જ⁀➴ rayn, they/them, autism/adhd, lgbtq+ friendly, dms open (no advertisements, bots dni).
★ FANDOMS ★
percy jackson, marauders (fuck jkr), marvel, tangled, she-ra, the owl house, rocky horror, hadestown, heartbreak high, miraculous, the last of us, doctor who, wicked, hazbin hotel, arcane, maze runner, ninjago, the hunger games, shameless (us), spider-man.
𐐪ɞ CURRENTLY WRITING FOR 𐐪ɞ
the hunger games, marvel, percy jackson, genderneutral!reader, or any fandom above you request
finnick odair fanfic hazbin hotel fanfic percy jackson oneshots marvel oneshots about requests
main platforms: my ao3 pinterest spotify
Hey, Little Songbird
(Finnick Odair x GN!Reader)
SUMMARY: Sejanus Plinth's great grandchild (you) gets reaped for the 69th Hunger Games. I intend to write up until post-mockingjay (Finnick will not die). Slowburn. This will be a series.
Current word count: 44,875 Chapters 14/?
District 4!Reader, Sunshine!Reader, GN!Reader
INSPO: Hadestown musical, Orpheus and Eurydice, Crimson Rivers (ao3:bizarrestars), literature and music
AO3
Notes: this is my first proper fic, so it improves as it goes, Chapters 1-5 are short and worse quality than the rest, please don’t let it deter you.
Information before reading
Chapters 1-5 combined
Chapter 6: Hey, little songbird, you’ve got something fine
Chapter 7: You’d shine like a diamond
Chapter 8: Down in the mine
Chapter 9: And the choice is yours
Chapter 10: If you’re willing to choose
Chapter 11: Seeing as you've got nothing to lose
Chapter 12: And I could use a canary
Chapter 13: Suddenly, nothing is as it was
Chapter 14: Where are you now, Orpheus?
Chapter 15 onwards WIP
Aesthetics (Pinterest): tributes, team, arena, district 4
Anyone got any requests for Spiderman Brand New Day fics…? I’m taking requests & prompts of all sorts. (Can’t guarantee I’ll write them all as I’m working on my other fics, but I’ll definitely give a few a go.)
Request: memory loss of Peter, blurred flashbacks, memories of Tony and Spiderman, visiting Bruce Banner.
Summary: When the unknown influence of Jean Gray starts to bring memories back to you, who better to consult than your dad’s best science partner, who Peter also happens to be visiting… Insistent on unmasking the webbed-hero, your plan succeeds, but at what cost?
Warnings: mentions of parental death, Jean Gray influence, mentioned possession, grief.
Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader
Word Count: 2.1k AO3 Link Other Spidey Oneshot
Part 1
“…So why can’t I remember it?”
You slowly lifted the rest of his mask from his face, fingers brushing unintentionally against his skin beneath, until you could finally see the one you’d been looking for.
Clarity from your nightmares. A merging of your lost spider-man and the boy who you’d crossed paths with too many times for it to be a coincidence.
You looked at him intently. Seeing his deep brown eyes and searching for a truth in them, an honesty that was shattered by his broken promises.
Emotion shone from his face and you feared you could never decode it all. To know what the slight tug of his eyebrows and solemn, gentle curve of his lips truly meant.
You wondered if you’d have know before.
“There-” He took a breath to brace himself for the explanation. “There was a spell- it made everybody forget me and that’s why you don’t remember that we’ve done this all before.”
You pulled your hand back from where it hovered around his face, weary and uncertain, but instinctively reaching.
Your eyebrows furrowed together in thought. “Why was there a spell?”
“It’s kinda a long story, but a fake-superhero guy tried to take over as the ‘new iron man’ and then used Mr Stark’s drones to make it look like I murdered a load of people.” He rambled out the reasoning, senses noticing your every wince at each mention of your deceased father.
“Then he revealed my identity to the world and my friends couldn’t get into college and your reputation was falling apart and I didn’t know what to do! So I went to Dr Strange but he-”
You paused, trying to take it all in, before raising your eyebrows in discontent questioning and cutting him off.
“Strange did this?”
“Well it was mostly my fault- I changed the spell so many times it broke the universe and then forgetting me was the only solution!” He explained, running his fingers through his brown curls as he spoke.
‘Only solution’. That irked you. It made emotion bubble up inside you like an unopened can of soda.
“It can’t have been the only solution. Every time he says it’s the ‘only way’-” Your eyebrows furrowed, eyes squeezed together in frustration and he immediately knew why.
He knew that you could never accept that the only way to defeat Thanos was by Tony dying.
A ‘truth’ that Stephen Strange had repeated over and over as if it would be any comfort to a grieving child.
