#imagine dropping into another world and a dude sitting behind a wall of fire talks down to you

[kineticallyanywhere]

you ever read a fic so good it carves out a solid and permanent chunk of your brain. you ever read a fic so good you get the physical jitters whenever you know something is about to happen and you can’t hecking wait to see it happen youre just so excited

anyway if you haven’t yet please read A Tale of Spirits by @unorthodoxx-page, they way it uses the premise to expand on the cultures in Avatar and how they interact with spirits and they way every single Rise-to-Avatar character match up is chefs kiss hot DIGGITY dang gosh me to HECK

[trash-writings]

I Don’t Know Your Name

Soft!Phinks x Fem!Reader 

Another commission. If you’re interested in commissioning me, send me a message. 

Description: Phinks saves a damsel in distress and offers her his couch. 

Word count: just over 3k 

Warnings: Fem!Reader, vaginal sex, oral (m. receiving), a mugging??

--

“See ya later,-----!” Your friend squeals before crossing the street, her hands clinging desperately to her girlfriend who might as well be holding her up. Her words are full of glee, the alcohol hitting her harder than anyone else, but what else was new? You knew agreeing to go out with her tonight would end like this.

You don’t mind, it’s too funny how predictable she is at this point. The evening was fun, despite the lightweight you call your friend. You drop your dead phone into your small purse that barely holds it, your lip gloss, and cardholder. It died some time ago, but you still clung to it in the last hour since you’d left the club, not really sure why but feeling more comfortable with it than without.

Walking home at night was one of the few times you’ve felt truly vulnerable to the world. Every day you work hard and take on nearly everything life can throw at you with no fear. However, at night it crumbles. The nighttime has a way of pushing harder on the realities of different situations, but none quite like walking home alone. The faster you walk, the longer it seems it take. The entire act seeming to worsen the more time you spend outdoors.

Just make it home. Just make it another two blocks. No one is following you. Everything is okay.

The moment your apartment complex comes into sight you let out a sigh of relief, body immediately relaxing as your tense muscles let go and you breathe slower. Opening your small purse, you locate the access keycard to the building, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk before approaching the door.

Ass you look through the card holder in your bag, you don’t hear the rustling coming from the nearby where your buildings dumpsters are located. Finding the keycard, you walk to the front door, preparing to slide it through the slot to get in. As you reach up, someone grabs your bag, trying to pull it off your shoulder.

“Hey, what the fuck!” You yell, reacting quickly and turning to grab ahold of your bag, dropping your keycard. “Stop it, what are you doing?”

The man looks out of it, and you know he might not even know what he’s doing completely. However, that doesn’t mean he can just run off with your things.

“Let go of my fucking bag!” You yell again starting to worry he won’t let go. He’s larger than you, towering over you making you worry that he could hurt you if he really tried. “I said, let go!”

“What’s going on here?” Another voice comes from behind you, the door to your building opening.

Before you can answer, the vigilante punches the man trying to swipe your bag. He lets go, reaching for his now sore cheek, and falls om his back down to the sidewalk. Looking around, you can’t find your keycard, and you realize the man is now gone too, probably with your card.

“I’m sorry you had to do that,” you mutter accepting your fate and wondering how long of a walk it will be to get to your closest friends place for the night. “I think he ran off with my card though,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

Looking up you find a tall blonde, lighting a cigarette and leaning against the front of your complex. He doesn’t look irritated, in fact you can barely tell he even saved you from being robbed, well… robbed more than you have been tonight.

“Thank you,” you tell him, and he nods.

“Are you alright?” His voice is nearly toneless, but his eyes are intensely looking at you, like you’d disappear if he looks away even for a second.

“Uh, yeah I guess so. I’m going to just go to my friend’s place since that dude took my card to the doors.” You tell him.

“Do you want me to walk you there?” He asks, blowing out a large cloud of smoke. He puts out the unfinished cigarette on the brick wall of the complex.

You consider it, but the walk is far, and you don’t want to be a further bother to him. “It’s fine, I’m sure I can make it-“

“Or I could just let you inside. I live here too,” he slides his card and opens the door.

“What about my apartment though? I can’t get inside without my card.”

“Oh,” his cheeks tint the slightest shade of pink. “I uh, my couch is big and comfortable.”

You don’t reply, the idea seeming absurd at first. However, it is late and you’re tired. It’s not like he is insisting you stay, and he has helped you out enough tonight you can’t imagine why he’d turn into a creep this long after the initial incident.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind walking. I don’t want to bother you anymore-“

“It’s fine, come on.” He holds the door open further and you walk in with him. He presses the button for the elevator, ironically enough on the same floor of your apartment. You’d never seen him before in the hall, so maybe he had just moved in and you never noticed.

“Did you move here recently? I’ve never seen you around.”

“No not really.” He answers, not giving you much to work with conversation wise. ‘

You nod, feeling more awkward than before. He must just not like to be friendly with neighbors, which you understand. It’s a lot of hassle and often for no reason. But since he offered you a place to sleep, he has to be at least a little bit hospitable.

“I’ve only been here for a few months,” you tell him hoping he will open up some. Or else this night might just be a lost cause.

“Are you enjoying it?” It sounds forced, and exhausted. He doesn’t want to talk.

“Yeah,” you reply and decide to not force it any longer. Eventually the elevator opens, and he guides you down the hall to his apartment. He lives several down from you, so you see why you’ve never seen him before.

He unlocks his door, letting you walk in first into the dark apartment. Switching on the light you’re surprised to see it’s decorated nicely, and not the typical bachelor pad you’ve seen all too many times. He has a large sectional couch, that looks comfortable enough. Your feet are aching in your heels, and your body is finally catching up to ally our activity tonight at the club.

“Thanks again for letting me stay,” you tell him taking off your heels and setting them down by the door.

“No problem. Make yourself comfortable.” He locks the door, then removes his shoes and heads towards his bedroom. The layout of his apartment is the exact same as yours, place like this always have identical set ups… but it’s still funny being in a place that is like yours but somehow completely different.

You sit down on the couch, getting a feel for your bed for the evening. However, you realize your jeans and bodysuit aren’t going to be the most comfortable thing to sleep in. Plus, you’d really like to shower. At this point he might just think you’re needy, so you don’t want to bother him.

“Hey,” his voice startles you. You turn your head and see he’s changed now. Instead of his track pants and matching jacket he’s now in red and black pajama pants and no shirt. Your eyes graze over his body, trying your best to not make the glances known to him. “I thought you might want to shower… and here are some clothes that might be more comfortable. The bathroom is through my bedroom. I can wait in here while you shower if you want.”

You’re shocked he knew to do this, but he doesn’t give off much. For all you know he’s really caring and just bad at showing it. You stand up, taking the clothes from him. “Thank you, I really appreciate this.”

A pink flush spreads across his nose and cheeks, and you grin again. He looks much softer now inside his home.

“There is a towel on the sink for you. If you need another one, just look in the closet in the bathroom. I just set out one and a washcloth for you.”

You nod, heading towards the bathroom. His gesture is so much kinder than you expected. It’s hard to not keep thinking about it as you shower, happy to see he has more than just the bare minimum three in one product for you to use. As you get dressed you like how large his t-shirt is on you, and even the pajama bottoms need tied rather tight to stay on your waist and the legs cuffed so you don’t trip while wearing them.

When you finally emerge from his bathroom, and bedroom, you find he’s watching a movie on the couch. He doesn’t notice you’ve come out, so you quietly set your clothes down on the end table by the couch and gently sit on the other end of the couch.

“Thank you for letting me borrow these,” you tell him, and he smiles at you.

“They look good on you,” he mutters, the looks away immediately. Did he mean to let that slip out?

“Thanks,” you pull your knees to your chest and rest against the back of the couch.

“Do you want to watch something else? Or I can just go to bed and let you sleep?”

“You’re fine. This is your place. I’m happy watching tv with you.” He doesn’t reply, but relaxes back onto the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table. You watch the movie, not surprised to see it’s full of action and a ridiculous amount of fighting. You find it hard to stay awake, dosing off and eventually deciding to just stretch out on the couch.

Your head rests next to Phinks, his lap just a centimeter or so from you. When his fingers stroke through your hair, you don’t reject him. The warm comforting feeling welcome, but also lighting your body on fire. No longer tired, your eyes stay wide open. You want to enjoy every bit of this feeling.

“I’m glad you didn’t get hurt tonight.” He says softly, turning the movie off. “I’m glad I was there.” You don’t know what to say, this so much more forward than you’d expect. Frankly, everything with him has been so much more than you’d expect.

“I don’t even know your name.” You say aloud, realizing the horror in that sentence. You’re really staying with a complete stranger.

“It’s Phinks.” He tells you.

“I’m -----.” You tell him as his fingers graze your cheek.

“Pretty name,” he says before pulling his hand away. He stands up and you sit up quickly, grabbing his hand.

“Where are you going?” Your eyes desperately search his face for answers. Obviously, he is going to bed, but you realize now you don’t want him to leave you alone.

“Do you want me to stay in here with you?”

“I… Uh, I-“ it’s so dumb to admit, you think. You do, but is this even appropriate? Before you can finish, he’s sitting down and pulling you into him. Your lips just millimeters from his as you straddle his lap.

“Just say the words, pretty girl.”

“I want you,” you whisper against his lips and he closes the distance. His lips are warm and delightfully soft. As you kiss him, his hands slip under your—no, his shirt and his fingers softly squeeze your waist. The roughness of his fingers feels good against your soft skin, making you melt further into his kiss.

He bare chest is warm against your hands, mails lightly scratching at his skin as you use him to steady yourself while you grind against his cock. He’s half hard already, Through the thin pajama pants you both wear, you can feel everything. Each time you grind on him, his cock throbs.

His hands move up your chest, fingers slowly twirling your nipples between them. You moan against his lips, mouth opening for him to slip his tongue inside. You welcome him, and slide your hands dragging down his smooth chest, making sure to feel his hard toned body as you go. It’s hard to drag your hands away from his abs, wanting to feel each and every one before grabbing his waist band. You break away from his lips, a string of saliva keeping you connected and making you giggle.

“Do you want to stop?” He asks, removing his hands from your breasts.

“Oh, no… I just,” you slide off his lap and onto your knees in front of him, “want to thank you for saving me earlier.” You kiss just below his navel, blond hair tickling your lips. He shivers as your lips tease down his happy trail, your tongue leaving a shiny path in its wake.

As you tug on the waistband of his pants, he bucks his hips letting you take them off him. Dropping them around his ankles, his cock now standing ready for your hand to grasp. You take him in your hand, kissing the tip before spreading your lips around it, your tongue swirling around the head.

He grabs the couch cushion as you start to take more of his thick length into your mouth. His moans are soft, barely audible unless you’re trying hard to listen. Stroking his cock as you bob your head you elicit a louder moan.

He reaches up, grabbing you by your hair and pulling you off his cock. “That feels so fucking good,” he leans down and kisses you sloppily. Pulling your head forward he makes you stand up in front of him so he can undress you from the waist down. You grab the hem of his shirt you’re wearing, starting to take it off and he smacks your hands.

“I like the idea of fucking you in that,” he says as he pulls your panties down below your knees. You step out of them and straddle him on the couch once more. His fingers tease your clit, making your eyes flutter shut as you lean forward into his body.

“Fee’s s’good,” you moan slurring your words together and starting to rolls your hips on his fingers, forcing more friction. As his middle and index fingers push inside of your cunt, you can’t help but let out a long whine. “M-more,” you groan holding onto his shoulders, your nails biting into his skin.

“Use your words like a big girl,” he tells you with a deep chuckle.  

“I want your cock,” you tell him, and he smiles. Pulling his fingers out of you, he uses the coating on his fingers to lubricate his cock before fucking into you. He holds your hips down, throwing his head back and moaning as your walls stretch around him.

He’s so thick it hurts to move just yet, so you’re happy he’s holding you still and enjoying you. You roll your hips once and moan out, trying to hold back your cries as you stretch getting acquainted with him inside of you. A long hissing sound leaves Phinks’ lips as he digs his fingers into your ass, starting to bounce you on him.

Each time you come down; he thrusts up to meet you, the head of his cock hitting your cervix and making you see stars and cry out. Each one of your cries encourages Phinks more util he’s bouncing you as hard and fast as he can, your thighs shaking as you try to keep up with his relentless demands. Given, he’s doing most the work, extraordinarily, but it’s becoming harder and harder for you to hold back and you fear your orgasm is approaching to fast.

“Sl-slow down, ‘g-gonna cum!” you cry out as your head falls onto his shoulder.

“Cum then, baby” he orders fucking you harder, his fingers digging deep into your skin. You know you’ll have bruises that’ll bother you when you sit, but who are you to ask him to stop when he’s fucking you this good?

Your orgasm hits you hard, your body sinking onto Phinks, unable to hold your composure on top of him. He fucks you through it, your moans no longer taking shape of any word, just incoherent blubbering. He chuckles hearing it, your body feeling nice and pliant above him.

“Feel good?” He asks, a laugh still hinting in his voice.

You nod as he slows down, pushing you up off of him, and flipping you on your back onto the couch. You’re so pliable now that your first orgasm tore through you, that you barely notice he’s already pushed your knees to your chest and pined your hands above your head as he fucks into you from above.

He’s much rougher now, caring less about your pleasure now that you’ve came once. However, your moans encourage him. His cock hits inside of you at the perfect angle, your body crumbling into mush as you feel a second orgasm begin to simmer deep inside your gut. HE’s so intense, his thrusts sending you over the edge so soon after your first.

Your toes curl and a loud cry leaves your lips until it’s broken moans and silence from you. Too tired and throat too sore to make noise. He lets go of your hands, and grasps tight on your shoulder as he fucks you through his orgasm, cumming with you and filling you up with his cum.

He stops abruptly, pulling out of you and sitting down on the couch with a heavy sigh. You sit up, and slip the pants he gave you underneath you as not to stain his couch with his cum. You lean your head on his shoulder and close your eyes.

“Don’t fall asleep here,” he tells you nudging you off with his shoulder. Is he kicking you out? Of all the disgusting ways to get someone to sleep with them, this has to be one of the worst.

“Why, you said I could sleep on your couch… don’t tell me you’re seriously going to kick-“ your voice is raising and your brow furrowing as you begin to get angrier and angrier.

“Chill!” He stops you, his finger covering your lips. “Just go get in my fucking bed, drama queen.”

[penaltbox]

flights, fate, and football games (4+1) - quinn hughes

*or 4 times you were in the same place and didn’t know it + 1 time you were in the same place on purpose*

if you like it let me know :) reblog it, send me a message, leave your thoughts in the tags. thanks in advance!

word count: ~3k

__

Same restaurant/Post playoffs 

You wave at your two best friends as soon as you enter the restaurant, surprisingly being the one who was late this time. You hit more traffic than you expected, but Pop’s was not to be missed. 

The little Ferndale restaurant was one of your favorites and you needed the time to wind down after the crazy week you’d had. You hear a guy’s voice behind you talking to the suddenly excited hostess as you walk past her to get to your table, but never glance back at who it might have been. 

“Wow, for once we aren’t the late ones,” Abby smiles, nudging Hannah with her elbow.

“Oh, aren’t you guys funny,” you roll your eyes playfully, but take a seat with them, “it wasn’t my fault though. Traffic was insane on the highway. It’s like everyone forgot how to drive at once.”

“I hit some traffic too, no worries,” Hannah smiles, glancing over your shoulder, “did you somehow miss those super cute boys that came in behind you though? The one was so your type.”

Your eyes widen a little as you turn around to quickly survey the area you’d just come from. There’s no one waiting at the front of the restaurant though, so you turn back with a frown. 

“I mean, I heard a guy’s voice as I walked in but I didn’t think to look back at him. Why? Was he really that cute?” You ask, looking around the restaurant to see if you could find who she was talking about. 

Abby sighs, “I can’t see where they went either but Hannah and I noticed them as soon as you got here. We should have got you to turn around somehow.”

You shrug, checking over the menu and deciding between a pizza or the bolognese instead, “I guess if I was supposed to have seen him then I would have.”

You would have looked around for him more but the waiter showed up and you were dying to get your hands on a glass of wine to start your weekend off. 

...

“Quinn, I swear if you don’t start talking to cute girls when you see them I’ll end your career,” Will points across the table. 

Josh holds his hands up and laughs, “guys, come on. We all know Quinn isn’t smooth enough to seal the deal anyways.”

This gets the other two laughing, but Quinn doesn’t find it as humorous. He rolls his eyes and tries to fight off a smile. He opts for focusing his attention extra carefully on the menu rather than fueling the fire that was already started. 

“Hey, by the end of summer you never know. Maybe you’ll be able to land a girl. It might take a small miracle, but we’ll help you out if we can,” Will grins, thinking it’s the funniest thing in the world. 

“Great,” Quinn nods, thinking matchmaker Will sounded like a living nightmare, “I’m sure that would go well.”

He tries to brush it off, but the thought lingers a little longer. He’d find someone one of these days. His mom always told him he shouldn’t rush a good thing. It would happen when it was supposed to. 

Your brother’s hockey practice/Early June

“I swear to god, Adam, you need to get moving,” you mumble, watching your brother get beat in yet another drill. 

The air inside USA arena was definitely colder than outside and you were wondering how you’d managed to get stuck picking him up that night. He seemed off though so maybe he’d asked your mom if you’d get him. Sometimes he needed to talk, and definitely not to your parents. 

The whistle blows loudly and you watch your little brother skate off with his head down. He’d been lucky to make the U17’s but you could tell he was struggling. It made your heart hurt and you knew the drive home would involve the long route that day. 

You wait in the lobby, responding to your group chat that had somehow blown up while you watched the end of the practice. You’re in the middle of a message when an oddly familiar voice catches your attention.

You pick up your head and look around just as a group of guys head down the stairs to the locker rooms. You don’t manage to see any of them but something about the voice you’d heard seemed to catch your attention for some reason. Where had you heard that voice before?

Adam comes barreling out of the doors, an annoyed look on his face, “let’s go.”

“Hi to you too, asshole,” you scoff, but the look on his face matches the tone he’d given you. Something was wrong. 

You grab your keys and walk out of the arena, glancing over at your only sibling, “Adam, what’s wrong? Wasn’t there another practice after that you wanted to watch or something?”

“No, some alumni guys rented the ice next and pushed the 18’s back an hour,” he mumbles, his hands dug down in his pockets. 

You reach over and ruffle his hair, despite the fact he’s well taller than you now, “come on, we’re getting ice cream before we get home. And you can tell me what’s got you so worked up on the way.”

A smile takes over his face finally as he reaches your car, “okay fine. So there’s this girl in my chem class but she’s dating a football player.”

“Ew,” you laugh, playing along with the story, “also if you’re playing like shit because you’re mad that a girl you like is taken then I’m kicking your ass”.

“Hey, it was one bad practice. Just don’t tell dad,” he looks over, “surprised you didn’t want to stay and watch the next practice though. You know it’s the guys who went on to play college and pros and stuff right?”

You almost smack him when you see how smug he looks, but you hold off for once, “the last thing I need is some trouble maker hockey player to deal with. I already have you.”

“Suit yourself. Every girl I know loves Hughes though,” he shrugs. 

The name sounds familiar but you don’t think twice about it for some reason. Of course you wanted a boyfriend but you weren’t sure you wanted your younger brother setting that up for you. 

…

“Try not to suck tonight, okay?” Jack laughs, shrugging his bag a little higher on his shoulder as he picks on his older brother. 

Quinn laughs and shoves him sideways, “try not to get run over. Are you gonna put any weight on this summer, bud?”

“You’re both getting lapped,” Alex interjects, walking between the two and entering the arena first. 

Quinn notices you leaning against the wall in the lobby and does a double take. Had he seen you before? Why did you seem so familiar? You had to be waiting for someone if you were there, he knew the 17’s had the ice, so maybe you were younger than he thought. 

He shakes off the odd feeling he gets from seeing you and turns to find his brother grinning. Quinn knows he’s been caught staring and he immediately bumps Jack into the wall. 

“Don’t even think about it!” He says, hurrying down the stairs as Alex holds the door. 

“I’m just saying!” Jack yells after his older brother, “I could go play wingman for you!”

Quinn thinks that sounds like the worst thing ever, if he’s being honest. The last thing he needs is to rely on his brother to set him up. He could see that going wrong in a million different ways. 

The airport/pre-4th of July

You sigh, slouching down in your seat a little further as you take a sip of your coffee. You wish your anxiety didn’t have you at the airport almost two hours before takeoff, but here you were. 

You watch a few planes take off, ignoring your surroundings for a little while as you wonder where the people might be going and why. You respond to a text from your aunt in Boston, who you were going to visit, and quickly get lost in your thoughts again. 

You let your eyes start to wander after a bit and they land on a cute boy a few rows over. He’s sitting with a few other boys around his age and you glance over at their gate. New Hampshire? What was even in New Hampshire? 

You watch him for a few more minutes, but shake your head before looking back out the window. You certainly weren’t brave enough to go talk to him and you didn’t want to get caught staring. Something about him seemed so familiar but you brush it off, figuring you were just imagining things. 

…

Quinn drops his backpack and sits heavily into the creaky airport chair, arguing with Luke about what they’d do first when they got to the cabin. There was no winning the argument but Luke liked to be a pest and Quinn had learned from being gone so much that sometimes he just needed to let his little brother bug him while he could. 

Airports were so boring and he’d luckily stalled enough that his parents didn’t have them all there three hours early for once. Quinn lets Luke “win” the argument finally, agreeing that they’ll go on the boat as soon as they get there. 

Quinn’s attention wanders and he looks around the airport, his eyes seeming to focus on the gate heading for Boston. His eyebrows pull together as he tries to squint and see the line of people boarding. He swears he sees a familiar face but he’s not so sure. 

There’s no way it was the same person he saw at the arena a few weeks ago, right? He blinks hard and suddenly he’s hit with a water bottle in the chest. 

“Dude are you good?” Jack questions him, waving a hand in front of the older boy’s face. 

Quinn looks at his brother quickly before checking where you’d been standing, only to find you’d already boarded the plane, “yeah, knock it off. Can’t you leave me alone for like five minutes ever?”

Quinn is mildly annoyed that his brother pulled the stunt when he did and he’d lost sight of you before he could be sure. Maybe you were from Boston and you were headed home. That wouldn’t explain why you were at USA arena unless your brother played there, too. 

He turns to Luke then, elbowing the youngest Hughes to get his attention, “do you play with any kids from Boston?”

Ann Arbor/football game/late August

You laugh as you try and keep up with Abby and Hannah, excited for one last year at the school that held your heart. You were convinced you could never leave Ann Arbor and luckily for one more year you didn’t have to. 

The weather was perfect that night as the first football game was set to kickoff in no time but the three of you had left a pregame a bit later than you planned for. You’re being rushed through the crowd by Hannah, who has a tight hold on your hand, when Abby suddenly veers off. 

“Hold on, I need to say hi to him!” She yells over her shoulder, causing Hannah to stop in her tracks and you to slam into her back. 

The two of you stumble a little but fix yourself, standing and watching where Abby had run off to. She moves to a group of guys and your stomach turns a little with worry, hoping she actually knew who these people were. 

You’re about to march over when you see the boy. The one from the airport. You shake your head a little, trying to make sure you weren’t imagining what you were seeing, but he really is there. Abby is talking to his friends and he’s got a soft smile that makes you want to know more about him. He’s not as outspoken as his friends and his hands are stuffed in his pockets like he’s not sure what else to do with them. 

Hannah catches you staring and laughs, “that’s Quinn by the way. I know you’re looking. Abby met those boys a couple months ago while she did her classes on campus. Can you believe they’re the ones we saw at Pop’s at the beginning of the summer?”

“They’re who?” You ask, your brain speeding through the memories, but all that keeps coming up is Quinn. 

Pop’s, the airport, and now here. Was he the guy from the rink too? Was that the voice you’d recognized. There was no way you’d been in all the same places for the last three months and never talked to each other or actually truly met. What kind of fate was playing around with you two?

You glance back over at Quinn only to find him looking at you, too. Your cheeks feel instantly hot and you bite your lip, looking away quickly. You hated that you reacted so quickly to something so simple. Maybe he was looking at Hannah, you tried to reason with yourself. Or maybe he recognized you too. 

…

Quinn is shocked when a bouncy little blonde runs up to Josh and says hello to him. She’s happy as can be and Quinn would be lying if he said she wasn’t cute. She quickly introduces herself and motions back at her friends, talking a mile a minute, when Quinn realizes he’d definitely met her earlier that summer. 

Her and her friends were going to the game but if the boys wanted to hang out after they’d be having a small party at their place and they were more than welcome to come. Quinn gives Josh a little nod when the taller boy checks with him for plans and Josh smiles at the girl he’d been talking about for weeks now. 

Quinn looks around the crowd of maize and blue, looking for the friends she’d mentioned, and his eyes freeze on one in particular. You’re so familiar in that moment and suddenly you’re the prettiest girl he sees there. It was the same feeling as the rink, the airport, and now here in Ann Arbor. What were the chances that he’d ran into you this many times but never talked to you? 

He sees you and your friend watching in their direction and he catches your eye. You blush and bite your lip, making him smile right away. That had to be the cutest thing he’d seen in a long time. He forgets that Abby has mentioned her friends and he’s about to walk over and talk to you when Josh grabs his arm. 

“Come on, we have to go this way to get to the field,” Josh says, nodding in the opposite direction of the girls. 

Quinn is about to argue, but sighs instead, “yeah, okay. Did you say we’re seeing them again later?”

+1 Your friends set you up/late August/post football game

“You wouldn’t stop staring at him. Don’t even try and lie about it now!” Hannah accuses, pointing her finger at you. 

You feel like you’re dying of embarrassment and Abby can’t stand up straight because of how hard she’s laughing over the situation. You were being bullied by your best friends and none of you could contain your laughter over it all. There were more than a few people watching the scene as you made your way around the field, trying to find which section your tickets were for. 

“Stop, I don’t even know him!” You say, though it’s only a partial lie. 

Abby snorts a little and carefully wipes a tear away from the corner of her eye, “holy shit, my stomach hurts from laughing so hard. Yeah, Quinn is awkward as hell but I think you two would be amazing so you’re definitely meeting him tonight.”

She’s quick to pull out her phone and text Josh, already making a plan with him to get you and Quinn cornered in the same area. You can’t fight her on this. Once Abby set her mind to something it was going to happen so you were just along for the ride at this point. 

The football game goes by too fast considering it was the last first game of the season you’d ever get as an undergrad, but the three of you are in such good moods that you hardly have time to be sad about it. 

