was thinking I wouldn’t need it anymore.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” James says lightly. “I don’t imagine it’s easy, sweetheart, you shouldn’t feel bad about using something to cope. It’s not like having gum hurts anything.” 

You hum, then turn to Remus sheepishly. “I’m really sorry, do you think you might be able to change?” He looks confused. “Your sweater smells like cigarettes,” you explain. 

James gasps as though scandalized and Remus swears, grabbing the neckline of his sweater and tugging it off. He tosses it into the hall. 

“M’sorry, dove.” He takes your head between his hands, mushing a kiss into your hair. He’s now bare-chested, and you laugh at the dramatics, totally unexpected from him. “I didn’t realize. Is it better now?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” 

He drops another kiss on your head, remorseful. “Alright, I’ll go grab something else to wear,” he says, starting to stand. Both Sirius and James protest loudly. 

“I think what you’re wearing now looks great,” says James. 

“Yeah,” Sirius seconds, “stay in that.” 

Remus looks down at his shirtless torso, raising an eyebrow at the other boys. You can see the amusement dancing in his eyes. 

“Really?” he asks. 

“Come on, it’s not like the fucking Pope’s coming over,” Sirius says, looking well below your boyfriend’s eyes with unabashed enthusiasm. “Tell him, gorgeous.” 

Remus turns his gaze on you. You curl in on yourself slightly, shrugging your shoulders. “This is the best distraction I’ve had all day,” you say quietly, and James’ laughter booms off the walls. 

“Fair enough.” Remus rolls his eyes, grinning as he sits back down on the couch beside you. You get comfy like you were against his side, now smelling only him. He drapes his arm across your back, settling a hand on your hip. “The lows I stoop to for you, hm?” 

“If you’re not up to the task,” Sirius says, “just say the word. I’d be happy to take her off your hands.” 

“Fuck off,” Remus says, and tugs you closer.

[lilmaymayy]

LOVEEEEEEE those audios😭😭😭😫

I'm so obsessed with Maya and Luke lately, so yeah, here's a lil edit I made before I post chapter 2 of Serendipity 💘

tagging my babes: @lilmaymayy @ma1dita @jennapancake @sc4rl3ttdafoxx 🫶🏻

[lilmaymayy]

hehe HELP ME🥸 idek what color schemeee shoukd i change the lyrics in my too? ugh god being aesthetic is so hard

[lilmaymayy]

tbh just this man in grey- in anything😇🤫

MEN in grey sweatpants>>

[lilmaymayy]

oh my lordy OH MY GOD I SAW THIS IN CLASS AND I GENUINELY DROPPED DEADD MY JAW WAS ON THE FLOOR

bro i am such a slut THE AMRS THE JAW THE HANDSSS omfg just him in general

[lilmaymayy]

we cant help it but fall back into him😫😫😫😫ISTG IF HE DOESNT CHANGE

Pray You Catch Me (Part 3)

[fem reader] contains: mentions of pale skin, cheating, suggestive, panic attack, manipulation, angst, innocent reader, reader cares to some level about snow. pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader  summary: (au) you’ve been married to the president of Panem for awhile now, and you thought things were going well, until you find out he’s been cheating. (Chapter 3) author’s note: this is the longest one yet. I hope it's good <3 thanks for all the love and support. If I'm planning this correctly, there'll be one more chapter in this series, so lookout for that, I'll keep you updated. Let me know which song(s) off Lemonade you want for the last chapter. I've gotten suggestions for Jolene or Daughter too, might play around with that. Love and thanks <3

Whoever said a house divided against itself cannot stand was wrong. It can, but it’s not an easy house to live in. It’s only when someone sets fire to the house that it falls.

As you avoided him the next couple of weeks, you half hoped he missed you, but decided not to give it too much thought. He didn’t deserve that. The silent treatment, although childish, weaned results in your previous experience.

The day he was supposed to meet her came and went, and you were restless for all of your waking hours. Part of you wanted to confront him, the other, more stubborn part said to leave it. You’d made your statement. If he wanted you back then he’d have to make the first move.

It was peaceful existing outside his constant gaze. Having the whole bed to yourself was nice too. You didn’t have to curate what you wore to sleep, didn’t have to constantly make sure your expressions were pleasing to him.

Although you kind of missed his warm body next to yours. His hands reaching out in the night, making you feel wanted…

No. He didn’t want you. He wanted everything. He thought he could have everything. But as long as you were distant, he couldn’t.

Truth be told, you weren’t sure how to continue from here. What does one do after they confront their husband about his cheating? It wasn’t like your mother had warned you about this. So you stayed quiet and stayed away. 

As long as you were able to, at least.

There was a gala tonight, a big one, and even though you weren’t exactly on speaking terms, you knew it’d be bad for your image if you didn’t go together. It’d be the same as all these parties were, drinks and chatting mindlessly, pictures taken of you and Coriolanus together looking like the beautiful couple you pretended to be.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t have some fun with it. 

