#WHEN I WAS SWITCHING ACCOUNTS I ACCIDENTALLY CLICKED SOMETHING

[minty-bubblegum]

WHY IS MY TUMBLR PURPLE

[priniya]

MYSTERY OF LOVE !

kenma kozume’s girlfriend casually walks in on his stream and spends some time with him.

notes: kenma kozume x reader. established relationship, streamer!kenma and reader, kind of tenz and kydae relationship (cus im a simp for them).

taglist (click here to be added!)

“hey, sorry if ‘m interrupting, but you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. want me to make something particular for you or my mom’s lasagne will be okay?” you entered your boyfriend’s office, leaning on the doorway with a worried expression on your face. his eyes shot to you almost immediately, and you could watch his face lightening up upon seeing your silhouette.

“fuck me, it’s been a whole day already?” he asked, tilting his head back by pulling his (a little too long) hair. “whatever you’ll bring me i’d eat with pleasure, love.” a shadow of smile spread over his face as you nodded. “thanks, love you.”

it also turned out that he didn’t mute his stream, and everyone heard his show of affection to you. the whole chat spammed with hearts and awws as you were a common guest on his streams since you were a streamer yourself.

after a few minutes of playing, you walked into the room again, staying off-screen as you handed him the plate with promised lasagne. “don’t you wanna say hi?” he asked, looking at you with a small beam.

it’s been a few months since you revealed your relationship accidentally, there was a glimpse of you, giving your boyfriend a smooch on the lips during one of the irl live-stream of your close friend. the internet had already known you were friends, so announcing that you weren’t only good friends was a hot topic for you two, deciding if you should do it.

“hello chat” you spoke out softly, appearing on the stream with a smile, you could feel kenma’s arm wrap around your waist prior to pulling you to sit on his lap. “wait, have you pulled for nilou on my account already? am telling you chat, this boy is the luckiest one out there.”

“it’s obvious i’m lucky, i have you.” his arm tightened around your waist, as he rested his head on your shoulder, ready for all the edits to flood his twitter timeline. “i haven’t though, do you wanna see how she loses 50/50 with jean?” your boyfriend chuckled, switching the scene so the viewers could only see you.

“stop saying that. i’m gonna off myself if i get another constellation of her. i’m serious chat.” you stated, a serious grimace on your face as kenma logged into your account and switched back the scene when the loading screen appeared. “i’ve been playing on ken’s account lately, yknow farming artifacts for his nilou and gooood, she’s so gorgeous.” you dragged out, shifting on his lap as he opened the wishing window.

viewer kodzuken wished for nilou?? he said she’s shitty

“i didn’t say she’s shitty, i think she’s not worth wishing for.” he answered, making the first ten pull. “yet you still have her in your main party?” you frowned.

“it’s because i know you like her.” he confessed, making you melt internally. you turned your head to face your boyfriend and left a peck on his lips. “you haven’t noticed? i hate playing with the bloop bloop skin in valorant, but it’s your favorite so i always have it on.”

you were about to reply when the game shined with gold. “SHE’S COMING!” you shouted, but then, almost as if your boyfriend cursed it, you saw jean on the screen. “you’re sleeping on the couch today.”

he laughed lowly in respond as he continued to pull on the hydro character’s banner until another gold show on the screen (literally twenty pulls later). “she came home, told you, you’d get her.”

when the stream finally ended, and kenma finally took a break to eat a proper meal besides a few bars of snickers. you sat beside him at the couch, and watch him as he eat. “you should start eating during streams, baby. i’m getting worried.” you muttered, resting your head on his shoulder with a sigh. “almost a ten hours long stream and you ate three snickers and drink at least four energy drinks, ‘s not healthy at all.”

“i’m sorry, love. i’ll set myself a reminder, okay? don’t your pretty head worry.”

[fluffypotatey]

watching Leverage episode 1

if you saw a previous post of mine that started like this....no you didn't i meant to click edit not post y'all ( @0hheytherebigbadwolf & @shana-rosee ) have enticed me and i am very curious about this show. i thought i might as well live-blog my thoughts as i watch the show. today will be s1 ep1. general thoughts will be under the initial reactions spoilers, obviously

almost accidentally watched a different Leverage

i believe it was a reboot or an adaptation of this show?

anyway

not even 5 minutes in and it's not pulling any punches

oh my god that is tristan

WE ARE 3 MINUTES IN AND THE PLOT IS SPICY

"mr. ford, don't you want to screw over the insurance company that let your son die?" OH??? DO TELL

gotta say i love the editing so far of this show. going from the meeting between this ford dude and the guy who got his blueprints stolen to the Heist™️ just....*chef's kiss*

HE DID THAT FOR A BASEBALL CARD??? WHO IS ELLIOT

parker's dad said "be a better thief" and she went "aight bet" only respect for MY queen

"parker's insane," ford said. oh she can't be that bad-- *shows flashback of her childhood home exploding* ....ok i see his point, but like, her dad was a dick

you're telling me, that they accounted for everything and all was going well, but got caught because of the nba playoffs???

listen, i am already looking at this show with the ot3, so when elliot said "it's what i do" after saving alec from security detail, how can i not see alec's reaction as something other than "ok, so i might have a thing for him"

yes, yes the easier answer is alec is impressed by elliot's skills and is also impressed that elliot didn't just leave him to get caught, but i am a lady who likes to wear her rose-tinted glasses

"so this is plan b?" "technically this is plan g" sir...when did you switch to plan b???? was it when parker jumped off early??

omg the act the trio played as the left the building? oscar worthy, i would've been fooled

"did you have fun playing the black king instead of the white knight?" which one of those writers felt like a fucking king after writing that. i know someone chuckled in their little seat like 'now that's a banger line!'

we're only 15 minutes in and there's still more???

oh? the plot thickens!

ah, we're going with the explosion death fake-out i see

"he used my son" oh ho HO someone's going to die i see

oh...my god???? how he looks at sophie??? how she looks at him???? how they speak to each other???? it is only episode one wtf

i am in love with sophie. call me nathan because she's got me wrapped around her finger

elliot being the observant one to nathan's motivations??? yes

alec is me, that's it (not really but yes)

how??? were they able to do that meeting??? did they get actors to help with the con???

THE PLOT THICKENS MORE I SEE

YO?????? I AM BAMBOOZLED THEY WEREN'T ACTORS????

I LOVE AGENT HIGGINS! IS THERE MORE OF HIM PLEASE

their like little ducklings for nathan it's so sweet

"see you!"........."we actually missed working with you, we make a great team"

they used the black king white knight line again as a call back oh that writer felt so proud of it didn't they. "yeah, that line fucks. let's do it again" <- that's them

"we offer....leverage" roll fucking credits

General Thoughts:

WOW ok it is only one episode and i am invested. they give us great character dynamics, hints of backstory, hints of character dynamic backstory, hints of future plot points -> my cream and butter, my creme de la creme

this show hits all of my weak points. yeah, i can tell this was made early 2000s but that does nothing to hinder it. i am giggling, gasping, and sitting on the edge of my seat.

when mr. uppity shareholder man found out about his room being bugged, i was so worried because the plan was going so well and i really wanted to see this guy fall. AND THEN WHEN THE FBI CAME TO ARREST HIM??? HELLO????

but yes, very great pilot, i will watch episode 2

[chrisevansdaughter]

i have this funny and adorable request where Chris watching cocomelon or random toddler shows with his toddler sister! reader on his phone. when chris naps, toddler reader unintentionally play with her brother's phone and accidentally wrote (something like: *jifodsjifjfuckgsjifblahfloop*) on chris's twitter account.

“Bubbas awake”

Paring: Chris x toddler! Sister reader

Warnings: absolutely none just some tooth rotting fluff.

Summary: Chris is ment to be looking after y/n but he falls asleep whilst watching Timmy time (absolute British classic I miss it he’s my picture on Netflix) so she’s gets up to a little of classic y/n trouble just this time it’s with his phone and certain twitter account.

Timmy time was your current obsession the little sheep and his adventures with his friends had you literally fixated for hours.

When Chris was looking after you whilst your ma was out doing errands, he said he’d looked after you since he’s not long just got back from filming, so he said he wouldn’t think of anything better to do then spend time with his lovebug.

It was time he could switch off because you cancelled each other out with him being stressed and you being stressed because he’s not there.

It being that the both of you were so relaxed, you fixated on on Timmy and his adventures at playtime and chris bring essentially exhausted from being away filming having to be going 200mph all the time.

He slowly began to fall asleep, eyes getting heavy, trying to stay awake for you to mindlessly babble about the sheep and just other funny things.

This is where y/n gets in to her ‘classic y/n trouble’.

So with bubba being asleep and me watching Timmy time on his phone, y/n accidentally exited netflix by swiping up which closed the app and found the fateful blue bird app.

“Ooo bluey birdie” she says fascinated by the app picture. She clicks on it, noting on the white dashboard the blue ‘+’ button on the bottom right hand corner.

Y/n starts to babble what she is typing and some of it starts to autocorrect to certain words it spelt like so it ends up a little something like this.

All she does after is close his phone and then she tries to wake Chris up to get him to put Timmy back on and thankfully after a good shout of “Bubbbbaaaaa wake up” he jolts awake thinking something is seriously wrong.

“Bubbas awake what’s- what’s wrong lovebug?” He asked panic painted all over his face.

“Bubba wook what i did” y/n said giggling as she tried to tell Chris what she did.

Chuckling at how y/n literally couldn’t stop laughing at his phone, it finally clicked what y/n was laughing at when he saw the twitter dashboard his phone was blowing up all he did when he saw was she did.

All he could do was laugh, full left boob grab. He couldn’t stop when he did he picked y/n and just tickled her so much and they just went crazy. It was just too funny.

After a while they both pooped out on the couch cuddling into his chest y/n was snoozing and chris was sleeping armed wrapped tightly around her.

And let’s just say the Chris Evans fandom loved the picture posted by Scott finding them like this and attaching it to y/ns iconic tweet.

That’s how that happened and the world loved it and I’m pretty sure Chris did too…

Hey anon than you so much for this request, I hope you all love it :)

Taglist:

@mcuamerica @wndawtch @buckyalpine @lilithneedslove @buckybarnesandmarvel @chrisevansonly @chrissyevanss @cevansgoatee @kingshitonly @ellerosie2332 @lena-jolie @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love @lokislittlemidgardian @ace-of-gay @imyourbratzdoll @no-not-without-you-blog @stuckysdoll @stevie-rogers-anon @dumb-fawkin-bitch @chrisdrysdale

If you guys would like to be added to my tag list please do comment or just send in an ask :)

Reblogs, feedback and asks are appreciated <3

[synthy-sizer]

You tab over to the messenger once again and click on the second person trying to reach you.

[Scion11 is ONLINE]

Scion11: Jordan, listen, you have to talk to us

Scion11: I know you don’t want to talk to anybody but please, this isn’t healthy

Scion11: We talked to your manager and she said you hadn’t shown up to work in weeks, and you won’t answer any of our calls

Scion11: Please, we’re your family and we care about you, this fixation you have right now can’t be good for you, just please answer me and we can sort this out

[Scion11 is OFFLINE]

This is hardly the first time one of your family members has tried to make a new account to talk to you. Your mind fills with annoyance and irritation seeing them once again attempt to block your path of righteousness. And yet, somehow, it feels just a bit sad. What is this feeling? A sense of regret, loneliness? Maybe even shame? Everything feels so wrong, in ways you can’t fully understand. You need to get this irritation out of the way and BLOCK them once again.

Block contact>

Despite your swirling emotions you block the contact, ensuring you won’t hear from them ever again. Or, at least, not from this account. You wonder in quiet frustration and desperation just how many times you will have to do this, cutting the outside world away in an effort to do what you need to do. Do they not understand how difficult it is? How important it is? You slump back in your chair, tired, frustrated, emotions hitting you seemingly completely out of nowhere. Why do you feel this way all of a sudden, and at the closest you have ever been to reaching your goal? Your eyes seem to glaze over as you stare idly at your monitor, listening to it whir and smelling the burnt plastic in the air. It’s only after sitting for what feels like hours that you feel the emptiness in your stomach. How long had it been since you had last eaten? Days, perhaps? Suddenly you can feel the aches and hunger pangs. You should GET SOME FOOD.

Get food>

You stand up from your chair, making your way to your bedroom door. As you try to turn the handle, you realize it isn’t moving. Your door is locked. Did you accidentally turn the lock before you closed it? You jiggle the handle, struggling to open the door, but it won’t budge. There’s a hole in the handle, meant to make sure you can pop the lock in an emergency. To do so, however, you’ll need a tool. A PAPER CLIP would probably do the trick, if you can even find one.

Look around>

The room, dark and cluttered, something that previously seemed so natural and familiar, has suddenly shifted tone into desperation. You didn’t realize how dangerous it would be to live inside your room until you needed to leave. How are you supposed to find a paperclip under these circumstances? Everything feels so overwhelming and you’re hungry, tired and in pain…it’s hard to think. What could you do to make this easier? Maybe you could TURN ON THE LIGHT?

Turn on the light>

You fumble around on the wall, your hand eventually finding the light switch and flipping it on. The incandescent bulb in the center of the ceiling turns on for the first time in god knows how long, dim, and warm, but infinitely brighter than anything you have experienced in what feels like an eternity. You can’t help but shield your eyes, steadily adjusting to a sudden, unprecedented level of light in your den.

Look around>

You glance around at the now-illuminated room, the whole space feeling so….different. You didn’t realize how bland it looks when brightly lit. Although still crammed full of more electronics than could possibly be fathomed by the ordinary non-believer, the towers of monitors and receivers suddenly don’t feel so overbearing, as if reaching over and enclosing you. The STICKY NOTES still form a complex web across the room. Your TVs still buzz and your COMPUTER PARTS still whirr. The blinking lights of the devices around your room still flash. And yet, somehow, it all just feels so different. Inconsequential. Alien. Look at notes>

Sticky notes sit on surfaces all over the room, but the interconnected web of information feels far less vast than you recall. Less significant, even. Why had you spent so much time on them?

Look at your TVs>

The TVs sit idly, emitting a high whine and spilling white noise into the room. They are loud and noticeable, no doubt, but fade into the background more easily. Soft static is the only thing you can see on them, in harsh contrast to the signs you look for.

Look at computer parts>

The various metal boxes, servers, CPUs, parts you can’t even remember the names of anymore sit strewn about, all plugged into each other in a tangled mess, whirring as their fans working overtime to compensate for the heat of their processing. Like the TVs, their noises are noticeable but not overbearing. Rather than feeling like a harmonious, soothing hum, all the noise of the room feels disjointed and insignificant.

Your bed sits unmade and messy. Your walls are scuffed, the paint cracking in places. There’s dust and cobwebs scattered about. Everything feels so much more messy and depressing than it used to. You can’t help but wonder If these circumstances are really ok. You need to find a PAPERCLIP and open the door.

Find paperclip>

You start to skim over the shelves of your room, checking your bedside table and desk, digging around on the floor under the wires and lighter components. How had the situation gotten this bad? When did it become such a mess? It didn’t feel like one until this very moment, everything was so natural. Anxiety overwhelms you as you scour the room until you find what you seek. Underneath your keyboard sits a paperclip. Just what you need to UNLOCK your door.

Unlock door>

You make your way over to your bedroom door, unfolding the paperclip into as straight of a wire as you can, and slide it into the hole in the doorknob, fiddling with it as you get a feel for where it needs to press against. Finally, you hear a click.

Open the door>

NEXT

PREVIOUS

[staarri]

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL   –  guitarist ! childe x fan ! reader

all of my au masterlist are here —> click me!

sfw smau gn ! reader

 –   ♫ ⁺ @childe_11 posted a new video.