You leave the game a few minutes early to try and beat some of the crowds as you head back for the house you all shared. You almost forget the boys are coming over as you head to the kitchen and grab a drink. You figured you had a little while before they’d show anyways. 

Popping the top of your can, you take a big drink and sigh. You hear Abby’s little giggle behind you and you whip around confused. You’re suddenly face to face with Quinn and you immediately blush in embarrassment. 

“Uh, hi,” you stutter, giving him a little smile even though you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. 

“Hi,” he says, and you know immediately that he was the one you’d almost run into so many times that summer. 

His smile is just as nervous as yours and you get why Abby had called him awkward before. He fidgets with his hands as he stands in front of you but it’s endearing somehow. He’s not overly cocky or trying to impress you somehow and yet you’re completely on board with getting to know him. 

He’s a stranger, technically, but he feels so familiar that you laugh a little. Quinn’s eyebrows furrow over the noise but he doesn’t actually ask. 

“Sorry, it’s just… did you want a drink or something?” you offer, trying to keep yourself from getting giddy over having him in front of you after all the months of fate making sure you dodged each other. 

His smile gets bigger then and he seems to relax, “yeah, that sounds good. Maybe I could steal you too and get to know you? If you want anyways.”

You nod, not hiding your smile anymore, “I think I’d really like that. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

[the-panwitch]

My Favorite Color is You

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A/N: This is my first Peter Parker fic and first fic on this site. I really hope you like it and feedback is welcome but don’t be a bully please. Thank you @dreamofaprilsblog​ for the prompts “Do you need to go to the hospital?” and soulmate AU. Sorry for this being a day late, but I hope you still enjoy it anyways. 

Warnings: fire, almost mugging, burns, hospitals, slight angst, petty teenagers, mentions of a person being followed (comment if there’s anything else I should add)

Word Count: 3175

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter Parker is very desperate to find you, his soulmate. He’s looked for you in every person he makes eye contact with. Guys, girls, he’s looked for you in everyone. Well, one fateful patrol leads him to discover his new favorite color. 

Side note: I tried to make this as gender inclusive as possible so I used “they” to describe the reader’s pronouns, but just imagine your own whenever “they” is used if it isn’t your pronoun. Peter is bi in this story. If there is a point where I accidentally specify a gender please let me know so I can fix it. Enjoy! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter knew about soulmates. He’s read about them in books, learned about famous soulmates in class, and even heard about them in real time from people lucky enough to find theirs. He, of course, was not that lucky. Stupid Parker luck. He knew from what he’s heard and learned that the world actually isn’t dull shades of gray with black and white, but it actually had color. Real vibrant colors like red and purple and green, things his brain didn’t have the capacity to imagine. He knew that all it took was eye contact with the right person to change his world. Too bad he hadn’t found those eyes just yet. 

He was sitting on top of a random apartment building while on his usual nightly patrol bored out of his freaking mind. There just wasn’t anything good tonight. He helped a little girl get her kite down from a tree and one man needed help catching his dog who had gotten off his leash, and yeah he was a cute dog, but he could be doing something better. He could be finding you. Of course, he didn’t know who you were yet. Just a bright, beautiful figment of his imagination, and his heart ached for you. Was that even possible? To long for someone he wasn’t even sure existed? Well, guess it is because he’s living proof of the pitiful feeling. 

A loud yell shook him from his depressing thoughts and he jumped up quickly. 

“Finally,” he muttered with a small grin as he shot a web in the direction the yell had come from. He swung as quickly as his agile body allowed and soon landed down on the pavement in front of an alleyway. He looked around cautiously and could feel the prickling sensation that was his Peter t- Spider Sense. It was his Spider Sense. He shook his head a bit and tried to remain focused as he crept down the dark passage. 

 “I don’t want any trouble, lady,” Peter heard a low voice hiss from the gloom. “Just want whatever cash and shit you got on ya. Don’t be a bitch about it.” 

Peter scowled and kept walking until he was able to make out two figures in the dim light the street lamps provided. A young woman, maybe late teens or early twenties, was pinned up against a wall while a man who was obviously older stood before her, a small knife in his right hand. 

Peter sighed softly. “Y’know,” he started as the criminal dude jumped. “If you want money you should probably just get a job like a normal person. I hear the Burger King down the street is hiring.” 

The guy quickly turned around and tried to slash at Spider-Man with the knife which the boy effortlessly ducked and grabbed his assailant's arm, twisting just enough that he dropped his knife. The man grunted in pain and swung at him again, but Spider-Man dodged and countered with a kick to the man’s abdomen. The force of the kick sent him flying back into the opposite alley wall and before he had time to even look up, the young hero webbed him to the dirty brick. 

“Karen?” Peter whispered softly.

“The police are on their way Peter. Good job,” the AI responded.

Peter smiled beneath the mask. “Hey, thanks.” 

The boy turned around to see the girl still standing against the wall, breathing deeply. His heart jumped a bit as he realized that she was about his age, and also very pretty. Try as he might to keep it down, hope surged in his chest as he made his way over to her. 

“Excuse me, miss? Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?” He asked quickly as he did a small glance over her.

“No, I believe I’m alright. Thank you Spider-Man,” she breathed out. 

She slowly looked up at him and Peter looked into her eyes and-

Nothing… they remained a light grey color just like the rest of his surroundings. He couldn’t help the small disappointed sigh that left his lips before he forced himself into a smile. 

“That’s good. I’m glad. Um… do you live far from here? I could walk you home if you want.” 

The girl shook her head and gave him a tiny, hesitant smile. “My car is right down the street. I was walking there so that I could get to the library where my girlfriend is probably waiting for me when that guy grabbed me. Speaking of her, I should probably get going. Thank you again.” She smiled hesitantly and waved to him before walking away and taking out her phone, probably to call this girlfriend. 

Peter sighed again and watched her to make sure she got to her car before looking back at the man webbed to the wall. “Does everyone have a soulmate except for me?” he questioned without really expecting an answer. Nevertheless, the almost mugger shrugged anyway. 

Peter scowled before jumping up and climbing the alley wall. He stood on the roof and waited there until the police arrived to take the guy into custody, and once they were gone so was Spider-Man. 

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

Peter entered his bedroom through the open window and crawled along his ceiling until he was over top of his loft bed. Looking over his shoulder to make sure he didn’t accidentally fall onto the floor, which definitely didn’t happen a lot, he let go and flopped onto the bed with a huff. He tugged his mask off of his head and tossed it over the side in a fit of petty anger. 

May, who must have heard him come in, opened the door and gazed up at him. “Long night?” she asked softly to which Peter just shrugged, not in the mood to really talk to anyone. 

“Well, I got us some Chinese food if you’d like it.” Peter heard the door creak behind her as she turned around and walked back towards the rest of the house. He would have preferred to stay in bed, but the incessant growling of his stomach said no, causing him to get up. After changing out of his suit annoyedly, he went out and joined his aunt. 

Aunt May was sitting at their small dinner table with a plate of chow mein, glancing at the TV which was playing the news report of the latest Spidey save. Peter walked over and sat down in his usual seat across from her. When she looked up at him, she smiled sadly.

“I got you some dumplings and noodles. Also they gave me, like, a ton of fortune cookies. I don’t know who needs sixteen fortune cookies, but apparently it’s us.”

“You counted?” Peter asked with a little chuckle.

“Hey. That many fortune cookies needs to be counted,” May retorted with a smile as she saw her nephew laugh. 

They both began eating, Peter slow at first but then diving in once he realized exactly how hungry he was. 

Once they finished eating, Peter helped pack up the leftovers and clean the dishes. As he loaded the dishwasher, Aunt May asked softly, “what’s on your mind tonight? The guy you fought?” 

Peter shook his head and sighed. He finished loading the dishwasher before turning to Aunt May to answer. “No I just… how old were you when you met Uncle Ben? And found out he was your soulmate?” 

Aunt May looked slightly taken aback by this question and pursed her lips a little. She always did that whenever Ben was brought up. “I was 23, I think. Yeah… yeah somewhere around that age. We met at this resort one summer. That’s also where your mom and dad met.” She smiled a little at the memory and Peter watched her with slight pain behind his eyes. “God, when all four of us saw color for the first time, well, we were so surprised of course, but it was really, really amazing. Why do you ask?” 

“I just… nothing. Just curious,” Peter answered with a tight smile. “I think I’m gonna head to bed now. Tired. From the fight.” 

Aunt May nodded and Peter trotted back to his room. Before he reached the door, he heard her call to him from the kitchen. “You’ll find your soulmate Peter. I know it feels like forever and you just want to meet them now, but I promise you’ll find them soon.” Peter glanced back at her before walking into his room without saying another word. 

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

The next couple of days were a consistent and normal blur. Peter had school, then patrol, then repeat the next day. Everywhere he went he looked around for his soulmate. At one point, this really cute curly haired boy walked past him and he felt his heart skip a beat as he looked into his dark eyes, but nothing again. He sighed in disappointment as the taller boy walked away from him, leaving him to continue his stupid quest. 

That had happened two days ago. Now, Spider-Man was patrolling the city, swinging between buildings. It was a relatively quiet night. He helped this one kid find his mom when he got separated from at a park, and he also walked a young woman back to her apartment because she thought she was being followed. After double checking, it didn’t look like she was, but then again that was probably because the shithead saw Spider-Man and turned around. But all-in-all, it was very quiet and chill. That is, until the explosion happened.

Spider-Man quickly started swinging in the direction the loud sound came from, wondering what the hell that was about. It didn’t take him long to find it. A restaurant he happened to pass by a lot was burning up in giant, pale flames. He jumped down and quickly ran inside the burning building. 

There was fire everywhere. The heat crashed against him like a ferocious wave. It reminded him so much of his fight with the Vulture that he hesitated a second before continuing to run inside. It looked like most of the people had already gotten out or were running for the exits. 

“That way over there,” Spidey yelled to the people running past him. “Is anyone else still in here?” He called out as he ran further into the building. Weak coughing came as a reply. Someone ran up to him and grabbed him while coughing viciously into their arm. 

“Spider-Man,” the person said in harsh breaths. “Please you, you have to help. The back room. My friend－” 

“I’ll get to them. Get yourself to safety.”

They nodded and ran out the building while the young hero ran in the direction the person had gestured to. He could still hear the weak coughing from earlier, but now he was hearing a tiny “help” and “please” that made his heart ache. He dodged out of the way of falling debris and hissed in pain when he backed into a burning metal rod from an overturned table. Still, he pressed on until he reached the backroom. 

The smoke was immense. From the damage it looked like this was the epicenter of the explosion. 

“Hello?” he yelled over the roar of the fire. He wasn’t sure if he could even be heard over everything, but a weak call answered him. 

“O-over here.”

Spider-Man jumped over more burning debris as he frantically looked around. His eyes widened when he finally saw them. A figure lay trapped beneath a large chunk of wood that had once been the ceiling. They looked badly burned and were coughing harshly and breathing in rough, raspy breaths. 

He ran over to them and started to lift up the wood despite the burning in his hands, causing the person below to cry out. Spidey yelled in pain as he managed to lift the debris off of them and throw it to the side. 

He quickly crouched down to look at the person he just rescued, and he was met with the most beautiful pair of e/c orbs to ever exist. His jaw dropped as he quickly ripped off his mask, his mask that was now the most vibrant and bright shade of a color he had only ever heard about. He looked back at you, your eyes impossibly wide as you choked out a small, “you?”

Peter nodded. “Me..let me lift you up okay?” You nodded a tiny bit and whimpered loudly as Peter gently wrapped his arms underneath your battered body, lifting you up into his chest. He winced a little from the pain in his hands and his back, but he pulled his mask back on before running out of the now rapidly collapsing building. 

The fire was so much brighter now. Reds and oranges and yellows. He could see the burning blue curtains hanging in the window. The shades of green and brown and the colorful painting on the wall that were all turning to black and grey ash. How horrifyingly beautiful.

He ran over to where the ambulances were parked and looked around frantically as he saw the EMTs and paramedics treating people and getting the most badly hurt people on stretchers and into the vehicles. 

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” He heard from behind him. He turned around and saw a paramedic looking at him. 

“N-No no but they do,” Spidey stated as he held you tightly to his chest. Your eyelids were nearly closed and your breathing was ragged. 

The paramedic quickly called her team over and they gently took you from his arms. They laid you out on the stretcher and got to work on getting you on a breathing mask and looking at your wounds. His breath caught in his throat as he began to clearly see how bad your wounds were. Harsh red burns covered your skin, especially your lower body where the wood had pinned you down. 

For a moment it was so hard to focus, the sirens and yelling was overwhelming, the bright lights were blinding him, the heat was still so immense, he could hear your heart and your breath so impossibly loud, and just all the colors－

It was all so much he almost didn’t notice the team taking the stretcher you were on away into an ambulance. Taking you away into the ambulance. Away from him. He was not having any of that. They were not taking you away when he just finally found you. Your gorgeous eyes looked at him with fear and desperation as they rolled you away. 

“Wait!” he cried as he followed after them. “Wait please you have to let me come with you. I have to go with them.” 

“Are you family?” an EMT asked him with a puzzled expression. 

“No no I-I’m not but－”

“We’re only allowing family to－”

“I’m their soulmate!” He shouted. “Please. Please don’t take them from me.” 

After a moment, just one single moment where Peter could feel his chest constricting and he could sense your eyes on him and his heart was beating way too fast, the EMT nodded and Spidey joined them in the ambulance. 

He sat down beside your stretcher and gently took your hand. He stared into your eyes that had started to fill with tears, and he very lightly gave your fingers a squeeze despite the sting in his own hand. You offered him the tiniest smile, and then the ambulance drove off, taking both of you with it. 

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

It had been several hours. You were now laying in a hospital bed with all of your burns bandaged and your wounds attended to as Peter sat in a chair beside you, his own burns taken care of as well. 

Aunt May had stopped by earlier to check on him and also see you. They talked a bit about all of the colors. How bright they were or how dull they were and how your eyes were his new favorite color because, God, how could one thing be so beautiful? However, he couldn’t see your eyes now as you slept peacefully. Instead, he was staring in fascination at the Spider-Man suit. He really went around in such a bright red and blue suit? How has he not been shot and killed yet?

He was shaken out of these thoughts by the sound of the bed sheets rustling. He quickly looked up and was met by his favorite color. He smiled widely and sat up straighter as you offered him a tiny smile. 

“Hi,” he breathed out. 

“Hi,” you whispered back. 

You both stared at one another for a moment that was both awkward and yet somehow comforting. You cleared your throat a tiny bit before murmuring, “Can I have a drink?”

“Drink? Oh uh yeah of course, sorry.” Peter quickly sprang up to get you a glass of water from the water dispenser over in the corner. He walked back over and carefully raised the glass to your lips, your hand coming up to gently rest over his and he would be a huge liar if he said he didn’t blush as red as his suit. 

He set the empty glass down on the bedside table and sat back down in his seat, pulling it a tiny bit closer to your bed. 

“So,” you began softly. “Spider-Man is my soulmate?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he laughed softly. “My name’s Peter. Parker.”

“Y/n,” you answered. 

He smiled one of the biggest smiles that he’s ever smiled before. It was one of those where it leaves your cheeks aching afterwards. 

“What?” you asked, an eyebrow raised.

He shook his head quickly, his curls bouncing along his hairline. “Nothing just… your name is so perfect. You’re perfect.” 

“You found me in the pits of hell and you’re going to call me perfect? You’re an angel.”

He definitely did not blush at that statement. Nope. Not Peter Parker. 

He laughed a little and looked at you adoringly. He could already tell he was the luckiest guy alive. 

“So, uh, I should probably ask this just to um make it official and all of that,” Peter mumbled after a moment. “Would you like to go out sometime? I mean, obviously once we’re both healed and everything. And… afterwards maybe be my significant other?” 

You laughed a little and Peter felt his face fall and his inside twist up in nervousness. Did he do something wrong? What was happening?

“Yeah, of course. I’d love to go out with you Peter Parker.” 

He beamed widely at you as you smiled back. You both sat for a few minutes in silence and at some point Peter had taken your hand and was gently rubbing circles into it and you both were talking about absolutely anything, but mostly about all the new colors when a nurse walked in. 

“Excuse me, your parents are here. Shall I send them in?”

Peter’s eyes widened as you turned to look at him with a smirk.

“Ready to meet my parents?”

Fuck. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging some people who will hopefully like this: @soft-petey​ @quaksvn @itslokes @tommysparker @greenorangevioletgrass @lxilahm @holland-mendes-always-forever @thespydersargon @angel-spidey @angel-holland @th0ttie4tommy @tonguetiedholland @follow-tom-holland-is-spiderman @tcny-stcrks @spideyyeet​ @spider-starry​ @bitchass-slytheriny-snake​ @dreamofaprilsblog

(Redid the tags cuz apparently they didn’t work)

If you want to be added to my taglist or removed just comment and I’d be happy to do so <3

[ilguna]

Metanoia - Chapter Fifteen (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 10.7k

Warnings; swearing, mention of murder and torture

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

uhhh long ass chapter jfc

–

You tap the end of the spoon against the table, “Maybe more gasoline?”

Beetee gives you a look, “I’ve engineered these perfectly--”

“I’m literally from District Two, I manufactured weapons. Just add a bit more gas, and see what happens, it can’t hurt, can it?”

Beetee readjusts the glasses on his face, “I suppose not.” he gets to work, and you scoop some of the carrots onto your spoon, trying not to make a face when you force them down your throat. They’ve gotten cold from how long you’ve been stalling, “You’ve made molotov arrows before?”

“Well…” you make a face, and he turns his eyes to you, “I wouldn’t say that. I’ve… experimented that’s for sure.”

Gale laughs, “What does that mean?”

“It means I’ve illegally made weapons and sometimes started bush fires because of it,” you laugh, “And I’ve never been caught, either.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be in here.” Beetee mutters.

You roll your eyes, “As if I would willingly do work now. Just telling you to add more gas was a bore.”

Beetee screws the top back onto the arrow, being careless with it to see if it’ll explode or whatever. Which means that you should definitely put some distance between you and the psychopath here, you’re not too fond of being inside of a molotov. No matter how small that arrow is, there will be a ton of fire.

“Give it a shot.” you motion at Gale, “Seriously.”

“It won’t set the studio on fire?”

“You’re talking to the two engineers, here. Go ahead before I do it myself.”

Gale picks up the crossbow, and then takes the arrow that Beetee is offering him. While he prepares everything, you swivel around to face Gale, while Beetee has to turn the entire wheelchair to see.

“I’ve been trying to make a trident for Finnick.” Beetee begins, the two of you watch Gale prepare, the people on the other end of the room have fire extinguishers ready to put the fire out as soon as the arrow is fired.

“Don’t make it look like an actual trident, keep the design as close as possible to the one he had inside of the arena.” you scoop up another spoonful of carrots, “And make it hollow in the middle, it’ll be easier to move around--and you can make it compatible that way too.”

“Ready?” Gale asks.

“We’ve been ready.” you eat the cold, slimy carrots.

Gale fires the arrow, and right when it hits the bullseye, it explodes into fire. The entire target, the wall behind it, mostly the floor and some get onto the ceiling too. The crew runs forward, putting out the fire before it can spread across the entire room.

You look at Beetee, “See? Not too shabby.”

“Know any ways to make them waterproof?”

“Wax, water rolls right off of it. Don’t lay it on too thick, and you’ll be just fine.” You set the empty tray onto the table, “

“They should have sent you down here sooner.” Gale says, coming back over, “Imagine how much faster all of this would have been made.”

“Beetee would have gotten fed up with me, if he isn’t already.” you say, stretching. 

“You’re not too bad to be around.” 

“You only like me because I make your weapon engineering much easier. I’m able to catch your mistakes before you even make them.” you tuck your legs in.

He ignores what you said, moving on to Gale, “How’s Katniss doing?”

Gale doesn’t give much of an answer, “Recovering.”

“Let me guess, she’s still mad at you?” you raise your eyebrows. For this, he tells you to shut up. You shrug, getting back to the sketch you were working on for your own personal weapon, “Hey, if you can’t see how out of line you were, then that’s your deal.”

“How was I out of line?”

You place the sketchbook on your knee, “Dude, you called her fiance weak for doing what he could to stay alive. Obviously you two are still pretty close after that, but I wouldn’t have made a comment like that.” you pause for a moment, looking at Gale, “Then again, you don’t know what it’s like to be under a microscope, you can run your mouth all you want, because you were nothing but a coal miner.”

Gale practically rolls his eyes, “I know what it’s like, Katniss had to start calling me her cousin.”

“Katniss was the one being watched, don’t flatter yourself.” you go back to what you were doing.

“She’s right.” Beetee chips in, “(Y/n), I mean.”

“Right.”

The sound of boots on cement makes you look up, expecting Gale to be the one walking away. He doesn’t normally like to take shit from you or Beetee. Coming down here is like a safe place, allowing him to vent and blow steam when he gets to test out the new fancy weapons.

Gale stands right where he was before, which means that it’s someone else. And since Beetee can’t walk, you turn around in the chair to see who it is.

It’s Finnick. His hands are in his pockets, with a gleeful smile on his face, “Good afternoon.”

Gale is just as suspicious as you are, “What are you up to?”

“What was I up to.” he corrects, coming to a stop behind your chair, “It’s a surprise.”

Beetee makes a face, and then wheels himself around so that he’s facing the table again. As he gets back to work, you resume critiquing Gale, and Finnick finds where he wants to be.

“Gale, don’t get me wrong, I can sorta see where you’re coming from, but you need to see it from our perspective too.” you drop your leg, “Let’s compare you to Peeta, since you were doing that already by saying you’d never say what you said.

“He had absolutely no clue what the fuck was going on. Peeta didn’t know that there was a plan to get him and Katniss out of the arena, he didn’t know that Coin was planning on using Katniss as a symbol. The only things he did know was what the Capitol fed him to get him on their side.

“And if you still can’t see eye to eye with it, imagine a gun pointed to Katniss’ head. If you so much as step out of line in a way that Snow doesn’t like, he’ll shoot her. It’s not his family, friend or girlfriend that he’s killing, it’s yours. And if you don’t cooperate after Katniss, he’s grabbing the next dearest thing to you.” you lean back in the chair, “And before you say shit, Snow literally did that to me twice. First was right after I won my games and he killed my entire family, and the second time was when we found Tanith dead in a chair. It’s a little different for Tanith, because she was already dead, but he still tried to use her against me.”

“Okay, but what were they threatening Peeta with?”

“His life, for starters.” Finnick says, “And likely his family too.”

Gale doesn’t say anything after that.

“How’s this design?” You offer the sketchbook for Beetee, and he takes it.

“We could probably start this now.” Beetee says, “Mind doing something for Finnick, too?”

“Sure.”

He hands it back, but Finnick takes it before you’re able to grab a hold of it. Sighing, you look up at Finnick, watching his face as he looks over the page, “These are swords.”

“Sai’s.” you correct.

Finnick gives you a look, “But it says right here--”

“--that it’s basically a sword, yes, I know. Normally they’re used to disarm someone--as I showed you before. But I want some that are actually sharp. Blunt force trauma is fun, but what’s even more fun is spilling someone’s guts in front of them.”

Finnick hands the book back, “Sword.”

“Sure.” you cross your legs, “What are you here for, other to annoy me?”

“Keeping an eye on you three for the next couple of hours.” Finnick pulls up a chair of his own, mirroring your stance.

“Sounds exciting.”

Everything falls back into rhythm. Beetee goes back to tinkering on arrows, having Gale use the decoys. And the times he’s not shooting arrows, he’s sitting in a chair talking to you guys. You cough up a couple of sketches for Beetee, hoping that it’ll be good enough.

You might be the one from District Two, but that doesn’t mean you actually put things together. The legal age to actually get into the warehouses is eighteen, and since you went into the games at sixteen and won, you never really had to work. You’ve sat on money for your entire life. The only people that worked were your parents, aunts and uncles and some of your cousins.

Those same cousins taught you how to put things together before your games--obviously. During family get togethers, you’d all disappear for a little while, which is when they’d take the chance. They always thought it was so cool to pass on forbidden knowledge, and have it all be a secret between you guys.

They had this secret stash of gadgets inside of a log, and they’d fuck around with it until it turned into something dangerous. Honestly, the first thing you learned from them was the molotov, and when you threw it on a rock, it exploded and the dead grass around it caught fire.

Cue you all scooping the gadgets into your shirts and taking off behind the houses to get as far as possible. Your older cousin had a backup spot not too far away, you dumped all the shit there and got back to the house in record time. Before the firefighters had even left their stations.

It’s a wonder why you weren’t caught, cause that wasn’t the first time that area specifically had been set on fire, and it wouldn’t be the last either. The firefighters definitely had an idea of why it would always set ablaze, but never pursued it. After a while, they started to monitor the place on extremely hot days, thinking that it was the sun that was starting the fires.

If only they had known that it was a bunch of teenagers doing that shit for fun.

After a while, Beetee gets tired of the arrows and starts over to the crew to begin making the sai’s. While they’re heating up the metal, he gets to making the hilt.

“I feel like we’re doing more work than we have to.” you look at Beetee.

“Do you want it to be fucked up, or do you want it to be done right the first time?” He raises his glasses above his eyes when he looks right back at you.

“The first time.” you sigh.

When you get back to work, Finnick moves in closer, curious as to how you’re designing his new weapon. Every now and then he’ll point out the practicalities, and weighing in on how he would rather it be built. 

“This doesn’t even look like a trident anymore.” you hold the journal away from your face, and turn it so it’s long-ways since the entire trident spans over both pages, “It’s basically the opposite.”

“But think of it this way.” Finnick reaches over, touching where the blades of the trident are, “Initial stab, right? But the rest of this does more damage.”

There’s a spear point at the top of the trident, which isn’t the problem. That’s pretty normal when it comes to the design. However, instead of wanting all the other blades facing up and towards it, he wants it downwards.

“And you can even make it compatible!” Finnick grins.

“At least we agree on one thing.” You pass the journal to him, “Go ahead and show Beetee, he’s the one in charge.”

Finnick goes over, and it’s basically halfway across the room, since Beetee is hovering over the crew’s work like a hawk. He wasn’t playing around when he said that he would like it to be perfect the first time around.

“Finnick’s into you.” Gale says.

“You say that like he’s not my soulmate.” you give Gale a look, “Also, I’m not into Finnick.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not a teenager and I don’t date people right after they broke up with their girlfriends.” you turn back to Finnick to see that he’s discussing the weapon with Beetee and a crew member.

“If there was no Annie, would you have dated him then?”

You squint, “No.”

Gale laughs, but doesn’t say anything because Finnick is heading your guys’ way again. He drops the journal in Beetee’s workspace on his way over, “Beetee will start it tonight.”