So when you descended the stairs that night in a deep burgundy dress so red it was almost black, you held back a smirk at the look on your husband’s face. He was in his red suit, that red suit, the one you’d debated stuffing a pair of your panties into the pocket of, but decided against.

The dress was silk, falling off your shoulders with a high slit up the side that wasn’t visible until you walked. Your hair was curly, in its natural state, a way you hadn’t dared wear in front of him before. It was messy, but pretty, and you felt more yourself than you had in ages.

Coriolanus’ face was even, but his eyes betrayed him. They widened slightly, and that little mark of hunger flickered in his irises, just as you’d hoped. His eyes traveled from your legs to your waist, and landed on your hair. “I requested that you wear white.”

You stopped at the second to last step on the staircase. “Your request has been submitted.”

He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. You knew his possessive side was taking over, seeing you in the color he loved so much. Gracefully, you reached the bottom, and you both walked silently to the waiting car outside. 

The ride was quiet, and you kept your eyes out the window, watching the trees and buildings pass you by. Your posture was perfect, your face void of any emotion. You were calm, but he didn’t know that, and it was delicious.

Coriolanus watched you shamelessly, but you did not once turn your head to look at him. 

Once you arrived at the event at someone’s mansion, Coriolanus stepped out of the car, giving you a hand to help you out, and you took it, your hand sliding up to the crook of his arm. You made sure your face was set in a gracious smile. The president and his perfect wife. Your dress would certainly make headlines. You’d never worn anything this bold before, usually sticking to soft, light colors.

There were photographers everywhere, and you made sure to look up at Coriolanus lovingly, your stupid, foolish heart melting when you found he was looking at you the same way. It’s not real, you had to remind yourself. It. Isn’t. Real.

But oh…he was so handsome. And the way he held your hand in the cradle of his arm, made sure you didn’t trip over your dress as you went up the stairs…you hated yourself for the feelings coursing through you. He cheated on you.

As you entered the party, you struggled to put your emotions back in their box. Coriolanus wound his arm around your waist, signaling that you should stay close to him, but you ignored it, taking a glass of champagne and moving toward where some of the other wives had gathered.

Your husband caught you around the waist again, his fingers digging into your side. “Right by me, dove.” Coriolanus’ expression was firm, and his eyes bored a hole into you. 

Tilting your head as your eyebrows raised, you took a sip of your drink. “I want to say hello. Be a good First Lady.”

“You can do that by keeping by my side,” he said coldly. His voice lowered so only you could hear. “I don’t care what you think you know, we have an image to maintain.”

“I don’t need you to tell me about image,” you said in a sharp whisper. “That's all we are.”

With that, you jerked yourself away, and this time you were too fast to stop him.

Talking with the other wives went exactly how you thought. Mindless gossip, compliments on your dress, tentative tactics on their part to try and figure out what went on behind the walls of the president’s mansion. You’d always enjoyed playing with them, giving them just enough ‘information’, but still keeping the secrecy that kept them interested. That was your job- to be interesting. To be an extension of Coriolanus, but better. Charming, beautiful, sweet.

Eventually, you tired of them, and returned to him, another champagne glass in hand. You would’ve had to eventually, and you wanted it to be on your own terms. He was speaking with a senator and his dark haired wife. As you approached them, he twined his arm back around your waist, greeting you with a dutiful kiss to your hairline, his eyes still on the senator as he rambled about district funding. 

You smiled at his wife, knowing you’d have to engage in conversation with her while the men did. She smiled back, studying you, her careful eyes catching on your neck, on the burn mark that hadn’t fully healed yet. Your hair had been covering it up so far, but apparently on your walk over, it’d moved aside. 

The dark haired woman frowned, and she looked at you, curiosity thinly veiled by feigned concern. “Whatever happened to your neck? It looks painful.”

The conversation between the two men halted, and they both looked at you. You allowed an innocent expression to take over your face, and you moved your hair modestly so the mark was covered again. “Oh…Coriolanus got a bit carried away is all,” you said, looking up at him with a sweet smile, your hand on the back of his shoulder. “Right, dearest?”

His mouth was firmly set as he looked down at you, eyes were hard. He’d had about enough of your behavior, and you could see it. But instead of yelling at you or gripping your waist tighter, he smirked.

 Then he took your glass away. “That’s enough for you I think.” The senator laughed, and your husband drank the little champagne that was left. 

You just watched him, your smile fading a bit. In a single motion, he’d taken the power back, made you look like a fool. Your cheeks flushed a bit, and you forced a smile onto your face, succumbing to his grip.

 The next hour was a parade of pointless small talk and stillness on your part. This felt unfamiliar- you were usually sweet and chatty with all those you greeted, charming even the frostiest of figures. 