    " how you get the girl - guitar cover "

⁺  ▸ SYNOPSIS : sunny days give you warmth, energy and a guitarist named childe (that you are coincidentally a big fan of.)

 –  being one of his supporters since he had just first started, childe slowly started growing fond of seeing you on his post notifications. be it on twitter, youtube or tiktok; he's seen you praise his work every single time. call it fate if you want to, but you two accidentally meet each other in a bookshop you're always visiting, in the same aisle that you love, and he's holding the same book you want.

⁺  ▸ SONG CREDITS : formatting is inspired by aphelion's ( @/idyllic-affections ) moral injury masterpost ! linked here & the au title is a taylor swift 1989 song! art / banner is made my khaizusan on twitter

⁺  ▸ DESCRIPTION : hello hello! i just want to say that this may not be very active, but it *will* get finished. im not sure how i'll compile images together especially with the fact that tumblr has an image limit per post (10), so ill figure something out! other than that, i really hope you will enjoy this, and thank you to everyone who voted on the poll :)<3

⁺  ▸ PINNED COMMENT : may contain mentions of cyber hate / hate comments 　,　pure fluff　,　semi slow-burn　, 　there will be content warnings + tags on each post　,　you will use pictures of nayeon from twice as your character’s face claim. note that this will not change anything when it comes to the readers gender and will purely be used for photos only.

⁺  ▸ @CHILDE_11 STREAM SCHEDULE : no set schedule, will post when i have the free time

⁺  ▸ TAGLIST : @arraxthatsonjah @inlovewithlondonn @trinketbeans @neuvilutz @esthelily @a1-ic3 @kentply @b0bafl0wer @zamorazz @tikitsune @sn1perz @kaitfae @simpforsubmissivemen @yuitsurata send a message to my inbox without anon to be tagged!

STREAM 1 : just talkin, test stream

— introduction : info about accounts and the band

— chp 01 … high tide

— chp 02 … exclusive

— chp 03 … seaside coffee

STREAM 2 : guitar session

— chp 01 … destination

— tba

everything is made & written by @staarri. i do not allow reposts, modification, translating and copying any of my work without permission

layout is inspired by @/idyllic-affection’s moral injury masterpost. (if you want me to switch themes, please let me know via dms!)

[thesecretattic]

I had made this… a WRITTEN SCREENBOARD and collage too, it doesn’t have Spoilers I have concealed everything as much as I could but I have shared what people could’ve expected to read there, those ILLITERATE IMBECILES are ASSUMING/SAYING the book only has “coincidences” or signs I REALLY wanted them to know this before committing Sui-cde I didn’t write 81000 words for nothing. I have to die before I go crazy I’m going mad due to him I have shared a link below Facebook: Zara Sauleh 7th Post from top which has about his and his friend’s OCD he asked for my personal details only to reject and insult me or what? Not talking about Aditya uncle no one cares about him it was HARSH who was pretending to be him go read that post! Even after 8 years he was so insensitive that he left me to die after ruining my life ever since I was 18-20 all my youth! I’m dy-ing a virgin I’ll keep repeating until my last breath I would’ve changed my gender if I would’ve been alive BECAUSE OF HOW HORRIBLE HE WAS as if I wasn’t a girl and rest everyone was that. He was impotent not me. And go through our signs (marriage one’s too) in all of my previous posts with screenshots and markings 23rd May, 2023 what was supposed to be my marriage number was the blackest day of my life so was 5th Mar he has ruined every significant date, started his drama on my parent’s wedding anniversary my mother and his mother share their birthdates too. There’s a lot more, my brother and his brother our fathers share so many similarities and I didn’t dig out any info I’ve written that in my book SS go find it. Never was a fan haven’t switched on the tv since 2015 BECAUSE OF HIM the tv has also spoilt now due to non-usage, go ask the service provider we threw the set top box (Airtel) ask them when the connection was stopped. Remove my details from Netflix n Prime office I don’t watch anything there either and GO SEE IF I HAVE EVER CREATED an account on VOOT I have NO ACC there. Like I said I haven’t seen him since Feb 2016 that too on social media I NEVER went on any of their profiles and FB office will reveal that my history is there. His fanclub came and liked but To prevent that also I had kept my notifications OFF I accidentally clicked on it after that Insta changed the notification panel and shifted to the top cuz I got a panic attack. Could be a wonderful stroke of luck or idk another girl too had complained about something and they’d made amends. He thinks ppl are taking his side? Unfortunately I’m dy-ing after this I was up all night crying waiting for daytime to put this and die it was a big decision (sharing this here) so I needed more time to think whether I should… and I decided to blur out certain things. I wanted to SHUT their ug-ly mouths it’s a slap there. Now finally bye forever “oversmart” ppl- Zara Sauleh

[slowdiived]

Hey! Could I request maybe a fic where your and kurts fans have been trolling you non stop that kurts cheated on you but it hits a breaking point when a photoshopped image hits Twitter. When he next sees you you tell him to go away that you don’t wanna see him rn and he’s confused ugly crying with no idea what he’s done wrong. When you tell him he shows you it’s photoshop and soothes you that he loves you and only you. Basically it’s the first time he actually gets really spiteful towards having a fanbase. Np if it’s not your type of thing or anything!

I LOVE THIS IDEA FR!

the perfect pair (kurt kunkle x fem reader)

this is cannon to my other stories! mentions of alcohol but that’s about it. this one kinda hurt to write lmao

you were tired after working a double shift, angry that one of your coworkers decided to not show up. you cursed yourself for being such a pushover sometimes, not ever standing up for yourself. you had to cancel on kurt for the night and it made you sad because you really wanted to film with him.

the drive home was unbearable, your legs felt like utter shit since you were tasked with running around and stocking food shelves for too long. your music was quiet, mumbling along to your monthly playlist. you got a few messages from kurt but you ignored them until you got home.

as you parked, you noticed your roommate was home and had another car over. you quickly got all your stuff together and ran up the stairs to your apartment, fumbling for your keys. you managed to find it and unlock your house door. you dropped your bag on the floor next to the welcome mat. you looked up and was quickly greeted with your roommate and a few other people pouring shots, quiet and staring. you felt so uninvited that you picked your bag back up and stomped off to your room.

you threw everything down on the floor and started undressing. you found some pajamas and got them on fast. you threw yourself onto your messy bed and sighed, finally feeling okay.

you opened your phone and noticed it was already 10:20 pm. you can't believe you were suppose to be gone by three in the afternoon, you could've been able to see kurt. you rolled your eyes in annoyance at the situation. you clicked on kurt's messages:

kurt: how was ur shift?💙

kurt: i miss u tbh ☹️

kurt: bobby is being not the nicest and i wish u were here with us 💔🙃

you smiled at his cute messages and responded telling him that you would see him tomorrow. he was free for the day and so were you, content for your fans would be nonstop tomorrow. you soon found yourself on twitter looking at your timeline.

it was all pretty standard tweets, people just messing around. you checked your replies on your newer tweets, always loving what people had to say. you noticed some people talking about how they saw kurt with another girl. you shrug it off and switch back to aimlessly scrolling. people pull weird shit like that all the time.

you found a thread on kurt that had showed up because one of the fan accounts you followed retweeted it. it was titled ‘why i don’t think kurt and (y/n) aren’t actually together’

you and kurt hadn’t made yourselves exclusive yet and especially hadn’t told the internet what had been going on between the two of you. your relationship was a point of attraction to your guys’ content. everyone was on the ‘will they or won’t they’ train. you both did play up for the camera, accidentally saying something slightly off or holding gazes too long. they ate it up every time, the viewers making edits, fan art, and fanfiction. it was something else.

kurt: i know we will see each other tomorrow but i want u rn 😭

you: maybe you can pick me up after i wake up and get ready? then we will have the whole day together :)

kurt’s message gave you anxiety for a moment, scared that he knew what you were reading or something. when you finished answering him, you went back to twitter. you read through people’s ‘proof’ which was weird and utter bs.

then you came across an image of kurt and a girl. the tweet had said that he had been seen with a different girl and they were caught kissing. your heart nearly shattered. you didn’t understand why you were so upset, you guys weren’t fully official anyways but for the last month you both had been all over each other. hell, you were his first kiss and his first cuddle, most of his firsts. no way he used you for that and then turned around to start with other girls.

you shut your phone off and tears started streaming down your face. you didn’t know what to do. you thought kurt wanted to be with you. he talked about how much he cared about you, how happy you make him, how he wants to always please you…

this couldn’t be happening.

you cried yourself to sleep, more exhausted than before.

-

you woke up to the sound of your roommate slamming the front door. you stretched and sat up, looking around your room in a tired daze. you saw your alarm clock said it was already the afternoon. you were shocked at how tired you actually were but you got up.

you noticed your phone had a bunch of notifications from kurt asking if you were still sleeping and when he should get you. he was always spamming messages which didn’t bother you none. you told him that you had just gotten up and that you were getting ready.

as you sent the message you remembered what you had saw the night previous. you opened your phone up to check twitter again, hoping it was just a bad dream, your brain pulling pranks.

soon your whole feed was talking about it. you threw your phone against the bed in a fit of rage. you didn’t want to back out of hanging out with kurt, you thought maybe you could confront him. you knew kurt wasn’t the smartest, maybe he just took a picture with a fan and she asked for a kiss on the cheek so he did it?

you weren’t completely sure.

you took a shower and dried your hair, then just getting in some comfy clothes. you just wore black leggings and a white tank top, a red jacket zipped up to your chest. you put on a pair of vans and kurt had already said he was there. you sighed and put your hair up with a claw clip then headed to your front door. you opened it and jumped at the sight of kurt being right there, smiling his goofy smile.

“shit kurt!” you said, hand over your heart. “you scared me.”

“i just wanted to see you,” he smiled. “wanted to walk you to the car n’ stuff.”

you nodded and nervously bit your lip, hesitating to walk out the door for a moment.

“can i talk to you before we leave actually?” you nervously held onto your arm.

“yeah of course!” he came in and closed the door behind him.

you awkwardly started pacing, nervous to say anything. tears already started rolling and you didn’t know how to stop them.

“what’s wrong?” he said, his tone changing from the happy demeanor he had.

“the girl,” you started talking, voice trembling.

“what girl?” he asked quickly.

“why w-were you with another girl?” you managed to choke out with minor hesitations.

he gave you a confused look, pushing the hair out of his face. he leaned on the arm of the couch.

“i haven’t been with any other girl?” he perked up.

that made you angry. he shouldn’t play stupid. he’s better than that.

“kurt, don’t fuck with me,” you said in disbelief. “you used me because i was nice to you and now because you have like-more followers or something, you push me to the side? it’s fucked up.”

he tried to walk up to you but you gently pushed him away.

“what’s going on?” he said in a panicked tone. “i don’t know why you would say that, i care about you and- like a lot!”

“no you don’t!” you yelled, tears streaming down and the situation escalated. “just get out kurt, you can find some other bitch to make content with. i’m out.”

he was crying as well, hurt that you would insinuate he’s lying. he didn’t want to make content with anyone else, he didn’t want to leave you. he didn’t understand where any of this was coming from. he wanted to kiss you and prove that he wanted you.

“i’m s-serious,” he cried out. “i don’t know what you are on-on about!”

he choked out desperate cries like a child trying to state their case. you furiously pulled out your phone and went straight to twitter as he sniffled in the background. you found the picture almost instantly, your heart sinking all over again, more tears drowning out kurt’s heavy breathing.

“this!” you shoved the phone in his face. “i thought we were like, together kurt!”

he grabbed the phone and looked at it, wiping his eyes with his jacket sleeve. his brows furrowed and he tilted his head slightly.

“that’s a screenshot from one of my old videos,” he mumbled out. “i don’t know who that girl is.”

“bullshit!” you screamed out.

he started scrolling, and you just cried harder. you hadn’t felt this bad since you had first moved to california. this shattered your heart. he was the first real friend you had made and you guys both went viral together. he was the reason you had anything.

he then shows the phone to you, showing you the exact photo of him minus the girl. it was in fact from his youtube video.

you felt mortified, embarrassed, awkward… you looked crazy the way you were sobbing.

you grabbed your phone and turned it off, throwing it on the couch. he looked at you with red tear stained puppy dog eyes.

“you don’t have to worry (y/n),” he sniffled out.

you immediately cling onto him, engulfing him in a hug. you held on tight and he reciprocated. you didn’t want to let go.

“i’m so sorry,” you cried again. “i just saw the picture and everyone was saying that you were cheating. i’ve never been cheated on so i felt so sick.”

he held onto the back of your head and he pulled away to look down at you. he wiped the tears from under your eyes and you smiled up at him.

“i would never,” he reassured, his thumb under your jaw. “i’m gonna be here for a long time-uh, if that’s okay obviously.”

you laughed and closed your eyes nodding. he pulled you in again, rubbing your back as you squeezed tight. he was angry, why would people want to put something like this out to get in between you two? his fans always said dumb shit in his lives or on his youtube comments, but no one had actually crossed boundaries before. he didn’t even have any boundaries, he let people say horrible shit about him or write nasty fanfiction that wasn’t for the faint of heart. he never told his viewers what was right or wrong and now he was going to have to come out with your relationship and tell them to knock it off.

“hey (y/n),” kurt whispered against your head.

“mhm?” you hummed out.

“i think we should tell the viewers that we are like dating-or seeing each other, not dating sorry.” he fumbled his words per usual.

“we can tell them that we are dating,” you pulled away to look at him, your arms still around his waist.

“actually? like you want to?” he asked, his eyes big.

“yeah,” you smiled. “i just nearly lost it as you for being with another girl, i think we are basically dating.”

he giggled and pulled you into a kiss, surprising you that he initiated the kiss first.

[getawayferrari]

TIKTOK TRENDS

WARNINGS foul language

DESCRIPTION doing a tiktok trend about harry and accidentally revealing their relationship

tiktok was proving to be a very effective distraction during the long days of touring with harry. you had been together for nearly ten months but still had decided to keep your relationship as a secret for as long as you could.

scrolling through the for you page of your secret account, you stumbled across a trend of people hiding their significant other’s face and lipsyncing over a popular megan thee stallion song.

immediately, you found the trend itself hilarious and decided to do a video for yourself, and to show harry later on. the man in question was currently taking a nap next to you, preparing for tonight’s show.

clicking on the sound, you fixed your hair, and put on the green screen filter. you scrolled through your gallery and picked out a photo of harry from a couple of days ago. he was sitting down on a couch in his dressing room, posing with a wide smile and a thumbs up as he had just caught you sneakily take photos of him. you chuckled quietly recalling the short memory.

using the effect, you shrunk your reflection to cover harry’s face as you had seen in the previous tiktok. pressing the record button, you stared lipsyncing.

“nobody know, i fuck with him on the low. we never show up together but i text him when i’m ready to go.” as the video was finished, you laughed finding the sound all too comical as it resonated a lot with your own situation with your boyfriend.

deciding to take a nap, you thought to draft the video to show harry later, but exhaustion took its course over your mind and you didn’t noticed pressing the newly updated red button for posting, instead of the grey one.

without a second thought, you switched your device off and snuggled closely next to your boyfriend.

nearly more than an hour later, the both of you were stirred out of your sleep due to a consistent buzzing coming from your phone. you groaned lightly as harry’s hoarse voice spoke up. “what’s that?”

“i don’t know.” you replied sleepily, not willing to open your eyes. “i think it might be me phone.”

with a loud groan escaping your mouth, you stretched your figure to reach the device. as you opened and saw the thousands of notifications coming from it, internal panic that soon became an external one took over you.

“shit, shit, shit!” you exclaimed and harry was quick to jump out of his sleep-like state to ensure if everything was alright.