“Cool.” you get up, picking up the lunch tray, “Am I free to leave now?”

“Yes,” Finnick says, but he makes a point to stay in front of both you and Gale. 

“See ya later, Beetee!” you shout, “Send someone if you need my help.”

He waves, and then goes back to hovering.

Finnick starts up the staircase first, and Gale walks beside you, “Any progress on Peeta?”

Gale rolls his eyes, you can feel it, “Same as he was before. I saw him before coming here.”

“Katniss still saying no?” you look over.

Gale nods.

“That’s reasonable, I wouldn’t want to go near him either…” you trail off for a moment, and then laugh to yourself.

Finnick glances over his shoulder curiously, “What is it?”

You chuckle a bit, “Out of everyone, I’m definitely last on the list of people he wants to see.”

“Why’s that?”

Your smile is small as you look at your feet, rather than up at Finnick, “I nearly killed Peeta.”

“After the birds? I know--” Finnick says.

“No, after. After you had been pulled out of the arena, did I tell either of you that story?”

Gale says no, which is expected, but Finnick thinks about it before answerings, “We talked about emotion when you first got here, and how intense it was.”

“Well, after I left the lightning tree, my real goal was to go downhill and straight for the cornucopia. I thought that if the jungle were to burn, I would need to take my chances in the middle. On the way, I found a livid Peeta, and a strangely calm Johanna.” you smile, “Peeta started screaming at me instead, and Johanna urged me not to do anything.

“But then Peeta backed me into a rock, so when I got up, I punched him twice. Kicked him a couple of times while he was down, and then Johanna stepped in--” Finnick has slowed down now, he watches you, “--and naturally I knocked her out with a single right hook, since she’s… weak to say the least. She hit her head on a rock on the way down, and I thought I’d finish her off later.

“As for Peeta, it was just him and I.” the smile develops into a grin, “I was about to rip him apart--and I mean minutes from doing it. But then the peacekeepers came and I thought that it would be better to leave the situation as it was.”

“You’re… sadistic.” Gale says.

“I’ve heard it all before.” you say, looking at Finnick.

“At least you didn’t kill them.” Finnick says.

“Peeta knew that I was about to. Doesn’t matter if I did it or not.”

Gale laughs now, “You should go visit him to see what he says.”

“He’d probably get mad at me for not killing him when I had the chance. I’m surprised he didn’t strangle me in that hovercraft.”

“The tracker jacker venom fucked with his head, he probably barely recognized you.” Gale says.

At the top of the staircase, Finnick stops you, “We’ll see you later, Gale.”

“Sounds good to me. I’m going to see Boggs.”

You salute as a joke, getting an eye roll in return. Finnick purposely waits until Gale is gone, and then he moves out of your way, “You’re getting better.”

“At making people like me?” you ask, giving Finnick a look, “You know, a genius once told me that I’m not as dislikable as I think.”

Finnick raises his eyebrows, “A genius you say?”

“Maybe not a genius.” you laugh, and Finnick joins in, “So what were you up to?”

“You’ll see in a couple of hours.”

“Is that why we aren’t getting off on the floor we normally do?” you stare at your feet.

“We’re heading straight for the medical floor to Johanna.”

You stop on the stairs, and Finnick gets a couple of steps above you, “Did you not just hear my whole story?”

“The worst Johanna will do is run her mouth about the fact that you didn’t kill her when you had the chance. And if you don’t believe me, you can ask one of the nurses. We’ve heard her speech a couple of times now.”

“Then can I opt out and go to the dorm instead?” you start up the stairs again.

“You’re really going to leave me to talk to Johanna?”

Your eyebrows draw together, “You’re the one that wants to see her!”

“Come on, we see Johanna and then we go to the dorm right after, I promise.” Finnick says.

You hold out your pinky for Finnick, and with a slight chuckle, he pinky promises you. The two of you resume your journey up the stairs, and then he says, “Unless we talk for too long.”

You press your lips together, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. He laughs anyway.

When the two of you reach Johanna’s room, you hang by the door, not really wanting to go inside. You don’t like the look of the room, much less the idea of being back inside of it. Ever since you’ve been granted the freedom, you’ve made a point of not coming back to the hospital--or infirmary--floor, no matter the reason.

The other day, you cut your hand on a blade down in the workshop. The crew had wanted to call someone down to come and take care of you, and you barely stopped them in time. Over your dead body, would you be brought back here to sit and wallow in white for a couple of days.

Especially over something as childish as a cut. So, you found the first aid kit, cleaned out the wound and Beetee stitched it up for you. The crew was a little surprised how calm you were during the entire procedure but the only thing you had to say was ‘high pain tolerance’ after all your years of bullshit.

So being back here makes you nervous. As if someone will pop out from one of the walls and tie you down to a bed for absolutely no reason. You’re perfectly healthy, and the nurses and doctors knew this. Even after you had tests that came back negative for poison in your system, you were required to stay.

Finnick and Johanna’s conversation is surprisingly normal and boring. There was absolutely no reason for you to tag along, except for Finnick’s own request. The only reason why you’re here is to be nice.

As if Finnick’s read your mind, he looks at you, “(Y/n) been helping Beetee out in the workshop lately, designing weapons.”

Johanna’s eyes drag over to you, bored of it already, “She’s being helpful for once?”

You stare at her.

“She’s done quite a lot, Johanna.” Finnick says, looking back at her, “She’s the one that opened the conversation about rescuing you and the others from the Capitol.”

“For her own benefit.” Johanna laughs, “Because she can’t stand being alone. It’s why she’s kept you around so long, you know? Not because she likes you, but because she needs another soul to harvest. She’s like the fucking grim reaper.” she looks at you now, “A heartless murderer.”

You take a deep breath, and then a smile spreads over your face, “I should have killed you when I had the chance. At least then, there would be one less leech on the morphling supply.” you spit, “You deserve everything that Snow gave you, the waterboarding, the near-drowning. It’s a shame that he only kept you alive so you’d suffer and become nothing but another downer on everyone around you.”

Finnick’s head whips in your direction, clearly not expecting the outburst. You’ve been so good for so long, but there’s something about Johanna that just gets you steaming. 

“I should have stomped your head into that fucking rock in front of Peeta.” you seethe, “And then I should’ve beaten Peeta to death, because you two weren’t nearly worth sacrificing my life over.” you shake your head, “You’re nothing but another morphling addict. Another victor that couldn’t take the fucking heat. If I were you, I’d just kill myself from how embarrased I’d be.”

Johanna’s been smiling at you the entire time, like she wanted this sort of reaction, and so you finish it off, “It’s probably how Blight felt too.” 

Her smile drops, and her hand is reaching towards the needles in her arms before her feet have even hit the ground. You stand your ground, allowing Finnick to get her to stop because she does some real damage to her veins.

“(Y/n)--go!” Finnick’s angry, and he glares at you over his shoulder.

“My fucking pleasure.” you spit, leaving the doorway.

It was worth it. Every word that left your mouth was fucking worth it. Being nice to people is such a fucking chore, especially when it’s towards people who don’t deserve it.

You stand in the stairwell for a moment, thinking about where you’d want to go. But there’s really no place that’s safe if Finnick comes looking for you. The workshop and dorm are an obvious place, as well as the stream you stumbled upon. He’ll check with Boggs and Gale--and there’s no one else here that likes you.

You hate it here.

You thought you would be able to make this place feel like a real home and maybe even like it, but it’s not worth it. This whole place isn’t worth it to you.

Everything inside of you is a frenzy. 

You have to go home.

You start up the staircase, knowing that seeing Plutarch and finding a ride would be the place to start. He might not be happy about it, but there’s really no need for you here. You’re not doing anything besides designing personal weapons that Beetee likes and doesn’t like. 

Occasionally you’re genuinely helpful with dumb shit, but that’s the extent of it. Other than that, you’re miserable. The freedom you have isn’t actual freedom. 

You hop up the last couple of steps, and round the corner to the door to the control room. You practically throw it open, nearly letting it hit the wall, when your hand appears between the crack to stop it.

At your appearance, a few people look over. The only eyes who stick are Boggs, Gale, Haymitch and Plutarch.

“Where’s Finnick?” Gale asks.

“Not his owner,” you go down the steps, eyes on Plutarch, “I want a ride to District Two. Your next hovercraft is mine to take.”

Boggs stands up, crossing his arms, “What about the workshop?”

“Boring, Beetee has it under control.”

“And Finnick?” Haymitch asks, “I thought you were just liking it here--”

“I’m a liar.” 

Gale sighs, “Tell us what happened.”

“Johanna and I are going to end up killing each other the next time we come face to face.” your eyes land on Plutarch to see he has an eye on his watch, “So unless you feel like cleaning up a dead body, I’ll take one free ticket to District Two.”

“The next hovercraft is leaving in fifteen minutes.” Plutarch looks up now, “I’ll call in and let them know you’re going.”

“Does Finnick know you’re doing this?” Gale asks, “He’s going to be upset if we have to tell him--”

“It’s his fault for getting attached to me.” your face is serious, and then the smile spreads over your face, because of the irony of that statement. After what Johanna had said… “He’s your problem now, good luck.”

You go up the steps, heading right out the door you came in. You can’t take the staircase to the top, so you make your way to the elevator instead. You press the button, waiting patiently with a smile on your face.

The hovercrafts that they’re using to get the supplies to and from District Two are the slow type. District Thirteen is in no rush to get the crates there, so it won’t be a surprise to you if it takes more than just a couple of hours for you to get there. Or if it makes stops along the way.

The elevator arrives, you pull up the safety bar, and then step inside, pulling it back down. You punch the top floor button with your thumb, then you go to stare as the floors disappear beneath your feet.

At least back home you don’t have to act and lie for the happiness of others. Especially if your first and only stop is going to be your house in victor’s village. And if you need groceries, it looks like you’ll be hunting for food to eat. Or you might actually have to go into town and ransack the already destroyed buildings.

Most of the people that used to own the shops are probably dead, or they won’t be returning back home for a while. The entirety of victor’s village is going to be a graveyard--there might even still be rotting bodies inside of the houses. If the smell is too unbearable, you could always bury the corpses yourself.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

At the top, there’s someone waiting on the ramp. You don’t bother waiting for them to tell you to hurry it up, you start jogging immediately. The faster you get on, the faster you can take off.

“I’m ready.” you say when you get to the ramp.

“Good, take a seat and strap in.” the man follows you in.

--

The whole district is in ruins.

The last time you were here, everything seemed to be in near perfect condition, apart from the obvious looting that had taken place. The broken windows, and the wood splinters in the gravel could be easily looked over. But it’s much harder to see this place as it once was.

Most stores and houses that were made out of wood, and had been passed down from generation to generation have been burned to ashes or their cement flooring. There’s nothing left of them, not the furniture inside, and definitely not the foundation. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that they were vacant lots.

If they couldn’t burn, then they were bombed. Chunks of cement and brick have now joined the mixture in the gravel. The roofs have long since caved in, and just one gust of wind makes the walls shudder. All it would take is one more bomb dropped in this area, and it all would come crashing down. 

The air around you is hardly breathable too. Before you had stepped off the hovercraft you were given a mask--not the same gas mask that you’d used during the tribute center invasion--and a pair of sunglasses that would help you see through the debris and smoke.

It’s almost like fog, but so much worse. It’s smoke from fires that can’t be put out, and it’s from the bombs that are from your own district. The loyalists and the rebels are still fighting over this place. Katniss’ visit here hadn’t done much good, in fact you’d say that it made it a lot worse.

As you wander through the streets towards victor’s village, you come up with a lousy plan that’ll likely get you killed. 

Coin had thought that sending Katniss here was a good idea, but it wasn’t by any means. Katniss got a bullet to her ribs, which bruised a ton of them, and put her right back into a hospital bed. They clearly didn’t think about what would happen if you mix people who don’t mind the games, with someone who’s leading a rebellion.

You’ve seen the speech, and as heartfelt as it was, it’s not what they want to hear. 

Here’s the way you saw it at first; this girl from the poorest part of District Twelve is kicking up a rebellion that’ll likely destroy the system that’s making District Two rich, and the favorite. District Two thinks that they’re going to get everything taken away from them. Their houses, nice clothes and furniture, the good paying jobs.

You would all much rather send in the two kids a year--mostly because your children are prepared ahead of time, and therefore the career districts have nothing to lose--than take the risk of getting everything taken away. The Capitol absolutely adores you guys, with all that you supply them. 

So, instead of having the girl that’s leading the rebellion try and convince the loyalists that they’re on the wrong side. You have someone who’s lived in the same luxury as them do it instead. How is Katniss supposed to understand how you all feel? She despised the games, while the rest of you adored it.

The outsider districts don’t understand the need for luxury and favoritism. They’ve lived on the hated side of the Capitol for a long time. The Capitol expects them to underperform in the games, so that’s why they don’t ever see the spotlight until they get a winner.

Anyway, you’re going to get to your house, change into something that says ‘living in luxury’ and then march your way to the justice building. There, you won’t ask for any sort of protection but an escort there instead. You won’t carry any weapons, you won’t pull on a bulletproof vest.

If they shoot you, then they’ll have made their choice very clear.

The gate entrance to the village is all sorts of broken. You barely push the metal door open, and the entire thing falls apart in your hands. You have to prop it up against the fence, being sure that it won’t fall over before you move on to go inside. Then, you waste no time with a quick jog through.

The fountain in the first part of the village is dry. The cement is no longer grey, it’s black from the amount of fire that must have washed through here. On the tiles that line the bottom, there’s melted coins. You’re tempted to reach in and pick one out when you realize just how bad of an idea that is.

You continue down the stone brick path after that, taking in note of every house that you pass. The doors are slightly ajar, most windows seem to be shattered, and a couple are burned down to the foundation. Most still stand though, Sorcha, Enobaria, Brutus, Tanith and Zavian’s seem to be in good condition.

As for Lyme, her house is completely gone. You have an idea that it might be because of the fact that she’s helping the rebels, and some of the loyalists must’ve gotten behind their lines to come and burn hers down specifically. As for the others, there must be a bigger story behind it.

As you come into the third part of the neighborhood, you cross your fingers as you hope it’s not like Lyme’s. You just want a moment inside of a clean house, to be able to go upstairs and find out that there’s running water. Then you’ll take a shower, get dressed in fancy clothing and put on makeup as if there isn’t hellfire around you.

It takes you a moment to find it, because all the houses in this section are still standing. And then you realize that your house is the only one that looks fresh. It hasn’t been touched by all the ash and smoke, it’s still as bright white as the day you received it. Perfect condition.

No windows are broken, the wood and cement show no signs of it being on fire at any point in time. The door is shut tight, a little stuck so you have to rattle the handle until it comes loose. You swing the door wide open, standing in the doorway as you wait to see a mess.

But it’s clean. Of course, the house has collected dust, but there’s no blood. There’s no broken vases, or stuffing all over the floor. It’s how you left it. 

You shut the door behind you, locking it for good measure. As you go inside, you can’t help but to look around and gape like you’re on a house tour. Nothing has been touched, which is the part that baffles you the most. Both the inside and outside are great.

For a moment, you’re not sure why you’re so surprised that nothing had happened--apart from the fact that the whole neighborhood is disgusting. And then you remember the last time you came home from the games. With the house torn apart with dead bodies frozen in time.

“He seriously fucked me up, didn’t he?” you ask, laughing to yourself. 

The house does smell pretty bad though, and the scent only gets stronger the more you head towards the kitchen. You have to plug your nose, strictly breathing in and out through your mouth, blinking away the tears that form in your eyes. It’s just so strong…

Going through the doorway, you take your time to look for anything that might be off. There is nothing, but you’re sure that it was coming from here specifically, and the second that you test the water with a breath of air through your nose, you gag. You go back to breathing through your mouth, even though you can taste the toxicity.

It’s not gas, that’s for sure. It’s something else…

The kitchen, the smell, the fact you haven’t been here--it’s the fridge. The food inside of the fridge and the cupboards are likely rotting. You can picture the mold in your mind already, and you shiver a little. Deciding that it’s better not to investigate further, you head straight upstairs instead.

On the way to your room, you can’t help but to pop open the doors and take a look inside. It’s just the paranoia now that’s making you do this. You don’t think you’ll find anyone in here, it’s just the thought of someone maybe hiding and waiting for you. A house like yours shouldn’t be in perfect condition, not after everything that’s happened.

And yet, there is nothing. Not even in your master bedroom, and not in the bathroom either. Despite this, you also lock your bedroom door, stripping on the way to the bathroom. And when you get inside of there, you lock that one too. For a second, the water in the shower runs cold, but then it turns warm.

While you let it heat up a little more, you take a look at yourself in the mirror for the first time in a couple of weeks. The mirrors that they have in District Thirteen are practically useless, they might as well not have them at all. You can barely see your face in them, and they’re permanently fogged over. At first, you thought that there was a protective film, until you realized that they were just shit quality.

Your fingers dance along the scars that cover you from head to toe. You turn your body to get a better angle, only to be disappointed when they continue. You force yourself to lean onto the counter, even though you’re so incredibly uncomfortable now, but curiosity is what’s fueling it all.

Then you’re able to see that the spider bite scars exist on your face too. They’re faint though, not too noticeable. What is noticeable, is the fact that there’s a scar that’s right beneath your eye. It’s so small that you can see it, even with you leaning over the counter.

You wipe the fog off the mirror, hopping onto the counter. You’re basically pressed against the mirror with how you’re seated as you desperately try to see what the fuck is beneath your eye. Wiping the mirror again, you take your chance to see.

C.S.

Your face twists as you back up, trying to think of who has those initials. Much less who would leave it on you like they’re marking their territory. You slide off the counter, rubbing beneath your eye, wishing that it’ll just go away, but it won’t.

Then it clicks, and you almost wish it hadn’t.

Coriolanus Snow.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, mouth hanging open as you watch the fog take over the mirror again, and your naked figure is covered up as a result.

He marked you. Snow fucking marked you like you’re his pet.

Your hand has swiped the vase off the counter before you’ve realized it. It isn’t until it’s shattered, when you’re jumping out of your skin. Even then, you’re still captivated by the amount of rage that’s running through your veins.

“Motherfucker!” you yell, digging your nail into the spot, gritting your teeth when it hurts. But it has to go. It has to be defaced. You won’t be seen as his. You don’t belong to Snow.

It’s a relief when your bare nail breaks skin. Though, more pain spikes in that one spot, and even in your eye a little bit. You lean on the counter, squeezing your eyes shut and giving yourself a moment to recover before you head into the shower.

You can’t fucking believe this.

--

You had always told yourself that you would be saving this dress for an occasion that you’d never be able to replicate. No weddings, funerals or parties. No victory tour, no get together, no reaping. You had to save it for something that would be groundbreaking, something that would change the game altogether.

At first, you didn’t want to pick it up for even this. Then you remembered that you have a chance of dying, and thought that was an event you’d never be able to replicate. Because you’d be dead.

And now that you’re walking to the justice buildings, holding the dress up so that it doesn’t get caught in the gravel and what lies inside of you, you’re beginning to see that you’ve got to make it count. Not the dress, but this entire encounter. If they don’t end up killing you, they’re definitely not going to let you come back again. Not peacefully, at least.

All you have to do is make them hesitate. Make them think for the rebel’s side for a second. That’s all you need. A moment of apprehension that they’ll never be able to take back. And since you’re pretty good at playing devil's advocate, this will be a walk in the park.

Seeing a sudden blast of dust and dirt heading your way, you make a home behind a building, aiming the umbrella you’re holding towards the corner that’s closest to you. It takes a moment before the dust storm comes through. The rocks pelt the plastic, and they attack your bare legs.

Since the umbrella is see-through, you’re able to tell when it dies down. You don’t wait to make sure that it’s over completely, because you never know when another gust will roll on in. At some point in time, you recognize the streets that the scouting group had brought you through, so you take that carefully.

You’re still fairly surprised that Paylor and Lyme hadn’t taken your statement of a survey group into consideration. And if they did, then that didn’t last as long as you thought it would. It’s literally only been two to three weeks since you were here last.

You guess that just means that they can’t spare the people as much as they could before. Which says a lot--that they’re losing the battle they swore that they’d be able to win. Coin said in one of her speeches that it wouldn’t be easy, and it would take a while. And here you are, thinking that you’ll be able to change their minds in a day.

“Watch this.” you smile to yourself.

You go around a corner, only to stop dead in your tracks. Standing right in front of you are some pretty armored people, holding a gun pointed straight at your chest. 

“State your name and business.”

“I see Lyme’s upgraded her shitty guards.” you give him a smile, “(Y/n) Rosecelli.”

He lowers the gun, “You’re supposed to be in District Thirteen.”

“It’s not as glamorous as it seems.” you say, continuing your way down the alley, “Quite boring. Is Lyme in the justice building?”

“Yes, I can bring--”

“I’ve got it.” you cut him off, leaving him behind you.

“I wouldn’t recommend going that way.”

“Whatever!” you shout, going right out.

The steps to the building are pretty wrecked, but there’s just enough stone for you to be able to go up them. You hike the dress up a little higher, stomping your heels when you step, as you try to get the gravel and glass off your shoes. The people standing outside the building seem confused at first.

“Excuse me.” you say, moving right past them as you head through the doors.

You take the stairs up, still having an iron grip on the dress. You won’t let it down until you’re standing in front of rebels. You swear on everything.

You pass a third set of guards on your way inside of the meeting room that they had used the first time. When the door pops open, you can see a familiar face on the hologram screen. Alma Coin.

Paylor and Lyme look over simultaneously to see who’s entered the room. 

“(Y/n)’s here.” Lyme says, standing up now.

“Good.” Coin says, “Won’t you join us?”

You make a face, stepping inside and shutting the door. You don’t head that far inside, sticking rather close to the door, but still in sight of the camera. 

“Finnick’s been looking everywhere for you.” Coin tells you calmly, “We just broke the news to him.”

“And?” you ask.

“He’s disappointed that he went through all that trouble to throw a party for you.”

So that’s what he was doing earlier. Throwing you a party, and for what? God, you can’t imagine the headache you would have had through the whole thing. Fake a smile, pretend to like it. The only parties you do like are the types that go on inside of the Capitol.

It’s all lavish there. The foods are delicious, the sweets and the sour foods. The drinks they have that you swear are going to make you dehydrated, but you drink anyway. The people there are always so friendly, even when they aren’t. They’re so stupid and naive that it makes it enjoyable to be around them.

Not to mention they worshipped you.

“Am I supposed to care?” you ask, crossing your arms, “Can’t be a very good party with your district. The entire thing is probably being attended by a total of ten people, and the food and drinks are twenty years old. I’m not missing out on anything, trust me.”

Coin bites her tongue, smiling, “Maybe it’s best that you’re back in District Two, then.”

“I’m done talking to you.” you give her a mock smile, turning to Lyme and Paylor, “I’m going to solve this whole loyalist problem for you in a second. Do you want to send a camera crew with me just in case it works?”

Lyme’s confused, “No offense, but what makes you think it’ll work? Especially with your mouth?”

“Cause I know you guys have been approaching it all wrong, and rather than having a second person fuck it up for you ingrates, I’ll do it myself. I may be selfish but I’m also open minded and have a way of words when I’m not being a complete bitch.” you look at Coin, “And if it does work, you don’t get to say you planned it at all. I’m not Katniss, and I won’t be easily manipulated.

“On top of that, you’ll also owe me a shiny, brand new apartment in the heart of the Capitol. Otherwise you can take that propaganda footage and shove it up that ass of yours.” you point to Lyme and Paylor, “Camera crew, now.”

You leave the room after that, and Paylor approves the camera crew, asking one of the people in the room with them to go ahead and gather the people. In the meantime, you take a look at yourself in the nearest bathroom. Your makeup and hair are still how you left it, and the dress isn’t that dirty either. 

When you get outside, there’s people already waiting to take you to the tunnels. And for their protection, they’re bringing volunteers with them. As for you, you’ll be out in the open just as you asked for.

“I live in luxury.” you tell yourself, raising your head a bit, “I belong in the Capitol. I am a loyalist. These rebels have no idea what they’re doing.”

You take the train tracks straight to the tunnel. The mountain has long since collapsed, which drew out most of the loyalists. And with Katniss’ speech after, a few surrendered. But there’s still plenty of people inside of there.

“I don’t know if we can follow you inside.” one of the girls tells you nervously, “It’s dark and unhealthy in there. If they begin firing, we’ll be the first to be brought down.”

“No, I will.” you say, “They’ll likely let you all live. If those cameras zoom well, keep as much of a distance as you can spare.”

The girl nods, “We trust you.”

You press your lips together, because it’s a first, “If I reach for my dress and turn my body like I’m going to run, you should take off immediately. I don’t plan on running, but I will if it gets too risky.”

“We’ll keep an eye out, I promise.”

Inside the tunnel, it’s even dirtier than you expected. Nonetheless, you all push through. The camera crew and the couple of armed people have masks over their face, but you work right through the dirt and smoke filled air. Even if you put a mask on now, you’ll have to take it off to talk anyway. There would be no point to it, you’re going to breathe in the air whether you like it or not.

“Stop!” A voice shouts, and you all come to a halt.

“Stay here.” you tell the crew.

Lights turn on, you cover your eyes for a moment as you blink through, trying to get adjusted to them. When you lower your hand, you can see that there’s several people ready to shoot you, and what looks like hundreds of people ready to back them up. The lights are coming from the train right in front of you.

“My name is (Y/n) Rosecelli, I’m here to speak to whoever is in charge, face to face.” you move forward, but stop a little bit after that, not wanting to push your limits.

Someone appears on the top of the train, an automatic rifle in his hands, “You shouldn’t be in here.”

You drop the dress down now, “No, I shouldn’t. This place is unfathomably filthy, and I can’t imagine how hard it is to breathe the air in here. What’s your name?”

“Jovian.”

“You know why I’m here, right?” you ask, crossing your arms, your eyes wandering over all the people waiting to see what happens.

“It’s pretty obvious, which is why I should let you know it’s not going to work, and you should leave while you can.” he tells you, “Or I’ll just make an example of you, just like how we did with Katniss.”

“Except Katniss is still alive in District Thirteen, you didn’t actually kill her.” you tell him, “Healthy as a horse, she was up on her feet the same day, ready to come right back here and give you guys a second chance.”

They won’t know you’re lying.

“We should’ve gone for her head.”

You ignore that, “There’s a big difference between Katniss and I, though. Katniss grew up in the poorest part of twelve, and I grew up in what was arguable once the richest parts of District Two. And then I won the games and got more money than I knew what to do with, and she didn’t have any time to get to realize her luxury.