This trait had always been a part of you, ever since you’d been inducted into Capitol society. Quickly, you’d learned you liked it when people liked you, and over the years, your charm had developed naturally. You suspected it was what drew him to you initially. The two of you had met at one of these types of parties after all.

When you and Coriolanus debuted your engagement, society had been no less than thrilled. Their beautiful effervescent debutante paired with the handsome up and coming politician. And when he’d become president within your first year of marriage, well, it was a supernova. The tabloids had dubbed you “Panem’s Princess” because of it. 

You thought of that girl as you smiled listlessly at passerby, nodding along with whatever Coriolanus was saying, mourning the innocence you’d lost. That girl felt like a character in a book now, relatable, but far beyond your grasp. She’d been so hopeful, and he’d torn it all down.

Coriolanus squeezed your side briefly, and you smiled a little brighter, nodding at the man he was talking to like you’d been paying attention, hoping your demeanor wasn’t too noticeable.

Oh, who were you kidding? The papers would have a field day with this. They followed your every move at public events. Looking down at where Coriolanus’ hand was situated, slightly over your tummy, you could hear the headlines. FIRST LADY EXPECTED TO EXPECT! PANEM’S PRINCESS PREGNANT? 

Not that it really mattered, you supposed. The rumors would die down. Your marriage wouldn’t.

Your husband excused himself with a whisper and a squeeze to your waist, and you didn’t watch him leave, not really caring in the moment where he went. Immediately, you were accosted by another wife, admonishing compliments on your dress. 

“I’ve never seen you match with President Snow,” she said, smiling brightly. “Trying something new?”

You nodded, smiling back warmly. Panem’s Princess. “To be honest, it was a complete accident. But I wasn’t about to change.”

She laughed. “The two of you are so sweet. The entire country’s jealous of your relationship.”

Smile fading a bit, you excused yourself, apologizing to her as you did. The innocent comment opened the box of feelings you’d tried to kick aside. Pretending was agony. How was it going to get easier, acting like he loved you?

You stumbled into the hallway, darting just around a nearby corner for a moment of privacy, your back against the wall, the coolness of it breathing a little life into you. Breathing ragged, you rested your head against the wall, trying to regain your calm but it proved difficult.

If he’d truly never cared about you, this must have come easily. Jealousy overwhelmed you at the thought. As your mind wandered to the future, you were overwhelmed by the idea of thousands more of these events. Was it going to be this agonizing every time? This would be unbearable.

Thinking of before, you tried to come to a conclusion. Maybe you could be done avoiding him now. Surely he’d learned his lesson. You could move past this, learn to forgive him. Maybe, just maybe, if you allowed yourself to care about him again, it would be easier. It could be like before.

You’d decided to talk to him when you got home, when you heard voices around the corner, by where the door to the party was. It was Coriolanus, you realized. Curious, you listened closer, moving a little bit to the side to have a better vantage. That was him all right. Authoritative, but soft enough that you couldn’t really hear what he was saying. And then someone else started talking. A woman.

Immediately, you moved around the corner to see them, keeping yourself in the shadows. If he looked up, he’d see you, but his eyes were focused on the woman in front of him. The dark haired woman.

It was the senator’s wife. Them being alone together wasn’t enough to suspect anything. But the way he was looking at her.

Your eyes widened as you realized it. It’s her. 

Coriolanus tilted her chin up as he said something quietly. His face was hardened, and he nodded once at her response. Then she went back into the party, leaving him alone. You forgot you were in a spot where he’d see you, frozen in place. Then he looked up, his sharp blue eyes piercing you.

The two of you were locked there, staring at each other for what felt like forever. Then, without even realizing it, you moved toward him, anger making you faster.

Your hand moved of its own volition, yanking his collar so his face was close to yours. “What the fuck was that?”

He made no move to stop you. “Calm down, dove-”

The pet name only angered you further, and you pulled harder. “You were four feet from the door. Discretion isn’t your strong point, is it?”

Coriolanus pulled your hand off his collar, gripping it and suffocating your fingers. “You don’t know what you saw.”

“Save it,” you hissed, trying to pull your hand away. “Save it for her. She’s still under your spell.”

Your hand was freed, and you went back into the party, fury numbing you, objectives unclear. In a haze, you glided to her husband, greeting him sweetly. He excused himself from whom he was previously speaking immediately as you worked your charm on him, smiling brightly and laughing. 

Then you touched his arm, moving just slightly closer. Enough for him to notice, enough for him to notice, but not enough for a nosy reporter to sell it into a story.

The senator looked pleased, and he gave you a tentative smile, opening his mouth to say something-

An arm claimed your waist for the millionth time tonight, and you were pulled into your husband’s chest, his other hand on the back of your neck, forcing your face to rest against his shoulder, hiding you from the world. The cool of his wedding ring was pressed against your skin

“Apologies, Senator,” Coriolanus said smoothly. “It seems my wife didn’t slow down on the champagne.”