“love, what’s happening? is everything alright?” slight panic could be heard in his voice as your reaction wasn’t giving him much to go from, so he immediately began assuming the worse.

you looked up at him with guilty eyes and spoke up. “i might’ve just outed our relationship to the public.” your voice was quiet and cautious, observing harry’s reaction and hoping he wouldn’t be mad.

he stayed quiet for a few moments and then breathed out a relieved sigh and layed back down. you looked at him bewildered before he started talking again. “you scared the shit out of me with that reaction.

you stayed silent.

“it’s fine, love.” harry reassured her. “people were starting to catch on anyways, it was only a matter of times before either of us said something or we were caught together in public.”

then all the worry lifted itself of your shoulders and you began to feel more calm and collected. you leaned over to him, giving a quick peck on the lips. “i love you.”

“and i love you more.” he replied and you laid down next to him and opened tiktok to show him. harry as you suspected also found the trend hilarious and laughed even harder as you looked through the comments together.

user1: girl i can recognize those tattoos anywhere both of u ain’t fooling anyone

user2: Y/N AND HARRY TOGETHER WTFWTFWTF⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️

user3: NEW COUPLE OF THE CENTURY OMG

user4: mommy and daddy😫

user5: JCGSIEHVDJXKSXHKSKSDKDJ

user6: fuck harry all my homies hate harry for stealing y/n from us

user7: UUUUHHHHH WHAT

user8: not the user8263837373838 being her username😭

user9: i feel like i’m doing something illegal and shouldn’t be seeing this

user10: ADOPT ME

user11: idk who to be more jealous of,, harry having y/n or y/n having harry

user12: i think she didn’t mean for us to see this LMFAOSODJJX

user13: this is the best news i’ve received in a long ass fucking time

user14: FUCK FUCK FUCK I KNEW I SAW HER AT THE ST PAUL SHOW

user15: Y/N U BETTER FUCKING RELEASE THAT PHOTO U HAVE 24 HOURS🤬🤬🤬

user16: not us knowing it’s harry solely off his tattoos oh god

after reading plenty of comments, both you and harry having a good laugh, you decided that this simple mistake was the best was you both could’ve ever announced your relationship to the public.

[nowis-scales]

Fire Emblem Three Houses Mistletoe Headcanons

Part three of mistletoe headcanons from IG. If you want the Awakening or Fates requests… you know where to click! To all of you who aren’t into these… thanks so much for your patience with my blabbering. To all of you who are loving these… please enjoy!

Features: Edelgard/F Byleth, Dedue/M Byleth, Hilda/Claude, Sylvain/Felix, Manuela/Hanneman, Leonie/Lorenz, Jeralt/Sitri, Dorothea/Petra

Edelgard/F Byleth:

As much as she tries to play it cool, the mistletoe is Edelgard’s idea. She and Hubert spend one night running around hanging mistletoe in every possible place that she and Byleth might visit together. She is determined to get that kiss.

Byleth can tell something’s up, so she tries to be cheeky about it, coming up with convenient excuses as to why she can’t make it to some locations. She knows it’s a little unfair to taunt Edie, but her pouty face is so charming. Eventually, Edelgard is able to essentially “corner” her ex-professor, and is finally rewarded with a long, affectionate kiss on the lips. As they break apart, Byleth plants another soft kiss on the empress’s head, commending her for her efforts.

“You knew?” Edelgard asks.

“Of course I knew.” Byleth replies, causing Edelgard to sigh. Her lover is impossible sometimes.

Dedue/M Byleth:

Their kiss was probably one of those super fluffy-sweet completely unplanned ones. Like they were just caught off-guard by the mistletoe. Dedue is actually the first one to notice it, and gets a bit flustered, quietly assuring Byleth that he hadn’t noticed and that they don’t have to kiss if he doesn’t want to.

Byleth definitely wants to. On account of Dedue’s height, Byleth has to stand on the tips of his toes, but he doesn’t mind. Dedue’s kisses are incredibly soft and gentle, and in their own way, kind of comforting. Byleth misses the feeling of his lips when they part. They may “accidentally” end up under a few more mistletoes later.

Hilda/Claude:

These two are probably so direct about wanting to kiss each other that there’s none of this spontaneous or strategic thinking. It’s just straight up, pure affection. They probably have a mistletoe fight, to be honest. They both just start carrying it around, and then, out of nowhere — bam! Mistletoe! Kisses, now!

Still, consent is sexy, so they do let the other pass if they’re not feeling up to it. It’s usually not a problem though, as most of the time they are. These kinds of kisses are all probably enthusiastic pecks that make Flayn go “aww”.

Still, I like to think that there is one time that they end up under the mistletoe together not by their own attempts. And that kiss is very sweet, and lasts a bit longer than the others. When they finally break apart, Claude presses his forehead to hers, and thanks her for helping to renew his faith in others. She, in turn, thanks him for believing in her.

Sylvain/Felix:

Sylvain’s first attempts end in failure, mostly because he’s doing his usual flirty thing and trying to get Felix under the mistletoe. Because Felix is Felix, he’s adamant that that’s not happening. He scolds Sylvain for messing around. So he switches to a different tactic: he’s going to fight Felix, but he’s going to lure him slowly towards the mistletoe while they fight.

Ingrid thinks it won’t work. Somehow, it does. She finds them one day, kissing in the doorway of their former classroom, with weapons in hand. Sylvain looks impossibly triumphant, but Felix breaks away when he notices that she’s there. He demands to know what she’s looking at, and tries to insist that he only did it because there was mistletoe. The passion, and the hand on Sylvain’s cheek, suggested otherwise to her.

Manuela/Hanneman:

Theirs is impromptu. Because, as always, they’re arguing about something. What exactly that is, I couldn’t tell you, but if you really need to know… maybe Manuela dropped a sandwich on the ground again and tried to eat it after.

They’re moving about the Monastery, yelling loudly and walking fast enough that it certainly seems like they want to get away from each other… but they just keep going together wherever they go. The rest of the faculty is rolling their eyes at them. They’re walking and arguing, walking and arguing, until Hanneman takes hold of Manuela’s wrist just ahead of the doorway. Their eyes meet for a moment before glancing up to the offending plant. Then, they look back at each other wordlessly.

Anger fading away, the two of them sigh, smile, and pull each other close. They laugh softly, declaring themselves quite a pair, before Manuela leans forward and plants a kiss on his lips. They don’t stay for very long, afraid the students will see, but when they finish, Manuela wraps her arms around Hanneman. “What are we going to do with ourselves?” She asks, her voice tinged with laughter.

Leonie/Lorenz:

Leonie has never been about that whole mistletoe business. She doesn’t have time for all of that romantic stuff, she’s got to work so her village’s efforts are worth it. Lorenz, on the other hand, is a little more interested… although more in hopes of a future wife thing.

Their kiss comes to be whilst other students are running around with some mistletoe of their own, dangling it over the heads of different students sitting next to each other. They barge into class one day while Lorenz and Leonie are working on a partner project, dangling the mistletoe over their heads insistently.

They do NOT bite, much to the disappointment of the other students. The others clamber for them to kiss, calling them party poopers and no fun, until Leonie finally groans and leaves a nice smooch on Lorenz’s cheek. That shuts everyone up, and makes the nobleman’s face turn bright pink. He lays awake in bed the next night, wondering how it might have felt if she had kissed him on the lips instead.

He finds out a few years later.

Jeralt/Sitri:

Sitri… may have conspired a bit. Rhea helped. Getting mistletoe to the Greenhouse wasn’t hard, the only issue was hanging it — which Rhea had some of the other knights take care of.

Jeralt knew exactly where to find his love after he returned from his latest mission with the other knights. She was waiting for him there when he entered, prepared for him to start fussing about her health in the cold weather. And he does just as she predicted, while she assures him that he worries too much. She lets him play concerned boyfriend, let’s him try to convince her that she really should be inside. Eventually, she pretends to concede, until she stops Jeralt by the door, pointing up to the mistletoe.

One of his brows quirks, but a smile sneaks across his face. “Did you plan this, Sitri?”

His lover shrugs, a cheeky grin of her own on her face. Letting out a pleased sigh, Jeralt leans down and kisses her. Gently at first, until Sitri pushes to deepen it, her fingers tangling his hair a bit.

Dorothea/Petra:

Neither of them plans on mistletoe. It’s late one night, and Petra is doing a survey of the Monastery when she returns into Dorothea, who’s been enjoying the cool winter’s night. Petra is quite happy to see her, and the two chat as Petra continues her duty. Dorothea asks Petra about Brigid and its climate, and how she’s adjusting to the cold. She confesses to being a bit cold, so Dorothea presses her shoulder to Petra’s and insists she stay close to stay warm.

The two of them walk together for awhile until they come to the Entrance Hall, where Dorothea points out that someone has hung mistletoe above the entrance. She asks if Petra knows what it means when two people are standing under mistletoe. She doesn’t, so Dorothea explains. Petra likes the tradition very much, thinking it interesting. Enthusiastically, she asks Dorothea to try it with her. Dorothea is a bit embarrassed initially, but Petra’s delight is too cute to pass up. They share a sweet kiss under the mistletoe, with Dorothea’s arms wrapped around Petra’s neck and Petra’s around her waist. They both think about it for hours after.

[night-fallz]

XY’s Muse

Based on this prompt

Like I have stated before, this is my first fanfic. Please let me know what you think of it. Any kind of criticism will be welcome.

uploaded on 01/23/21

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Ao3 // Wattpad

previous II next

Chapter 2

XY was staring at the ceiling. A week has already passed. And he still couldn't stop thinking about the day he spent with Marinette. It was the most fun he'd had in a while.

Before the whole Silencer fiasco, his father would not stop pressuring him to produce a new song. So when they met up for dinner and his dad came up with the idea of stealing someone else's music, he couldn’t bring himself to decline.

XY knew it was wrong.

But all he wanted was the chance to finally impress his dad. Bob Roth might not have the best attitude towards him, but he was all XY had left.

Xy already lost his mom. He would not lose his dad too.

At least, that's what he believed. He should've known that his father was just using him for money. According to his dad, money was the most valuable thing in life.

XY scoffed. He should've known better. He should've known that all his father thought of hi-

He felt a buzz in his pocket and his face immediately brightened. Marinette just texted him!

Marinette: what's up?

Marinette: have u been inspired yet?

Marinette gave XY the idea to just sit back and let inspiration hit him. It was a common idea but it was one that most people tend to forget in the long run.

XY: nothing much

XY: and nope.

XY: my dad has been pressuring me to come up with something tho

Marinette: ignore him

Marinette: he's just mad cause he can't get any ladies

The three dots popped up on his screen.

Marinette: OH CRAP I'M LATE

Marinette: TTYL.

XY rolled his eyes and smiled.

They've been texting back and forth these past few days. He's learned so many things about her and vice versa.

It was nice. It's been a while since XY has had a friend.

Maybe she'll be even more, XY couldn’t help but think as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Huh," XY said out loud. "Even more"

And just like that, inspiration for his next song hit him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Marinette was thinking of a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed musician when she heard her phone ring.

"Tikki!" she screamed, staring at her phone as if it was Hawkmoth himself.. "He's calling me. XY is calling me."

Tikki sighed and floated next to Marinette, "Maybe you should answer it. It would be pretty rude to keep him waiting."

"Right, right," Marinette answered his call and hoped her voice didn’t sound as squeaky as she thought it did.. "Hey."

"Hey."

There was a moment of awkward silence.

Marinette didn’t know what to do. She glanced at the small goddess.

Tikki rolled her eyes at their awkwardness as she gestured to the phone. Ask him why he called you, she mouthed to Marinette.

Marinette nodded. That was a smart idea. "So," Marinette cleared her throat. "Why did you call me?"

"Right, Uhm." Marinette heard him shuffling around his room. "You know how you've been asking me if I was inspired and stuff?"

Marinette's eyes grew wide and a huge smile took over her face as she started to nod before remembering that he couldn't see her. "Yep." she eagerly said, "Did you find any?"

"Yes!" Marinette could hear the excitement in his voice. "I was actually wondering if you wanted to design the outfits for my music video."

Marinette's eyes looked shocked. "Yes!" she jumped around in excitement before remembering she was still in a call with XY. "Why me though?"

XY’s voice sounded confused.. "What do you mean, why you? You're literally perfect for it. You're talented. Plus, everyone loves your designs."

Marinette’s cheeks resembled a tomato. She has never been more thankful for the fact that he couldn't see her right now.

"Thank you." Marinette managed to mumble. "That really means a lot."

"You're welcome." XY said. Marinette had a feeling he was smiling though. "I have to go and have my dad listen to the demo. But I'll text you later, okay?"

"Yep," Marinette whispered and gave Tikki a cookie. "Good luck. I know that whatever song you came up with is gonna sound good. No matter what he'll say."

Marinette heard a faint "Thanks" from the phone before the call ended.

Marinette screamed into her pillow and looked up and saw Tikki look at her with amusement. “I think I like him.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"So, what do you think?" XY asked as his father finished listening to his song. "Is it bad? Do you think people will like it?"

Bob Roth grinned at his son. "This is a Masterpiece. Where did you find this?" He gestured to the video of XY singing the song, "Who did you steal this from?"

XY's proud smile immediately turned into a scowl. "What do you mean, who did I steal this from?" He yelled at his dad, his blue eyes glaring at him as he grabbed the demo from the table. "I made it. I came up with it myself." XY felt his eyes tearing up. "Something you would actually know if you thought of me as something more than a money-making machine."

How could he? XY thought as he climbed up the stairs. Is it that hard to believe that I could come up with something good?

XY slammed his door shut. "All I wanted was to prove to him that I wasn't a talentless son." XY put his hands on his face. "I just wanted to make him proud."

XY felt a buzz in his pocket and immediately knew that it was Marinette. After all, she’s the only one that ever texts him.

Marinette: how did it go?

Marinette: did he like it?

XY wiped away the tears that were starting to come out of his eyes. He couldn't help but smile. Marinette certainly had an effect on him.

XY: he called it a masterpiece

Marinette: yes! I knew he would like it.

XY: yeah

XY: but then he asked me who i stole it from

Marinette: THAT JERK

Marinette: WTF

Marinette: THAT's SO MESSED UP

Marinette: HOW COULD HE-

Marinette: DO YOU WANT ME TO BEAT HIM UP FOR YOU????

XY laughed at her text messages. He only started to text her and he already felt better.

XY: no, it's fine

XY: i actually yelled at him

Marinette: ...

Marinette: do you feel better?

XY: actually, yep.

XY: he's a really sucky father

Marinette: for some reason, a lot of the blondes i know have a toxic parent

Marinette: it's kinda sad

XY: maybe it's a paris thing

They texted back and forth, XY laughing at the memes Marinette sent.

XY: You're definitely a daughter of Athena

Marinette: ( ⚆ _ ⚆ )

Marinette: is that a percy jackson reference i see

XY: yep

XY: have u read the books?

Marinette: duh

Marinette: you haven't lived til you've read the books

Marinette: sadly, the movies sucked tho

XY: I KNOW

XY: ANNABETH WASN'T EVEN BLONDE

Marinette: EXACTLY!!

Marinette: SJSJSJSJSJSJ

 Marinette: THE MOVIES SCARED ME FOR LIFE

XY: oh yeah

XY: before i forget

XY: what's ur insta?

Marinette: which one

XY scrunched his eyebrows up in confusion.

XY: What do you mean by which one?

Marinette: i have two

Marinette: one as my personal one and the other one for commissions and stuff

XY: ohhh

XY: smart

Marinette: i know ;)

Marinette: my personal one is @Mdupaincheng and the one for my commissions one if @MDCdesigns

XY switched his apps and searched up Marinette's personal instagram. He clicked on the first result that came up.