“Because of this, she’ll never understand what you’ll have to sacrifice if you do take part in the fight. You’re putting everything up for a gamble. Your house, your clothes, furniture, a family. And you’d have to do it without knowing the outcome of a rebellion.”

Jovian nods slowly, “You get it.”

“Of course I do, I was once a Capitol pet too, and then Snow ended up killing my family, and then my friends on top of that.” you motion with your hand, “And I saw the type of people that we were supporting all this time. They’re nothing worth supporting, Jovian. I can promise you that.”

Jovian shakes his head, “What if you lose, huh? The district is already in deep shit because half of us are rebels, what if there’s a chance that the people who don’t fight with you, get rewarded?”

You snort, “You think he’s writing down names? You think he gives a shit if some of you were helping, and the others weren’t? All he’s going to see is that District Two had tried to help the rebels, and suddenly we’re all fucked. So why not give in? You know what will happen if there are no more hunger games, no more districts, no more districts versus the Capitol bullshit?

“You’d be able to live wherever you want--the Capitol, here, any of the other districts, places that were off limits, maybe even in some of the arenas that had gone untouched. You would work if you want to, and have a million kids without worrying about teaching them how to fight.

“There would be no more worries, Jovian. You’d still get to live the same, but it would be that much more freedom. And even if you wouldn’t want to live in any of those other places, you’d be able to visit them whenever you want. Take a vacation to the Capitol and come home to a sturdy house. And for anyone who hasn't found their soulmate because they exist in a different district, you’d have a greater chance of finding them.”

The silence that fills the tunnel is surprisingly calm, it isn’t as tense as you thought it would be. Jovian is obviously thinking all of this through.

“But we can’t win this without District Two. If we get those warehouses pumping out weapons, we’ll win this, guaranteed. It’ll be difficult, as all wars are, but we’ll win for once. We’ll get the justice we deserve, Snow will pay for all the shit he’s done.” you insist, “If you guys come with me now, there’s no hard feelings.

“There’s food, water, clothes, medicine. All you’d have to do is come with us now, and we’ll get you cleaned up, one at a time.”

Jovian looks down at you, “And you can promise us this?”

You look behind you, straight at one of the guards, “Get Paylor to confirm this.”

It takes a moment, but when her voice comes over the tunnel, echoing, saying all of what you said is true, you can’t help but to give a hopeful look to Jovian.

He takes in a deep breath, “Okay.”

“That’s just you, though.” you look to all the others, past the lights, “How about you guys? Are you willing to fight?”

“Will you be fighting with us?” someone yells to you.

This question you weren’t expecting, but you find yourself nodding before you can catch it, “Every step of the way.”

“Then sign me up.” A girl starts coming forward, behind her trails a couple of kids, they come in a line, all holding hands. She walks right past you guys.

It takes a moment before others start breaking off in groups. Jovian gives you a look, “These are my people.”

“They’re our people now.” You correct him, “And they’re going to be safe. Pack the hurt into the train and get this baby moving out here.”

You turn around, heading towards the camera, “Is it still running?”

“Yes.”

You look straight into the camera lense, “Twenty-three kids have died every year for the past seventy-four years. That’s one thousand, seven hundred and one kids that have died in the hunger games. Nearly two thousand of your kids have gone into an arena, scared and alone. 

“They wouldn’t know where their next meal would come from, they didn’t know if they would get sponsors or if they were worthy of them. They likely shivered and starved and were dehydrated down to their very last days. And while it was happening, all they could picture was their blue face in the night sky, signaling another fallen tribute.

“And you’re telling me, that now there’s a rebellion happening--one that will stop a cycle of heartless and meaningless murder--you’re not going to help? You’ll finally be able to have kids, and not worry about training them the moment that they’re born. No more staying up all night worrying that it’ll be your kid picked during the reaping.

“But we can’t get there if you don’t help.” You then lean a forward, “And Coriolanus, if you’re watching, I’d like to let you know that I found the scar you left on my face. You can mark me all you fucking want, but I haven’t done your bidding since I was sixteen. How’s this for calming down District Two?”

You stand up again, “For those of you who don’t know, my name is (Y/n) Rosecelli, I won the sixty-sixth hunger games when I was sixteen. I’m from District Two, and I have to admit that I have lived in luxury since the day I was born, and coming to terms with a rebellion that has ruined my whole lifestyle, isn’t easy.

“However, if I can see past all my greediness to realize that it’s unfair that I can live in luxury and others live in dirt, then you can too. There will be no more inequality, everyone will be able to live in a stable environment, and if you don’t want that, then you’re just as ill as Snow is.”

You turn to leave after that, hiking up the dress in the front so you don’t end up stepping on it and make a fool out of yourself in the process. It’s a couple of moments before the others are scrambling to follow.

“Are you really going to fight with us?” The girl asks.

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

She’s quiet for a moment, “You just don’t look like you’d been into that type of thing.”

You look at her, “Don’t be fooled by the dress and makeup. I’m a lot more than a pretty face.”

“We’ll have to get you fitted for clothing, then. You can’t march to the Capitol in a dress.”

You end the conversation, not saying anything else to her. What she said is obvious, you know that you’ll have to be dressed properly. Hell, you know what’s happening in the Capitol at the moment.

Nothing slips past you. You hear everything when it comes to secrets. You knew Johanna had been waterboarded because she failed some sort of swimming test, nearly took down a couple of people during her panic. And you knew that her and Blight were a little more than friends too.

Just like how you know that the Capitol is turning into a whole trap. Snow is planting these pods—as Beetee called them—that are near impossible to keep track of. Snow is pulling in the Capitol citizens closer, allowing him to plant more pods. Hundreds of them, every single day.

Which means that if you go out there with the other volunteers, there’s a good chance of a million things happening to you. You can’t even think of what the gamemakers would put into the streets of the Capitol. All you know is that it can’t be good. 

They might as well throw in every single project that they’ve ever created since they won’t be able to use it against you all in the future. And in that case, you might not want to be in the streets of the Capitol after all.

Right when you leave the train station, there’s a giant dumpster waiting for the people leaving the tunnel. They’re forced to give up their weapons so that they can pass into the team of medics that are waiting. As you get closer, you’re able to see that there’s no struggle. Most give up their weapons without a fight, but some are a little hesitant to do so.

You and the camera crew pass by it easily, none of you are holding a significant weapon, and if you are, you’re all rebels anyway. They’re not worried about you guys turning on them, it’s more like the newly rebels that are just coming out of the tunnel.

Past all the disarming, is the group of medics that wait for everyone who makes it past the tunnel. It takes a bit for you and the camera crew to get through the dense crowd that only gets bigger. Just before you break the last line of people, you can hear the train’s horn, warning everyone that it’s coming.

Then, you get through.

Waiting on the other side of the crowd is Lyme, with a particularly impressed look on her face. 

“Maybe we should have sent you in, initially.” Lyme says, “You did it effortlessly.”

“If any of you had bothered to tell me before sending Katniss in, I would have told you it was a bad idea.” You take a look behind you, “And by the way, this is a perfect example of what you should do when it comes to the Capitol citizens.”

“Want to be put in charge of that?” Lyme offers.

Your head whips towards her, “I will not play devil's advocate for them. That’s your fucking problem to sort.”

“It was just an offer.” Lyme says, but you’re already leaving towards the justice building again. Lyme’s quite taller than you, so it takes basically no effort when it comes to catching up with you, “While you were gone, Coin had someone flown in.”

You can’t help but let out a snort, “Oh, whoever should that be?”

After what you said to Coin, it’s no surprise to you. She would pull some bullshit like this to make you angry. It’s just her little form of payback.

“He’s waiting at your house.”

You look at her, “You had him escorted to my house?”

“He wouldn’t shut up about it. Gave him basic instructions to get to victor’s village, and then told him yours is the only one that hasn’t been touched.”

“Speaking of which, why is that?” you fix a curl that’s fallen into your face.

“Honestly, no clue.” Lyme says, “Good luck with Finnick.”

“Right.”

Lyme and the camera crew break off when you reach the justice building. From there, one single person brings you as far as they’re allowed to go into the town part of District Two, and then they head back to where they had been standing before you stumbled along.

You’re nearly home when your feet start to ache from the heels. And if it weren’t for the fact that the dirt is mixed in with glass, you might have taken the heels right off and walked barefoot the rest of the way. Before the rebellion, you definitely would have done that. Regardless of how people would feel about it.

Victor’s village still looks shitty, there’s not much to expect from it in the first place. It’s not like it’s going to have changed in the past hour or two. Although, you thought that you might find Finnick poking around in the abandoned, charcoal black houses.

Through the first arch and into the second reveals your perfect house. The door is shut--so it looks like Finnick knows his manners--and you don’t waste time going inside.

Swinging the door open, you make a point to slam it shut when you get inside. You don’t even move from the doorway before you’re tearing the heels off your feet, massaging them one at a time. Then, you head upstairs to your room.

If Finnick wants to speak, Finnick can come and find you. He invited himself to District Two, he was able to find your house, he’ll be able to find you.

Or rather, the other way around.

Finnick’s lounging on your bed when you walk in. In his hand he holds a book with your face on it. You can’t help but roll your eyes--that book was forced on you by Snow. He thought it was a good idea to draw in more attraction to you. And unfortunately it worked, and after that, you spent a couple more weeks than you were meant to, inside of the Capitol.

Of course, it ran short when everyone heard about your sour attitude, no matter what time of the day it was. People revoked their… reservations, and you were forced to go home.

“Welcome.” you say bitterly, opening the wardrobe doors and tossing your shoes inside, then you unzip the dress from the back with little to no problem.

“So the friendliness didn’t last long.” Finnick sounds amused, but when you turn to look over your shoulder, you can see that it’s not how he’s feeling. There’s a hint of a scowl on his face, maybe some touch of annoyance.

“Thank god.” you hang the dress up, then you close the wardrobe door and move onto the bathroom.

You tear off everything that you wouldn’t normally wear. The bracelets, earrings, rings. The only thing you leave is the necklace Tanith gave you, otherwise it’s all gone. And as soon as you get into the bathroom, it’s tossed into the jewelry drawer, which is absolute hellfire to sift through. 

Finnick follows you to the bathroom, and watches as you remove the makeup, unphased by the fact that you’re half naked again, “Did you actually mean any of it?”

You pause for a moment, “Mean what? What I said to Johanna? Every word, she fucking asked for it. Antagonizing me and all that, she should have seen it coming.”

“The apology.” Finnick clarifies.

“I meant that, yes.” there’s no hesitation.

“That’s all I wanted to know.” he turns and leaves the bathroom.

“So now what?” you call, “You’re going back to District Thirteen?”

Finnick laughs, “Dream on.”

You roll your eyes, “It was worth a shot.”

“Your house smells like shit, by the way.”

“It’s the kitchen, feel free to clean it out if it bothers you that much. I just figured that this house would be blown to bits the second Snow gets a chance because of what I said.”

“Speaking of which.” Finnick comes back, he’s got some clothes for you hanging over his arm, “The front lines?”

You scowl at him a little bit, “Did anyone ever tell you it’s rude to go through someone’s clothes? And yes, the front lines.”

Regardless, you pull on the shorts and shirt after tossing the makeup wipes away. You unpin your hair, letting it all fall into place unnaturally, which causes you to just pull it right back up into a ponytail anyway to keep it out of your face.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.”

You side-eye him, “Let me guess, you’re coming along?”

Finnick smiles, “You know me better than I thought.”

“No, you just have a thing for following me around, so I figured. Just like how Lyme didn’t even have to say your name, and I knew you came.” you grin a little, “How was the party, by the way?”

“Surprisingly boring without you there.”

“You’re saying that I’m entertainment?” you ask.

“The best.” Finnick smiles.

[galaxyshine24-7]

Feng Min🎮 Before the Fog

Hey I made a small introduction to Feng Min on her last day in her world for a rp server I’m on and wanted to share it. Her character is so cool but I hear not a lot of people write for her so I wanted to give some love to this gamer girl. I hope you enjoy. 

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"Feng, Feng Min, Feng!" Feng jolts up from her chair as the owner of the internet café gives her a concerned look. Feng looks around as her screen shows a large Game Over screen in front of her. 

    "Damnit," Feng brushes her fingers through her hair wiping the stream of drool on her face. The area around her was filled with wrappers and napkins as a blanket rests over her shoulders. 

    "Feng listen you've been here for days." The owner rests a hand on her shoulder. Feng frowns at him rubbing the crust from her eyes. 

    "Maybe go home take a shower and rest a bit. Trust me the games will always be here." He pats her on the back as he goes to help out a customer. Dark brown eyes look over the screen as she leans back in the chair crossing her arms. Her head throbs as she takes a deep breath slowly getting up from the chair. 

    Shit just great, another game over. She thinks to herself as she cleans her station and starts to pack up her things. All the wrappers and empty cups of coffee from the previous days end up in the bin. As she walks to the entrance she makes sure to place a large tip for the owner having to deal with her for the past few days. Her hand opens the door wincing a bit at the light she hasn't seen in what felt like ages. She coughs fishing through her pockets to find a simple black mask. The air quality has never been the best in the heavy parts of the city. People pass by her going about their lives in a sea of blurs. Feng looks straight ahead, her mind focusing on strategies and her next moves. A person bumps into her, but she doesn't notice making the track back to her apartment. 

    The building was placed in the middle of the serval internet cafes and arcades giving her enough access to training when need be, and as of lately the bars have been pretty good too. She squeezes through the bodies trying to move in and out of the complex. 

    "Ms. Feng Min your rent is due soon." The landlord said from the front desk.

    "Can't talk now, I will have it later." She waves her off hopping on the elevator. The doors are about to close until someone places their hand out making them open up again. A woman wearing a bright smile greets her squeezing into the elevator. She steps in seeing the button was already pressed for her floor.

    "Hello good morning." She smiles sweetly. 

    "Hi," Feng lets out a sigh resting her head on the wall. 

    "Rough day?" The woman asks. 

    "Rough Life." Feng blurts out a bit surprised at herself, she must be tried, she's being social. That's a huge red flag. 

    "Aw I'm sorry to hear that. Your name is Feng right?" Her brown eyes narrow at the women. 

    "How did you know that?" She crosses her arms.

    "Oh I live next door to you." She tilts her head. Feng raises a brow. 

    "You know Maryann, I lived by you for three years, I gave you muffins for the holidays." Oh she threw away those muffins. She always waited too long to eat them. However with the way her stomach twists right now she wishes she had eaten them. Her eyes dart to the sparkly ring on the woman's finger. 

    "Married?" Might as well go all the way into this socializing thing, it's not like she does it every day. 

    "Engaged going to be married soon." She smiles looking at the ring with such warmth foreign to Feng. Like she has ever had time for relationships all she wanted to do was win, watching her team deal with them and get distracted didn't do much to convince her they were worthwhile. 

    "Congrats." With a large stretch the elevator opens as they both step out. 

    "Thank you we've made so many plans for a house upstate, with nice schools for kids when they came around. I can't wait, we're already thinking of names."

    Were my parents this happy thinking about kids? It's so hard to imagine how they barely talk now. She wonders what stops them from having more children to cover the mistake that is her.

    They walk for a bit as they reach their rooms. Feng takes out her key, opening up her dark apartment. 

    "Well it was nice talking to you Feng have a nice day." She waves. Feng gives her a small smile stepping into her home closing and locking the door behind her. It was a dark loft apartment with plush furniture and high tech gaming equipment. Posters littered the walls and trophies adorn the shelves picking up dust. She throws her things on the couch pressing the button to open the blinds to a full city skyline. The money she made in tournaments helped her afford all this. Being among the highest to show that she could win. Rain starts to fall along the glass as she peels away from the view to head upstairs to shower. She finds her more comfy clothes heading to the bathroom. 

    Turning on the water she undresses stepping inside welcoming the warm water as it cascades down her hair and back. Her forehead presses against the cool tile as she counts her breaths. It's been six weeks, six agonizing weeks since she was ordered to take a break from the team after her recent mistakes costing tournaments, she even got kicked out of the dorms. She punches the wall as a wave of disappointment passes over her. She can't lose, she can't lose, she has come so far. Only to fall now in her prime would be pathetic and every doubt everyone made about her would be true. She couldn't count the thousands of comments in the fan forums all of them saying she was losing her touch. That she was only a one hit wonder, a smile creeps onto her face. She would show them she would so all of them. Her determination was too strong to give up. 

    "Fuck that." She would rather die than give up a game she knows she can win. The goal was so close she could feel it. She was so close to her purpose. 

 She steps back finishing her shower, now that she's more awake she can realize how dirty she was as stains cover her old shirt and the pits are ripe with sweat. 

    "Gross," She tosses everything in the hamper turning off the water. She looks in the mirror wiping away the fog. Black hair sticks to her pale skin as dark eyes stare back at her. She can't remember the last time she looked at herself. As she grew thinner or as she gained weight. She couldn't even tell anymore. Drying herself off she shakes her head cleaning herself up changing her clothes. After she blows, dries her hair until it untangles and is soft again. When she's done she cracks her knuckles heading back downstairs hoping to get some practice in on her console but her stomach growls loudly. 

    "Shit," her stomach hasn't seen a full meal in days. She could order take out, but she knows she needs to get outside more. With a large yawn and a pop of her back she grabs her bag and keys. Her feet step out into the apartment once more locking the door behind her. Leaving the building a few hours have past since she as been in her apartment getting ready. She thinks about what she wanted to do pulling up her hood and putting her mask back on. Feng fumbles in her bag taking out her earphones to play a soundtrack from her favorite game. The rain falls around her but she doesn't mind welcoming the sensation. She has forgotten how much she missed playing outside. In a time when her parents weren't so disappointed in her and splashed in the puddles at the park. A time the world was so new and she wasn't a black sheep to anyone. A laugh escapes her mouth, maybe there was a time people liked being around her. She didn't really do much out of gaming but anyone could see that fact. The smell of food fills her nose as a restaurant comes into view. It's a place she's been to before and liked what they had there. Authentic Chinese food reminded her of what her family's chefs would make. She opens the door getting a whiff of the food a bit more now. 

    The restaurant was a family run establishment creating a cozy feel as a fire runs in the background. Pictures of past customers all smiling hang on the walls.

    "Would you like a table Ma'am?" A man asks her. 

    "Table for one please." The man takes out one menu sitting Feng down at the bar. She already knows what she wants as she hands back the menu just asking for water to drink. The man smiles nodding his head going to get her order. She looks at the tv listening to the sounds of the chefs cooking in the kitchen. The tv shows a news report talking about the esports tournaments. She rubs her temple, she really doesn't need this right now. 

    "Last month the popular esports team lost the primary rounds, however it wasn't always like this. Since the teams current decline fans have been reminiscing the past wins of the team." She puts her head in her hands as someone asks to turn it up. "One name that always comes up is the player Shining Lion. Otherwise known as Feng Min, a star in the field who won her team the championship cup." They show Feng Min with her team carrying the shining trophy that now sits in her apartment as it lost its luster. Her smile was wide and her eyes filled with joy. She remembers every moment of that day hearing the crowds chant her name and the phone calls she got afterwards for commercial deals and TVs shows, collabs with famous gamers she looked up to, but that day her parents actually told her she did a good job. That was something she never forgot. 

    Her food comes back as she begins to eat and the reporter moves on to other stories. The food was as good as she remembered loving each bite as all her problems seem to melt away. That was until a voice rang in the back of her. 

    "That's Shining Lion, dude she's over there." Her shoulders drop stabbing her chopsticks in her dumplings. She slowly turns around to see a few kids staring at her. One kid shushes the others as he walks over fiddling with his fingers. 

    "Um excuse me Ms. Lion can you please take a picture with us." She looks at her food then at the kid. His eyes looked at her with such adoration. 

    "Sure kid I'll take a picture." She couldn't say no to a face like that.  

    "Awesome, and don't worry my parents owned the restaurant. I can pay you back in dumplings." She snorts at that. Huh, she can't remember the last time she laughed either. They stand in the back as him and his friends take turns posing in pictures with her. 

    "Thank you so much, you were always my favorite in the team, I wanna be just like you some day." The boy said as his friends nod in agreement. 

    "Thanks," She brushes her hair behind her ear. The boy then looks down as the others start to look sad. Feng raises a brow at that tilting her head as one of them speaks up. 

    "We are sorry to hear the news." The one that called out to her before said.

    "Yeah the team is full of a bunch of idiots for getting rid of you." Her stomach sinks to the floor at that. 

    "What?" She was a bit breathless. The boy takes out his phone showing her the team's official website. It rests on the screen in bold letters. Feng Min Known as Shining Lion will hereby be cut from the team for the foreseeable future her space will be filled by a new up and comer. She looks back at the kids then at the phone this message was a few hours ago. 

    "Is everything okay?" The kids look at her concerned as Feng stands up taller now. 

    "Yes, don't worry about it." She walks away, placing down a large bunch of cash as she walks out the restaurant pulling out her phone. She has the team's manager on speed dial as she waits under a street light for her to pick up. 

    "Hello," Feng clutches her phone.

    "Feng uh hey, um listen we need to talk." They say over the phone. 

    "Cut the bullshit, I know, I saw the message. Why the fuck did you cut me, I was on a break I would've been back in gear in a few days." She starts to shake a bit wanting to throw up. 

    "Feng the team and I have been talking and I don't think it's been getting healthy for you to stay." They try to say softly. 

    "What?! And replacing me with someone else without a fucking word was going to make me better!" She shouts, several heads turn towards her as she moves into the alley to sit on a step, her leg jumping up and down.

    "Feng it's not like that, listen the team hasn't been doing well and you have been slipping. As much as you are advantaged you are much more of a liability. Especially with your drunken escapades that you can't seem you remember. It's just...not a good look for us please understand." Feng forms a tight line as she throws her phone to the ground cracking the screen. The rain falls harder as tears fall from her eyes. She leans her head back looking at the sky. The sun starts to set over the city. She stays there for what feels like hours, her soul sinking into a pit. A pit she's trying to crawl out of, enough to where her nails draw blood. Thunder roars overhead as she slowly gets up, grabbing her broken phone and placing it in her pocket as she walks aimlessly throughout the city. So much for her purpose to think all that hard work only to have to do it all over again. She kicks a rock as a neon sign catches her attention. It's a bar having a deal on drinks. 

    "Of course." A sad smile creeps into her face. The comfort she always tries to escape always finds itself in front of her again. What did she have to lose? Boots splash into puddles as she walks up to the bar hearing the drunken cheers of people. Feng walks inside the dim establishment taking a seat in the back ordering a round of beer for herself. She drinks, and drinks, and drinks letting everything in her world drown out. Leaving only thoughts of winning, maybe it's just hopeful thinking but she's going to get out of this pit and rise above it all. She will find her purpose even if it kills her. After a few bottles she pays and leaves the bar walking around the city until she finds a nice trash pile to fall into. The alcohol was getting to her as she looked at the black sky. It's so endless to her you never know what's out there. Whatever the future holds she will find her purpose she will win no matter what. Her eyes grow heavy as her body grows cold. A cloud of fog escapes her lips as it starts to surround her, but before she could react she gets pulled into the embrace of sleep as a spike of determination fills her core. She gets shocked with a wave of electricity as a haunting laugh greets her in the darkness.

And with that Feng was never seen again.

[myheartrevealedocs]

Untouchable Ch 19: True Night (S3E10)

Warnings: murder, swearing, graphic injuries, mentions of psychotic break, gang references

Ch 18 | Ch 20

~ ~ ~

“No!” Lydia exclaimed, trying to push Spencer’s hand out of the direction of the cashier. They’d decided to go out to lunch together on his day off. Lydia had just passed her gun qualifications test, which meant that soon enough she’d be back in the field and Spencer wanted to celebrate. “You can’t pay again!”

“You just finished graduate school and I work a fulltime job,” he argued. “I’m paying.”

The woman behind the counter laughed slightly and grabbed Spencer’s credit card before Lydia could push it aside again. “I gotta agree with him, hun. Little things like lunches add up when you’re trying to pay off student debt.”

“But what of my ‘Spencer’ debt?” she replied.

The woman just giggled. “You two are adorable, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Lydia smiled at her and ran off to find a table, leaving Spencer to mumble an awkward ‘thank you’ before following her. He wanted to appreciate the compliment more, but it threw him for a loop. He’d recently been thinking a lot about how he and Lydia acted around others and, more importantly, the team.

Spencer never imagined being a part of such a strong relationship. He’d never thought he’d be so comfortable with another person that they’d tease each other at a cafe or that strangers would find their behavior adorable. And after his first date with Lydia, he knew he’d do anything to get to this point.

Not telling the team was an attempt to protect his fragile heart. It had already gone against his common sense by falling for Lydia in the first place. But now… he loved her so much. He would let her break his heart into a million pieces, then leave it on the floor for the team to step on as they walked past. He would happily let the whole world know if it meant he could hold her hand on the jet. He might even consider letting the Bureau fire him for keeping secrets from them, just so long as the two of them were together.

But was it fair to ask of her? After she spent so long protecting their secret for his sake?

“What’s up, Spencer?” Lydia asked. He’d just reached the table, but had yet to sit down with her, instead looking out the window with unwavering concentration.

“Hm…?” he responded, still not processing her concern, so she grabbed one of his hands and pulled him into his seat.

“Tell me what’s got you distracted,” she demanded.

His eyes went from the window, to her, to the window again, trying to make up his mind.

“I can’t stand this secrecy thing!” he finally blurted out. “I thought it’d be fine because I’m a great liar and- Why are you laughing?!”

She tried to hide her smile behind her hand, but it wasn’t exactly easy to play off a laugh. “Sorry. I just think you’re so modest,” she replied, sarcastically. “Please, continue though. You’re a ‘great liar’ and…”

He was clearly not expecting this reaction from her. “And… And well, I just… don’t want to lie about this anymore,” he admitted. “I want to be able to talk to you in the office without raising suspicions. And I want to hug you and hold your hand without worrying that someone we know will see us.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

“...okay?” He blinked. “You aren’t upset that I’m the one to-?”

“Nope.”

“And you’re okay with us just-?”

“Yep.”

Wow… he really hadn’t expected this reaction from her.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

“Spencer, I honestly don’t care. But are you sure? Because having a girlfriend is going to open you up to a lot of teasing from the team,” she warned him.

He waved an arm dismissively. “I can take them.”

She raised an eyebrow, watching him relax back into his normal self. It’s silly, she thought, the things that make him anxious. But she was relieved it wasn't anything serious. The thing with Spencer was sometimes the little things seemed huge and the big things he thought he could handle alone.

“So, we’re going to do this?” he confirmed.