You heard a faint chuckle, and then Coriolanus dropped his lips to the top of your head, hand smoothing over your curls. Since you hardly ever wore your hair like this, you knew he’d been dying to touch it all night.

The senator must have left, because he leaned down and whispered, “We’re leaving. Now.”

The walk back to the car was a blur as he pulled you through the crowd, and you kept up as gracefully as you could, hurrying down the stairs and nearly tripping over your dress. The second the door was shut, he turned to you, his face furious. “The next man you touch dies.”

You slapped him, an instant response. His face was unmoving, his glare stronger now. The anger simmered in both of you. 

“Try not to hurt yourself,” you spat, your other hand balling into a fist, nails digging into your palm.

His hands were around your wrists in a flash. “You are mine. After everything I’ve given you, everything-”

“What about what I’ve given you?” you retorted, your hair falling forward over your shoulders as you looked up at him. “You really think you could’ve done anything without my image? I’m Panem’s Princess. Without me you’re just a man who got lucky.”

“Don’t you go there,” he said coolly, gripping your wrists tighter. But you could tell your words had gotten to him, hit him right in the ego.

“Why shouldn’t I?” You leaned closer to him. “You know as well as I do that you’re well liked. But I’m adored. You’re too caught up in your own image to realize I’m helping you more than you ever did me.”

The car stopped in front of the mansion, and you got out, pulling your wrists away, kicking off your shoes and picking them up, walking up the stairs, not caring if he followed but knowing he would.

As the door shut behind the both of you, he grabbed your arm, pulling you back to face him. “Tonight had better be an anomaly. You show up in this dress, flirt with someone beneath me and think you can get away with it?”

“I could say the exact same thing to you,” you scoffed, almost laughing. “Everyone thinks you’re something to be afraid of, but all I see is a little boy who thinks he can have it all.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset by any of this,” he said frustratedly, and you scoffed again, looking away in disbelief. “You knew the terms of this marriage. It’s not like I hurt you.”

You were silent, staring at him, waiting for him to figure it out. It took him one minute, and it was one minute longer than you’d have liked. His face fell slightly as he realized, his eyes widening slightly. “You…you…”

There were hot tears in your eyes, and you cursed yourself for it. Stupid, stupid feelings. Stupid, beautiful man.

“I thought…you cared about me,” you said, your voice only breaking a little, holding strong. “Not loved. Cared. And I was wrong. So wrong.”

Coriolanus shook his head and released your wrists, stepping toward you a little. “I do care about you…”

You shook your head, looking up at him, a single cursed tear falling down your cheek. “I don’t know if you care about anyone. Not me, not her, nobody. You’re the king of everything…” you spread your arms out wide for a second, letting them fall to your sides. “But being at the top isn’t what you thought it’d be.”

He kept quiet for once.

Closing your eyes, you brought a hand to your brow, trying to breathe steadily. All the emotion and panic from the night was encircling you, backing you into a tighter and tighter spot. 

Seeing him with her…his hand on her chin…how many times has he seen her since…I don’t want him…I want him…he cheated…

Your legs grew weak, and you dropped your shoes, collapsing to your knees, chest heaving and ears ringing. Your nails dug into your palms, trying to capture the tension there, but failing. He was on the ground next to you in an instant, hand on your back. You shook your head, trying to push him away. “Don’t…please don’t…”

Coriolanus ignored you, hand rubbing your back, trying to soothe you through it. He said your name softly, and you shook your head again. “Please go…”

You were trying to stay angry, trying to keep yourself the confident, intimidating woman he’d seen all night…but it’d all broken you down. Despite it all, despite the cheating and lying, you cared. You cared too much. It was worthless to pretend, too exhausting to have any kind of facade. And so you fell…fell back into his arms where you’d begun. 

He held you close to his chest, his hand pressing your head to him, your ear right over his heart. The steady beating of it calmed you, and you clung to him, gasping for air. Coriolanus dug his nose into your hair, taking in deep breaths that encouraged you to do the same. His thumb rubbed the space between your ear and your hair, his other arm secured protectively around you.

Gradually your breathing became regular again, but you still held tight to him. He was all you had right now. 

“Stay with me tonight love,” he murmured, staying perfectly still as you rested against him. “You never have to again. But…”

“I hate you,” you breathed shakily.

“I know, love,” he nudged his nose against your head. “I know. Stay with me.”

“If you ever do this again I’ll leave you,” you vowed softly, meaning it. “I’ll leave you…and you’ll never find me…”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” he muttered, and you felt his ring against your skin again. “Stay with me tonight love.”

Love. You were too exhausted to argue, and you just slumped against him, letting him hold you close.

Half of your brain screamed at you to pull yourself away, to stand firm, to divide the house between you even further, make it crumble. But the softer part felt how gently he held you, how he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, hoisting you into his arms as he stood up, carrying you up the stairs.

He cheated, he cheated, hecheatedhecheatedhecheated.