You didn’t have the best history with Strange because of that.
After seeing the look of pity adorning spider-man’s unmasked face, you made the choice to collect yourself and brush past the issue of blame.
You had more questions which needed answers. Ones that burned your tongue so that you couldn’t hold them back any longer.
You inhaled sharply before speaking.
“Tell me your name.” It was more of a demand than a request, but your stoic demeanour was shaken by the your eyes glossing over.
You shook your head, trying to control yourself at the understanding that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t recall it. “I should know.”
His pain mirrored yours; enhanced tenfold by the grief of years of isolation.
“Peter.” He spoke quietly.
“Peter.” You tried, letting the name fall from your tongue, hoping it would feel familiar like a snowball rather than a landslide. It fell heavily.
Then, you waited for him to continue, noticing he was staring too distantly at you to realise you wanted the rest, until you tilted your head ever so slightly in quiet encouragement.
“…Parker. Peter Parker.”
The name felt rushed out as though he didn’t know how to speak it anymore.
It hadn’t meant anything for years.
Empty words.
“Did that used to mean something to me?”
The question felt hollow.
It felt like there should’ve been something more.
As though just speaking his name should’ve caused some monumental shift, to have tilted the world on its axis. But it didn’t.
When the pained expression took over his face, you realised it hadn’t sounded as gentle as you’d intended. It was a curious question because you wanted - no, needed - to know more.
About what you had.
About what you lost.
“I need some details because I only remember half of you. And you’re more than just spiderman.” You’d plead for answers if you had to, taking a step towards him to cover the distance that you’d previously created.
You looked at him with a level of helplessness, determination and desperation. “It’s coming back - I think?- in blurs and headaches but I have something! I think we can help each other here.”
He was silent as he absorbed your words. There was none of your eagerness to fix this. Nor was there any hope.
He tugged at the strands of his hair, moving to pace lightly across the cold concrete of the rooftop.
“Peter?”
The quiet plea captured his attention, unable to hold himself back from softening at the sound.
“We’ve just done this.” He grieved with the light shake of his head.
“What?”
“You still haven’t asked me how you got up here.” Peter looked across the skyline.
You faltered. You’d questioned it for a mere moment before being too preoccupied with unvailing the masked spiderman.
“It was possession.” Peter knew you were too quick to brush off serious danger, but you had to understand this.
“My senses are so screwed up that I thought it was you.” He croaked.
His eyes met yours as he spoke. Pained, apologetic, full of heavy regrets.
Oh.
Your eyes widened, worry overtaking you. “What did I say?”
He shook his head. “It wasn’t *you* so it doesn’t matter.”
“Stop shutting me out at every new question.” The hurt was beginning to morph into frustration and he could hear it in the way your tone sharpened.
“It’s not simple to give you answers. There are forces at play here-”
“And I wouldn’t understand?” Abruptly, you cut him off. “Peter, I’m not new to this world. I know it’s complicated and I know about the dangers. Better than most. So stop treating me like I’m some kid!”
He’d heard that before.
When you were a kid. Years ago.
You were only fourteen.
It was part of an argument you’d had in the Compound before a mission. Whilst everyone was getting ready to leave you’d spoken with Tony, an (intended to be) private conversation, but most of the Avengers had overheard the raised voices.
“But we practiced! I can keep myself safe now.”
“Not against these kind of threats, kid.” Tony replied, stretching his arms out to give the signal for his suit to attach forward, half-distracted on preparing for the fight ahead and used to your requests to join the team.
“I can handle it.” You insisted with no doubt, only to receive his disbelieving chuckle.
Your hopeful expression fell, replaced by a frustrated helplessness as he continued suiting-up, ready to leave at any moment.
“Wait- Dad! Come on-” There was more beneath it, a sense of urgency.
You reached forward. “I can help. I can! Just don’t go-”
Tony looked at you knowingly. You’d had this conversation before and always to the same end.
It wouldn’t have a different after this time.
Besides even if he let you come with, both of you would have to face the wrath of Pepper for you being put in danger.
“Please.” Tears threatened to rise to the surface of your eyes.
“Hey.” He eased. “I know you want to help, but you do that by staying here.” There was a firmness to his direction, the previous humour gone and replaced by an underlying worry.
“I can’t help from here! Please just-” You started, taking a step towards him, before he cut you off.
“We’re not discussing this anymore. You’re staying here and that’s final.” Before you knew it, his suit closed up, face covered by metal. It enclosed your father.
You huffed, shaking your head and trying once more - stubborn as any Stark.
“Stop treating me like I’m some helpless kid!” It was a tempered yell with fear laced into the cracks of your voice.