“We’ll start with Hotch,” she reasoned. “And see what sort of agreements we’d have to make to be in an office relationship. Then, we can decide how to announce it to the rest of the team.”

He agreed, a smile spreading across his features. “It’s stupid, but I feel like I won’t be able to wait that long. Even after all the time we’ve already spent pretending there was nothing between us. I feel like I’m going to see you in the bullpen one day and just kiss you in front of everyone.”

She rolled her eyes jokingly. “You’ll be fine. If I see you going in for a kiss I’ll dodge.”

The image of her ducking away from his affection in the middle of the office had them both cracking up and they had to recover quickly so they wouldn’t get kicked out of the place.

~ ~ ~

They had planned on telling Hotch Friday morning, but Lydia ended up being called into the office for a case before that could happen. And it happened to be so severe that she was on a flight to Los Angeles before she really knew what had happened.

“You should have listened to me,” Spencer argued as Morgan, Lydia, and him got out of the SUV and onto the street. As she walked, her arm hit the holster on her belt multiple times, not used to having the bulky object at her hip.

“It wouldn’t have saved that much time, Reid,” Morgan snapped. “Let it go.”

“The interchange between the 405 and the 101 freeways is consistently rated the worst interchange in the entire world.”

Morgan took in a large breath. “Why do you know that?!” he accused.

“It’s a government report.”

Lydia burst out laughing.

“So, what?” Morgan cried.

“So, you work for the government,” Reid continued. “What, you don’t read the reports?”

As they argued, the three of them walked underneath the tape and onto the scene itself.

“On traffic patterns in a city 2500 miles from where I live?”

“2295 miles-”

“Don’t make me smack you in front of all these people.”

“Derek, you know not to estimate around Reid,” Lydia teased. “He doesn’t understand anything but the specifics.”

“I understand th-”

“I’m Brady, LAPD,” a man said, cutting Spencer off from defending himself.

“Derek Morgan,” the older man greeted, shaking his hand, then pointing to the other two. “Dr. Reid and Dr. Ambers. The rest of the team is in an SUV behind us.”

“Yeah. Stuck in traffic,” Reid snapped, looking at Morgan before realizing now wasn’t the time. “Uh, so you had two more victims last night?”

“They were discovered a little after 3:30 by a cleaning crew finishing up in the building,” Brady explained.

“So that’s seven victims over the past two weeks,” Morgan said and the detective nodded.

“Bodies are in the alley. What’s left of them.”

“Same victimology?” Spencer asked as Lydia stepped past them, pulling out a pair of gloves.

All they could determine about the kill method was that their unsub was using a bladed weapon. Something long, like a machete or sword, which wasn’t very common. During the flight, they’d determined they were looking for one guy, suffering from a psychotic break. It was the only way to explain the overkill, the locations, and the weapon. But it was hard to look at the victims and imagine one guy could have done this.

Both men were mutilated. Their chests had been sliced through multiple times, making their torsos look almost hollow. One’s arm was multiple feet from the body. The other had almost been separated at the waist.

Blood was splattered across the buildings surrounding them and it flowed from the bodies into a nearby sewer grate. At this point, both men were practically dried up.

“What do you see?” Morgan asked as he stepped up behind her.

“Same type of victim. It’s either gang retaliation or someone who wants to clean up the streets.”

“That’s too organized,” he argued. “Unsubs that are going through psychotic breaks don’t plan like that.”

“Well, clearly there’s a pattern here,” she argued, pointing to their hoodies, tattoos, chains, and clothing. “He’s not killing businessmen or waitresses or anything in between. He’s got vengeance on his mind.”

~ ~ ~

“Not good,” Lydia mumbled as she walked onto the next scene the following day.

The unsub had actually gone to the house of the gang leader, Glen Hill. There were 6 bodies, each more brutal than the last.

She stepped around the scene carefully, the blood pooling around the victims like auras.

“T.S.K.?” Hotch asked, pointing to the graffitied letters on the walls.

“Twenty-third street killers,” Brady informed them.

Rossi picked up a gun. “Looks like they tried to fight back.”

“They failed,” Spencer said.

It was hard to differentiate the blood with the spray paint splattered against the walls, but Lydia did her best to analyze the drops and determine where the victims had been standing when they were hit.

“So, what do we do now?” the detective demanded.

“We’re already doing it,” Rossi informed him.

“An unsub in a psychotic rage stands out,” Spencer explained.

“Agent Jareau’s got the media playing the press conference every hour,” Hotch continued. “She’s putting the profile out to the public. Someone in this man’s world knows he’s in crisis. Hopefully, they'll recognize the description.”

“Hotch,” Emily called from the next room. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

Lydia was on his tail, following Prentiss out back, where a small trail of blood was leading from the door, to the side gate, then disappearing on the sidewalk. From the marks in the grass, it looked like a body had been dragged. Not only were they looking at 6 murders, but a kidnapping as well.

~ ~ ~

By that afternoon, they were bringing a suspect into custody. A man named Jon McHale. He was a graphic novelist, who’d been attacked by Glen Hill’s gang a few months ago, resulting in the death of his girlfriend.

A few people had shown up to the station to explain situations they’d been in with him over the past few days. His manager was concerned for his health, saying that he kept calling Vickie, his dead girlfriend. Some of his fans had watched him flip out when he showed up to a book signing. And one dude hit him with his car when he ran out into the middle of the road and when the man went to check if he was okay, Jon almost choked him to death.

As they took him into the station, Lydia helped Hotch and Rossi bag items from his apartment to be used as evidence. He had all sorts of violent storyboards, some which reflected their crime scenes to a T. There wasn’t a doubt in their minds that they’d found their guy.

“Can you go get the mugshot of Glen Hill?” Hotch asked Emily as they got back to the station.

“Yeah,” she replied, dropping the boxes of drawings on a nearby desk and disappearing.

Hotch turned on her. “Lydia, did Gideon talk to you about speaking to unsubs undergoing a psychotic break?”

“Yes.”

“Good, I want you running point with him. Command his presence like Frank. Keep him on track. We’ll get answers.”

Hotch left to explain the plan to the detective, leaving her to prepare herself for the interview. Gideon warned her that it was difficult to talk to unsubs like Jonny. His trauma was causing him to do things he’d otherwise be disgusted by. Before all of this, he was a good person and without the mental fracturing, he still would be. But the only way to get answers from him would be to put him under complete stress.

Lydia handed her weapon to Spencer, giving him a small wave goodbye. He looked nervous, but she didn’t dwell on it. Her only concern now was speaking with Jonny.

She led in the group, dropping the mug shot of Glen Hill that Emily had printed in front of the young man, then sitting across from him at the table. “Hello, Jonny. My name’s Lydia,” she said, curtly. “Do you know who that is?”

He shook his head. “Why does this have anything to do with me?”

“That’s Glen Hill,” Hotch said to her left.

Rossi took the right. “He’s missing.”

“You think I know where he is?” Jonny demanded.

Emily walked in, setting one of the boxes from his apartment down in front of Lydia.

“Six months ago, he and his gang victimized you and your girlfriend, right?” Brady asked.

Jonny’s head dashed wildly between everyone in the room, trying to keep track of them. “What?”

Lydia snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Jonny, look at me.”

“They attacked you on the street,” Emily continued, grabbing his attention once more.

“No.”

“And you couldn’t identify any of them after you got out of the hospital,” Brady said.

“Look at me,” Lydia insisted once more. She knew that the feeling of being surrounded was freaking him out enough. With everyone making accusations, if she made it seem like he wasn’t allowed to answer them, it would drive him even more insane. “Don’t worry about him.”

“This is crazy,” he said, looking at the photos in front of him. She could hear his handcuffs rustling against the table. He was trying to break away from her.

“I believe you're suffering from a post-traumatic form of a psychotic break,” Hotch told him, setting his hands on the table to lean over him and feel imposing.

“Psychotic?”

“And you have been for weeks.”

“Come on.”

“It’s possible you don’t even know,” Rossi said, once again forcing Jonny to turn fully around and look at him.

“How could I not know?”

Emily set down a storyboard in front of him. It showed two figures, mutilated in an alleyway, their killer standing above them with a sword. The whole scene was black and white, except for the pure red blood that ran down the gutters and towards the sidewalk.

“That’s a page from something I’m working on,” he told them.

“We know,” Lydia said, letting Emily drop another picture in front of him, this time an above shot from the scene she’d arrived on yesterday. “This is a murder scene from two nights ago.” She pointed between the bodies, both laid out in the same fashion. “Are you seeing any similarities?”

“You were there,” Rossi claimed. “Yesterday. I talked to you.”

“We have photos of you,” Emily continued.

He shook his head, pointing at the picture with his free hand. “Wait. This is real?”

“These are members of the twenty-third street killers,” Brady said. “Glen Hill’s gang.”

Emily continued setting out photos, one of Hill’s house, the other a matching drawing of McHale’s.

“And there were six gang members murdered in that house last night,” Hotch explained.

“No. No, this can’t be. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“This house belongs to Glen Hill. There was a trail of blood leading out the back door. We believe that you took Mr. Hill with you when you left.”

“These are just drawing-- my imagination,” Jonny argued.

Rossi sighed. “Severe PTSD is not uncommon for victims of violent crimes.”

“Victims?”

“You’re bleeding,” Emily noticed, pointing to a spot on the left side of his ribcage.

“It looks like a grazing gunshot wound,” Rossi accused

Hotch leaned over him threateningly. “Did they shoot you last night?”

“Look, stop it! I would know if I’d been… a victim!”

“Do you remember being in the hospital?”

“I was never-” The sound of his handcuffs got louder as his stress level increased. He was pulling away from them.

Rossi threw down a file in front of him, flipping through it as he talked. “That’s your medical report. They cut you open, Mr. McHale! You were nearly eviscerated.” He lifted up the boy's shirt to reveal a long scar through his abdomen. “They said it was a miracle you lived.”

“Miracle?” he demanded. “You think living was a miracle?”

He was breaking. Put some more pressure on him, and they’d get their answers. Hotch and Rossi took over, throwing questions around back and forth.

“All your drawings reflect actual crime scenes. All of them but one.”

“Where is this crime scene, Jonny?”

“Is this Glen Hill?”

“Where is he? Where’s Glen Hill?”

“Jonny, look at me!” Lydia insisted one more time.

“No!”

At his scream, Jonny finally ripped his right arm away from the table, splintering the bar the handcuffs were attached too. Noticing his escape, the whole room jumped to subdue him, but not fast enough. He got in a solid swing across Lydia’s face, knocking her back, her hands covering her cheek protectively.

“No! No!” he kept yelling. “You don’t know what’s out there! No one knows about the night!”

Hotch and Brady got ahold of Jonny’s arms, Emily pushing him back into the chair.

“We don’t want to hurt you, Jonny.”

“It’s okay, son,” Rossi tried to calm him. “It’s okay.”

They’d done it. He was remembering what had happened to him, what he’d done. But it didn’t make watching him any easier.

“Lydia,” Hotch called, not turning away from their suspect, “are you okay?”

“Yes, sir.” She stepped up, standing over Jonny, so that he could see her blotchy cheek and come to terms with what he’d done. “Jonny, you aren’t healthy.”

His eyes scanned her face, before he shut them tightly and started to sob. “I couldn’t help her.” He shook his head, tears streaming down his face. He was talking about Vickie, his girlfriend. “They made me watch.”

“I can help you,” Rossi said. “If we can tell the court that you told us where Glen Hill is-”

“They made me watch!”

“I know. I know. They’re animals.”

“You were sick,” Hotch told him. “You didn’t know what you were doing.”

The memory of his confrontation with Glen Hill was too much for Jonny. He could barely speak.

“Where’s Glen Hill, Jonny?”

He sobbed, his body shaking for several minutes, before he broke, giving the address to the group. Emily dashed outside to find Glen Hill, but they all knew he was dead. There was no way Jonny would have been able to stop himself from completing his revenge.

Brady started to recuff Jonny, taking him out of the interrogation room and into a holding cell, Hotch on his tail. Rossi stayed behind to help Lydia pack up all the evidence they’d used during the interview.

“You’re good,” he complimented. “Sorry you got the short end of the stick today.”

“It’s fine.” Lydia rubbed her jaw, sorely. “I deserved it.”

“For what?”

She shrugged, grabbing the box and starting to leave. “I know we had to break him. But no one deserves to relive traumatic events against their will.”

“You sound as if you speak from experience.”

She smiled at him over her shoulder. “It’s not really fair to profile someone who can’t profile you back, hm?” Then, she stepped outside and came face to face with Spencer.

“What did he do to you?” Spencer demanded, his hand already reaching for her swelling cheek.

“It’s fine,” she breezed, hearing Rossi exit the room behind her. “He had a mean right hook. I antagonized him.”

“I’ll get you some ice,” he said, leaving before she could argue.

“Maybe it isn’t fair,” Rossi mumbled from behind her. “But you make it so easy.”

Lydia just laughed at him.

~ ~ ~

“You found one of Jonny McHale’s books?” Lydia asked as she sat across from Spencer on the jet. She still had an ice pack pressed against her cheek at his insistence and the whole side of her face was starting to feel numb.

He looked up from his graphic novel. “Yeah! It’s called Blue. It’s about a girl who thinks she’s a real human being, right? But it turns out she’s a robot that was built by her uncle.”

“So it’s Pinocchio,” JJ reasoned as she passed the two of them.

“Yeah, it is like Pinocchio,” he laughed. “Only, uh, it’s set in a high school in outer space.”

She made an amused face and kept going, sitting with Rossi and Emily.

Spencer turned back to her, that special sparkle in his eyes. “Hey, did you know that Carlo Lorenzini, the guy that wrote Pinocchio, was said to be obsessed with the human nose? As a matter of fact, Pinocchio wasn’t even the first character of his to feature a large nose- How’s your cheek doing?”

She chuckled, having seen his sudden change in topic from a mile away. “It’s fine. It will probably be nice and swollen by the time we get back.” She pulled the ice pack away to reveal a splotchy pink and purple mess. “What’s your analysis, doctor?”

He leaned forward, examining it teasingly. “Hm… Looks like quite the injury. You must be very brave, doctor.”

They laughed until they heard Morgan walking past, talking irritably into his phone. “Just leave it alone until I get there. Hey. Hey! Hard-head! Don’t make me spank you when I get back.”

Spencer, who had already stuck his nose back into the graphic novel, immediately spoke up so that the person on the other line could hear him. “Don’t listen to him, Garcia. He’s all talk.”

Instinctively, Morgan smacked him across the back of the head and kept walking.

“Ow!” Spencer cried over Lydia’s laughs. “Stop laughing! He just hit me.”

Lydia handed him the ice pack. “Poor baby,” she cooed. “Why don’t you put some ice on it and it will feel better?”

“I hate you,” he grumbled.

~ ~ ~

Once they were back at headquarters, Lydia told Spencer it was now or never. Nodding her head, she ran up the catwalk to Hotch’s office, slipping inside casually.

“Lydia? How may I help you?”

She held up a finger and they stood there silently until Spencer also walked through the door, shutting it behind him awkwardly.

“Reid? What’s this about?”

Lydia stood in front of his desk, clasping her hands behind her back. “This is where we tell you something you already know and you act surprised about it.”

“Got it.”

“...We’re dating.”

“I’m shocked,” he responded, completely deadpanned.

“Is there some kind of office relationship… whatever that we need to fill out?”

“You don’t work in this office, Lydia, so not exactly. But you do work for the Bureau which means they have to know. I’ll do some research into it and get back to you. My best guess is Garcia will have to put it into our system and you might be required to agree to certain terms. At worst, they might have someone come in to question you and determine whether or not your relationship will affect your ability to work together, but I doubt it, seeing as Lydia isn’t an agent.”

“Thank you,” Lydia breathed. “I was worried this would be a big mess.”

“I think Reid here was ten times more nervous.”

She smirked at her abnormally silent boyfriend. He was completely frozen, staring at Hotch with a pale face. “I believe he was.”

“I should warn you,” Hotch continued, “that if this had been going on for much longer than two weeks, you could get in trouble for hiding pertinent information from the Bureau.”

“Two weeks, then,” Lydia said.

“Two weeks,” Spencer repeated.

“Good.” Hotch looked down at the file on his desk. There was silence. Then, he furled his eyebrow, glancing back up at the two of them. “You’re free to go.”

“Right,” Spencer squeaked, grabbing Lydia’s hand and pulling her to the door, as if Hotch would change his mind if they stayed any longer. “Going.”

Tags: @kris-stuff, @wooya1224, @arthurmorrgans​, @anotherr-fine-mess, @eddysocs

[vember-v]

H.2.L (maybe outdated)

Chapter 1: Outside

Next Chapter: Chapter 2

abomination... abomination... you. Are. Abomination. ABOMINATION!

"HAX! WAKE UP!" A Papyrus shouted.

A Sans opens his eyes and saw a Papyrus shaking him. The Sans named Hax stops Papyrus from shaking him by putting both his hands on his'

"SUSSY BAKA." 202 replied with a smirk.

"I'm awake! I'm awake! What seems to be a problem 202?" The Sans asked.

The Papyrus named 202 smiles like he's about to make a joke.

"C'mon bro, can't keep up the joke?." 202 asked.

Hax stands up, inhale and exhale.

"STOP SAYING ABOUT AMOGUS!! I'M TIRED OF HEARING IT! MY FRIENDS ON TWITTER SEND ME MEMES, ON DISCORD IT'S FU-"

"Jesus dude, you're so cringe right now. I'm gonna die from you." 202 Said

"Die from me? Got it." Hax said.

Hax's right palm glitches and a desert eagle sticks on the palm. He pointed at 202 but he blocks it away.

"Don't take a joke seriously." 202 said as he knew Hax would pull out his favorite 'animal'.

"Sorry."

"I wake you up because it's currently 3:40 in the afternoon. You sleep long enough, bro." he said

Hax notices 202 is walking away “Hey, where are you going?”

“I got some UNO fight with somebody, not done with them yet.” 202 said.

“Okay uhh... Have fun!” He said.

Once 202 is nowhere to be seen. Hax looks around, the place he is living in is an empty white world with damaged buildings, white fires, glitches, and floating objects. Feels like he is living in a void with damaged things. It's not so bad, right? Hax begins walkings. Walking down a street, he sees a lot of people using consoles, codes, things you use to program to reconstruct damaged and glitched buildings. Most of them are entities, strangers, some maybe humans. Another day in a surreal world.

"Maybe visiting Luciel would help the mood." He thought and teleports to a nearby bar.

"Ah, Luciel's BARing"

He opens the door as he hears a bell on top of the door ring. Many people sit on chairs talking to each other. Hax sits on a bar chair. A female bartender cleaning her glasses looks at Hax. 

"Ay, what whaddup doc Luciel?" He greets the bartender.

"Oh, it's YOU." Luciel greets him back.

"Gee, that's rough, don't you have any better words to say?" Hax asked

"Don't you know it's rude to ruin my bar last week?" She answered his question with another question.

"You know, the one where you got into a fight and damaged my bar?"

"Okay let's not carry that away. I'm sorry alright?" He asked then put his head on the table.

"Well, I guess I can forgive your recklessness. You're a bit... odd today, Hax." She said

"Don't know what you're talking about, doc. It's just another boring day." Hax said

Hax has been sitting there for hours till the sky is starting to look like a sunset. There is no sun, the sky is just starting to become like that. People in the bar begin leaving until there's only Hax and Luciel staying in the bar. Luciel cleans the drinking glasses while Hax is still on the table, still putting his head on the table... Luciel looks at him for a brief moment before finish cleaning a wine glass. After another glass bites the clean, she walks up to Hax.

"Hax?" She asked

Hax answers with a thumbs up.

"How about we look at some stars? Maybe that'll help your mood since you love gazing at them." Luciel said.

He looks up. "Outside?"

Luciel shakes her head "Nuh-uh, outside of this world."

Hax thinks for a moment then gets off the chair.

"Then, I'll wait for you to change." He said and walks out of the bar.

Once he got out and hears the bell rings once again. He looks up and sees that the sky has completely become pitch black, like a void but at least snows are falling, lights are glowing from the houses, streets, and parks and some stars are hovering in the sky. He looks down looking at his hands which have holes in them, he referred to his hands as "Hen hands". He wonders... how is he alive? Can he remember the past? His past life? Who is his family? Sure, 202 is his brother but... how? Who made him? Who's their mother? Or father? He just knows he woke up in someplace and 202 is there.

His thoughts get interrupted when he hears the bell on top of the bar's door ring. Luciel finally comes out of her bar, wearing a black turtleneck shirt, a white lab coat that goes down to her shoes, and long black pants instead of her bartender outfit.

"I don't understand why are you taller than me." He said.

"You got problems with that?" She asked.

"Yes, aren't men supposed to be taller than women?" Hax asked.

"... That is the dumbest question I've ever heard in my life, Hax. No, Not all men are taller than women," Luciel answered his question.

She offers him to hold hands. Hax hesitates but accepts her request. She raises her arm straight and stretches her palm. She creates a portal. The two go into it.

LOCATION: LANDSCAPE - 8:32 PM

Hax and Luciel go out of the portal and has arrived at their destination, a landscape. Hax is shaking relentlessly. She notices and puts her arms on his shoulders.

"You okay?" She asked.

"Yeah, haven't get used to the whole portal feeling thing," Hax answered.

Luciel messages Hax's back just to calm him down. Once he stops shaking, she stops messaging.

Hax looks at her. "You know, you don't have to massage me, it's weird."

She pulls Hax's hand to follow her. "In a good way or, a bad way?"

"What if both?" He asked

Luciel turns around and boop his none existence nose. "Then I'll keep comfort you by massaging your back." She smiled.

"Is this your way of comforting a friend?" He asked.

She chuckles and lets out a smirk. "Yes."

After the conversation, they walk, and walk, and walk as they look at the stars in the sky. As a star person, Hax couldn't help but rushed to a bridge to get a clear look at the stars. Once he is on the bridge, he didn’t expect not only to see billions of stars, but also billions of galaxies, cosmics, and universes floating around in a giant dark void.

"Woah..." Hax said in awe.

Luciel walks up to him and places her hand on his shoulder "Woah indeed."

"Where are..." He tried to ask her properly but looking at universes and stars in the sky, he can't say.

"This is the multiverse, my friend. Every star has living things in it."

Hax couldn't believe it. "I know I have visited some AUs but... I've never seen the multiverse or the outside of universes this close and personal. So many stars, galaxies, cosmics, universes... so many beauties. You know, I was expecting you to show me stars outside of our world but this... this is better. Thanks."

"No problem, dude." She said

Luciel pulls out a cigarettes box and a lighter, she took out a cigarette from the box and lights it up with the lighter. Then she vibes with the cigarette in her mouth. Suddenly, Hax takes her cigarette from her mouth and begins smoking. He smirks at her.

Luciel raises an eyebrow. "Don't you think that's a bit rude?"

Hax takes off the cigarette, drops and squashes it removing the flame on the tip of it "You smoke? I don't."

"Unfunny didn't laugh but please, don't waste my cigarettes." She said

Luciel takes out a cigarette and lights up again. They just look at the stars while walking down the bridge.

"London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down~. London Bridge is falling down, my fair lady~." He sang happily.

"You know Hax, London Bridge Is Falling Down is a dark song..." Luciel said, giving Hax a bit of knowledge of the song.

"How is it dark? It's just a catchy song!" He said, not believing that the song is dark.

"The song is about vikings attacking London in the early 1000's, but that is just a legend. The real message behind the song is actually about a human sacrifice. At the time of the bridge's construction, it is believed that the spirits of the dead are behind the walls of the bridge because constructors think that burying bodies in the foundation of the buildings was a fine way to keep the structure standing. Imagine, starving to death in those walls. Watching those who pass through the bridge without noticing you trying to catch their attention" She explained.

The more Hax thinks about it, the more he gets his mood ruined by Luciel. "Thanks for ruining my mood, Luciel..."

"Let's face it, England has a very dark history." She said.

"You could have stopped me from continuing the song but you decide to bring that sh-t up, thanks a lot I really appreciate it." Hax said in a sacarsm tone.

"Your welcome." She smiled.

"I wonder what happens next..." The skeleton said as he continues to look at it.

They still walking and past the bridge. Another day passed...

Unknowingly, someone is watching them. A skeleton with a half-black, and half-white face. He looks at the multiverse.

[whattodowithkpop]

Saving Grace (Chapter 3) [S. Coups]

Title: Saving Grace

Pairing: Seungcheol (S. Coups) x Reader 

Genre: Angst, Spice, Fluff

Word Count: 12.3K Words [All Chapters]

Writer: Kpopmadness

Summary: Reader is an Empress with tragic backstory and Seungcheol plans an alliance with her.

*****

Chapter 3;

"Empress, are you awake?" A soft voice calls from behind the Empresses bedroom door. She sat at her window seat staring out at the stars that night, her mind swirling with the days events. Seungcheol's words echo in her mind and create a confused feeling that threatens to choke her. She lets her fingers wander down the side of her neck and cheek. Feeling her scars deep pathways running on her skin. It's trail familiar to her, and strangely soothing.

Zeus and Sasha lay at her feet, keeping watch with her as she stared out the window. She gently stroked Zeus' back and ears while she thought. 

"Yes, i'm awake." The empress calls, giving her only friend in her big palace entry. 

Tilly opened the bedroom door softly and peeked her head in, her shiny black hair cascading down her shoulders. Zeus and Sasha lift their heads in unison and quickly stand and greet her, their tales wagging excitedly. 

"I have one thing to say to you, and your not going to like it." Tilly announces sternly. Dropping the formalities.

The Empresses quirks one eyebrow up at her friend but remains silent. 

"If you don't marry that man that was here earlier, i will." Tilly says, her mouth turning up into a smile before she bursts out laughing and throws herself on the Empresses large bed excitedly. Clearly, it wasn't her first time doing that.

The Empress roles her eyes but feels her lips curve up in a smirk, "He has spunk. I'll give him that." 

Tilly rolls onto her stomach as she says matter of factly, "He's handsome too."  

The Empress stares at her friend in shock, "Tills, he's the heir to the very man that sentenced my entire family to death before my very eyes. And the way he talked to me earlier only proves to me he's just like his father. Narrow minded and hot headed." 

Tilly shrugs and stares at her friend for a moment before asking, "But he wasn't wrong, was he? What he said about you hiding in this big place by yourself. It wasn't all wrong, otherwise you would be asleep by this hour. Besides, he came to you asking for help to overthrow his own fathers kingship. That hardly says he's just like his father." 