His bed was so familiar, and you’d missed it. Missed his scent surrounding you, his arms around you as you drifted off. 

He cheated.

Does he regret it?

Does it matter?

Lovelovelovelove.

A house set on fire cannot stand.

[lilmaymayy]

WE ARE SUCH A BADDIEEEE OH MY GOODDDDD I AM LOVING THIS SERIESS

Pray You Catch Me (Part 2)

[fem reader] contains: mentions of pale skin, cheating, suggestive, self harm (non-suicidal), manipulation, angst, innocent reader, reader cares to some level about snow. pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader  summary: (au) you’ve been married to the president of Panem for awhile now, and you thought things were going well, until you find out he’s been cheating. (Chapter 2) author’s note: thanks for the love on chapter one <3 excited about this one.

When Coriolanus had started to court you, he’d exhibited certain behaviors you’d taken note of. Some of them were regular things, but one stood out above all others.

He was possessive. One of his hands was always on your waist, or your thigh, wherever he could reach, wherever was appropriate for the setting. Whenever you were speaking with anyone at the events the two of you attended, especially if it was a man, he kept close watch. His gaze was sharp, piercing, and anyone could feel it on them even if they weren’t looking in his direction.

Every touch, every hint of protectiveness swam through your head as you laid next to him, back against his chest as he held you like a doll.

Sleep was not your friend that night.

Your mind was fully focused on the hand he’d put over you, how it had slid under your nightdress, resting on the skin of your hip, and your emotions ran wild, swirling around until sunrise when you finally landed on one. Anger.

The audacity he had to make plans to meet another woman for something so glaringly carnal and then come back to you, his obedient little wife, like nothing had happened. Your hand gripped the pillow under your head, feeling like you could tear it in half. The black nightdress you’d picked up felt like sandpaper on your skin.

Sitting up slightly, you looked over at him. The most powerful man in Panem, fast asleep, so vulnerable, so…human. His blond hair was a little messy, his breathing soft. Even now, he was annoyingly perfect. 

Suddenly, as your mind wandered, it struck you that you had no idea how long he’d been seeing her. You knew it’d been at least once because he’d mentioned last time. This could have been years in the making, and you were just too naive, too stupid to see it. Hell, it could’ve started long before he’d begun courting you, and you’d been none the wiser. You hardly knew anything of his past, except what his being in the public eye afforded you.

The hand on your hip was heavy, like a weight, and you glared down at it. In the past, you would’ve allowed it, not wanting to wake him. Maybe you’d have even enjoyed the feeling.

But this was not the past. 

In one motion, you shoved his hand off you, tugging your nightdress down and moving as far away from him as you could on the bed. You pulled the pillow out from under your head and put it firmly between the two of you, your back to him. It was a small act of rebellion, but it was all you had right now.

When morning came and the sunlight spilled through the windows between the wine red curtains, he’d awaken and wonder why he wasn’t holding you anymore. But he wouldn’t think much of it, likely figuring you’d shifted around in the night. He’d be confused, but it wouldn’t affect more than a few minutes of his waking mind.

It was all you had right now.

~.~

Several hours later, Coriolanus was gone for the day, and you tried to occupy yourself. It was not an easy task. It felt pathetic waiting around for him to get home, but you didn’t know what else to do.

Wandering into the closet you shared, you ventured over to his side, running your hands over his shirts and jackets, inhaling his scent. You’d never explored his things before, keeping to your dresses and heels. He’d never outright told you not to do this, but you assumed he didn’t necessarily want you to. 

What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. It was the least you could do after what he knew hurt you.

You took a shirt off its hanger, pressing the fabric to your nose. Men’s cologne, roses. That was him. When you put it back on the hanger, you made sure it was a little less neat than before.

Now you were at his jackets, and you took a red one off the hanger, noting the pants it matched on a shelf, crisply folded. Going over to the floor length mirror, you pulled it on, smoothing it over your body. You were still wearing the black nightdress from the night before.

Wearing his clothes felt strange, but you liked it. It was…powerful. You put your hands in the pockets, turning to look at yourself from a new angle, when you felt a loose scrap of fabric. Lace.

Your eyes widened, a feeling of dread taking over as you hastily pulled it out. A stark black pair of panties, ones that did not belong to you.

Mind racing, you thought back to the last time he’d worn this jacket. A month ago, a fundraiser you’d attended. You remembered that night because he’d been unusually affectionate, pressing a kiss to your forehead when you’d leave to talk to a friend, his arm around your waist holding you close when he was speaking with a senator you couldn’t remember the name of. You’d felt…well, not loved, but cared for. Like maybe, just maybe this could be more.

But evidently he’d gone straight to her afterwards.

The staff of the mansion was discreet, and they wouldn’t dare ask questions if they found a pair of panties in his pocket. They’d have likely just put them right back where they found them after the jacket had been cleaned.