The profile picture was Marinette in a blue, silky dress that went just above her ankle. There was a slit on her left leg that showed her knee. It was nighttime and Marinette was practically glowing under the city lights. She was staring at something on her right side, with one hand running through her silky black hair which was down for once.

She looked hot.

After XY stopped admiring her profile picture, he finally noticed her follower count.

She had 200,000 followers. 200,000.

It wasn't as high as XY's follower count, that was still quite a lot.

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XY: i didn't know u were insta famous

Marinette: wdym?  

Marinette: which acc

XY: ur personal one

XY: u have over 200k followers

Marinette thought that she read his text wrong. There's no way that Marinette had that many followers. 200,000? There was no way.

Marinette: ur lying

XY: I'm not.

XY: check ur acc

It's been a while since Marinette has logged onto her personal account. The hate she got the last time she's been signed in was too much for her and when Alya told her to log out and just focus on her other account, @MDCdesigns, she couldn't bring herself to argue against her.

Marinette hasn't even thought of that account since that day. So when she logged in and saw that XY wasn't lying, she accidentally dropped her phone in shock.

Tikki looked at Marinette with a questioning look.  

Marinette ignored her kwami and texted the blue-eyes boy back.

Marinette: HOLY SHIT

Marinette: I HAVE 200k FOLLOWERS

Marinette: HOW TF DID THAT HAPPEN

XY: when was the last time you checked ur acc

Marinette: about 3 months ago

Marinette: the media thought i was adrien's gf and his fangirls came at me

Marinette: i got a ton of hate and a friend of mine told me to log out and just focus on my @MDCdesigns acc

Marinette: so i did

Marinette: i haven't thought abt that acc since then

XY: the fangirls were probably just jealous

XY: it's been months so they probably calmed down

XY: I'm looking through the comments rn and so far the latest hate comment you've got was about 2 weeks ago

XY: you've got a bit of a fanbase yk

Marinette: WHAT DO I DO

Marinette: DO I JUST CONTINUE NOT TO POST OR SHOULD I POST SOMETHING ON MY STORY ABT HOW THANKFUL I AM FOR 200k

Marinette: HOW COME NONE OF MY FRIENDS TOLD ME ABT THIS

XY: don't post anything rn

XY: post a picture of yourself and the caption it something that shows ur thankful for the number of followers u received

XY: OH

XY: a few hours before u post the picture, make sure u post on ur story abt how ur back from ur break on social media

XY: that way ppl will understand why u haven't been active

XY: it'll also have ppl prepared for ur post and they'll be waiting for u to post it

XY: that'll give u more engagement and stuff

Marinette: thank u

Marinette: that was really helpful

Marinette: when should i post something?

Marinette: AND I STILL DONT KNOW WHY MY FRIENDS DIDNT SAY ANYTHING ABT THIS

XY: u told ur friend that u were taking a break from social media right?

Marinette: yes

XY: then they probably weren't expecting u to post anything so they weren't checking ur insta

XY: u should post something on the weekend

XY: that way ppl wouldn't bother u during school this week

XY: if u want i can help u come up with ideas tomorrow?

Marinette: yes, please!

Marinette: do u wanna come over

Marinette: we can plan it in my room so that ppl won't overhear us

XY: guess I'll see u tomorrow then

XY: just text me the time ur available and I'll be there

Marinette: make sure to wear a disguise tho!

Marinette: we got lucky last time and no tabloids caught us

XY: ur right

XY: we must've been really lucky if no one got a pic of us

XY: but okay

XY: I'll wear my best disguise

XY: goodnight, princess

Marinette blinked a few times, making sure she read the text correctly.

Princess.

Marinette: goodnight ♥

previous II next

This is the first chapter of the story. Please let me know what you think

1,967 words

Tag list:

@iglowinggemma28 @mica-aa @lady-bee-fechin @maskedpainter @snnoww26 @ravenr22 @spiritofchaoticdreams @ravennm84 @heaven428 @finn-cipher @peterxwade24 @aliceofice22 @queenamongthorns @captainmac6

[aestheticseungmean]

Ateez reacting to finding out you read smut about them (hyung line)

For the reaction, how would ateez react to finding out you read fanfics (smut) about them? (It doesn't have to be smut though)

Suggestive, fluff

Maknae Line here

Hongjoong

Baby boy finds your tumblr open to a smut about him

He’s like “ooh what’s this?”

Please don’t read that, Joong

But he does

This mf sits down and reads the entire thing

He makes sure to make notes of the kinks if you haven’t tried them

Gives him many new ideas

You are royally screwed, babe

Hongjoong sighed as he sat down on the couch. He had had a long day and just wanted to relax. You were in the shower, getting washed up for the night. Unlike most people you knew, you didn't take your phone into the bathroom to listen to music. That being said, you left it out on the charger in the living room. Hongjoong's phone was in the bedroom so he used yours to play some games, but the screen opened to the story you were planning on finishing.

He was about to exit it, but when he saw his name, he was curious. Poor boy. Hongjoong read the entire thing, confused as to why you were reading a smut story about him. You, fresh out of the shower, leaned down to hug your boyfriend only to find him reading the story you didn't close out. Immediately, you were screeching, trying to get the phone back. "Hongjoong, don't read that!" He didn't fight back but rather stared at you. "Come on," your boyfriend said, dragging you back towards the bathroom. "What are you doing?" "I'm going to take you in the shower. That way, you don't have to read stories about it."

Seonghwa

Confused

Like, why were you reading smut when you had him?

Low key pouty baby

Will confront you about it

You have to reassure him that he's better than the stories

Makes you cuddle him all night in retaliation

You make sure to double check that you close out of the app every time you turn off your phone

Seonghwa needed to look something up to prove Wooyoung and San wrong, but he couldn't find his phone and yours was closer. What’s the harm in that? He smiled as he saw the lock and Home Screen of you two. So far so great, he proved Wooyoung and San wrong so he didn’t need your phone, but he knew you were a stickler about closing out your apps. Being the good boyfriend he is, he went to close out the google app when he saw that you had another app open. He went to close that one out, figuring that you forgot.

He caught a glimpse of some lewd words and immediately grew quiet, clicking on the app to enlarge it. Honestly, it was impressive that he didn’t choke on his saliva the more he read. Why were you reading this? Was he not good enough? You came out to a worried boyfriend, staring blankly at your screen. “Are you okay, Hwa?” “Am I not good enough?” You were baffled, and threw yourself down beside him. “Of course you are! Why do you ask?” “I read the story you were reading. Why do you read it when you have me?” He huffed, pouting making you giggle. “You are way better than any story,” you reassured him, climbing into his arms. “I hope so.” “I know so.”

Yunho

Okay so, baby boy was relaxing on your bed while you messed with the game on his phone

You were trying to beat the level that had stumped him for days

Yunho had nothing to do and you gave him the go ahead to get on your phone

He heard about tumblr from San and was curious about it

When he saw the iconic logo, he clicked

With no specific thing to look at, he looked at your account….

He found your liked posts

Please no, that’s a dangerous territory

Yunho was chilling, sprawled out on your bed while you sat in the beanbag, grunting as you played his game. For days, Yunho had had his face buried in his phone trying to figure out how to pass the level. You, being fed up with him ignoring your time together for a game, offered to beat it for him and he gladly accepted. Except now, he was bored. “Can I play on your phone?” You yelped as you failed and hummed, “Sure.” He laughed and inserted the passcode, scrolling through your apps. Almost immediately, he found the familiar tumblr logo and remembered what San had told him.

“Tumblr is just one of the many apps that our fans use to write stories about us. There are even some sexy stories,” San said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively before showing Yunho how the app works. Curious, Yunho opened the app and clicked on your account. He scrolled through it a bit before clicking the ‘likes’ button to find that the most recent stories were smut about him. Finally, you had completed the level so you got up to see Yunho. “Watcha looking at?” “Do you want to roleplay?” You choked on your saliva, rushing to see what Yunho was looking at. “You weren’t supposed to find that,” you sighed in defeat, falling onto the bed next to him. “But, I kind of want to try,” you admitted.

Yeosang

Now, Yeosang was hanging out with the boys when you asked him to look at something

He pulled a parent move and grabbed your phone to look at it closer

But, he fumbled the phone and accidentally switched the apps

Poor boy caught a glimpse of a naughty scene

you rushed to take your phone back

It’s too late

He wanted to read it now

You were staring intently at your phone, laughing at the picture your friend sent you. It was funny enough that you thought Yeosang would enjoy it so you made your way over to him. “Hey, Sang, look at this photo,” you said, showing your phone to the boy. He reached for it to look at it closer, but you dropped it thinking he had it. You watched helplessly as he fumbled the phone, trying to stabilise it. When he did though, Yeosang noticed that he switched to the smut you were reading about him. “Hey, I think I-“

You rushed to take it back, but the damage had already been done. He held the phone away from you, trying to read as you crawled on top of him to get your phone. “Yeosang, give it back.” “Let me read it,” he huffed, smacking your hand away. “SANG,” you whined, but it fell of deaf ears. Knowing there was no way of getting your phone back, you sat beside him, arms crossed. “So this is what you do when I’m not paying enough attention? Read sex stories about me?” “Don’t say it like that. It makes it sound so vulgar.” Yeosang laughed and switched off your phone, turning to see you. “What am I supposed to say?” “It’s called a smut.”

[what-big-teeth]

Moving In

And done! The winner of the 500 raffle, @a-third-attempt​, requested a story featuring a clumsy male arachnid with a gender neutral reader. As I’m mainly familiar with driders, I decided to create a tarantula drider for this story. I hope you all enjoy! Gender Neutral Reader (POV) x Male Monster You tread the beaten path before you with steady steps, letting it lead you deeper into the forest. Your legs are grateful for the chance to stretch and the low-impact of the flat ground beneath your feet. The scent of faint petrichor and deep earthiness fills your nose with a long inhale. It’s calming, overall, more so thanks to the cool spring air. And best of all, your planned venture is taking you to one of your favorite places. The Selenite Hollows showcase an amazing array of different gypsum crystals. You learned from your many visits that they can be bent into different shapes with one’s bare hands. This method is how you received the white, corded pendant hanging against your chest. All thanks to your boyfriend, Tarren. 

You couldn’t have predicted his creative side when you two first met him four months ago while hiking. That presumption was thanks to how he accidentally tripped over his eight legs while coming closer to introduce himself. But you found his clumsiness charming along with the fuzzy, tarantula legs he supports himself on. The fact that Tarren’s white hair contrasts beautifully with his gray upper body and pitch black bottom also helped immensely. You’ve spent numerous weekends visiting Tarren at his abode. And you’ve treasured the time you two spend together, exploring uninhabited parts of the Hollows and greeting his nonhuman neighbors. It’s a shame you won’t be able to visit the caves again. 