The Empress narrows her eyes at Tilly, only to have the girl narrow her bright green eyes back at her. Tilly was one of The Empresses decoys. She was actually the only person The Empress could remember spending her childhood with after her families death. Tilly was supposed to be a servant, her mother often took care of The Empresses own mother. Then when the palace came under attack, Tilly's own mother had been killed by a solider that night. Tilly was only a few years younger than The Empress. And when The Empress regained consciousness a few hours after the attack, surprised that she was even still alive, Tilly had been there watching her. 

"It doesn't matter.” The Empresses says curtly, "I'm not helping him. And i am not going to the banquet he talked about his father holding for our engagement."

Tilly glared at The Empress before saying, "You need to go." 

The Empress looked at her in shock and opened her mouth to say something but she cut her off. 

"You need to go to prove that what happened in your past made you stronger." Tilly pointed out. She paused a moment. "He hurt you, and took everything from you. You can't hide in this big palace forever teasing every man that comes along. You should go. And face your fears."

The Empress stared at her friend for a few moments before turning her head to look back out the window at the night sky. 

"You're annoying, you know that, right?" The Empress whispered, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

Tilly stood up and giggled, "I know. But its fun annoying you."

..............

The night of the engagement party arrived. The sound of music flooded the large elegant ball room. 

Women in beautiful gowns and wearing too much perfume clung to the arms of their suitors. While the gentlemen took their ladies hands in theirs carefully and spun them around the room on beat to the song being played. 

Seungcheol stood by his father greeting their guests with a fake smile and a halfhearted bow. 

"She'd better be here, son." Seongcheol's father said through bared teeth, trying to keep his fake yet, winning smile plastered to his face. 

Seongcheol sighed and remarked, "I told you everything that happened their father. I met with her, we talked about how we would join our kingdoms together, then she said she would think about coming tonight. But she never fully agreed to marry me." Seongcheol felt a stone sink in his gut. He couldn't believe he was lying to his own father. He had never lied before. It made his back break out in a cold sweat despite wearing a light weight tunic. 

"Yes, i know what you said." The King snapped. "But if she does not come there will be consequences." 

Seongcheol winced, knowing what his father was implying.

 "Well i wasn't the one who arranged this party two days before i had even met the girl." Seongcheol snapped back. 

The King turned to face him, the smile still on his face but looked more forced. His dark eyes held a fire behind them that Seongcheol knew too well. He put a hand on Seungcheol's shoulder. To onlookers it looked as if just a father and a son were having a deep meaningful talk. However, from how The Kings nails bit into Seongcheol's skin he knew for sure it was out of anger.

His fathers deep voice was barely above a whisper as he growled, "If you don't keep your bloody mouth shut, i will see to it that you are tied to a post and whipped until your back looks like shredded meat." 

His father fixed him with a hard stare that Seongcheol matched. Never once letting his eyes move away from his fathers. 

The King removed his hand from Seongcheol's shoulder and straightened his tunic before mumbling under his breath, "Just like i did with your beloved mother." 

Seongcheol felt a spark of anger rise in his chest, his muscles becoming taught. His hands went into fists at his sides. His father met his eyes defiantly, knowing he had struck a sensitive spot. Seongcheol was about to say something when a soft voice broke in;

"Excuse me."

Seongcheol had to hide his shock. Because he recognized the girl standing before him. Her red gown sparkled in the candle light. Her black hair was pulled back in an elegant braid that swooped across her right shoulder. That was bare dude to her dresses sleeves that fell off her shoulders. A line of gold roses was tattooed decoratively under her collarbones and a black rose necklace hung just below that. Highlighting the dresses  teasing neckline. 

Another string of gold was just beneath her left eye. Her long eyelashes painted black that only brought out her green eyes.  But Seunngcheol's true focus was on the guard just behind her.

The guards bright gray eyes that reminded him so much like a storm stared right back at him. Even though the rest of her face was concealed by the chrome mask, he knew she was angry. She barely acknowledged him, she kept her eyes fixed on his father. The man that destroyed her world in one night. Her hand gripped the dagger at her thigh so hard Seungcheol imagined her knuckles were probably white, all blood drained from them.

She met his eyes then, and he gave her a small nod. She stared at him for a minute before nodding her head back ad then turning her attention to the crowd around her. Obviously trying to distract herself.

"And you would be, my dear?" The King asked, his words sweet like honey even though moments ago his nails had been biting into Seungcheol's shoulder. Which now throbbed and burned in protest under his tunic. 

The girl smiled sweetly at Seungcheol's father as she said in a loud enough voice for onlookers to hear; "I am your sons fiance, my king." 

Seungchoel caught the look of shock that quickly went across his fathers face before he bowed his head,

"Empress. Welcome home." 

The decoy Empress meets Seungcheol's eyes and smiles sweetly to him, "Prince Seungcheol," She says with a bow. Seungcheol does the same, letting his head hang low for a moment. 

The decoy Empress loops her arm through his and begins walking down the palace steps to the dining hall. Whispers of shock laced with envy follow them. 

The decoy leans closer to Seungcheol, her lips against his ear, "My name is Tilly, by the way." She says, smiling up at him.

Seungcheol smiles down at her, trying to play the part. But he can't stop his head from turning, trying to find the real Empress only he knew. 

"Don't be angry with her." Tilly whispered beside him. 

Seongcheol looked down at her, taken aback. "I'm... i mean i'm not.."

 "She's here because she knows your right." Tilly continued, "But no matter what she says, shes human too. And afraid." 

Seungcheol stared at Tilly, but she was no longer looking at him. She was smiling at the countless guests instead. Accepting a congratulations here and there as they passed by. 

Seungcheol found her eyes then. She was standing by a row of other guards by a wall near the large wooden dinner table that had been set up for the royal household. She saw him and Tilly and he could see her eyes take on a soft look. She met his eyes and Seungcheol felt a wave of admiration for her. Despite the odds and her personal feelings, she was there. Maybe not showing her face, but it was a step in the right direction.

Seungcheol helped Tilly to the chair assigned to her and pulled it out for her before sitting down in the seat beside her. Seungcheol's father is the last one to enter the room, making it fall silent. 

He stands at the head of the table a moment, taking a wine glass from a near by server and raises to the crowd, "To my son and his new bride. May our kingdoms be stronger, together."

The rest of the people raise their glasses before uttering in unison, "Amen." 

Tilly smiles brightly and places a kiss on Seungcheol's cheek, taking him by surprise and making him blush. Dinner begins and the evening flows smoothly. Tilly smiles at all the right moments and talks politics and how she has plans for her kingdom once her and Seungcheol are married. Seongcheol even begins to believe hes marrying the girl. 

It’s only when desert is served that the evening takes a turn for the worse; 

Seungcheol just finishes the apple pie set before him when he hears a loud clang. Startled, everyone looks up, searching for the source of the noise. His eyes lock with the Empresses, who is bending down to pick up her dagger that had fallen to the floor. She acts as if shes embarrassed as she picks it up, dropping it clumsily a few more times before standing up straight. By then everyone has returned to their small talk, the scene forgotten.

The moment she straightens however, her eyes lock with his. A silent plea hidden behind them. Her eyes dart to Tilly and them back to him. 

Seungcheol turns to Tilly, whose face is drained of all color. Her face and lips a deathly greenish pale color. The white around her eyes has a yellow tint to them while her irises are unfocused and clouded. 

"T... Empress?" Seungcheol says, taking her elbow gently in his hand. Silently beating himself up for almost slipping up. 

Seungcheol notices then how hot her skin feels against his hand. Like someone lit a fire in her veins. 

"Is she unwell?" The King inquires, standing up from his chair, drawing others attention to them.

Tilly's breathing comes in gasps but is short and ragged. 

Seongcheol takes her face in her face in his hands, trying to get her to focus. Then her eyes roll back into her head and she starts falling backward.  Seungcheol quickly loops an arm around her waist and gently lowers her to the ground. He catches the Empress take a quick step forward, wanting to jump in and help her decoy. He shoots her a warning look, however, which makes her pause and take a step back to her place. But Seungcheol does not miss the tearful look in her eyes.

His father bends down beside him and takes Tilly's hand in his, "We need a doctor." He calls to the servant closest to him, who quickly rushes off. 

Seungcheol strokes Tilly's hair and tries to draw a response out of her. Her body shakes and a sweat begins to role down her temple. But her eyes never open once. 

By the time the doctor arrives her body has stopped shaking and her skin, which was once burning hot, has now started to cool.

He lays a hand on her forehead and checks her pulse. Once, twice, three times. Finally, he sits back on his heels and announces quietly, 

"I'm sorry, my lord. But she's dead." 

The crowd sucks in a breath and Seungcheol sees one older women to the right of him pass out, her friends catching her and attempting to revive her. But when his eyes meet the Empresses he sees only two things in her gray eyes; hurt, and raw anger.

Previous Chapter ~ Next Chapter

MASTERLIST

[tsuki-chibi]

Passionfruit (November) Day 9: Employee

Missed some? Catch up on AO3: Passionfruit

————

Chat landed lightly on the windowsill of his room and perched there for a moment, listening. Part of him had half-expected to find the firing squad waiting for him when he returned, but everything remained quiet and he realized that his father and Nathalie must still have been sleeping. Breathing a sigh of relief, he set his boots down on the floor and straightened up.

‘I’m home,’ he thought, even though he was certain that Marinette already knew that.

‘Me too,’ she thought back, sounding tired. ‘I’m in bed.’

‘Sleep well, My Lady,’ Chat thought, sending waves of comfort and reassurance in her direction. Words couldn’t accurately express how grateful he was that she was willing to give things another shot.

“Plagg, claws in,” he said out loud. Green light briefly lit the room as a very grumpy kwami appeared.

“What the hell was that?” Plagg complained. “One moment I’m sleeping and the next moment you suck me into the ring like there’s an akuma around, even though there’s not!”

Adrien froze. “Wait. Can you hear what’s going on when I’m transformed?” he asked, heart sinking. He hadn’t contemplated that possibility, but if that was the case he and Marinette were sunk before they’d even really begun. He had called Ladybug his soulmate, and she had called him by his real name.

Plagg scoffed. “Why, afraid that we might overhear you and Ladybug doing something?” he asked.

“Wh-what? No! That’s not - we’re not -” Adrien sputtered, embarrassed. He was relieved that Marinette was already asleep and thus unaware of Plagg’s insinuation.

“Sure,” Plagg said, rolling his eyes. “To answer your question, no, I can’t. I’m aware of what’s going on in so far as I can feel you using your power. I can feel your emotions somewhat, and I know when you’re around Ladybug because I sense her kwami... but I can’t hear anything beyond that. Why, did something happen tonight? I know you saw Ladybug.”

Thank god. Adrien calmed himself and gave a model smile. “I did see Ladybug. I needed some fresh air and it turned out she was feeling the same way,” he lied. “She was upset about all those people being turned to stone. She wanted to give up her miraculous.”

“Eh, the akuma will rise again and she can fix it. It’s only a matter of time,” Plagg said, growing disinterested. “I want cheese.”

“Sure,” Adrien said, completely willing to feed Plagg all the cheese he had out of sheer relief that Plagg hadn’t overheard their conversation. He opened up his fridge and took out all the Camembert he’d pilfered from the main kitchen, setting it on his desk. He’d have to get away tomorrow to buy more.

“Yessss!” Plagg hissed, dive bombing the cheese.

Adrien left him to it and went to bed. It didn’t seem like he’d been asleep for long when his alarm went off. He got up, dressed, grabbed his backpack and Plagg, and tiptoed out of his room. He didn’t mind going without breakfast if it meant that he could actually get to school for once.

‘No breakfast? I’ll bring you something,’ Marinette thought. Even her mental voice felt incredibly sleepy. Adrien smiled fondly as he let himself out the gate and started running towards school.

‘That would be much appreciated. My stomach is growling already,’ he thought. Or maybe that was Marinette’s stomach; he knew she hadn’t eaten much for dinner last night.

‘I’m on my way. I’ll meet you there,’ Marinette thought back.

‘Can’t wait,’ Adrien thought warmly. His excitement carring him to the front door... where he saw Nathalie waiting for him.

He slowed to a stop as Nathalie crossed her arms over her chest. She was wearing a disappointed look, which didn’t affect Adrien nearly as much as it used to. Maybe if he were a little younger, he’d see Nathalie as a surrogate mother... but as it was, she was nothing more than his father’s employee. On his less charitable days, he thought of her as his father’s spy.

“Adrien...” Nathalie said.

“I’m going in,” Adrien said. “Just tell him you got here too late. Please.” He rushed past her before she could speak, sprinting up the stairs. Right up until the door swung shut behind him, he thought he’d feel his bodyguard’s hand on his shoulder to stop him.

But he didn’t, and then he saw Marinette. She was leaning against a row of lockers, covering her mouth to hide a yawn. But then she swung around to face him and her eyes lit up. She took a few steps towards him, her face splitting into an enormous smile. Adrien grinned and rushed forward, unable to resist scooping her up into a big hug.

“I made it!” he exclaimed.

Marinette giggled. “I’m so happy for you!”

Her joy bounced against his and washed back, like a feedback loop that left Adrien with a silly, broad grin. He squeezed her tightly, then pulled back and looked around. A few students were looking at them weirdly, but Adrien was unfazed. He was way more interested in seeing what the inside of Collège Françoise Dupont looked like for the first time.

“This is so cool,” he said, a little awed.

“I have to run to the locker room, but I’ll meet up with you in class,” Marinette said. Before he could protest, she added, “With pastries.”

“Done,” Adrien said, squeezing her hand before letting go. She laughed at him and disappeared into the crowd, quickly swallowed up by other students.

Adrien slowly made his way to the classroom, using the directions he gleaned from Marinette’s mind. He could tell she was talking to someone - to Ivan, he realized, the boy who had become the akuma yesterday. Marinette was telling him to write a song for the girl that he liked.

“Adrikins!”

That was the only warning Adrien got before Chloé slammed into him. He let out a faint huff, grabbing her shoulders before she could knock him over completely. Chloé grabbed his arm and towed him into the classroom just in time for Adrien to hear the tail-end of a conversation.

“That was really rude, Kim,” one girl was saying.

“What?” A boy who must’ve been Kim looked uncomfortable. “I just said the truth. He really was trying to crush me!”

“You didn’t have to rub it in.” The girl put her hands on her hips and sighed loudly. “Someone should go talk to Ivan.”

“Uh, I think Marinette is talking to him,” Adrien volunteered. “I, uh, saw them in the locker room?”

Several pairs of eyes swung in his direction. The girl lit up, marching over to him and saying, “You must be the other new student! Marinette told me that you were coming.”

“You must be Alya,” Adrien said, taking the proffered hand and shaking it.

“Adrikins, I saved you a seat right here,” Chloé declared, dragging Adrien over to a seat. “Right next to me!”

“Thanks Chloé,” Adrien said awkwardly. He took his bag off and set it down. There was a boy already sitting at the desk, looking up at Adrien curiously. Adrien sat down, feeling nervous.

‘It’s okay,’ Marinette thought. ‘That’s Nino. He’s very friendly.’

“Hi,” Nino said at the same time. “You’re friends with Chloé?” He didn’t exactly say Chloé’s name in a nice way.

“Yeah...” Adrien said, uncertain. He now knew from Marinette that Chloé wasn’t a very nice person at school. And it was only the second day, so Chloé wouldn’t really have had time to show that she’d changed.

Nino frowned. “But you know Marinette.”

“She’s my best friend,” Adrien said, figuring it was the closest approximation that he could offer right now.

“Huh.” Nino’s eyes narrowed for a moment, then he shrugged. “Alright. I’m leery of anyone who is friends with Chloé, but Marinette is so nice that I can’t imagine her best friend being a bad person. Nino.” He stuck out his hand.

“Adrien,” Adrien said, shaking it.

“How did you and Marinette meet?” Alya asked, taking a seat behind Nino and leaning towards Adrien with interest.

“At one of Chloé’s parties. Marinette was helping her parents to cater it,” Adrien explained, feeling a little more comfortable now that he was seated. “I was there as a guest. She dropped macarons on me.” He smiled.

‘Adrien!’ Marinette wailed mentally. She appeared in the doorway a moment later, flushed.

Nino laughed. “Oh yeah, that sounds like Marinette,” he said fondly.

“What sounds like me?” Marinette said, walking closer. She narrowed her eyes at Adrien.

“Did you really drop macarons on him?” Alya asked her.

“Ugh, maybe,” Marinette grumbled. “I can’t believe you told them that. No pastries for you!”

“But Maaaariiiiii...” Adrien whined. “I’m starving!”

She rolled her eyes at him but dug into her bag, producing a paper bag which she dropped into his hands. Adrien quickly opened it and discovered two still-warm croissants. He fell on them like a ravenous beast, scarfing both croissants down in a matter of minutes while Alya and Nino looked on in horror.

“Dude,” Nino said.

Suddenly the ground rumbled beneath their feet. Adrien had just enough time to lock eyes with Marinette before the wall crumbled and Stoneheart burst into the room with an angry roar that made several of their classmates scream. Alya and Marinette were both thrown to the floor with the force of Stoneheart’s entrance.

“Marinette!” Adrien jumped up and rushed to Marinette’s side, even though he knew she wasn’t hurt. Stoneheart escaped out the door with a screaming Mylène and Kim clutched in his hands.

“Dude, you okay?” Nino asked, leaning over Alya.

“I’m totally fine now that I get to see Ladybug again!” Alya exclaimed. Then she froze. So did Nino. They stared at each other.

“Oh,” Marinette said softly, watching them.

“Huh,” Adrien said. He wondered if he and Marinette had looked like that when their bond was snapping into place. Alya and Nino were looking at each other like they were the only people in the world. It was incredibly cool to watch, but at the same time it left Adrien feeling like he was intruding on something private.

“Adrien, we have to go,” Marinette said with a meaningful look, tugging at his arm.

“Right! Let’s.” Adrien glanced around, but no one was paying them any attention. He and Marinette rushed out of the classroom.

[exit-path]

I’m sorry, something very important just happened and I have to post about it otherwise I’ll forget about it.

(click readmore to see story)

His name was Candypro_.

I don’t normally reveal real people’s real Minecraft usernames like this, but man he was a nice friend, if only for a moment.

So I was playing Hypixel’s Solo UHC Champions, and I had been preparing to build houses as usual. I had all the dirt, all the glass, I had all the wooden components and I had the bed, too. I went to -300 -200, and I started pillaring up.

When I was on the top of the unfinished house and pulled out my oak stairs to start filling in the roof, however, I noticed a guy beneath my house looking up at me.

He seemed to be in leather armor, and he didn’t look like a new player, either. Most importantly, once he ran across the arid savanna towards my house, he paused beneath it. That could only mean one thing: he was going to start pillaring up.

I rushed to finish the roof of the house, my heart pounding with every block I placed. This was normal to playing UHC, even without players around me, as I would be really stressed out anyways due to the fact that I was playing Hypixel UHC in the first place.

And when I was about to look down to see where the player was, I could just barely see through the roof that someone’s username was down and in front of me.

He was already here.

I briefly looked to double check and sure enough, there he was. He was mere blocks, mere seconds away from hitting distance of me.

I broke through the roof and hid myself in the house.

Then something happened that I didn’t expect. He paused adjacent to the house, and he punched a hole in the wall.

And there he was. Half-leather, half-iron armor, with an iron sword in his hand, standing atop a winding tower of dirt and cobblestone and spruce planks. His skin was a combination of blazing fire and chilled ice against a void-black creeper form.

And he just blocked his sword.

He was crouching. He wanted to come in. He was a friend.

I talked through the chat, just to make sure. “Hello...?” I said.

“Please, bridge, over” he said.

He must have run out of blocks. I took the oak planks he broke from the side of the house and gave him a bridge with which to come into my humble abode, now half-open to the elements.

He came in. Or rather, he came over. The gaping lack of a wall made the house seem less like a container and more like a paper bag on its side. He broke some logs from the supports of the house and crafted them into planks to fix the wall.

So now we were both sitting in my house, crouching a lot, blocking too. I have to remind you that were playing Hypixel UHC. Both of us could have been killing each other at any time. And yet neither of us were; we were just vibing inside a house in the middle of the sky.

After a while, he stopped. He probably knew this couldn’t continue. He started testing out blocks in the floor, to see which ones led to an imminent drop to the floor below.

He broke out one oak plank in the floor, then the dirt block beneath it. Sure enough, there was the savanna grass far beneath us. Much more than necessary for a fatal drop. Neither of us wanted to go down there.

Then he tested another part of the floor. There was now a second hole to the ground beneath.

He continued this way until there were four holes in the floor of the house. All of them would have led to a drop of doom. I realized what he wanted to do. He wanted to kill me but didn’t want the blood on his hands. So he wanted me to succumb to fall damage somehow so the kill wouldn’t register as his.

I stepped on the cobblestone block beneath the door and the stairs next to it. I knew my fate was sealed. I was cornered. He broke the oak door and the cobblestone too.

Now all I had left to stand on were two dirt blocks that were part of the foundation of the house.

“Farewell?” I said in chat. I didn’t know if he would respond.

He didn’t. He broke the last two blocks, and I fell, plummeting to my death.

Unfortunately for both of us, the chat registered the kill as his. “PigHunterExtreme fell to their death whilst trying to escape Candypro_!” it said. I think it added to his killcount.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As a ghost, I could now see the effect of my actions on the world. I could see the house I built in the sky atop the glass pillar, its bottoms emptied out from the dude’s repeated attempts to get me to fall through the floor.

He surveyed his surroundings, he checked it twice. He broke a few blocks beneath him until he was only standing atop the sixty-third or so glass block on the tall glass pillar. Then, completely unexpectedly, he intentionally walked off. He died from the fall.

Both of us saw another player coming from behind us, running in the direction of the house. “Oh great,” both of us probably thought. “This guy is gonna come and loot our corpses.” The guy arriving couldn’t even imagine the kind of moment Candypro_ and I had moments earlier.

Now that both of us were dead and spectating the game, I decided I would just continue to talk with him through the chat for as long as I could, because I was worried that at any moment, he would just leave for the lobby and lose a lot otherwise. So I just started casually chatting with him.

“Candypro_, it was nice having you over at my house,” I said. “People don’t usually just act so friendly.”

I then went on to explain to him some of the more specific details of preparing to build a house in UHC. I don’t know, I though he might want to know. I know it might’ve seemed stupid or something. I just thought maybe it would open his eyes to the fact that you can in fact spend a lot of time and effort preparing for practically useless things—or something like that.

The entire time I was speaking, he wasn’t saying anything, In fact, he wasn’t even moving, at least not that much. But he still hadn’t left. And he wasn’t visibly AFK. So it wasn’t that he couldn’t hear me. I could tell that he was actually listening.

“So,” I was about to conclude, “thanks for coming over.” I really meant my thanks. I was really happy that he could come over.

We made our last gestures of farewell. “Ok,” he said, breaking the silence. His text was white, in contrast to my chat text being gray. He had the VIP+ rank in Hypixel.

“So I guess this will be our last time meeting?” I said.

It was too late. He had already pulled out his bed, and now he had been warped to some lobby somewhere.

It really was our last time meeting. And I didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye.

[is0gild]

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 4

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 3,861

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

So there I was.

Liplocked with a complete and total stranger.

A ridiculously and obscenely attractive stranger.

A fact I hadn’t been fully aware of nor really all that inclined to notice until right then, while stuck in said liplock.

I think it’s some sort of universal law, actually. That the more one embarrasses themselves in front of another person, the more insanely beautiful that person ends up being. I don’t make the rules. It’s just science.

These were the critical thoughts that were running through my head in that second.

One single second. That’s how long the kiss lasted. Short when you really think about it in the grand scheme of things. But at the time? It had felt like an absolute eternity. One miserable, mortifying eternity. It’d seem that while I hadn’t randomly gained the ability to reverse time in that moment like I had silently prayed for, it was a distinct possibility that I had somehow magically learned how to slow it down, but only to make humiliating incidents such as this last excruciatingly long.

Worst. Super power. Ever.

Green, by the way. 

The color of his eyes. In case you had been wondering.

I hadn’t been. Not particularly. But it was kind of hard not to notice when those eyes were all in your face and bright and vibrant and-

...was that… guyliner? 

I’d heard of such a thing, but I’d never seen it in practice until now. It actually looked kind of amazing. Wow, how did he get the wings to look so… so swoopy and-

Wait. Hold up. I smelled pepperoni.

I suppose that made sense. He did work at a pizza place, after all.

There was the scent of flour too.

That also tracked, what with him having just dropped dough all over his head.

What was a bit of a head scratcher however was the hint of cinnamon added into the mix. Had to wonder where exactly that one was coming from. I mean, it’s not exactly a common pizza topping. Not that I was aware of anyway.

Oh, and his lips? Soft. Like, super, duper soft. Dang, did he use moisturizer on those puppies? ...was that even a thing? Did people actually moisturize their lips? I don’t know about that, seems odd, but maybe-

I finally snapped out of it. The painfully longest second of my entire life at last came to an end and time sped back up to normal. I jerked my head back, hands flying up to clasp over my mouth, my eyes round and horrified, my face burning and breaking heat records across the globe. His own eyes were wide as he blinked at me a couple times before settling back on his heels in a daze.

Oh god, oh god, oh god…

What had I done?

No, seriously. What had I just frigging done?!

He was the first one to break the roaring, deafening silence as he began, “H-” 

“LET ME SEE IF WE HAVE ANY MORE IN THE BACK!” I blurted out loudly over him before I even realized what my mouth was doing, causing him to stagger a small step backwards.

That hung in the air between us for a couple awkward seconds.

And then I bolted. 

One second I was staring at his dumbfounded, stupidly gorgeous face, the next I was in the back room, slamming the door shut behind me and pressing my back up against it, hyperventilating and staring at my two coworker’s dumbfounded, not-quite-so-stupidly gorgeous faces.

…did that just really happen? Was this even real life? No way… there was just no possible way! This had to be a dream. A terrible, cruel dream! One that I was ready to wake up from now in my old bed in my old room in my old life, because the real world? Too much for me! This had been a bad idea, I’d been kidding myself, I couldn’t handle it! I may not have been happy in my old life, but at least it was safe and predictable and everything stayed the same and nothing happened, nothing like… like… 

Groaning, I squeezed my eyes shut as the last few agonizing minutes did an instant replay in my mind. I rolled away from the door over to the wall beside it, hiding my face against the cool, concrete surface.

This was a nightmare. All I needed to do was wake up.

I banged my head against the concrete.

Thump.

Wake up…

Thump.

Wake up!

Thump.

For the love of all that is good and merciful, please, please wake up already!

I peeked one eye open. 

Much to my dismay, the sight that greeted me was still that of the bland grey storage room wall as opposed to my old, safe fluffy pillow back in my old, safe warm bed.