As all this hit you, your face crumpled, and you knelt on the floor of the closet, still holding the panties, and cried softly. It wasn’t real. None of it was real. You didn’t know why you were surprised he was stepping out on you, but it was the fact that he’d made you think he cared about you, and allowed yourself to care back. 

You were just another pawn in his game. 

Men like Coriolanus wanted to be adored, without risking their own necks. Let everyone else feel, be vulnerable, devote themselves. On some level you had known that before, but now…now it was glaringly obvious.

As was what you had to do. 

You wiped your tears and took off the jacket, hanging it up right where he’d see it when he walked in. The panties were still bunched in your fist as you stalked out of the closet, heading for the bathroom. A plan was hatching in your mind, and you gritted your teeth, your expression dark. 

Tossing the panties on the counter, you pulled out your curling iron and plugged in. As you waited for it to heat up, you got out a washcloth, twisting it in your hands. It was your wedding anniversary today, so you knew for sure he’d be home tonight. That’s why he can’t meet her tonight-

Shut up, you told yourself, fanning a hand over the curling iron, making sure it was hot. You picked it up, inhaling softly. There was a moment of hesitation. Was it worth it?

Then you thought of the way your heart had fluttered when he pressed his lips to your temple, the way you’d smiled sweetly at him when he told you that you looked beautiful on his arm…

You shoved the washcloth into your mouth and brought the curling iron to your neck, pressing it down hard.

~.~

Perfection is attainable, you thought as you sat at the dining table, across from your usual spot. His place was set at the head, and you were often situated to his left. But tonight you’d requested you sit to the right, a subtle change that’d unconsciously put him on edge.

You looked ravishing, in a dress with a deep neckline, thin straps, and hardly any back. Deep red. His signature color. One you hadn’t dared to wear before. There was a rose between your fingers, and you were twisting it, eyes on the entrance to the dining room.

At last, he appeared, as handsome as ever, his face serene. There was little reaction to the sight of you, but it was there, and you relished in it.

“Dove,” he greeted, coming closer. You made no move to stand and welcome him as you usually did, instead looking up at him innocently, the end of the short stem of the rose in your mouth.

He sat in his chair, eyes on you. “Your dress…”

“Oh?” You looked down at yourself as if it were nothing. “I found it in the back of the closet. I know you usually like me in black…” you let that statement hang in the air for a moment. “...but it’s a special occasion.”

Coriolanus watched you, something you couldn’t pinpoint in his eyes. “I was only going to say you look lovely.”

You only smiled at the compliment, setting the rose down in front of you, your hand beside it. He picked it up, his elbow on the table, kissing your fingers. “Happy anniversary, dove.”

Hating the little flutter your heart gave, you kept your eyes on him, a little smile on your face as you brushed your hair behind your shoulder with your free hand.

Immediately his eyes caught it, his expression growing cold.

The dark burn mark on your neck, bruising and almost looking like…

You looked innocently at him, taking note of the change in his face. “Dearest…?”

His grip on your hand was tighter. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”

Frowning, you kept your expression light, pretending not to know. “I don’t-”

“Your neck,” he hissed. “What the hell is that?”

You didn’t respond, only looked at him, your eyes blank like you had a secret. His silence was furious, and yet internally you were having a laugh. Cheaters are always paranoid that their partners are cheating. This was something you'd known when you burned your neck earlier, and the seed you’d planted was in full bloom. “Curling iron accident.”

You’d made sure to only slightly curl the ends of your long hair, enough that what you said was plausible, but not entirely believable. His thoughts were almost visible on his face. “You expect me to believe you burned yourself?”

“You can ask Lisa,” you said, referring to one of the maids. “I rang for her to bring me ointment.” This was true, you’d called her in tears, showing her the mark. She’d applied enough medicine to stop the pain, but nothing but time would make the mark completely go away.

But you knew how his mind worked. He knew maids could be bribed, and pain could be fabricated. And you’d orchestrated it so it’d be frustrating for him to get to the bottom of this, because he already was at the bottom. His paranoia was almost too easy to manipulate.

“If I find out you’ve been with another man…” Coriolanus’ voice was quiet, the tone change making his words lethal. 

You leaned forward, pulling your hand from his grasp. “And what if I am?”

His cold expression betrayed some surprise as you stood up, looking like a goddess with your hair spilling over your shoulders. In his usual color preference, you looked powerful, dangerously beautiful. “It’s hard to tell, Coriolanus. You work long hours. Spend a lot of time away. Maybe…just maybe, I could’ve gotten lonely. Maybe I could’ve needed someone to keep your side of the bed warm…”

In an instant, he stood, pinning your hands to the table and leaning over you, his hot breath in your face. You kept your expression calm, looking into his eyes boldly. He glared at you. “You wouldn’t dare-”

“You’re right,” you cut him off. “I wouldn’t. That mark on my neck is just a burn...” He must’ve thought you were a good actress, but not good enough that he couldn’t see through you. It was almost funny how easy he could be convinced. It’d hardly taken any effort at all. 