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip at the fact. Thanks to the growing instability working its way around the Hollows, it’s been deemed unlivable by the City. And as such, its residents have been given ample time to collect their belongings and move. Tarren included. You blurted a solution once he shared the news: moving in with you. Unsurprisingly, he sputtered at your suggestion, his eight black eyes widening then flitting to the ground. While you both have visited each other countless times, you’ve never stayed overnight. But after weighing the positives against the drawbacks together, he agreed to a temporary stay. Which left you both happy and apprehensive. You had prior significant others before him, but you’ve never felt as at home with them like Tarren. A small yet growing part of you worries about him seeing your habits. You consider yourself pretty normal. Sure, there may be a few odd food combinations you love that others have turned their noses up at. And your exes have complained about your snoring and starfishing habits. But you both care deeply for each other and such small things would never change that. Right? As you approach the Hollows’ entrance, your stomach begins to make itself known. A frisson of fear churns inside you, unwilling to be ignored. You’re forced to pause to steel yourself by taking a deep breath. Think of Tarren; what you’re going through is meager compared to his sudden displacement. There’s no use in adding more stress to an already taxing situation. So you plaster a smile onto your lips and cross the threshold. “Incoming!” You swiftly step to the side, avoiding the resident chiropteran children who almost barrel into you. The older two of the group dart past you with a brief “sorry!” after a quick use of chirps and clicks. The youngest trails behind them, flapping their large bat wings in order to gain ground. But the two dive down a pathway out of reach, leaving the little one to squeak in frustration. You huff out a laugh and call out to them, reminding them to be careful. You wouldn’t be surprised if they managed to finagle their way out of helping their parents pack. You walk past the home of the young naga couple who are tending to their son, offering a kind hello, one they return with smiles. Their neighbors, a multi-generational family of mothpeople, chitter happily when glimpsing you. The matriarch offers you some homemade, sweet nectar cookies, for you and Tarren when you both have a moment. You pause to thank her for her kindness before promising to return. You continue onward, greeting the other dwellers until you reach the final “house”. Inside, Tarren carefully gathers some of his belongings and tucks them into an antique trunk you gifted him on his birthday. When not afflicted with his endearing clumsiness, he moves with a slow sleekness that hints to his true strength and dexterity. You can’t help but admire the sight and lean against his home’s entrance to admire him. He begins turning towards his books, but his dark eyes notice your movements and flit towards you. “Hey there, handsome,” you say with a grin. Tarren beams, revealing the ends of his prominent black fangs. His hands skim one of the book’s spine as he hurries toward you. He leans down to embrace you, and you revel in the way his claws graze against your nape. “Lovebug! I’m glad you’re here.” His hold tightens to a comfortable snugness, one interspersed with trembling. “So very glad.” You thread a hand through his thin, short locks and nuzzle against his cool cheek. From what Tarren told you about his childhood, he’d been something of a loner. And not by his own choice. Concerning his particular species, once self-sufficient, they were expected to leave the nest to fend for themselves. So the fact that he found a welcoming community to live in was a godsend. Having to lose that sense of belonging and familiarity in one fell swoop... Hopefully, with a bit of luck, he’ll come to see your cabin as a new home. Tarren presses his lips against your temple, his palps caressing your skin. You tilt your head back and gently kiss him, long and slow. Being careful of his fangs, he deepens the gesture, coaxing a sigh from your lips. Needing air, you pull away and hear him whine in reply. “There’ll be more where that came from when we get home,” you say around a chuckle. His smile falters, but he quickly turns away towards his bookshelf. As if to keep you from seeing. “Of course,” he says. “I just have a few other things to pack.” Ignoring the growing uncertainty in your chest, you force a smile. “How can I help?” With Tarren’s instruction, you’re both able to finish loading his belongings into his trunk in a timely manner. This gives you both time to say your goodbyes to his neighbors. After providing your contact information and collecting your promised sweet nectar cookies, the families promise to reach out to you both once settled. The hike back towards the outskirts of town is quiet, interspersed with soft chewing. The cookies are delicious as always, but their sweetness does nothing for the awkwardness between you two. Tarren is more focused on keeping his trunk balanced on top of his abdomen and taking in the passing sights of the forest. “Everything okay?” you gently hedge. Tarren startles somewhat, but his attention turns to you. He smiles, but it’s lacking in sincerity. “I’ll be alright. It’ll just...take some time, is all.” You hum, unsure of what else to say. So you stay silent, turning phrases and topics in your head to pass the time. And hopefully to make Tarren feel more at ease. You both come to the crest of a hill with a large tree at the top, the last landmark before glimpsing your cabin. The outside is rustic, as many are and neatly surrounded by growing foliage. That took some time to do as did tidying up the inside as you took into account Tarren’s larger size and gait. But the completed preparations don’t deter the nerves quivering in your stomach. Still, you do your best to present your home with a flourish of your hand. “And we’re here!” Tarren takes in the two-story structure with a soft smile. “It’s very charming,” he says. “Just like you.” A sudden heat fills your cheeks as you wet your dried lips. If he’s able to flirt, then maybe he’s starting to feel a little bit better. You vow then and there to do all you can to alleviate his discomfort and make him feel at home. “Right back at you, handsome. Come on, I’ll show you where you can put your trunk.” You both descend the hillside. Tarren slips a little on the way down, but recovers with your help.  Due to the size of the cabin’s entrance, he switches to carrying his trunk and squeezes through the door. In anticipation of his arrival, you’ve shifted the layout of the living room’s recliners and table, ensuring a clear path for him. You hadn’t touched the kitchen as of yet, wanting to hear his opinion. “You mentioned having an attic, right?” That question throws off your train of thought. “Oh, um, yes. It’s somewhat dusty since I haven’t had time to clean it yet…” “That’s fine,” he says. “Do you mind if I stay there?” Your eyes widen. You’re tempted to object since the attic is no place for anyone to sleep. But Tarren simply caresses your cheek and gives you a soft smile. It’s what he’s always done to reassure you. “I’ll be fine. I can even tidy it up for you. It’ll give me something to do after unpacking.” You shake your head, trying to speak. But Tarren doesn’t give you the chance. “I’ll come down later once I’m finished. Get some rest, alright?” He turns away, slowly carrying his trunk up the stairs. The doubts that began rooting themselves in your minds plunge deeper. You can only watch as he walks out of sight, listening as the attic’s hatch opens and closes. Part of you wants to follow after him and reach out. But the delicacy of the whole situation weighs heavily on you. Even as your stomach churns at the decision, you turn towards the kitchen to make lunch. Turning on the slow cooker and pouring in last night’s venison stew doesn’t require much effort. But it does give you more time with your thoughts, which slowly but surely, are veering towards the negative. A high-pitched beep from the pot’s timer refocuses your attention. “Is that lunch?” You jolt, nearly dropping the used ladle into the sink. Tarren shrinks away, looking at you with guilt-filled eyes. “S-sorry. I’m still unpacking, so I was hoping to take it upstairs.” You don’t want to exacerbate his remorse, so you quickly agree and provide him a spoon and a paper towel. He softly thanks you and retreats back upstairs, the sight leaving you unsettled. Little did you know this would be the norm for the next few days. You’d wish Tarren a good morning and a good night from the second floor when the time came. Then, you’d go about your daily tasks, including working from home on your laptop. The only time you’d see Tarren was when hunger or the need to bathe forced him from the attic. He’d always take his meal upstairs and go further up the pathway towards a nearby river to wash himself. Even then, sometimes you’d never catch him when he returned from outside. It’s no surprise that sleep became elusive during this time. You lie in bed on your back after a bout of tossing and turning. But it wasn’t due to any myriad of invasive sounds. No, it’s the discomfiting silence from the attic. The not-knowing; the growing distance between you and Tarren. Restlessness pulls at your limbs and you give into it, climbing to your feet. Your dry mouth could use some water anyway. You quietly take the stairs, being cautious of the areas prone to squeaking. It made witnessing the sight before the kitchen sink that much easier. Tarren sits facing the basin, his legs bent and his lower half flush against the wooden floor. The moonlight from outside reveals his claws carefully tugging at pieces of his loose exoskeleton. He hisses, his fangs becoming prominent as he lifts away the rigid covering. You only notice the lack of distance between you two once your hand touches his shoulder. Tarren startles, his wide eyes flitting up to you. They widen more as your vision blurs and waters. “Lovebug?” You slowly kneel by his side, taking in his presence but resisting the urge to embrace him. “You’re hurt,” you croak out. “No, no, dearest. I’m not hurt. Just uncomfortable. I’m....well…” He turns away from you to stare down at the leg he was tending to. “I-It’s time for my molting. It isn’t the most pleasant thing to see and I didn’t want to worry you…” You silently repeat the last few words of his explanation and suddenly, things click into place. Why he kept to himself mostly and didn’t appear before you except to tend to his most basic needs. Frustration and guilt grip at your chest but you realize you’re partially at fault for simply not talking. As Tarren keeps explaining himself, fear lacing into his expression, you wrap your arms around him and lean into his chest. He stutters out your name, tensing, but you hold tight and refuse to stay silent. “I didn’t want to force you to do anything because I thought it’d make you uncomfortable. But part of me also didn’t want you to see my bad habits, either. To regret...wanting to date me.” Tarren relaxes in your arms, releasing a long breath. His arms wind around you, drawing you closer. “I guess we both wanted to show each other our best sides,” he murmured. “But we ended up hurting each other, instead.” You sniff, feeling a few errant tears roll down your cheek. You look up at Tarren and he wipes at the growing wetness with the pad of his clawed thumb. “We did,” you say, “but we can fix that. Starting now and from now on, if you’ll let me.” A long pause. As his claws skim against the nape of your neck, making you shudder, Tarren nods. It takes three hours for you both to finish coaxing along the molting process. Once done, you both pack the old exoskeleton away in a large trash bag. Immediately after, you notice Tarren’s movements becoming sluggish with him barely able to keep his eyes open. Cupping his cheek, you murmur that you’ll be right back before bounding up the stairs and into the attic. True to his word, Tarren had cleaned up, leaving no traces of dust behind. You’ll have to thank him once he’s fully recovered. But for now, it’s important to tend to him. You grab the extra blankets and pillows kept in storage and toss them through the hatch before climbing down. With some maneuvering, you’re able to carry the pile down to the living room and set up a makeshift bed. It takes patience and shared leverage, but you both make it towards the bed and snuggle into the soft, plush pile. Tarren gathers the majority of the pillows to support his upper half while his lower rests flush against the ground. “Comfy?” you ask. “Yes, very.” His half lidded eyes take you in while his hand finds yours to intertwine your fingers with his. “I’m sorry for not explaining myself these past few days. I just...wanted you to still look at me like you are now.” “I am, too. Just know that I love you, Tarren and I want this to last. As long as you feel the same way.” “Oh Lovebug, how could I not?” The sleepy way his mouth slots against yours and his palps caress your skin tell you more than words could ever say. But the way he breathes “I love you, too” against your lips isn’t unwelcome. As sleep slowly claims you, you inch closer to your boyfriend as he nuzzles your hair. Tomorrow will bring a new day, the first of many that you know you will use to strengthen your relationship. Together. 

[ilguna]

Redamancy - Chapter One (f.o)

summary: it’s time to forgive and repair.

warnings; swearing, mention of trauma

wc; 8.4k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

Well, it’s been five years since you won the Hunger Games. 

What an anniversary.

It honestly feels like you won them yesterday. You can recall all your memories as if it hasn’t been years since you stepped foot inside of the arena. Which is no doubt a bad thing. Before you’d ended your therapy a while ago, the therapist told you that you’re holding onto trauma. It’s not going to go away overnight. In fact, they wouldn’t be surprised if it doesn’t go away at all.

Which Reed didn’t like to hear at all, of course. The whole reason he’d gotten you into therapy was to work at you getting better. Unfortunately, neither of you would be reaching that goal. Not with how demanding the boarding school would get as the years would come on.

At first, you thought that everything you’d written down at the very beginning would be enough to suffice. However, the more you think about everything that you’d been through, the more that the details become clearer. Suddenly you’re remembering things that hadn’t existed in the first place.

Reed and Mox hate this habit of yours. They thought you would have buried and left it behind by now. But it’s impossible to do. You’re responsible for hundreds of kids and teenagers. The more you remember at this point, the more they’re able to learn from your mistakes and fix it themselves.

With every passing year, and bringing home a new pair of coffins, you can’t focus on yourself anymore. You think that every year is going to be different and new, that the tributes going in that year are a pair of winners for sure. But then you’re stunned right back into embarrassed silence.

District Four is being forgotten. Once again, you’re questioning why it was ever considered a career in the first place. You can’t produce victors, no matter how hard you try.

It’s frustrating, and almost not worth your time anymore.

Anchor thinks that he’s fixed the problem, though. The both of you know better than anyone that the training centers in the career districts typically train their tributes for years. There’s a reason why their volunteers are seventeen and eighteen, rarely ever sixteen. It’s because they’ve spent years training to be where they are, and they’re sure that they’ll win.

So, you switched up the rules this year. No one under the age of seventeen that goes to the boarding school is allowed to volunteer to go into the Hunger Games. If you’re chosen by chance and want to go in, that’s their deal. The only instance where it’ll be ruined is if someone else volunteers over them. If anyone over seventeen wants to go in, that’s their choice to make. Not the boarding school.

Of course, there’s no guarantee what will happen because of this. You’ve been getting at least one volunteer a year since the boarding school opened. But they’ve always been on the younger side, and have only been in the program for a year or so. They could win, but they’re not nearly as knowledgeable as the teens that have been in the program for years.

They’ve been able to watch and observe the mistakes of others. You think that if one of the seventeen or eighteen year olds that signed up when they were twelve or thirteen were to volunteer, they’d blow the competition out of the water. Show the Capitol and the career districts that you’re coming back for a round two. Bigger and better than ever.

Then again, the seventeen and eighteen year olds never express interest in volunteering because they’re nearly out. One or two years and they’re finally free of the reapings. No one would willingly throw themselves into an arena when they’re on the brink of being away from it. The chances of accidentally getting yourself killed in the arena is always an outcome, prepared or not. 

Either way, you hope this year is different and you’re able to break the four-year streak of double coffins.

You head downstairs, fingers still securing the pin in a reliable spot in your hair. When it doesn’t budge no matter how you move your head, you call it good. 

Downstairs is already awake. Reed is cooking breakfast, Mox is probably sitting at the table. You can faintly hear the sound of Alyssum talking. It’s only as you reach the bottom creaking steps, does she realize that you’re awake.

“(Y/n)!” She shouts, abandoning what she was saying before.

You find yourself crouching to look into the tiny mirror in an alcove. The pin doesn’t look out of place, in fact you can’t really see it at first glance. Only when you go to touch it, do you find where it is.

Alyssum comes around the corner, a wide smile on her face. It’s clear she hasn’t done her hair yet, waiting on you.

“Where’s your stuff?” You ask.

“Bathroom.” She says.

“Okay, let’s get it done real quick.” You push her towards the bathroom, “We’ll be in there in a minute!”

“No rush.”

You carefully comb through Alyssum’s hair, being gentle when you find snarls. Even if she were in pain, you know that she wouldn’t voice it unless it really hurt. Doesn’t mean that you purposely go ripping the brush through her hair like Reed used to do. You tie her long hair to the back of her neck, and then you loosen it up to make it look better.

“Can you tie this over the rubber band? I’m trying to match with Laleh.” 

Alyssum holds up a silk white ribbon. If she had asked you to do this last year, you would have had to tell her no. Naida had to teach you how to do a variety of hairstyles for the boarding school. Sometimes the younger girls aren’t able to tie their hair back, and sometimes they don’t want it to be a ponytail.

Needless to say, you’re starting to feel like a mother. Once the bow is tight over the band, you hold her in front of the mirror, staring into her eyes, “If the bow comes undone, go to Naida or Calandra, stay far away from Reed and Mox, okay?”

She nods once, you let her free so that she can join your brothers at the dining table while you clean up the bathroom counter. It’s a quiet morning, no one really speaks at the table, which isn’t unusual for reaping mornings. Alyssum tends to get upset because you won’t be at the house for several weeks, and you’re already stressing out about what the arena will be like this year.

You know that things would be so much easier in the Capitol if you just had a partner that worked with you. Finnick does absolutely nothing, you’re not even sure if he stays in the apartment half of the time. You never see him, rarely in the morning, you think you hear him leave at night.

He won’t help, he won’t trade with Anchor. You’ve asked him, Anchor has asked him, even Mags has asked him. If he would just give up his mentoring spot to Anchor, you’re sure that you’d come out with a few victors. When you’re doing all the work by yourself, it’s chaotic.

It’s hard to hold a schedule. You’re running between the stylists and prep teams, constantly taking advice from Elysia. When you’re not keeping an eye on the tributes, you’re watching their odds on the scoreboard go up and down depending on how much the sponsors like them. And then when they’re actually inside of the arena, you’re staying up all hours of the night to not miss a single thing. Just in case you miraculously come across a sponsor that sees potential in one of the tributes.

Not to mention the whole boarding school, which is a whole new ordeal. He comes up with the idea, promises to be there to help train no matter what. But after he broke up with you that year, he gradually stopped showing up. So now, the future tributes of District Four are not only out of a valuable side of a story, but they’re also dealing with two overworked victors who just want one break.

It’s bouncing between you and Anchor, sometimes even Mags will have to take over for a day. Which isn’t much help, considering the stroke she had last year. She tried speech therapy, but figured out that it wasn’t working as well as it should early on. Mags gave up on it, the only way she communicates anymore is through notes.

How is that going to work? You’ve got hundreds of teens and preteens relying on an old woman that can’t even speak. Her techniques are out of date, as well as Luther and Scotch. The kids have better chances with you, Finnick and Anchor. Anchor hasn’t been inside of the arena for ten years, and the kids have heard your two strategies a hundred times by now.

If Finnick were to just help. Just a little bit, you’re sure that it would make a difference. But he has such a vendetta against you or the tributes because he won’t budge. You’re fucked, he’s backed you into this impossible corner. Every year since you two won, you’ve brought home double coffins. It’s fucking embarassing. You don’t know how District Four was ever considered a career.

It’s childish, he’s so childish. He hasn’t kept his promise and he’s weaseled his way out of it every single time. And you keep letting him get away with it.

It clicks.

You keep letting him get away with it, you’re not holding him accountable. He doesn’t fall through on his promises because you don’t push them onto him. And when he tells you no, you back off because you think that there’s no point in trying. He hasn’t made an effort in the past, why would he make one when you ask.

You press your lips together, smiling. This year is already supposed to be an experiment to see what happens with the tributes. If everything goes well with this year’s tributes, you think that you’ll try something new yourself. 

“We have to stop by Naida’s place before heading over to the stage.” Reed says, standing from the table, taking his plate with him, “We can take Alyssum with us.”

“Okay.” you agree, standing up too. Mox cleans up the rest of the table, taking it into the kitchen to help Reed.

Alyssum comes over, throwing her arms around you tightly. You hug her back, being careful not to ruin her hair, “I’ll be back in a few weeks. Promise me that you’ll be good for Reed and Mox.”

“I promise.” her voice is muffled, face pressed to your stomach.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” you lean down to press a kiss to the top of her head, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

She lets go of you, a frown on her face. But it doesn’t look like she’s going to be crying this year, “I’m leaving!”

“See you later!” Reed shouts back.

You leave the house, shutting the door behind you. As you squint through the bright summer sun, you head down the stone steps and to the left, towards the opening of Victor's Village. This year it’s Anchor’s turn to walk Mags to the stage, since you did it last year. Since they’re relatively slow, though, you’re sure that you’ll be able to catch up in no time.

You’re right, you come across Anchor and Mags more than halfway to the stage. It seems like Mags is doing just fine walking on her own, and Anchor is talking to her. Anchor hears you approaching pretty far back and glances over his shoulder to see that it’s you. 

“Good morning!” you jog to catch up, “I see you got an early start today.”

“Haha, shut up.” Anchor says, but cracks up when you do.

Anchor goes back to what he was talking about, and you quickly find out that it’s about the boarding school. It’s an in-depth explanation about your plan this year. Mags knew the basics, but now it’s all about details. You’ll be lucky if you get two tributes that showed promise during training. Otherwise, you’re left with the gamble of the reaping bowls.

Luther and Scotch have already beaten you to the stage when you get there. No Finnick in sight, which you can’t say that you’re surprised about. The five of you get on the stage, leaving the far left seat for Finnick to take when he gets here. Mayor Burrula comes on stage, getting ready to take his spot in front of the podium.