It wasn’t a dream.

Drat.

And now my forehead hurt. Great. Just… great.

Another groan escaped me as I flipped back around, still using the wall for support as I slid down to sit on the ground, hugging my knees to my chest. Frozone and Kristoff had put down the large box they had been carrying between them and were now kneeling down in front of me. Their faces were twisted in confusion and concern, their lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying to me.

It just kept playing on loop over and over again in my head.

Had I really just said that? After doing… that?! To the poor, unsuspecting pizza guy?! 

He was going to think I’d escaped from an insane asylum! That’d I’d planned that. That’d I’d plotted and possibly even schemed. That that was my MO, to lure pure, innocent men into my carefully laid traps before I pounced and-

Dear lord, I was a sexual predator. 

They were going to make me watch the harassment orientation video again.

Would it be enough? Or was it too late for me? Was I too far gone and out of control? Men everywhere, see me and despair! Cower and flee, lest I corrupt thy virtue and-

“I kissed him,” the words came tumbling out of my mouth before I’d even realized it and with them, sound came rushing back to my ears.

“You what?!” Frozone yelped as he shot back up to his feet, at the same time Kristoff asked, “Kissed who? A customer? What happened?”

“I- He- It… Dough!” I all but shouted the word, striking up a finger, my eyes darting wildly between the two of them. “There was dough! Flipping, flying! And then, it wasn’t. And- his head! Oh gosh, his head, it was- I started laughing! I mean, wouldn’t you? Who wouldn’t have, it just was too- but then there was the wave! Oh my god, the wave! So I did the only thing I could, obviously… I hid! But then, that was just… it was so stupid! So I stood back up, but, but… he was there and I was there and we both were there and it… it just… It. Just. Happened!”

The deluge came to an abrupt and blessed end and a hush fell. A long one at that, punctuated only by my haggered panting. My coworkers just stared at me unblinking for a few seconds before exchanging looks between each other.

“Did you, uh… follow any of that?” Kristoff mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

“Not really,” Frozone shook his head, stepping over to the door. He cracked it open an inch to squint through, before brightening a bit. “Oh, that’s not a customer! That’s just one of the pizza dudes from across the way.”

I furrowed my brow up at him, shaking my head, “Does that really make it any better?!”

His fingers scratched under his cap before he shrugged. “...guess not.”

I stiffened. “Wait… he’s still out there? Oh god…” I buried my face into my knees, arms covering my head as I tightened my ball formation. I couldn’t face him, I just couldn’t! Please just kill me now. Put me out of my misery, I beg of you. “Tell him something… anything. Please, just… make him go away!” Then I gasped, head jerking back up once more, “Tell him I don’t work here!”

Frozone stared at me blankly.  “...you want me to tell him we left the storefront unmanned, allowing some lunatic to climb behind the counter, steal and get dressed in one of our uniforms and pretend she worked here, all without us realizing it?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. Please, that’d just be silly,” I waved him off. Pft, what a ridiculous idea. “No, I meant tell him that no one like me works here. Tell him that… that I was just a figment of his imagination! Yeah, that it was all in his head! Or, oh! Tell him that I was a ghost!”

Totally plausible.

At least, to my somewhat addled, panicked brain, it was. 

...I may have been a bit logically compromised at the moment.

His eyelids drooped. “Yeah, no, I’m not doing that.”

My shoulders slumped at that. But then I perked up again as I seized on another idea. “Then tell him I’ve left the country!”

“...left?” Kristoff cocked an eyebrow at me. “Past tense? As in you’ve already crossed the border? ...in the space of five minutes?”

I nodded my head rapidly. “Yes! I’m already in France! Or Arabia! Ooo, Norway!”

Sighing, Frozone squatted down in front of me once more. “Listen, if this guy is harassing you or… if he attacked-”

“What?!” I burst out in horror before quickly shaking my head. “No! No, it was all me! My mouth was the offending party here! His lips were just innocent bystanders! But it was an accident, a mistake, I swear! I didn’t mean to-”

“Alright, alright, I believe you,” he raised a hand, gesturing for me to settle down. “I’m still not sure I totally understand what exactly went down, but… this all just sounds like one big misunderstanding. I’ll go talk to him and see if I can get him to leave,” he said gently as he rose.

Feeling relief flood my chest, I raised my hands over my bowed head, pressing my palms together. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Yeah, yeah, just… try not to let it happen again,” he mumbled over his shoulder before disappearing through the door.

Wonderful! Problem solved!

...for now, anyway.

I moaned, leaning my head back against the wall and hiding my face in my hands.

I still had to deal with the fact that he worked at the Pizza Planet directly opposite of me. That’d I’d probably have to see him every day, or close to. That’d he probably try to talk to me and want an explanation for the… thing I did. I didn’t even know if I could explain it. I had a hard enough time making small talk with people. And this? So not small! Not even close! Ugh, what was I even going to do the next time I saw him? I had no idea. Absolutely none. Was crumbling to dust and scattering on the wind a viable option? No, probably not.

A tiny whimper escaped me.

“Aww, why so glum?” a very dopey, but very familiar voice asked.

Eyebrows knitting together, I dragged my hands down my face, peeking out between my fingertips.

One of those little reindeer plushies was in my face, being held aloft by Kristoff. Using a finger to bob the stuffed animal’s head up and down, he continued on in that same goofy warble, “Turn that frown upside down! Cheer up! Things aren’t as bad as they seem.”

I just gave him a dull stare.

“When I’m feeling down, I like to sing a song and-”

“Kristoff,” I grumbled, folding my arms atop my knees.

He tipped the dolls head to one side. “Who’s Kristoff? I’m Sven and I’m here to brighten your day and-”

“Kristoff,” I interjected a second time, eyelids drooping now as I said flatly, “Please make the reindeer stop talking to me.”

“Got it,” he immediately dropped the idiotic voice as he tossed the plushie over his shoulder.

“Thank you.” I then sighed, cradling my face into my arms.

It’d been sweet of him to try to comfort me, but…

...I think I’d preferred it more when he was a bit of a grump.

“Wait,” Rayne froze, her reflection’s gaze meeting mine in the mirror. Eyes dancing and voice quivering slightly as she bit back a grin, she asked, “I’m sorry, but you did what now?"

I grimaced, looking down at my lap and shifting uncomfortably.  “Please don’t make me say it again.”

“Oh my god!” Now she erupted with laughter, making me twitch in my seat.

My face warmed for what must have now been the thousand and twenty-sixth time that day (oh yes, I’d been keeping count) and I released a tiny huff, glancing back up at her reflection. “I fail to see what’s so funny.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she waved one hand, trying to muffle her giggles behind the other and failing miserably. She at last managed to sober somewhat, saying, “I get it though, I really do. You want to earn them fat tips. But sweetie, you’re supposed to suck up to the customers, not suck face with them!” She spluttered and broke down once more.

I narrowed my eyes, heaving a sigh through my nose.

Ah, having the loving care and support of a dear friend.

Wonder what that’s like.

Must be nice. 

I had gotten home not too long ago from my disastrous first day. Thankfully, Frozone had taken pity on me, letting me hide in the back for the remainder of my shift and help him with getting the rest of that new shipment sorted out. But tomorrow I wouldn’t be so lucky. My insides were already twisting into a million knots at the very idea. Sleep? Ha! Like I’d be getting any of that tonight.

Rayne and I were now in my bedroom. By now all of the baby stuff had been cleared out and the room was looking pretty bare. Not like I had a lot of munny (aka none) to decorate with. But hopefully that’d be rectified soon and I could start making the space feel a little more homey… a little more me. For now, there was the bed they’d already had in there, now complete with a quilt comforter with various patterns and shades of blue - sort of a “house warming” gift from Rayne and Riku. As for the rest of the furniture, they’d introduced me to a thing called curb shopping, out of which we’d managed to find me a free wardrobe and dresser, both obviously old and a little nicked but otherwise serviceable, as well as a vanity with a large mirror attached and an accompanying chair.

It was at that vanity that I now currently sat, with Rayne standing behind me while she brushed my hair. Or, rather… had been brushing. At the moment, she was a bit otherwise preoccupied with her chuckling at my expense.

“Why exactly are we doing this again?” I muttered through my teeth.

“Hm?” she wiped at the corners of her eyes, finally settling down enough to resume carefully stroking the brush through my long, pale strands. “Oh! Well, since jellybean here,” she patted her tummy, “is a girl, I gotta prepare! And Riku’s majestic mane is not around at the moment, so who else am I gonna practice on? Besides, it’s soothing. It’ll help make you feel better.”

...which, okay, it kind of was.

She shrugged, “Plus, brushing hair is a time honored tradition of girl talk.”

My nose crinkled slightly. “This is girl talk?”

She gave me a pointed look. “We’re discussing kissing boys, what do you think?”

My shoulders slumped, “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

One corner of her lips twitched up and she pinched my cheek. “Lookit you, already making friends on your first day, I’m so proud!”

Lightly swatting her hand away, I scoffed. “I know I’m a bit clueless when it comes to this whole being around people thing but last time I checked, what I did was not the socially acceptable way to make a new friend.”

“You’re right. My mistake.” She smirked, “I should have said boyfriend.”

I paled. “Boyfriend? Oh no, certainly not. He definitely thinks I have a few screws loose now... That I’m a total freakshow. He’s probably just as mortified as I am. Beyond maybe demanding I explain myself and that I apologize, he’s not going to want to have anything to do with me.”

“You kidding?” she quirked an eyebrow. “You’ve seen yourself, right? Girl, you’re a total knockout. That boy is probably praising Aphrodite for blessing him with the divine gift that was your sweet, sweet lips.”

I groaned, my hands wringing the hem of my skirt. Now commencing blush number one thousand and twenty-seven. “This is all just so humiliating. I wish I could just disappear! Just… find a deep dark pit somewhere to dive into and get lost miles below the earth’s surface and… and discover an underground kingdom of mole people! And they’d welcome me with open arms and accept me as one of their own to live out the rest of my days in peace… that is of course, until I inevitably kiss one of them on accident because, let’s face it, I have a taste for it now, the beast has been awoken, this dark urge cannot be controlled, so then they’ll banish me down an even deeper, darker pit where I’ll find the mole people’s mole people and-”

“Elsa,” she bonked me on the head with the flat of the bristled implement.

“Right. Babbling. Sorry,” I winced, hanging my head. “Maybe...maybe I should just quit.” The hairbrush stilled again, this time as Rayne fixed me with a dull stare. I sighed, “No, I know, it’d be pathetic to give up after only working one day, and over something so silly. Besides, I… need to stop running away from my problems and start facing them head on.”

She smiled and the combing began again. “Good girl. Sorry,” she murmured the last part as she caught a snag, eliciting a soft hiss from me. “Now stop changing the subject. I want all the juicy deets on Romeo. Spill.”

Ugh, I really just wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened. But there was no getting out of this, it seemed. Might as well get it over with. “Well… he works right across from me and-”

“Wait, you mean at the Pizza Planet?” At my nod, she pressed, “Was he blonde?” 

I frowned. “No, redhead.”

Her eyes widened. “Aw snap, you kissed Lea?!”

...Lea?

Both eyebrows shooting up my forehead, I blinked. “I don’t know, maybe?”

Annnnnnnd there she went, exploding into another fit of laughter.

I wished Anna were here. She never would have-

...oh, who am I kidding? She would have been cracking up twice as hard.

Reaching for a lock of my hair to twist at, I asked, “Do you... know him?”

“That mall used to be practically a second home to me, I know almost everyone that works there. Oh gosh, trust me, you have nothing to worry about. Lea’s a giant sweetheart, he’ll understand that you’re just a total spazz and it’s all a big mistake. Just talk to him.”

My eyes darted to the left. “I think I’d rather take my chances with the mole people.”

“Oh shush. Just do it, you’ll be fine, I promise.” She fell silent for a couple more sweeps of the hairbrush. “Soooooo…” she drew the word out before conspiratorially whispering, “what was it like?” 

My forehead wrinkled. “...what was what like?”

“You know…” she waggled her eyebrows at me, “Laying some sweet sugar on that big red tree of a man.”

Make that one thousand and twenty-eight. I clasped my hands over my ears, “Gah, please tell me you did not just say that!”

She snorted, “What? Don’t get me wrong, I could kiss those pillow lips of Riku’s all day-”

“I really didn’t need to hear that.”

Rayne rolled her eyes. “But there’s nothing wrong with having a little curiosity! So stop holding out on me already, girl. I want to know everything.”

Averting my gaze, I grumbled, “I was kind of too busy having a frigging heart attack to really pick up on any details.”

Alright, so, not technically true. Like, at all. It had actually been kind of distressing how painfully aware I was of everything teeny-tiny little thing in that one now infamous second that had stretched on to infinity and beyond.

But… I really, really didn’t want to talk about it.

I noticed Rayne eyeing me suspiciously, not quite buying it. Before she could press further however, I cleared my throat and said, “Could we… please just talk about something else now?”

“Fine,” she harrumphed.  Her lips pursed to one side, then, “...have you called them yet?” 

Twitching, I muttered, “Something other than that.”

“No, no,” her reflection pinned me with a stern look. “You don’t get to do that. I already let you wriggle your way out of the last topic, which by the way we’re gonna be circling back around to.” Great. “But really, you need to talk to them and just get it over with already. Rip the bandaid off. They’re probably worried sick.”

I exhaled slowly through my nose. “I know, I just… was giving them more time to cool off.”

“It’s been a week, how much longer do you think they really need?”

I shrugged, “Oh, I dunno, I was thinking maybe… sometime next century?” Another bonk to my head from the hairbrush. “Ow! Could you not?”

She crossed her arms and frowned down at me. “Call them.”

Yeesh, the child wasn’t even born yet and Rayne already had her Disapproving Mom Stare down pat. I could tell you now, that kid wasn’t going to be getting away with anything.

“I don’t even have a phone.”

She fished her mobile out her pocket and slapped it down on the vanity.  “Call them.”

Gnawing on my lower lip, I slowly reached for the phone, resting my hand over it. A couple heartbeats of hesitation, then I was pushing it away.  “Tomorrow, okay? I… I’ll call them tomorrow.”

Her eyes narrowed, but at last she relented. “Alright then. I’m gonna hold you to that though, missy.  Now,” she set the brush down beside her phone and gathered my hair into two separate clumps, one just behind either ear, “I’m envisioning pigtails. How cute would that be?” She beamed at me in the mirror. “What do you think?”

“Uh… sure?”

As she happily set to work, my thoughts wandered back to making that dreaded phonecall.

Tomorrow…

That’s what I’d told myself yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that. So I certainly hoped she wasn’t going to hold me to it.

But who knows… maybe I actually meant it this time… 

...eh… probably not.

Author’s note: Elsa being the walking, talking, awkward ball of anxiety rears its ugly head once more! To her credit, at least she remembered to say what Kristoff told her to say… now the question is, did that really help matters? You decide! Side note, I found an excuse to make Kristoff talk for reindeers in this fic, and really, that’s the dream right there. And thanks to Rayne, at least Elsa now knows the name of the stranger she accidentally got to first base with, so that has to be a step in the right direction, right? Also, gosh, I know it sucks that we’re already 4 chapters in and Lea hasn’t even gotten to talk yet. Don’t worry, he starts talking next chapter! It’s all small and slow at first, but once he has a chance to really get going, he doesn’t shut up, I promise xD

Next chapter, will Elsa woman up and sort things out with Lea? Will she make this phonecall to the mysterious “them” (you all can probably guess who) that Rayne alluded to? Stay tuned to find out! Thank you so much for reading, and an extra BIG thank you to anyone who liked or reblogged last chapter, seeing that always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

[chattre-kisses]

blind (even when we try to see)

Title: blind (even when we try to see)

Fandom: American Vandal

Rating: T

Pairing: Sam Ecklund/Peter Maldonado

Characters: Peter Maldonado, Sam Ecklund, Dylan Maxwell, Gabi Granger, & Brandon Galloway

Summary: “It’s ‘cause you love him, dipshit,” Dylan says.Or Peter is jealous, Sam is dense, and somehow Dylan is the smartest person in the room.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20748782

Or read it below!

Gabi Granger and Brandon Galloway break up. It’s messy.

Gabi texts Sam Ecklund about it when he’s over at Peter Maldonado’s house. Sam’s scrolling through memes and Peter’s responding to an email from Netflix about them picking up American Vandal. He hasn’t told Sam about it yet. It’s early days, he doesn’t want to get Sam’s hopes up.

“Holy shit,” Peter says. He’s hanging off Peter’s bed, the blood rushing to color his cheeks. “Holy shit.”

Peter swivels in his desk chair, indulging Sam. “What’s up?”

“They broke up,” Sam says, grinning wildly, as if it explains everything.

“Am I supposed to know who you’re talking about?” Peter asks, eyebrows furrowed behind his thick glasses.

“Gabi and Brandon. They broke up. Gabi just texted me,” Sam explains. He’s sat up now, drawing one of Peter’s pillows into his lap. He’s still smiling gleefully. “Peter, the world really is good.”

Something twists in the pit of Peter’s stomach. He turns back to his computer. “Good for Gabi. Brandon’s kind of the worst.”

“He’s objectively the pits,” Sam confirms. He throws himself across Peter’s bed, shouting, “The world is good!”

The thing in Peter’s stomach twists tighter.

*

“Hey, are you busy Friday night? They’re planning that shitty rom-com you like at the Aladdin, uh… what’s it called… the one with that lady? And the rich dude and the hotel?” Peter says. He’s nervous for some reason, like he doesn’t ask Sam to hang out all the time. For some reason, this feels more charged than normal.

By some miracle, Sam knows what Peter is talking about. “Pretty Woman? Aw, fuck, that sounds amazing, Pete, but I already asked Gabi to go mini-golfing with me.”

Asked Gabi.

Peter’s heart sinks. He hadn’t even realized how stupidly hopeful he’d been until that hope is crushed. Sam’s asked Gabi out, now that she’s single. And Gabi said yes. She’d be stupid not to, Sam’s a catch. Disappointment shoots through Peter’s veins. Disappointment, and something like sorrow.

“Oh, congratulations,” Peter says, even though he doesn’t mean it. He doesn’t mean it at all.

Sam’s eyebrows pull together in vague confusion. “Um… thanks, I guess?”

Peter excuses himself. In the most dignified manner possible, he cries in the bathroom for three minutes, even though he can’t figure out why.

*

“It’s ‘cause you love him, dipshit,” Dylan says.

It’s Friday night. Peter’s at Dylan’s house, because he doesn’t want to be alone and Dylan isn’t bad company. Sam keeps sending Peter snapchats of him and Gabi, and every time Peter has to look at them smiling together, he feels more and more shattered. He tosses him phone across the room after Sam sends him a photo where he has an arm slung around Gabi’s shoulders, an easy smile on his face. “Why am I like this?” Peter mutters, mainly to himself.

Then Dylan drops the bombshell, “It’s ‘cause you love him, dipshit.”

Peter blinks. “What?”

Dylan’s smoking a joint that Peter rolled for him (every time Dylan rolled one himself it would be tapered on one end, which sent Peter’s OCD on the fritz), languidly stretched across an armchair. “You love him. Your boy.”

“I don’t–– Sam’s not… he’s not my boy,” Peter says, lamely.

“Nah, he is,” Dylan says, taking a drag. “Course he is. And you love him.”

“I– what? No, Dylan, I––”

“You loveeeeeeeee him,” Dylan drawls out which the classic middle-school intonation. “Love-love-love!”

“I… I have no idea how I feel about him,” Peter admits, knowing it’s the only way he’ll be able to shut Dylan up. “It doesn’t matter anyway. He asked Gabi out.”

Dylan’s eyebrows shoot up. “Gabi Granger?”

Peter wraps his arms around himself protectively. “Yeah.”

“Damn. She’s hot,” Dylan notes. “You’re sure he asked her out?”

“They’re mini-golfing now. Sam keeps sending me pictures,” Peter says. He’s watching his phone from across the room. It buzzes with a notification. Probably from Sam. “He hates mini-golf. But he looks happy.”

Dylan frowns. “Fuckin’ weird. Can’t be right–– Sam’s your boy. You’re sure it’s a date?”

“Yeah,” Peter says. Sam hadn’t said that it was a date, but context clues were a reliable informant.

“Shit,” Dylan says. “You should tell him how you feel.”

“I can’t do that,” Peter says. “I don’t even know how I feel. I just… I feel gross about the whole thing.”

“Heavy,” Dylan says. “I’d offer you a smoke, but your lungs are all fucked up, right?”

Peter nods. It’s a surprisingly touching offer for Dylan. He watches his phone from across the room. It buzzes again.

*

They’re filming for the Morning Show. Peter’s making sure all his cue cards are lined up. Madison’s doing vocal exercises next to him.

Sam’s alternating between looking at Peter and looking at his phone. He stares at Peter for a moment, texts someone, and then heads over to Peter.

Peter tries to control his heartbeat. He doesn’t know when his heart stopped registering Sam as “friend” and started seeing him as “Sam”.

“You’ve got an eyelash,” Sam whispers. He leans in and sweeps the pad of his finger under Peter’s eye. Peter’s heart thunders. He looks to Sam’s finger–– there’s no eyelash. Sam smiles. “All clean.”

Sam lingers there, in Peter’s space, Peter shivery and uncertain under Sam’s gaze until Randall, carrying a camera rig says, “Sam, we gotta start filming and you’re kind of in the shot.”

Sam apologizes and breezes away, leaving Peter to contemplate what just happened.

He pictures Sam in front of him–– his warm eyes, his dimples, his smile that makes everything brighter–– and muses to himself, how could I ever want anyone else?

*

Sam’s at Peter’s house. They’re watching a girl on YouTube explain her shaky theory on why Peter and Sam did the dicks together. It’s stupid and indulgent, but they watch videos like this together sometimes.

Peter loves it, because it always ends with them lying together on Peter’s bed, shoulders pressed together. Sam’s always warm.

An alarm goes off on Sam’s phone. “Fuck, it’s 4:30 already?” Sam exclaims. “Sorry Pete, I gotta bounce. Gabi’s waiting for me.”

And just like that, Peter’s stomach plummets. He likes Gabi, he does, which makes the whole thing worse. “Oh,” is all Peter can manage to say.

Sam clambers off the bed and starts to put his sneakers back on.

Peter sits up and shuts his computer. He feels like there’s a wall between the two of them–– something nameless and strange that only he can feel. Jealousy wells up inside him and he can’t help it, he mutters, “Don’t go.”

Sam freezes. He looks up at Peter, confused. “What?”

Peter swallows. Carefully, louder this time, he says, “Don’t go.”

“What? Peter, I… I mean, I’m supposed to meet Gabi? We were gonna get milkshakes?” Sam says.

“I know, I just…” Peter sucks in a breath. “I just don’t want you to leave.”

Sam’s finished lacing up his shoes, and he stands up. “Why?”

“I know that Gabi and Brandon broke up, and you finally got to ask Gabi out and I’m really happy for you because you’re happy and all that, but at the same time I feel really stupidly jealous?” Peter says, the words tumbling out of him.

“I… what? Peter, we’re just getting milkshakes,” Sam says, like it explains everything.

“Still,” Peter says. “I kind of… I guess I want us to get milkshakes.”

Peter’s staring at Sam’s shoes now because he can’t bring himself to look into Sam’s eyes. Sam says, “Peter, do you like me?”

Peter says, “Yeah. Yeah, I think I do.”

“Oh,” Sam rubs at the back of his neck, uncertain. “Well. Okay.”

Peter feels queasy. This isn’t going as poorly as it could have, but it still isn’t going great. “Okay,” Peter says.

Sam walks up to the bed, his fingers nervously messing with the hem of his shirt. “You like me?”

Peter looks up at Sam. “Yeah, I think we already established that.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sam says. And then he climbs onto the bed, shoes and all, and then into Peter’s lap.

Peter feels like he’s been set on fire. “What a-are… what are you doing?” He asks as Sam places his hands on Peter’s shoulders.

“I’m gonna kiss you, if that’s okay,” Sam says. He’s taking off Peter’s glasses off now, folding them up neatly and then placing them on Peter’s bedside table.

Peter feels like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay,” he says, still watching at Sam. He’s a little blurrier when Peter doesn’t have his glasses on, but Peter can still see when Sam leans in and kisses him.

It’s a messy kiss, uncoordinated and unpracticed. Both of them don’t really know what they’re doing. Their teeth click together when Peter manages to get Sam’s mouth open. Still, it’s marvelous. It's a revelry, a triumph. It’s better than Peter could have ever imagined. Sam tastes like minty gum. They kiss until Peter’s lungs can’t take it anymore, and then they rest their foreheads together, panting.

“What… what about Gabi?” Peter asks.

“For someone so smart, you’re really fucking stupid.” Sam laughs. “We were just going to get milkshakes, Peter. Just milkshakes.”

“But I thought––”

“I’m not dating Gabi,” Sam says. “We’re just friends.”

“But you were so happy when she and Brandon broke up?”

“‘Course I was,” Sam says, like it’s obvious. “Gabi’s my best friend. Brandon's a dick. She deserved better.”

Peter mulls this over. He’s about to open his both to speak, but Sam cuts him off. “How about you kiss me instead of asking another idiotic question,” Sam says.

Peter’s happy to comply.

*

Hours later, Peter calls Dylan.

“Dylan? This is Peter Maldonado.”

“Don’t be so fuckin’ weird, Peter. I know who you are, I have caller ID.”

“Sorry.” Pause. “Anyway, I was just calling to tell you that you were right.”

“Damn right I was.” Pause. “What are we talking about again?”

“Sam. He really is my boy.” Pause.

“About goddamn time, Maldonado!”

Click.

[cosmichoneyedblossoms]

Agave Nights

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut

Word Count: 1,884

Summary: When JYP Entertainment found out about yours and Chan’s relationship, they gave him a choice: Chan could either quit or he would break it off with you, but you didn’t even give him a chance to answer.

“What do you mean I have to break up with her to stay in the group?” Chan yelled at JYP, his anger getting the best of him.

“You know exactly how we feel about relationships in this industry. You’re here to work and get better, not jump into relationship and jeopardize your chance at stardom.” JYP’s voice was quiet and calm, as if he’s done this many times, but this would be the first time one of his idols acted out like this.

“You never had a problem with it until now so—”

“I never had a problem with your relationship, I still don’t, but fans aren’t happy that you’re in a serious relationship while trying to become bigger and better. This is the last time we will talk of it, to stay you have to break up with her, that’s that.” JYP made it clear that it was one way or another and now Chan had to choose between the group that he loved so much and the dream girl he loved just as much.