You wrenched one of your hands out of his grasp, taking his hand and sliding it up so his fingers were hooked on the slit of your dress, dragging it up and over toward your belly so the panties you were wearing were on full display. Black, lacy ones. 

His eyes widened as he recognized them, and you stared at him, expression hard. His lips parted slightly, and his eyes rose slowly to meet yours. You said nothing, shoving his hand away, your dress falling back over your legs. “...care to tell me what these are?”

Coriolanus’ blue eyes pierced yours, and you didn’t let yourself be intimidated by him. He was the president of Panem…but he was still just a man.

“You know,” he said simply, eyes searching yours.

You only stared at him.

He exhaled, biting his tongue and looking away for a moment. “How long have you known?”

“I don’t see why that matters,” you said, folding your arms across your chest, your chin held high.

His expression was firm, but he nodded curtly. “I suppose it doesn’t.”

Silence.

Coriolanus kept his eyes on you. “I never meant to hurt you, dove-”

“Don’t call me that,” you said softly, sharply.

He exhaled through his nose, a sure sign he was angry. “You had to know this would happen at some point. This was an arranged marriage for-”

You interrupted him again. “It’d be one thing if you’d always been cold. If you’d kept your distance and stayed far away from me. But you convinced me that you cared about me. You made me look stupid.” Your eyes bored into his.

He was silent, still glaring at you, but it had weakened. The words hit him exactly where you’d wanted them to. 

You stood up straight, stepping away from him. “I’ll be staying in another room from now on, so if you’ll excuse me, I need to move my things.” You’d already enlisted Lisa to help move most of them earlier, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Absolutely not,” Coriolanus grabbed your wrist. “I can tolerate your anger, but separate beds will not be suffered. Or did you forget your vows-?”

“Which you already broke,” you pulled yourself away from him, turning your back, giving him one last look at you in the dress. “I think sleeping in a different bed will be fine.”

He wasn’t used to being interrupted this much, and he stood in silence as you walked away. Just before you got to the doorway, you reached up, sliding the panties down your legs, turning and throwing them in his direction. “Here. I bet she’s missing these.”

And with that, you left your husband in silence, the last hours of your wedding anniversary lost to the aftermath of his infidelity.

[lilmaymayy]

JAW DROPPEDDDD HELLO THIS IS SO GOOD SO HESRTBREAKING AND SO MWUAH

Pray You Catch Me

[fem reader] contains: mentions of pale skin, cheating, suggestive, innocent reader, reader cares to some level about snow. pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader summary: (au) you’ve been married to the president of Panem for awhile now, and you thought things were going well, until you find out he’s been cheating. author’s note: definitely going to make this a series, this isn’t necessarily a dark fic, but it’s not not a dark fic so keep that in mind. This is my first fic on tumblr and I’m still figuring out how to use the site in regards to fanfiction, figuring out what warnings I need to include so let me know if I missed anything :) 

It’s a strange thing to find out that someone you’re not supposed to love cheated on you.

This is a fact you found to be true one night as you wandered the halls of the mansion you inhabited with your husband, the president of Panem. The beautiful, tortured, powerful Coriolanus Snow. A match made in heaven, as your father proclaimed when he told you after your graduation from the university. Somehow, the fact that he’d let you finish school, knowing you’d only be married off afterward made it worse.

But as Coriolanus began to court you, suddenly it wasn’t a horrible idea. He was young, and very handsome, a far cry from the men some of your girlfriends had been forced to marry. Old, balding men with more money than yellowing teeth, and horribly old-fashioned demeanors. 

Coriolanus was just as wealthy, thanks to his former Gamemaker position, and the only thing paler than his perfect blond hair was his full mouth of teeth. As for his demeanor, well, he was cold, lightly controlling (typical of a man in the Capitol), but he’d charmed you right down the aisle after all so how bad was it really?

Marriage wasn’t the storybook romance you’d fantasized about in your youth, but it was fine enough, and besides, you’d left those daydreams in the past. You never wanted for anything, were at the height of society, admired and beloved by all, especially now that he was president. The two of you made a beautiful couple, and you were free to do as you pleased, your only obligations being typical marital duty when he requested so and attending the various events his presidency demanded from him on his arm, the perfect little wife.

Even though this was an arranged marriage, and you knew he didn’t love you per se, you knew he was at least fond of you. Through the little smiles he offered you when you’d say something particularly sweet or funny, and the gifts he lavished you with, and the fact that he insisted you slept in the same bed, he showed you. And little by little, you came to like him. You looked forward to eating with him every morning and evening, even came to enjoy his touch, the little ways he gave himself to you as a husband. He treated you with respect, and you gave him what he wanted. Your body, your devotion, your image. 

All in all, after almost three years of marriage, you were content.