The reaping area in front of you fills. There’s familiar faces in all the age categories, in your mind, you count all the seventeen and eighteen year olds that you know go to the boarding school. It’s a fair amount, most of them are really good at what they know, especially the ones that have been with you for a couple of years now. None of which have ever expressed an interest in volunteering, though. And if they did, it was never to you or Anchor.

Finnick finally shows up when it’s five minutes out from reaping time. The moment after he sits down in his chair, he scoots it two inches away from you. It’s his own personal yearly tradition… on top of all the other ones of neglecting his mentoring duties. 

After the anthem, Mayor Burrula kicks off the reaping with the annual Dark Days speech. It’s boring, you try to look awake. As a joke, you can hear Anchor mocking soft snores. You crack a smile, shaking your head when you elbow him to get him to shut up. Burrula wraps the speech up, introduces Elysia as if she hasn’t been District Four’s Capitol escort for the past couple of years, and then sits back down.

She smiles as she does every year, standing in front of the microphone, “Good afternoon, and Happy Hunger Games. Ladies first.”

You hold your breath, all previous emotion draining out of your body. She heads over to the bowl, her gloved hand dipping into the bowl. She hesitates over the paper, trying to find one that’ll hold the golden tribute. If you have a girl volunteer this year, it’s not going to matter. She could pick a twelve year-old and they could be replaced by a seventeen or eighteen year-old.

She picks one, carefully pulls her hand out of the bowl, and resumes her spot in front of the microphone. She takes her time peeling off the black tape, not wanting to rip the paper. She reads over the name, and with the distance between you and her, you’re not able to see the name.

Still, you mentally cross your fingers. It’s a new year, a new plan. Please, please, please.

“District Four’s girl tribute is Shilin Brisby.” Elysia pronounces the name carefully, and then looks up to the section of girls.

The name isn’t familiar, and there’s no movement in the girl section. You wait, leaning forward slightly to see if the crowd will out her. But before that can happen, the magic words are being shouted, “I volunteer!”

In the eighteen section, out comes a brown-haired girl with a confident smile on her face. The peacekeepers escort her from the way back to the very front. She takes the stone steps easily, tucking her hair behind her ear so that she can see where she’s stepping.

Her name comes across your lips quickly, “Annie Cresta.”

She’s been with the boarding school since she was thirteen, which is five whole years of experience. Five whole years of training, of watching her start out small and hardly able to defend herself, to career-worthy. She’s still not very strong, but she’s resourceful, and smart. 

She stops in front of the girl’s bowl, standing up tall. She let’s Elysia ask for her name, which she repeats for everyone in District Four and in the Capitol. You can’t help the grin that comes across your face. This is the year of change.

“And now for the boys.” Elysia says, moving over to the bowl on the right. She carefully pulls out this paper too, not as hesitant as before. She when stops in front of the microphone again, the tape comes off easier. She reads over it, and then speaks, “District Four’s boy tribute is Paslee Milillio.”

There’s no gap this time. You can see a hand shoot up in the seventeen section faster than the words leave his mouth, “I volunteer as tribute!”

You breathe out a laugh, covering your mouth. This one is an easy guess, Marsh Milillio never stops talking about how his younger brother, Paslee, is going to be the next victor prodigy. Paslee’s thirteen this year, he’s been with you guys for a year. And he does show promise, so Marsh isn’t lying.

Marsh gets brought up to the stage, stops in front of his bowl and says his name clear into the microphone. Two volunteers, two very good tributes. This year, the golden beam of light is on District Four. 

Elysia wraps it up, wishes for a Happy Hunger Games again, and then backs up to allow Annie and Marsh to shake hands. They do, and you can see that Annie has this smirk on her face, something mischievous. You can only imagine how Marsh is looking at the moment, especially since they’re friends.

Once they’re done, they have to face the district again as the anthem plays for the final time. When the anthem is over, they’re brought inside of the building to say goodbye to their families. You’re supposed to take a minute or two saying your own goodbyes, or head straight to the train to make sure that you leave on time.

You stand, a bright smile on your face, “Holy shit.”

“Don’t fuck this up.” Anchor says, he’s got a grin going, “Please.”

“Holy shit!” you repeat, laughing, “Annie and Marsh? Talk about striking gold!”

It’s going to be an easy year. They understand the rules, they know how to color inside of the lines. You’re not going to have to baby them at all. Not even Marsh, even though he’s seventeen. You’ll be able to focus on more important things.

You give Anchor a hug, and then Mags too. You tell Anchor that he should probably visit the families, and then hold a celebration at the boarding school the night of the interviews. You wave goodbye to your family, who are hanging out on the outskirts of the reaping pen, and then go to meet the car that’s waiting for you.

Finnick is already inside, looking out of the window. The car takes off towards the train as soon as the door is shut. On the way to the train, you work on how you’re going to uphold the deal you made with yourself when it comes to Finnick. You’re not going to let him wreck it. He’s going to help, or he’s going to regret it.

You and Finnick head right inside. As Finnick does every year, he heads straight towards his room. He only makes it one step before you’ve got an iron lock on his wrist, keeping him from going any further.

He turns, confused, eyes trained on your expressionless face.

They say that time heals all wounds. That the longer you put the problem off, you’ll eventually forget about it, and it’ll magically evaporate and disappear like it never existed in the first place. But they’re wrong. Time has let you grow bitter and angry and tired and cold. 

The last time you talked to Finnick was years ago, when he told you for the final time that he wouldn’t be participating anymore. To leave him alone and let him do his own thing inside of the Capitol. The mentoring responsibility is now yours, consider him a ghost.

He owes you.

“Work with me this year.” The words aren’t harsh, and they even leave a little room for discussion. A part of you wants to add the word ‘please’ to the end, but you won’t be begging.

“What?” His face twists, and you can see the annoyance before it’s even appeared, “I thought we went over this already. The answer is no.”

You’re not begging. You’re also not backing down. You’re holding him to his promise this year. And if that means getting aggressive and mean, he’s about to meet a new side of you.

You face drops, hand tightening around his wrist. You lift, and pull him closer to you. Finnick might have height, but you have strength through persistence, “Let me rephrase; you’re working with me this year. It’s not a question.”

“You say that now, but you can’t make me do anything.” He twists his wrist, trying to get it free, “Let go.”

You inhale through your nose, keeping your voice quiet and level so that the microphones outside won’t pick you up, “You will help me this year, or you will wish you died in that fucking arena. I’ll make an example out of you, Finnick. You think it’s bad now, wait until I make you the punchline of the fucking joke.”

You yank him closer, he stutters to catch himself so that he doesn’t smack into you, “Your free trial is over. I hope you enjoyed it while it lasted.” He’s glaring, pissed. You let go, pushing him back in the process, “You can hide and wallow in your room now, but when we get to the Capitol, shit changes. Whether you like it or not.

“You’re under me. And you’re working for me, on my terms this year. Don’t like it? Cry me a fucking river.”

You hear the car doors outside of the train, slam shut. The tributes are here, you don’t need to be here waiting when they come inside.

“Clocks ticking, Finnick. You’ve got less than twelve hours to do what you want before your free time is mine.”

“You’re so fucking cocky. Last time I checked, I’m my own person. You can’t tell me what to do.” Finnick shakes his head, face scrunched, a slight shade of red, “Maybe this shit would have flown with Anchor, but I’m not your fucking boyfriend.”

“No, you’re not. And I’m ashamed you ever had that title in the first place. At least Anchor is fucking reliable.” You spit, and you physically see his face fall. Whatever he wanted to say next doesn’t appear on his lips, “I’ve grown up, Finnick. I’ve shouldered all of your bullshit for the past couple of years, and you’re telling me you can’t pull it together just once? It’s garbage.

“I’ve given you your space. Now it’s time to own up or get off of the fucking program. I’m not dealing with this for the next fifty years. I’d rather die before then.” You stop walking, “Once again, you’re helping me this year, or you’re going to regret it. You can think of it as an empty threat, but I’ve had years to get creative.”

He doesn’t say anything back, just leaves the train car. You let him get a headstart, not wanting to have to walk side by side with him to your rooms. By the time you start walking too, the tributes are just ending their time on the station. You leave before they see you, and take your time taking deep breaths to calm yourself down.

You don’t get angry often. It’s hard to be when you’re normally surrounded by people who take the circumstances you live in, seriously. Anchor helps and keeps you company, your family friends keep you grounded, your siblings are a reminder as to why you won in the first place. All of them are working for the better, the only one ruining the current is Finnick. Go fucking figure.

In your room, you lay down on the bed and close your eyes. Dinner will be ready in a couple of hours, and before midnight you should be inside of the Capitol. Tomorrow is the Tribute Parade, the starting point and the decider of how the rest of the trip will go. All you can do right now is hope.

You end up dozing off, only being woken when Elysia comes to the door to bring you to the table before the tributes. You get up, fixing your hair on the way to the dining room. You’re the only one at the table when you get there, and you don’t wait for everyone to show up. You’re no psychic, but you’re pretty sure that Finnick won’t be eating with you guys this evening.

Annie and Marsh take the only real seats that are offered to them. Annie to your right, Marsh to hers. The only chair that’s empty is the one across from you, where Finnick would normally sit. And of course, to your left is Elysia, always sitting at the head since she’s the escort.

Like how Elysia warned you during your train ride to the Capitol for the first time, she tells Annie and Marsh to ration out their hunger. The food will keep coming, and the portion sized will only get bigger as time goes on. You go ahead and tell them--like you tell the tributes every year--that the food is rich too, so they probably shouldn’t eat large portions anyway.

“Finnick didn’t look very happy.” Elysia says, she’s obviously talking to you.

“We spoke for a couple of minutes.” you dip your spoon into the bowl of soup, “If I were him, I’d be pretty pissed off too, but it’s just the way the cookie crumbles.”

Elysia nods, “Any big changes this year?”

You look at her, “I’m going to have an extra pair of hands, I don’t think that I’ll be running around this year.”

Elysia’s smart, she gets what you’re saying almost immediately. You watch the small smile spread over her face, but she doesn’t say anything more about the topic itself, “I suppose some attendants can run him some food.”

You finish up dinner, and then have a little bit of lava cave for dessert. Annie and Marsh are full, but not to the point where they’re going to be sick. So, you all pack it up and bring it to the next train car to watch the reaping recap. You let Annie and Marsh take the seats they want on the couch, but you stand behind it with Elysia.

You’ve grown to realize that sitting down during important events like this, makes you more nervous. It’s more or less the reason why you hate sitting during the reaping.

You watch and observe, listening to what Annie and Marsh have to say about their competitors. They don’t seem all that worried, honestly. They guess strengths and weaknesses, forming a plan of their own. A part of you wonders if they had the reaping planned out, if they made a deal to volunteer together. Like you said, they’re friends. It makes the most sense.

The obvious kids to keep an eye on, as per usual, is Districts One and Two. As the years go on, the more the tributes look vicious. Last year was a fucking nightmare when it came to watching them killing the other tributes around them. It’s no surprise they won, considering they were a fucking tornado in a playground.

“We’d like to be mentored together.” Annie says, looking over her shoulder at you.

Elysia left after the first time they played the recap, she saw all that she needed to. You vaguely remember her mentioning something about checking up on Finnick to make sure he’s eaten. It’s whatever, if he wants to start off on the wrong foot, it’s him that’s going to be regretting it, not you.

“Sounds good to me. Got a plan going on yet?” you cross your arms, eyes landing right back onto the screen in front of them.

“Marsh and I are allies, we think that’s going to work out the best.” she says, “Right?”

Marsh nods in agreement.

“This is your time to shine, not mine.” you raise your eyebrows, “We should arrive in the Capitol in the next few hours. We’ll start getting down to business tomorrow morning. Sounds good?”

“Yeah.” Marsh says.

“You should probably shower if you haven’t already, and get to bed. You’ll need all the sleep you can get, tomorrow’s going to be exhausting. You can find your rooms?” you get ready to go.

“Yes, thank you.” Annie says.

“Goodnight.” you start your way to the door, nearly leaving when Annie calls your name, “Hmm?”

She’s got a sheepish smile on her face, “Thank you for training us.”

“You’re going to be excellent inside of the arena, you two.” 

Back in your room, you lay out the clothes you’ll wear when you get to the Capitol. You take a shower, starting off standing and soaking in the warm water. Which you eventually turn hotter, and sit on the floor while it rains on you. For a while, you stare at the granite tile, but end up placing your head on your knees.

You can’t let these kids down. You’ve worked with them for four and five years, you’ve grown to know them. You watched them grow and become better at their chosen skills. You know their families, and you know that if you lose both of them this year, the whole boarding school is a joke. You’ve been working towards this idea for the past five years. You should’ve had it perfected years ago, yet here you are, still going through the trial and error process.

“Please, let one of them win this year.” you murmur, squeezing your eyes shut, “Just one of them, either of them. One of them has to come home. One beacon of hope to keep me going, please.”

You sit there for a while longer, until your fingers begin to prune. You dry your hair and gently tie it out of your face. After you’ve gotten dressed and brushed your teeth, you sit in the corner of the room, staring out of the window, watching as the sky darkens further. And then you see the lights of the city.

You gather your things out of the room, folding the outfit you wore, and then tucking it into a canvas bag. You make sure that the ring is on your finger before you leave the room behind. You’re the first to make it to the train car, arms crossed and still staring out of the window as you wait for the others.

Finnick shows up next, standing on the far side of the room, quiet as ever. Elysia brings Annie and Marsh around, just in time for the train to stop. The cheering of the Capitol citizens starts immediately, loud clapping and whistling and shouting their names.

Since there’s cameras, Annie and Marsh leave the train with Elysia first. You and Finnick follow, getting your own car. And even though the tributes left before you did, your car makes it to the Tribute Center first. Knowing that Elysia will make sure that they’re signed in properly, you and Finnick head straight to the apartment.

The elevator is quiet, tense, “Marsh is seventeen years old. He’s been in the boarding school since he was thirteen, just like Annie. They’ve decided to be allies, they know each other well. He’s good at fighting, I’ve seen him against the others, he’ll be able to measure up to the others in the gymnasium.”

You run your finger along the silver handle inside of the elevator, briefly wondering if people actually use it or not, “Annie is eighteen. She’s smart, quick on her feet. She’s reliable when it comes to recalling survival skills. She looks like she doesn’t have a lot when it comes to fighting, but that’s only the surface. Annie will never choose violence as her first choice, but as a last resort, she’s deadly.”

You look to Finnick to see that he’s already got his eyes on you, watching. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. Maybe he’s planning on telling you that he’s not going to follow your plans. He might as well save his breath, because he’s going to listen. He might think he has an option now, but you know how to work around problems.

The elevator reaches the Four floor, “Goodnight, I’ll see you at the table tomorrow.”

“Don’t count on it.” He says, following behind you loosely.

“You should be dressed and ready before noon. I trust you can find your way to the Tribute Parade by yourself.” You pause, and then look at him, “If not, I could walk you there.”

Finnick stops right next to you, angry and leaning over you like he’s trying to intimidate you. He opens his mouth to say something, but you slip out from underneath him. You hop up the last step, practically skipping as you round the corner to go to your room for the next.

You don’t scare easily.

You change into comfier clothes and then go straight to bed. With the blankets pulled to your chin, you’re out in no time. You wake up on your own time, since Elysia doesn’t really have to baby you anymore. After laying out your clothes, you take a shower and make sure to not touch your hair.

You’re the second person out in the dining room, with Elysia already at the table. She’s drinking her coffee quietly, eyes on the tv in the living room. It’s loud enough to hear from where you sit, and it’s just an overview of last year's tribute parade and costumes. The woman talking is definitely not Claudius or Caesar, so you know it’s going to be a good morning.