“You’re leaving already?” The bartender asked as Chan stumbled from his chair at the bar towards the door.

“Yeah, I’m calling it night.”

“It’s Valentine's Day and here you are passing up drinks from all the beautiful, single, women in here!”

“That’s tomorrow, dude.” Chan shrugged and pushed through the door into the hall and wandered over to the door that lead up to his apartment. His feet tripped up the wooden stairs as he made his way up them, his body lurching towards his bed when he finally made it up to the floor. It had been almost a year since you had become a silhouette in his mind, the only reminder of you left in his life was the ache in his chest. It was almost nonexistent when he was in practice, at the studio, at fan signings, and on stage, but it always returned in the quiet moments.

Rain quietly tapped on the window near the bed, the bedroom filled with momentary bursts of red light from the sign that hung over the door to the bar under his apartment. The memory of your bare skin tangled up in his sheets, cloaked in the flickering light, lingered in his psyche. Many nights became agave nights for Chan, it was the only thing that brought you back to him, even if you were gone in the morning. He stared up at the ceiling before turning onto his side, the image of you sleeping beside him filled his mind, it beginning to play tricks on him, making him hear the quiet breathing of you sleeping. His fingers traced over the spot on the pillow where your head used to rest, wishing that you weren’t just a fragment of his imagination. The ache in his chest was more painful than usual, it was normally an empty feeling, but that emptiness turned into a pain that he couldn’t even fathom.

Everything was a blur, until one thing came in to focus—your home. The freezing rain didn’t seem to bother him as he stared up at your window, waiting, just waiting for the light to turn on in the dark house.

“Chan?” He turned at his name to see you, staring at him, “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing.” You rushed to him, pulling him under the umbrella, “You’re soaked to the bone. How long have you been standing here?” Your voice calmed the ache in his chest, his forehead coming to rest on your shoulder.

“I needed to see you…” He whispered, wrapping his arms around your body.

“Let’s get you inside and into some warm clothes, okay?” You led him up to the house and helped him inside. You flipped on the lights, closed the umbrella and set it down on the floor, “I’ll go draw you a bath.” You started to part from him, his hand quickly gripping your wrist to pull you back to him.

“Y/N…” He rasped while burying his face into the nook of your neck, “Please… come back to me…”

“Chan—”

“I can’t live without you…” His words sounded so pained and broken. Your heart fell into your stomach and a knot climbed it’s way up into your throat; hearing him so hurt made your heart ache, “That day when I woke and you weren’t there and your drawer was empty, it was the worst day of my life. I never want to go through that again…”

“Chan… leaving you like that wasn’t something I wanted to do, but I knew what you were going to do and I couldn’t let you do that. It’s not fair to either of us, I want to see you live out your dream and you couldn’t do it with me by your side…”

“I’ll figure it out, just please…” He wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you into him. You let out a shaky breath, running your fingers through his dripping wet locks.

“Let’s get you warmed up first, okay? I can’t have you getting sick.” He stood still for a moment before loosening his grip around you, he lifted his head, his bloodshot hazel eyes searched yours before leaning down to meet your lips. It had been a year since he felt your skin against his, he missed your taste, your scent, everything about you. He pulled away for a short moment, he didn’t want to, but the burning in his lungs told him he needed to breathe, “L-let me go start the bath…” You slipped out of his grip and up the stairs to the bathroom, closing the door behind you. Your clutched the fabric of your dress over your frantic heart, trying to calm its fierce pulse, this wasn’t the first time you’ve stayed with Chan so, why was your heart trying to jump out of your chest?

You ran the bath water, making sure it wasn’t too hot or too cold, and then grabbed a towel from the linen closet, sitting down on the edge of the counter. Opening the door, you heard his footsteps climbing the stairs, his stumbling figure coming into your sight, “The bath is ready for you.” A chuckle came from him as he moved past you into the bathroom.

“You sound rather tense, Y/N.” Chan reached over his head, his hand gripping the fabric of his shirt, starting to pull it over his head. A fire attacked the skin of your cheeks the longer you watched him, you drank in the milkiness of his unblemished skin, drops of water sliding down the strands of his blond hair to fall to his bare shoulders. His intense copper eyes met yours, making you turn away from his gaze.

“I’ll leave you to it...” You quickly walked out of the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind you, “Stop being nervous, nothing it gonna happen.” You sighed and made your way to your bedroom, as you entered your bedroom, you walked over the dresser and pulled out clothes for you to change into—pajama shorts and a sweatshirt. You slipped out of your heels, tights, and dress and pulled on your comfy clothes. “Oh, that’s right, Chan’s clothes.” You opened the bottom drawer of the dresser and pairs of sweatpants, shirts, and boxers came into your vision.

“Y/N...” The sound of your name spooked you as you brought your eyes up to see him standing in the doorway, wearing a towel around his waist.

“You’re done already?” You quickly grabbed a set of clothes for him and stood up, closing the drawer, “I would’ve brought them to you, but—” Your words were cut short by the feeling of his lips against yours, his hands lifting you up to carry you to the bed, “Chan—” You whined between the parting of his soft lips from yours, your back falling to the mattress. His hands caressed the skin of your bare thighs, the flames that had lie dormant in your stomach were ignited by his touch. Chaste kisses were sprinkled over your cheeks trailing down to your neck, quick hands slipping under your sweatshirt to pull it from your body, his eyes admiring your skin.

“Beautiful as ever.” Wistful lips pressed into your skin brought back the excitable feelings that used to wander your body when you were a couple, the ones that troubled you lately, the ones that hurt for you to think about because you missed Chan, more than anything in this world—you needed him just as much as he needed you. You lost yourself in his tantalizing osculation, every thought that swirled inside your brain evaporated under the heat of his breath.

“Channie...” He looked up at your submissive cry, your lust clouded eyes begged for more, pleaded for his touch, implored him to destroy the fragile line that was keeping him from your love. Chan tugged your shorts and panties from your body, your core already glistening under the warm light of your bedroom, his hunger taking over him at the sight of your more than ready body. He tugged off his towel and slid two of his digits around your sticky plump folds, provoking a hushed moan from your lips. He lined himself up with your entrance, ready to take you, when your fingers ghosted over his arms, making every hair stand on edge, “Slow my love…”

“I know, baby girl.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before sliding his length into your warmth, the sudden grip of your walls around him made him feel like he could cum immediately, but he couldn’t do that to you. The pleasant breathy moans that radiated from your chest as his hips met the back of your thighs only made him more aroused. It had been so long since he had heard your voice this erotic, he wanted to hear more of you, hear you say his name between bliss tainted breaths. Chan rested his forehead against the side of your head, delicate lips placed kisses to your skin as he rolled his hips into you, knowing all the right spots to hit and tease to make you a moaning mess, but it was different this time. Your fingers buried themselves into his hair, gripping at their dampness, your legs wrapped around his waist as he brought you closer to your high; he could feel you tighten up around him, his intention of lasting longer fading inside you.

“Chan, I’m—”

“Cum for me, baby girl.” He let out a guttural growl as your flesh convulsed around him, your fingers gripping his hair so hard, his release hitting him as your high coursed through your limbs. The slow roll of his hips brought you back down to earth to feel his hands caressing your cheeks while he place kisses over your forehead, “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too, Chan.” You voice rasped as he laid down beside you, pulling you close to him. Being in his arms made you feel like you were home, Chan fit back into your heart like the missing piece to your puzzle.

“It’s midnight.”

“Is it really?” You asked and he looked down at you, a grin playing upon his lips.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby girl.”

[bunny-banana]

I'd love to hear a director's commentary on La leggenda di Niccolo please :D Have a star as well ⭐

HA! Okay well, I’ll talk about the sections that I actually wrote so here it comes:

Chap 1

Engulfed in the never ending masses of water, he reckoned one should feel intimidated. No ground under his feet, only limited amounts of air to his disposal, and the uncertainty of what lies within the darker corners of the ocean should normally frighten you. And yet, he never felt more at peace than when he was floating so freely in the sea, almost as if gravity and the world outside didn’t exist

the fucking IRONY of me writing this while being deadly afraid of deep water. its honestly like “yeah,,,,, lemme list all the things i personally hate about deep sea…. and lets add ‘well, but theres something good too about that for sure,,,i guess,,,, ”

But what was more important for me was this contrast to what Ermal dreams about, his lowkey fantasy - and where he is irl, the icy south pole. I’m rather fond of opposing things/contrasts. 

The soldier breathed heavily in and out, but there was no time to rest as the next blaze of fire was aimed at him.He countered and evaded but his opponent was more forceful, his flames harsher, faster until the soldier’s back hit the cold railing. He was caught, and when his opponent mercilessly stroke once more, he knew he had to save himself by escaping into the cold water.The man remaining on the top deck smirked. Ah yes, he’d almost assume those new soldiers were just too easy to take on even if only for practice reasons, but it pleased him more to say that he still got it.

i really hope this introduction just tells you everything you need to know about Renga’s character.

How much sooner the war could have been won had it not been for the Poles!

While actually reflecting on the universe, i realised, it must be incredibly difficult for firebenders on the poles. like, I just assume they really, really arent fit for the cold which would make invading incredibly difficult for them. also lol, renga hates it at the poles obviously.

  Shaking so hard that kids ran towards their mothers and the watchtower fell over and when the fog cleared up, Ermal felt his stomach drop. ”No.”

Nothing, absolutely, nothing in that universe is more frightening than seeing the Fire Nation military pull up to your doorstep.  

Also, lmao, love to imagine Rinald quietly going “oh nooo my watchtower D:” 

Ermal pushed himself through the crowd until he was right in front of everyone, until he was the last barrier between the Fire Nation soldiers and the village.

Ermal has Strong Opinions™ about the Fire Nation, with reasons of course, and seeing them here is the absolute nightmare to him.

  “You mean the Avatar that disappeared off the face of the Earth? The one that nobody has ever seen and that was probably never even reborn? That Avatar?”And if his cockiness gave off a certain invitation to smash his face in, then this was perhaps a little bit Ermal’s fault.

to quote the Smiths: Bigmouth Strikes Again!

“B-but he’s- he’s so young? I swear to the Fire Lord, if this is yet another trick then-”

Chap 2

Niccolò had always been in awe of the Fire Nation’s advanced industrial sector. The machinery that originated from the Nation had always had cutting edge quality which no one in the world could quite imitate nor match. This ship however was beyond anything Niccolò had ever seen. This ship was fully steam-driven with the powerful motors roaring under his feet. And those weren’t the only novelties.Steel processed so professionally that it makes impenetrable walls and doors which opened and closed only through quite sophisticated lock mechanisms. It all looked so modern, it all looked so futuristic.

so the idea was, since Nic had missed an entire century, the ship looked super modern to him. while its a canon fact that the FN is quite advanced with machinery, the ship itself is just to an up-to-date standard. But to Niccolo personally it seemed futuristic.  i like the idea of him being amazed at things he has never seen in his life just to find out they’re pretty common in the current timeline. 

There was not much time left, Niccolò had to think quickly. Extremely convenient how his nose started tickling right in that moment.The powerful sneeze that followed had two consequences: One, the guard in front of him was catapulted straight into the metal door of the cell, rendering him unconscious.Two, Niccolò and the guard behind him were also forcefully pushed back to the other end of the corridor, crashing into the hard wall.Well, at least the guard did. The young airbender was spared that fate, by that nice pillow the guard turned out to be, so he quickly got onto his feet and ran as fast as he could with his hands tied behind his back.

so yeah ngl, this was just copied from the OG ep

Now that his hands were freed, he opened the first door that presented itself to him, but in front of him, he simply saw the quarters of General Renga who stared at his now roaming prisoner in shock. Okay, time to turn around, it seems.

listen, i just love the thought of overconfident General Renga being so shellshocked to see his prisoner escaping that he just gapes at him. And ofc Nic slamming the door shut immediately jsfkld

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Niccolò cursed as he evaded a burst of fire that was aimed at him before taking the next corner “Where’s the exit?! Where’s the goddamn exi- AH!! A DOOR!!” He pulled it open to reveal a startled guy sitting there just minding his own business. An unexpected sight, with an even more unexpected odor following. “Oh? uhm- Sorry man! Just- just take your time! Also, perhaps light a candle when you’re done. Bye!” The young Avatar swiftly apologised as he closed the door of what was most definitely not an exit.

Fav OC so far!  That simple FN dude was just trying to take a dump in peace but who would have known that all hell would break lose and the goddamn Avatar of all people would walk into him smh.  Also, I really enjoyed the thought of while this is all hectic and dangerous, Nic still being human enough to go like “oh, my bad! sorry dude!” at this random soldier. Who knows, maybe we should bring that one back some time later. And i kinda wanted the whole escape to be funny, since its Nic’s POV, and it just wouldnt suit his carefree spirit to make this super serious (yet). 

“I’ll give you that, hiding for so long was sort of impressive.” Niccolò heard Renga’s voice behind him as the General had caught up with him. 

almost wrote “century” there but then remembered  nah omg he can’t know yet 

A piece of ice may or may not have also hit Renga straight into the face but nobody would complain about that anyway. 

yeah i just love the thought of this super dramatic scene of Nic entering the Avatar State and then theres a chunk of ice knocking Renga unconscious lmao get fucked, dude 

“Nic!” Ermal ran towards the slowly decreasing water pillar to catch the unconscious airbender in the last second, dropping to his knees in the process. That was beyond anything anybody of that age should normally be capable of. That was beyond what any waterbender could ever be capable of. And yet, lying in his arms, Niccolò looked so exhausted, so weak. Just like any other kid. Not a trace from the sheer force that was unleashed moments earlier.

I think this was really the moment Ermal started feeling real responsibility over Niccolo. Just seeing him do all these crazy things and yet being reminded that this huge burden of being the Avatar is literally thrusted upon a simple kid.  Also, this is the first time he called him “Nic”

Various noises and sounds buzzed through the air that afternoon: The loud shoveling of snow from the bow, the quieter crackling emerging from the hands of the firebenders who were melting their frozen compatriots, the fast steps rushing left and right over the ship. All these different sounds were heard, but none of them were chattering. Nobody dared to chat. Not after this disastrous defeat. What a disgrace that had been, General Renga thought grinding his teeth.

Everybody on this goddman ship is just scared shitless that Renga will roast them if they so much like whisper. they know he moody, they know he’ll blame them for the avatar’s escape. so lets all just work and repair shit and keep quite. 

When he found consciousness again, he was left with not only one horrendous purple bruise on his face, but also with a half destroyed ship. 

jdsfksajfklf OK SO YEAH, my first intention was “lmao let a piece of ice hit him” but then i realised “oh wait he’d have a bruise afterwards”  and then “LMAOOOO he’d be like Zuko, how perfect is that”   ok so granted, unlike our dear fire prince, Renga’s bruise is only temporary, but i really hoped someone would pick up the connection to Zuko

Whatever had happened to the Avatar earlier, it left a colossal mark on the ship, and secretly, on Renga personally too. He might have gotten fooled once, but he wouldn’t get fooled again.

basically, he feels personally insulted about being beaten by a kid. what a loser lmao

“Martino!”

“Y-yes, General?” stuttered the lanky assistant with the askew glasses, clenching his hands around his writing board. One would think you’d get used to Renga’s harsh tone over time, but that was simply not the case..

rip martino but renga absolutely needed a poor anxious assistant whom he could terrorise

“We need the best of the best to defeat him. And I just know the right choice for that job…”

heeeeheeee ….. no comment ..for now.  but im curious to what you guys think about that 

Thank you so much! this was a lot of fun to do ! :)

[babyboyoonie]

Hey of your doing requests could you do a short and sweet one shot about yandere tae who’s madly in love with the highschool s sweetheart min yoongi, but yoongis already taken by the school’s football star jungkook. You decide the rest.

Hello darling!! Thanks for your request, I LOVE this prompt ehe~ though hm I did my best but I’m not sure I managed to make it sweet…what with, you know, Yandere Tae.

Please tell me afterward okay? Okay, enjoy! ⁝(๑⑈௰⑈)◞⁝˚º꒰꒱

When he hears about him, Taehyung’s stuck somewhere that’s neither life nor death.

It’s a body working on auto-pilot with a mind wandering, lost—but not really, he’s among people and away from them at the same time; gaze flicking toward them, eyes, pictures, the jocks strutting in a tight group beyond the window, all laughs and sweat and a flock of sighing girls trailing behind them. Back at the corridor again, cold and warm, hungry and sated—Taehyung trembles with a need he can’t put a name on.

(Refuses to.)

And then—

“Dude, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him.”

“Me too.”

And—and this picks his interest. He quirks an eyebrow and stops dead in his tracks to look at the boy he nearly calls his brother. Affection and closeness and a tight link cuffing their heart together in best friend soulmate restrictor—“You? Really?”

Jimin pouts at him, opens his mouth before clamping it shut, hesitant. There’s a wariness laying there Taehyung hadn’t seen since his last accident back in elementary school. Alarm bells ring in his mind, his heart, whispers at him to perhaps drop it. But he cocks his head sideways, eyebrows raised in quiet curiosity.

Jimin relents, Jimin always does, even if he shouldn’t. “There’s this boy,” he says in a rush, blushes slightly at the simple mention of him while the guy accompanying them—Baekhyun, was it?—visibly brightens, brims with excitement. Taehyung fiddles with his camera, breath caught, anticipation building. “His name’s Yoongi, and—and God, Tae, he’s an angel.”

There had been silence, and then—and then Taehyung had laughed, the volcano building inside his chest dissipating, curling out of him like fog before the explosion happened.

But at Jimin’s knowing gaze, at Baekyun’s soft laugh, oh, Taehyung should have known better.

The anticipation disappeared before it could explode; Taehyung had thought so. Blowing out a breath, shrugging languidly and strutting ahead, Taehyung had thought so.

It exploded later.

One late, absolutely mundane afternoon—

—save for a presence; a presence like the first day of winter and eyes brimming with the life of spring. Save for a boy hovering around Taehyung’s shoulders reading into him like no one did before, and wrapping around him like—like he acknowledged and celebrated Taehyung’s existence. This same Taehyung, lost somewhere between life and death, that tightly embraced the things that instilled some light in him and took him away from his melancholy. This Taehyung, dearly appreciated, but still spoken about like, like he was weird, some kind of alien. He wasn’t. Knew so. As much as he knew the image he projected. Didn’t care about it, because those people weren’t the one that made him live.

And then—and then it exploded. This fire Jimin built up at the simple mention of a boy. A name leaving his lips like a prayer. Min Yoongi. The boy that walked around with flowers in his hair like the darkest ink, blushing profusely as he swore that his best friend insisted on it and he couldn’t refuse. The boy peering into Taehyung’s eyes and embracing him whole like they’ve knew each other forever; even as Taehyung later learned that he actually hated crowds and generally stayed away from people.

Min Yoongi.

His savior.

(Or perhaps, the sinister part in him that knows of his unhealthy tendencies whispers, his downfall.)

And, and things are like that, and of course Jimin was right to be wary; because it’s a week and two and Taehyung’s walls are plastered with pictures of a fairy made boy with smiles like bottled-heaven.

“So,” Jimin casually asks as he sits by his sides, gaze flickering around and falling on the boy that had a crowd of enapturated teenagers drinking in his every words. Taehyung idly thinks he wouldn’t mind erasing them all. Perhaps he would. “Yoongi-hyung, huh?”

Taehyung doesn’t answer. Shrugs, casual and relaxed as he keeps his eyes on Yoongi. He rarely does anything else, lately. “Yoongi-hyung.” He finally concedes as the silence stretches on, if only to let a prayer-like name falls from his lips. It might as well be, Taehyung’s certain Yoongi’s out of his world and none of them deserve to even look at him.

Jimin narrows his eyes. Would probably launch himself in another tirade, like he had started to do since he discovered Taehyung’s obsession. It hadn’t been that difficult, really—where their high school’s sweetheart was, Taehyung never strayed too far behind. The most devoted fan, religious in his dedication, the reverence brimming in his eyes, the need to erase all and everyone that would even dare to come near him.

But his best friend doesn’t manage to say anything. Yoongi catches his gaze and sends a pretty smile his way. Shy on the edges, like he always try to hide, sweet like the sweetest candy out there, pretty pretty pretty.Taehyung’s heart nearly threatens to rip away from his chest like it always does whenever Yoongi does as much as glance in his direction.

And when he talks to him—

(Oh God, when he does, Taehyung runs to the nearest bathroom and brings himself to completion with this simple interaction running in his mind again and again.)

Yoongi talks to him. To the both of them, at first; sends a soft smile as a greeting to Jimin before turning toward Taehyung. And if the blushing boy by his sides falling over himself at Yoongi’s salutations wasn’t his best friend, perhaps Taehyung would have hurt him.

(It wouldn’t be the first time he hurt a person coming too close to Yoongi, after all.)

But right now—Yoongi talks to him. Started doing so after tutoring Taehyung in English on Fridays afternoons. Did it much more, daily even, after Taehyung prevented his fall when the little darling slipped in the stairs. Usually careful angel, distracted this time, wandering in the corridors all in black clothes, and slipping—would have hurt himself, if Taehyung wasn’t following close behind.

(Taehyung’s always following close behind.)

Yoongi invites him—then, because he’s polite like that—to lunch, as he does, everyday. Still gets shy, still fiddles with his pants like Taehyung would even dare to refuse. Still brightens like the prettiest star in the sky when Taehyung rushes an enamored yes.

Of course Taehyung says yes. (Would still be there, lurking in a corner and watching Yoongi like clock work.)

A Yoongi with his friend is a pleasantly loud Yoongi. He blooms with colors and expressions and Taehyung stares and stares like he’s watching the eighth wonder in the world. Drinks in Yoongi’s lullaby-like laugh, comes alive with each of his gummy smiles and the way he curls on himself when he really falls to hilarity. Babbles quietly to Jimin about his tantalizing pout, omnipresent whenever Yoongi talks, because—”fuck, Jimin, look at him, he talks in pout! How cute is that?” , “terribly cute, Tae, I feel you…!”

Not quiet enough, though.

Because Yoongi’s boyfriend sends a glare his way. Yoongi’s boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook; all shades of gorgeous and amazing, the school’s football star that glides on the ground as he walks and aces in literally everything he starts.

Taehyung doesn’t fucking care. Taehyung only cares about the fact that Jungkook has Yoongi.

That Jungkook gets to sleep on Yoongi’s lap whenever and wherever, laughs as the whole damn school coo at them and Yoongi flushes prettily. Only cares about the fact that Jungkook bursts in candid and flamboyant declarations of love to Yoongi every damn day, grabs the boy’s ass in public with a cheeky smile and only gets away with a slight pout and delicate hands pushing softly at his chest.

Taehyung burns with jealousy whenever Yoongi blooms so pretty in colors as Jungkook compliments him—”looking gorgeous again today, Min, which lucky guy might be your boyfriend?” and Yoongi, Yoongi always rolls his eyes but flushes so hard. Kisses Jungkook then, always does, quick and sweet and shying away seconds later. Taehyung hates it. Hates Jungkook. Hates that Yoongi religiously bakes something for him every day, hates that he gets to manhandle Yoongi around while the boy goes putty and easily in his strong hands. Throws him goddamn heart-eyes, cheeks red, ducking under the protection of Jungkook’s arms when he wants to get out of a conversation.

Disappearing behind the school where Taehyung knows they make out so hard Yoongi comes out of it disheveled like he’s been fucked six ways to Sunday. Ruffled hair, clothes astray, lips red and puffy like he’s been bitten; dazed, cat-like eyes.

Taehyung hates hates hates.

Still follows them, anyway. Still takes pictures, still rubs his cock and comes hard as he imagines himself in Jungkook’s place. Watches and groans and imagine his own hard cock in Yoongi’s pouty, doll-like lips. Taehyung always comes the hardest when the image flashes in his mind.

Jungkook who must know.

Because Taehyung stares. He stares at Yoongi, like his eyes were made for that and only that. Because Taehyung has money he doesn’t know what to do with and showers Yoongi with gifts, like he was his boyfriend. Because Taehyung takes thousand of pictures of Yoongi and Jungkook must have stumbled on one. Probably doesn’t know, though, that Taehyung does it when they’re not at school either. Because Taehyung’s always always here when Yoongi’s in trouble. Makes sure to beat the busy jock at it, even as Jungkook throws him a baleful look and grabs Yoongi possessively afterwards.

They fought.

When Yoongi wasn’t present, of course they fought.

Because Taehyung was obsessed with Yoongi, and Jungkook was a possessive man. To reason, Taehyung would, too, if he had an angel as boyfriend.

Taehyung’s still possessive, even though Yoongi most definitely isn’t his boyfriend.

It doesn’t break his heart as much as it did in the beginning. Yoongi’s—Yoongi’s responsive.

Flushes easily when Taehyung’s around, laughs at his positively lame jokes and gives his utmost attention whenever Taehyung gets lost in his numerous wondering about the world. Yoongi’s pretty and he only gets prettier as he shines bright when Taehyung holds his hand, because he’s—fuck, he’s an absolutely adorable little one and nothing makes him happier than someone holding his hand. Yoongi’s here, always answers present when Taehyung needs him, defends him—”Tae-Tae’s not weird. He’s a bright mind and you all have a lot to learn from him.”

God, Taehyung loves him so much.

But Yoongi—Yoongi’s an angel, okay. He’s white-pure and a right man, he would never ever cheat. Would rather die and work himself to the bone for his couple, rather than chose someone else. That’s just the way he is, another thing Taehyung has come to adore, even if it doesn’t work in his favor.

Only—

Jungkook doesn’t see that. Young and still naive and insecure in their relation as he is, brimming with fear, there’s always a slight accusation in his eyes when he sees Taehyung around Yoongi.

“Don’t fucking approach him ever again.”

Jungkook sports a bloody nose, ragged breath and multiple cuts everywhere on his body; and Taehyung doesn’t think he’s in any better shape. But Taehyung—Taehyung doesn’t really care. Taehyung’s running on obsession and some sort of crazy love that could, he’s sure, makes him live eternally.

He smirks, basking in a victory that makes Jungkook visibly tremble with rage. “What for?” he whispers, basks in thoughts of darling smiles and shy gazes dancing behind his eyelids. “He’ll be mine sooner than you expect.”

Jungkook lunges the moment those words pass Taehyung’s lips.

Even though—even though Taehyung doesn’t think so. Knows Yoongi’s too loyal to leave Jungkook for another man. But Taehyung’s also in love and knows like he knows the stars are in the galaxy that he’ll be a goner for Yoongi until the day he dies. Would rather live alone, than live with someone that isn’t Yoongi.

Because the boy with sunshine in his smile and the future in his gaze—he’s it, for Taehyung.