Until one night, when you were walking down the hallway where his office was, planning on asking him when he was coming to bed. It was getting late, and you’d taken it upon yourself to make sure he got some sleep. Besides, you missed having his warm body beside yours as you fell asleep.

Bare feet padding down the hallway, clad in a silk dressing gown, you crept toward the door. He was talking to someone on the phone, and you smiled softly. That was Coriolanus, always working. Devoted to his career, his life’s work.

You pressed your ear to the door, wondering if he was wrapping up the conversation so you could walk through the door and see him. As you did, you caught the middle of a sentence.

“...told you not to call me here, dove,” he said quietly, almost urgently.

The weight of it hit you like a punch. Dove. That was his pet name for you. Your eyes widened, and your vision blurred, the room seeming to tilt. Dovedovedovedove.

Who was he talking to?

Ear pressed to the door, you tried to make out the conversation. Maybe it’d been some kind of sick Freudian slip, a mistake.

“...I know, I know,” he said in hushed tones, voice cold. “No, not tomorrow, it’s my wife and I’s anniversary. The next morning. I’ll come to you.” He paused. “Wear the black one from last time, dove. You looked so pretty for me.” The last part was said quieter than the others.

The rest of the conversation was lost to you. Your knees felt weak, and you slid down the wall, heart pounding in your ears, arms folding automatically around yourself. Dove.

Another woman.

A million thoughts raced through your mind, and you didn’t know how long you sat there, leaning against the door. For some reason, you felt like crying. Even though you weren’t supposed to love him, it still hit like a slap across the face. For a moment, you wished he would open the door and find you there, and know you’d heard enough to know what he’d done.

But he didn’t. You could hear papers shuffling around, and eventually you stood up, your thoughts still static, and ran quietly back up to your shared bedroom, suddenly not wanting him to know that you knew.

Shutting the door behind you, you scrambled to come to a conclusion. Why was he doing this? Were you not good enough? Didn’t you give him enough?

In this haze, seeing this as the only possible reason, you tore off your dressing gown, running to the closet and digging through a drawer until you found a pretty lacy little nightdress, one he’d gotten for you. In black, he said he wanted her in black.

You pulled it on, hurriedly going to the vanity and adjusting your appearance, smoothing your hair, making sure you were perfect. The black lace stood out against your porcelain skin, making your cheeks look rosy. Your hair was luscious and soft, neatly brushed out. You looked angelic, the picture of beauty.

Quickly, picked up a little bottle, spraying the perfume you knew he liked on your wrists and neck. Does he get her this scent too?

Hazily, you stepped out and went to a chair close to the bed and picked up one of your books just to give yourself some kind of distraction. Your mind raced, a thousand unhelpful thoughts piercing your soul. Maybe if I was prettier…I can be prettier…maybe if I smiled more…maybe if I’m pretty for him right now, he won’t go to her…maybe he’ll forget…

At last, Coriolanus opened the bedroom door, shutting it behind him. The white sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up, and you felt a little flutter at the sight, sitting up straight so he’d notice you…

He barely gave you a glance, going around to his side of the bed, pulling his tie off and tossing it on the chair beside his bed. He kicked his shoes off and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off, and it went the same way as the tie, as well as his pants. 

You stood up, putting your book down, and slowly got under the covers, letting the hem of your nightdress slide up your thigh. He pulled back the covers, getting in and resting his head back on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. You moved a little closer to him, one strap of your nightdress falling off your shoulder. Nothing.

Reaching over, closer to him, you ran your hand up his arm soothingly. When he’d had a tense day at work, this usually worked, but now he didn’t respond. You moved closer, running your hand up his chest. His eyes turned to you, but they were void of any emotion. Biting your lip, you tried a sweet little smile. 

Coriolanus’ hand moved to yours on his chest, and he moved it off, giving it a little pat. His hand went back to its spot on his stomach. “Not tonight, dove.” Your husband’s words were cold, final. Dove.

Another pang went through your chest, and you moved back a little, feeling like you were free falling. Hedoesntwantyou.

Your eyes filled with tears, and you bit your lip harder, not wanting to cry in front of him. You felt ridiculous, all dolled up in your little nightdress, thinking if you were prettier he would stop cheating.

Turning to the side, facing away from him, you stared at the wall, trying to pretend to be asleep. Not that he’d notice anyways.

You eventually closed your eyes, feeling like the loneliest person in the world, even though there was a man who supposedly cared about you lying there beside you. Knees tucked up toward your chest, covers around your hips, you tried to sleep, tried to act like you didn’t know what you knew. 

As you drifted off to sleep, you felt him turn over, a hand coming over your waist, pulling you closer. It took everything in you not to push it away. Why should he get to hold you? Why should he get to walk out of one woman’s arms into another’s?

The last thought you had before you fell asleep was about how warm his hand was, and how it felt wrong that it belonged to such a cold man.