“Laurel sent word early this morning, said she’d like to see you as soon as possible before the Tribute Parade.” Elysia says, setting her mug on the table, “I’ll get the kids up.”

“Thank you.” you say to her, and then repeat it for the avoxes when they begin to bring out breakfast.

Annie comes out first, looking fairly put together. She gives you a polite smile and sits by you at the table, “Good morning.”

You nod, eyes on the tv, watching as the woman skips over the first two districts. Their outfits tend to be the same thing every year. It’s a comfort for District One to dress their tributes in expensive fabric and make them look as Capitol-ish as possible. As for District Two, it’s always a gladiator thing, it’s just a different variation this year.

And even with how boring it is, they still manage to come out as the favorite every single year. For a city that loves the adventure and the unpredictability of the Hunger Games, they’re pretty boring when it comes to allowing the careers to do the same thing every year. At least District Four has the brains to try something new, even if it doesn’t work all the time.

Elysia comes back out, taking a seat at the table, “Marsh will join us in a moment.”

If Laurel wants to talk to you, it’s probably about the costumes. She knows what she wants, but sometimes seeks out advice if she’s caught between two ideas. No matter what happens, Pleurisy will have to match her, and she won’t object to changes. Laurel is older than Pleurisy, which sort-of got her a certain amount of respect from Pleurisy.

It makes Laurel’s job a whole lot easier, you think. They have to match costumes at the Tribute Parade, and it’s better if you coordinate the formal outfits for the night of the interviews. Especially if the tributes are going to be working together inside of the arena. Laurel’s a sure person, if she wants it, she’s going to get it. She’s also a visionary, likes to see her works come to life. 

Right after breakfast, you should get down there quickly so she isn’t waiting for long. If you’re making a costume decision, then the prep teams are going to need to be able to shift to fit the new needs. As soon as Marsh is out here, you’ll say what you need to and then go. You can always eat later if you’re hungry.

Marsh comes out of the hallway, barely awake but he looks as put together as Annie does. You wipe your mouth with the cloth napkin, finish up your orange juice, and neatly stack up your plates for the avoxes to take. 

“Today is the Tribute Parade.” you start, catching their attention, “After breakfast, Elysia will take you down to the Remake Center. The prep teams will take care of you, no matter what happens, don’t resist or complain. Let them do their jobs, they have rules to follow.” you stand up from the table, “I’ll see you again before you get on the chariots.”

You’re about to tell them that if they have any questions, they should ask Elysia. But Finnick comes down the steps, heading straight for the dining table. It’s perfect timing on his part, you get ready to leave, “If you have any questions, Finnick will have the answers. I’ll see you later this afternoon.”

His eyes meet yours, already glaring. He doesn’t turn around and go back to his room like you halfway expected, but sits at the table and waits to be served. You think that he won’t let the tributes down, so you go ahead and leave. If Finnick doesn’t step up, Elysia will gladly do it.

Laurel and Pleurisy are standing in the hallway with the prep teams when you get there. They open up to make a space for you to stand, and you patiently wait as Laurel finishes telling Annie’s prep team what they’ll be doing with Annie. The basic stuff, some extra points if they have the time to later on. You know what the team will make room for the extra stuff either way.

Pleurisy is doing the same thing with Marsh’s team, but it’s not as heinous. They’ll find a way to draw out Marsh’s grooming so that Annie and him finish around the same time. Just so Marsh doesn’t sit around and wait for the Tribute Parade to come around.

Once they’re done, the magical opinion question is brought to the table. Laurel shows you the two options this year, and immediately you can see why she was caught between them. The first option is based off the coral reef, with bright colors and shelves that stick out in places that aren’t awkward. You know that this would be an eye-catcher, and there’s not a spot of blue to be found.

The second option is something less interesting; ropes. Brown nets that’ll be strategically placed around their bodies to make them seem dressed, but really they’ll practically be naked. The only reason this could ever appear to the Capitol citizens is because of a nearly revealed tribute. Which they’ve seen hundreds of times by now.

“Definitely the coral reef. The colors are bright and might even drown out everyone else a bit.” they back away from you, looking pleased, “It’s bold, though.”

“They’ll look amazing by the end of it. We’ve got big plans for them.” Laurel then turns to the prep teams, “Get ready to receive the tributes.” the teams scatter, leaving just you three in the hallway, “Elysia tells me you’ve got Finnick working this year.”

“Not just yet.” you admit, gently shaking your head, “He’s not very happy, I’m going to start slow but by the time the games roll around, he’ll be under my thumb. I can handle the week in the Capitol, but I start to spread myself thin when the tributes get in the arena.”

“Will he be at the parade?” Pleurisy asks.

“Should be. If not, it’s not that big of a deal.”

You spend the rest of the morning with the stylists, following them around, watching as they prepare the costumes. As it nears noon, you get word that the tributes are just about done, which means you three have to scatter. You bid them goodbye, and head back to the apartment to have lunch before meeting the tributes below the Remake Center.

The whole place feels empty, with no sign of Elysia anywhere in the common rooms, and lord knows where Finnick is. You turn the tv on again to hear what Caesar and Claudius have to say about last year’s costumes, and the predictions for this year. You sit at the table, and eat quietly, trying not to hate the Capitol anymore than you already do.

Even after you’re done eating, you sit at the table for a while. Which seems to pay off in the end, as the mystery of where Finnick’s been the entire time, is solved. Still leaves the question on where Elysia is. But if you were to take a guess now, when the Tribute Parade is less than thirty minutes off, she’s probably with the stylists so that she’s on time to the parade.

You lean your head against your hand and watch as Finnick takes his time making his way up the stairs. He’s obviously trying to avoid talking to you, because if he doesn’t look in your direction, you’re probably not going to bother him. At least, that’s what he thinks. Unfortunately, you know how to play mind games and have a fair amount of patience.

The constant silence seems to make him curious enough to look anyway. His eyes lock with yours, he stops moving up the steps. As the staring contest begins, you can see the guilt in his eyes. But as quick as it appeared, it’s suddenly gone. It doesn’t matter, because you’ve seen everything that you needed to already.

You give him a smile, “There’s fifteen minutes before the parade. Plenty of time to get cleaned up, and go, so you might as well.”

“You were waiting here for me?” he asks, face twisting.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I just ate lunch.” you roll your eyes, looking back at the tv.

He leaves, you watch as the stands fill with bright colors and animated Capitol people. To think that it feels like yesterday you were the one rolling through the street, dressed as a marble statue straight out of Atlantis. You can still remember the way your stomach twisted right as the chariots began to move.

As the years have come and gone, you’ve become more used to the cameras. Whether you like it or not, the Capitol will always be with you. They might not follow you around in District Four anymore, but they sure do keep tabs on you when the games roll around. What is (Y/n) doing this year? You’re sure they noticed your happy expressions during the reapings when Annie and Marsh volunteered. You wonder if they were suspicious that you weren’t really surprised.

You can’t say you’ll be as indifferent when the games roll around. It’s going to be harder to hold yourself together, as it is every year. And if Marsh or Annie win? It’s going to be a celebration, there’s not a single doubt about it. And depending on what happens in the arena exactly, especially with the other careers, you’ll be rubbing it in.

Finnick comes out when it hits ten minutes. He doesn’t look all that different, just less disheveled than he had started as. You and him take the elevator down below the Remake Center, and you’re able to see that there’s a handful of tributes here already, waiting by their chariots.

Annie and Marsh are dressed brilliantly. As always, Laurel knows what she’s doing, and she’s managed to make it look like they could easily blend into the reefs themselves, if they wanted to. Annie’s hair is done up in braids, with bright colors weaved in and out. As a headpiece, she’s got an orange reef hair comb tucked in neatly. 

The colors on their bodies are strategically placed to make them blend into each other. Annie’s got a dress that bells out at the bottom, with unique, hand-painted designs that must have taken hours. Even Marsh has brightly colored makeup around his eyes, smeared with colored glitter mixed in.

“Huh.” Finnick lets out, “You picked this?”

“This is not what was sketched out.” you look at him, raising your eyebrows, “But it’s pretty cool, huh?” 

You elbow him slightly, and then head over to Annie and Marsh, “You guys look amazing!” 

Annie turns, giving you a red-faced smile. Marsh on the other hand, rolls his eyes and picks at the coral band on his arm. Since they can’t do special effects on the tributes, as the chemicals might irritate his skin, the stylists have to get creative with how they get props to stick onto the tributes. It typically turns out to be tight bands like the ones Marsh is wearing. It doesn’t cut off circulation, but it isn’t exactly comfortable either.

With this, Pleurisy slaps Marsh’s hand to get him to stop fiddling with the band. If he messes it up now, it’ll have to come off completely. There’s absolutely no time to go back and fix anything that he might fuck up. Marsh seems to catch the clue though, because he laces his fingers together and tries not to touch anything else.

The opening music starts, notifying you that it’s time to get the tributes onto their chariots. Laurel and Pleurisy shift anything that needs to be moved, and then they’re making Marsh and Annie get onto the chariot. You watch as they shift around, finding the way they’ll be standing for the parade.

“Any tips?” Annie asks hopefully.

“Follow your gut.” you say, “If you feel like smiling or waving, do it. This is your time to set what you’ll be like for the rest of the Capitol trip. As soon as you’re in the arena, it can go away.”

They don’t ask any questions, and even if they had any, their time is up. The doors behind them have finished opening, District One’s chariot is starting to move. You and the others back off, wishing the tributes good luck. You’re all subjected to watching the chariots on the tv.

You cross your arms, yawning slightly. You’re ready for the day to be over, at least the next three days or so is going to be slow. All you really have to do is get up and make yourself presentable until they’re shipped to the Training Center. The only real working day is the one the day before the interviews. And that’s because you’re going to be figuring out how you can help them be ready for the interview.

Annie and Marsh seem to be in their element for the most part. Annie is obviously shy, Marsh doesn’t mind it at all. She waves and smiles and does just as much as Marsh does. They stop in the City Circle, the anthem plays, President Snow gives his speech, the chariots go around the circle one last time, and then come back.

“Not bad.” you say to yourself, “Not bad at all.”

You leave Finnick standing there, giving the tributes a wide grin. The prep teams are already singing praises, so there’s not much to say. Muchless room to say it. Elysia thinks that they’ve had an influence on the Capitol already, which is a relief. As long as they’re drawing in some attention, you’re good.

Back inside of the Four floor, your tributes head off to take their showers. Finnick meanders around the rooms, you settle onto the couch in the living room, watching the chariot rides again. As always, Claudius and Caesar have been captivated by District One and Two’s amazing stylists. They barely make a comment about District Four.

You end up with your head in your hands. You know that just because the moderators didn’t say anything, doesn’t mean that other people didn’t take a closer look. But their biased opinion tends to have an effect on people after a while. Continue to make dim comments about districts, and you’ll end up like District Twelve.

No one wants to be District Twelve.

Dinner with everyone--with the exception of the prep teams--is enough to keep you awake. You go ahead and indulge yourself in red wine, trying to seem like you’re enjoying yourself. As soon as the alcohol sets in, making your head spin a little, you go ahead and give it up. You’re not really a drinker, anyway.

As soon as the cake is served, you’re sure that dinner is pretty much over. You go and watch the replay of the parade again, Elysia goes ahead and tells you guys what the people she’d talk to said. It’s all very good things, and you begin to suspect that she’s just being nice for the tributes.

“Don’t give them false hope.” you say, cutting her off completely, “Claudius and Caesar did nothing for us. Annie and Marsh have to do good on their training scores, and even better during the interviews if they want to make a lasting impression.” you look at the tributes, “The pressure of performing well has only just begun.

“You guys should get to bed, we’ll see you at breakfast for instructions. Try to get a good night of sleep.”

Annie thanks Laurel on her way out, Marsh barely does the same. You absently watch the tv while you wait for them to be gone completely. Finnick’s already gathering his things, “I’ve got to go.”

“Be there at breakfast, I’ll fill you in the best I can.” you tell him.

“Sure.”

He leaves too, and you’re left there with Elysia, Laurel and Pleurisy.

“You know how to clear a room.” Laurel says, you crack a smile.

“Well you wanted to talk.” you look at them, “So let’s get to talking.”

--

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@f1nal-g1rl / @starlight-selene / @neenieweenie / @amixedwitch

[cripplingaddictions]

Shinso x Reader: Scented Candles

Summary: While you were enjoying Shinso's company in your dorm room, the power cuts off. Inspired by the romantic lighting of your emergency candles, Shinso proposed the idea that the two of you should slow dance. He convinces you to sing for him while he holds you close in the aroma of your scented candles.

Rating: SFW

Genre: Tooth rotting fluff

Work Count: 1.1k

A/N: I'm so sorry for the wait recently, I am working on a request too at the moment even though life has been keeping me plenty busy.

Time was forgotten as the darkness beyond your curtains drawn closed over your dorm window had long settled in. The low humming of conversation on the tv on the wall opposing the end of your bed was the only sound you could hear besides your boyfriends slow breathing next to you. 

        The even rhythm of Hitoshi’s chest leaning against your slouched form showed that he was long drifting off to sleep. You didn’t blame him, however, as the trashy movie you had put on for steady background noise had almost bore you to sleep too. Not only that, but the training he was undertaking with Aizawa to fulfill his dream of joining the Hero Course was tiring him out. You were incredibly proud of his progress, but the last thing you wanted was for him to burn himself out.

        You didn’t pay attention to the movie anymore, scrolling through your phone while you rother hand threated its fingers into Shinso’s lilac hair. His cheek rested on your shoulder, one arms resting over your midriff. The lamp by your beside emitted just enough light for your eyes to trace his features whenever his breath would slightly hinder.

        Suddenly, the lamp shut off. The television’s light and the awful dialogue seized with a small click. Your body jolted upright at the abrupt silence that fell over your room.

        Hitoshi’s eyes quickly opened at your sudden movement, straightening his back. You immediately felt bad, switching on the torch setting on your phone.

        “Sorry, Toshi,” you turned the torch to the ceiling as to not accidentally shine it in his eyes.

        “It’s fine, kitten,” Hitoshi’s voice rasped, his hands rubbing his eyes slowly.

        “I think the power went out,” you stated the obvious, taking into account the sky outside was clear, “But there’s no storm outside.”

        “Denki probably sneezed on a power socket, or something,” Hitoshi mused, squeezing you close so he could press a kiss onto your hairline. “Don’t stress.”

        “I’m not stressed,” you poked him in the chest, “but we should probably light some candles, because I think my phone is about to die.”

        Turning your phone over, you turned it on so that you could read the battery percentage. A small number 3 sat next to the small battery symbol in the corner, confirming your suspicion.

        “Looks like we’re going back to sleep then, kitten,” Hitoshi smirked, sinking down into the duvet.

        He adjusted one of your pillows so that it rested at a comfortable angle. His arms wrapped around your torso, dragging you down the bed. Your legs slipped further into the warm blankets as Hitoshi attempted to wrap you up in the duvet. Thrashing your arms around, you urged to wriggle back up to sit.

        A few months ago, you would have stood a fighting chance to get your way whenever Hitoshi tried to use force to get you to cuddle. Mr Aizawa’s training had certainly enhanced his strength, making your playful wrestles feel like a sparing match.

        “No!” You laughed, attempting to pry his fingers from your hips, “I don’t want to sleep yet! I want to light some candles!”

        Hitoshi smirked, “Look at you… you’re struggling to stop me when I’m really tired… Have you been skipping training again?”

        “I don’t skip training!” You stopped wriggling for a moment, turning to look into Hitoshi’s half-lidded eyes. “You’ve just been training harder than me, and I’m proud.”

        “Don’t try to flatter me,” Hitoshi growled, “I’m still winning.”

        He smirked, when you wriggled backwards out of his hold. His arm lifted off you, allowing for you to slide off your bed. You crossed the floor to a cabinet, unaware of Hitoshi’s adoring gaze falling after your figure.            

        Blindly rummaging through a draw, you found a small collection of scented candles, some you gifted to yourself, others from Hitoshi. Fumbling in the dark with the marches, you struct it, a small spark alighting the head. You quickly hovered the match over the candles’ wicks, lighting them all. A row of orange light bounced over the walls and ceiling as the torch from your phone turned off.             

        The amber glow relaxed you, your eyes drifting over to Hitoshi still lounging on your bed. His lilac eyes bore into you, an adoring smirk wrinkling the corner of his soft, kissable lips.     

        Slightly embarrassed by the lingering gaze, you turned your back towards him. Have expecting him to drift off to sleep once again, you began to rearrange your candles so they lined up perfectly across your cabinet. The mixed senses of pinewood, vanilla and lavender wafted into your nose in swirls with the smoke.

        Fingers dancing around the small of your waist took you by surprise, Hitoshi’s hands clasping together across your stomach. Hot air tickled the back of your neck.

        “The atmosphere is suddenly a lot more romantic, would you say so, kitten?”             

        Hitoshi’s silky voice and accusation made you blush, spinning around in his arms to face him. The way his half-lidded eyes trailed your face while resting his hands on your hips caused your stomach to do backflips. There was something about being this close to him that had this effect on you, no matter how long you had been together.

        “It is, yeah,” you sighed, adjusting your hands that you had swung around his neck.

        “Perfect for slow dancing,” Hitoshi rubbed his nose across yours softly.

        You laughed at him, “Since when were you into dancing?”

        “I’m not, but wouldn’t it be fun to try?”

        You pursed your lips, fully aware of the way he had manipulated your movements so you were now slowly swaying to an unknown rhythm.

        “We don’t have any music.”

        “Sing for me.”

        “No, it’s embarrassing.”

        “Please, kitty? Your voice is beautiful.”

        “You only heard me that one time you accidentally walked in on me showering.”           

        “And you sounded lovely.”

        “Bathroom acoustics are always so much better, though.”

        “Baby, please? You’d sound beautiful wherever you are.”

        At this point he was basically begging. You almost felt bad for having to deny him for so long, especially when his lip slightly pouted out at his last sentence.            

        “Fine… but you owe me another scented candle,” you bargained, smiling as he laughed before scoffing at you.

        “You’re so weird.”

        Rolling your eyes, you didn’t protest, mentally hyping yourself up for your small performance. Clearing your throat, you avoided Hitoshi’s eyes as you fell into the first note.

“Put your head on my shoulder Hold me in your arms, baby Squeeze me oh-so-tight Show me that you love me too

Put your lips next to mine, dear Won't you kiss me once, baby? Just a kiss goodnight, maybe  You and I will fall in love”          

        Hitoshi led your bodies in an uncoordinated waltz, giggling whenever he dipped you. His sudden movements would leave you shocked, having to replenish your voice in order to continue the song.

        Even with the cracks in your voice or when you forgot the lyric and had to repeat the line, the way you held each other if the sweet perfumes of your scented candles couldn’t be more perfect.

[kabira]

04 | solo

pairing — spider-man!vernon x ofc

featuring — joshua, yeji (itzy), felix (skz), yangyang (nct)

word count — 2.6k

genres — spider-man au, marvel au, fluff, action, angst, humor

warnings — one instance of profanity

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“You’re being a bitch.”

Vernon closed his locker’s door with a click before turning around, looking at the ceiling in exasperation when he heard the accusatory voice. There was a tube light directly above him, brilliant and blinding right in his sight. He turned away as quickly as he had looked up, blinking back the dark spots in his stinging eyes.

He didn’t bother acknowledging Lucy before making his way down the hallway, bag slung over one shoulder. His muscles ached from the previous night’s encounter—he’d ended up swinging around for longer than usual, long after the three had to go back to the Helicarrier for their bedtime. Knowing May wouldn’t be waiting up for him back home had made him a little careless, and the exertion during gym hadn’t helped.

“Don’t you walk away from me, mister!” Luce called behind him. When she saw that he wasn’t stopping, she blew air out of her mouth in irritation before jogging to catch up. “Vernon! What is up with you?”

The hallway was mostly empty, which wasn’t that surprising. He’d had to stay back in the lab to clean up his new partner’s chemical spill, which had, of course, been blamed on him instead. The old Parker luck. “I need to get home, Luce.”

“Do you?” she asked, and he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. A muscle in her jaw was working, tensing and relaxing at periodic intervals, her eyes fixed on some point in the distance. She was usually relaxed, but her current gait was constrained, like a coiled-up spring. “I saw how you nailed that new kid in gym today. You usually opt out of dodgeball, but—”

“He had it coming,” Vernon said dismissively, but his lips thinned. The new guy she was referring to was Yangyang, who did have it coming, because of his little incident in the cafeteria the day before. Maybe it was a little uncalled for, but Vernon still honestly believed he had deserved it at least a little bit. “And you’re not supposed to chew gum in the school.”

“Neither are you supposed to be mean to people for no reason, but we’re all sinners.” Luce shrugged, and he bit back a few choice words. She pushed through the door as they reached the exit, and he shielded his eyes against the hot midday sun that’s shone directly at them. “For real, though. You got him good—I’ve never seen you so hostile towards anyone save for Flash. Did Yangyang say something to you?”

For some reason, her knowing his name annoyed Vernon even further. “Did you get the answers to those questions yesterday?” he asked, switching the subject.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Very funny.” The laces of her converse were untied, a band pin on the lapel of her jacket wobbly, a few strands loose from her dark ponytail. He blinked, tearing his mind away from the little details of her appearance and tried to focus on walking. Left, right, left. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yeah, well, I had a headache last night,” he said, grateful he didn’t have to hunt for excuses. His thoughts were already sluggish. “You can ask May.”

“I meant the one about Yangyang.” She paused, and he paused with her, taking a few steps before backtracking towards her. Her eyes were downcast, brow creased thoughtfully. Unconscious little gestures he knew like the back of his hand. Then she glanced up at him, right at him, so suddenly that when her eyes met his he swayed on his feet a little. “You don’t want to tell me, do you?”

I can’t, I’m sorry. But cryptic answers never helped. The last time he had tried withholding something from her that wasn’t his Spider-Man secret—the planned surprise party, for instance—she had persevered until he accidentally let it slip. Plus, she was sharp. A couple of new students, a few matching injuries, and she’d guess those three were superheroes right away. And where would he be then?

“It’s a guy thing,” he said instead, a little white lie he hoped would do the trick. Vernon raked a hand through his hair, pressing his lips into a smile as he squinted at her. “You’re going to embarrass me in front of all these pigeons.”

“The pigeons are half-dead because of New York’s air pollution, I’m pretty sure they have more important things to worry about than some guy’s adjustment problems,” she said, resuming her walk. He waited for her to pass him before following. “Look, I know the new kids are a sudden change after—” She bit the inside of her bottom lip. “Well. After…you know.”

All of a sudden, the atmosphere turned gloomier, as if a cloud had passed overhead. “Yeah,” Vernon said thickly, voice cracking. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I know.”

Lucy glanced at him, and though he wasn’t looking directly at her, he could sense the regret in her eyes. “It must be difficult for them, too,” she said. “Joining a new school in the middle of a session, just a few weeks after…all that.” She shrugged, looking at him, and their eyes met. “There’s no harm in being decent.”

He looked away, feeling the lining of his stomach go hot-and-cold. Even a mention of the incident turned every sunny conversation into something dark and somber, even though it had been months already. The counselor/agent had tried making him open up about it as well, but he’d snapped at her, only to regret it right after. It was a difficult subject for him, especially since he felt at least partially responsible for what had happened—but he couldn’t tell Luce that without revealing more than he was supposed to.

“So you’re still trying to score an interview with Tony Stark?” he asked instead, trying to steer the conversation towards a different topic. “I still can’t believe the board’s letting you do that.”

“Honestly? I think the only reason they agreed to it is because then they won’t have to assign me to anything of real importance,” she said with a small laugh. “They think I can’t do it.”

“Can you?”

“I have my ways,” she said, a glint in her eye. “I’d tell you how, but it’s too dangerous to involve an innocent civilian in my plans.”

“Uh-huh.” He tried not to shake his head. Oh, the irony. “You don’t have to talk to Stark, you know. I’m sure there were other civilian witnesses to the Goblin incident.”

“Yeah, but their accounts have already been reported. I need a superhero for this job.” She blew a strand of her hair out of her eyes. “If not him, who else am I going to talk to? Spider-Man?”

He laughed awkwardly. “Maybe?”

“I think Stark might be easier than that.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s kind of the point of the mask.”

He looked at her in half-surprise, unsure what to feel. They had talked about Spider-Man before, of course, but only in passing. A masked vigilante wouldn’t really be central to their usual conversations. Still, he hadn’t expected her to say that. “Yeah,” he murmured, feeling oddly warm. “I guess it is.”

“Oh, look,” she said, stopping in her tracks again. Vernon raised his eyebrows, following her line of sight to a Daily Bugle billboard on the side of a tall building. “Jameson’s having a field day with those photos of the new guys.”

He took a long look at the screen, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “Why would you show me that?” he mumbled. On the top right corner of the screen was a blurry picture of him with Tiger, Nova, and Iceman, looking like a perfectly normal team of superheroes fighting crime—except for the leftover webbing clinging to Nova’s costume. Distractedly, Vernon wondered what Jameson made of that little detail.

“As a sighting in Queens last night reported, it seems that Spider-Man has now deemed it fit to invite even more of his delinquent partners into this city!” the man on the screen yelled. If Vernon tried hard enough, maybe he could even see little spit bubbles form in Jameson’s salt-and-pepper moustache during the passionate rant. “With crime rates already increasing steadily ever since the arrival of this masked menace, who knows what kind of mayhem the new additions to his team will spell for New York?”

Always the charmer.

“…anyway,” Luce muttered. She was frowning at the screen, but seemed unable to look away. “Who do you think those guys are?”

“Those guys?” Vernon echoed, awkwardly running his thumb along the strap of his bag. What could he say that would arouse the least suspicion? “They seem new.”

Nailed it.

“Right,” she mumbled, looking distracted, like her mind was far away—never a good sign with this one. “But, as I was saying, I know the past month’s been hard for you. It’s been hard for me, too, but you shouldn’t take it out on a few unsuspecting newbies when they don’t deserve it.”

Vernon kissed his teeth, choosing to stay silent. The last thing he wanted right now was more impromptu therapy, but he knew that trying to dissuade Lucy from speaking would only encourage her. The best he could do was shut up and let her have it.

“You know what’s helped me deal with it?” she asked, and he raised his eyebrows, wanting to get it over with. “Working. Ever since I joined the school newspaper, I’ve been able to keep myself busy. Distracted. I don’t want to sound like a mom, but maybe something like that could work out for you—like an after-school job or something.”

Oh, you have no idea. But he only shrugged, keeping his eyes on the billboard. He had been able to keep busy as Spider-Man, a well-needed distraction from the pain, but now with those three around, it wasn’t the good kind.

“Maybe,” he murmured, watching on as Jameson gesticulated violently onscreen. “We’ll see.”

|

Vernon swung the drone trapped at the end of his web in a full circle before letting go, letting it fly through the training room into a collapsed structure of another laser. The drone exploded, sparking as it crashed, crushing the circuit of the lasers in the structure beneath it.

Dusting off his hands, he turned, facing the rest of his ‘team’-mates, who stood to one side, having been watching him as he single-handedly took on the subjects of their training session. He had been going at it for about half an hour now, and it had been strangely satisfying to get to throw stuff around for the heck of it.

Nova stood leaning against the wall next to the control panel, his arms folded over his chest. “You done yet?” he asked in a bored voice.

The drone Vernon had just disabled sparked again, shooting an angry red beam across the room. Vernon clicked his modified web shooters into condensed impact mode and webbed the drone again without looking. The drone crackled once, then its light went dark.

“I am now,” he said, dropping his arm. Felix watched him with bleary eyes as he turned and headed towards the exit, which slid open with a pneumatic hiss. “And since I managed to complete the mission objective solo, I think I’m going to head home.”

“Except you didn’t.” White Tiger landed in his path, executing a perfect handspring that arched high over his head. Her reflexes were as good as his—maybe even better, but he would probably never tell her that.

She crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one leg. Despite the mask covering her features, he could sense how peeved she was through the sheer annoyance radiated by her posture. “The objective was to disable the bots without alerting the security system. You trashed the drones and crashed the system, and the power failure would have initiated a manual site-wide search. If this had been a real mission, we would have been discovered by now.”

“Except this isn’t a real mission,” he said, equally annoyed. “If it had been, I’m pretty sure I would have been able to do the job easily. Six armed drones against one spider? No competition.”

“And this was supposed to be a team effort,” she snapped. “If this had just been a solo training session, I would have had no problem with you doing what you just did. But in case you forgot, the whole point of this is to prepare us for team combat in real situations, to help us learn to work better, together. Your taking on everything alone wasn’t heroic, it was an obstruction of the purpose of this entire thing.”

She took a step back, suddenly, as if reeling from a blow, though he hadn’t even moved. The training room had gone silent—granted, it hadn’t been very noisy in the first, place, but her voice had been so loud and her words so rapid that Vernon had forgotten the silence. Now it pressed down on him, like another layer to his suit.

She dropped her arms to her sides, fingers curling in and out slightly, her claws retracting under the white gloves. “I know it’s difficult for you having to work with someone against your will,” she said, “and I know you don’t like us very much. But that’s not a good enough reason for you to throw away everything we’ve been training for. If you’re not going to be nice, at least try to be civil.”

She turned on his heel and stalked out the door. Vernon watched her go, right up until the doors slid back in place behind her.

He turned around, only to find the other two staring back at him. “Way to go,” Felix mumbled.

“You totally got schooled right there,” Yangyang said, though he didn’t sound very amused. “You know she takes this training stuff more seriously than any of us.” He shrugged; arms still folded. “Gotta be more sensitive than that.”

“Stop it,” Felix snapped at him, looking annoyed. “She only cares about this so much because it’s the only thing she’s got. You’ve got the Guardians, and I have—had—the X-Men, and probably a bunch of other mutant organizations, like the Frost Academy or something,” he added the last bit in an undertone, “but S.H.I.E.L.D.—after she lost her family, this is the only place she can turn to. That’s her one chance at making it, but this doofus is refusing to cooperate. If it were me, I’d be pretty pissed.”

Vernon narrowed his eyes at him, but couldn’t find the strength to argue. Too much about what Felix had said hit right where it hurt. Losing someone you cared about, suddenly having nobody to turn to…he understood how bad that was. But losing your entire family and being displaced from your home? He couldn’t even imagine it.

The earlier annoyance had drained from his body like an ebbing tide, leaving nothing but a hollowness and that damned guilt that seemed to follow him everywhere like an annoying ghost. Oh, well, my fault for having a conscience.

Suddenly tired, he sighed, tearing his eyes from the mutant’s and looking resignedly at a spot on the wall. As much as he would like to have a reason to properly hate his new team, he knew he couldn’t really blame them for any of this. “Where do you think she’ll go?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t—” Yangyang started.

“Up top,” Felix answered, cutting him off. His irises were rings of ice, but when Vernon looked at him then, they seemed almost warm. “Take the elevator to the left. Make sure you don’t fall off the side—New York’s a long way down.”