Tony spoke your name, firm and final. “You are a kid. Not just that, you’re my kid.” He wavered for once. “That means I have a responsibility to keep you safe and I take that very seriously. I’ll be home soon.”
Peter saw the symmetry. The underlying disquietude that was inherent in the words you spoke. Both times you felt powerless to help those you loved. Both times you felt lost.
Maybe this time he could offer you some peace.
He could stay. Let you feel heard. He’d missed you for so long, some sick part of him felt relieved you needed him as much as he did you.
“You’re right.” Peter apologised, releasing his curls from his grip. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been so caught up worrying about you getting hurt that I didn’t realise you already are…”
This time he took a step towards you. No more pacing. No more distance. He reached out, fingers brushing lightly against your palm before your hands interlocked in a small but weighted moment.
“I miss you.” You mumbled, certain despite your memories being hazed.
The look he gave you was bittersweet. “You don’t know me.”
Your lip wavered, eyes glazing over once more as your face crumpled together to maintain some self-restraint. “I know enough-”
You were lonely. You had been since you forgot Peter. When Tony died, everything fell apart but the two of you were together in your grief. Without the memory of him, who was there to lift you up?
You released his hand, but kept your own hovering close. As if you wanted to move, but didn’t know how. It wasn’t new. You’d struggled to express your want before. He knew what it meant.
In an instant, his palm found its place on your back to pull you into his arms.
The contact drove you over the edge, breath hitching before the steady stream of tears broke free.
You buried your face in the crook of his neck, the movement feeling like you’d done it a thousand times before.
“It’s really you this time.” He whispered, holding you tighter as if it would keep you safe forever.
“So can you tell me what happened?” You managed, pulling back ever so slightly for a moment to wipe away the patch of tears.
“Someone has been messing with people’s minds, mostly just possessing them, but it’s been… different with you. Whoever it is has been searching your memories; they told me that much.” Peter’s hand smoothed circles on your upper back as he spoke, trying to keep you calm as he explained.
“I think that’s why you’ve been getting all those headaches and nightmares…” He hesitated. “It breaks all the rules for you to remember me.”
“I’ve never been good at following rules.” You hummed, lifting your head to meet his eyes.
Of course he knew that.
That was how you ended up in the worst of situations. How you saw him blip. How you watched your father die. You shouldn’t have been in either situation.
Peter let out a heavy breath. “It always gets you hurt.”
“We’ve already established this, Peter…” He’d said it moments ago. “‘m already hurt.”
A careful hand moved to cradle the curve of his cheek as you murmured,
“If someone needs to go digging in my mind to find you then so be it. You’re in there somewhere and you’re worth it.” A light smile adorned your face. Gentle hope. For once, Peter felt the same.
He leaned into your touch.
“Besides,” You added. “We don’t know their motive, what if they’re looking for something good up there.”
Motive…
He’d been so caught up in all his recent changes and anxieties that he hadn’t overly considered it.
“And hey we could always track down Wanda or some other mind-messer-upper if this one doesn’t work out.” You remarked, lips upturning into something familiar.
“For now I need to keep you away from it all. At least until I know how dangerous this person is, okay?”
For once, you nodded in agreement. No typical protest.
Just trust.
“Fine, Peter Parker.” You grinned up at him. “I suppose you can try to keep me safe.”
AUTHORS NOTES:
I’m tempted to continue this fic… let me know if anyone actually wants that! I’m also accepting fic requests. Thanks for reading :)
Request: memory loss of Peter, blurred flashbacks, memories of Tony and Spiderman, visiting Bruce Banner.
Summary: When the unknown influence of Jean Gray starts to bring memories back to you, who better to consult than your dad’s best science partner, who Peter also happens to be visiting…
Warnings: mentions of death, implied Jean Gray influence, implied possession.
Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader
Word Count: 2.6k AO3 Link Other Spidey Fic
A part of you felt missing. For so long you’d assumed it was due to the passing of your dad, but recently there was something more beneath it, something that was clawing its way to the surface.
You had questions. Ones that didn’t have simple answers. Ones that would circle through your mind in an endless loop until you’d spend every waking moment trying to figure them out in typical Stark fashion.
You’d spend sleepless nights thinking and then sketching and then engineering to find solutions to the things that should never be solved - life and death.
Your dad may have invented time travel, but he was smart enough to prevent it being replicated.
He knew humanity too well.
He knew you too well.
That didn’t stop you dwelling on what could’ve been.
Once you’d accepted that the past stayed past and the dead stayed dead, you began preparing for new threats, studying the gauntlet prototypes and trying to reconnect what once was of the avengers.
Trying to continue his legacy.
It wasn’t a simple task.
The ones who were alive weren’t all eager to interact with you. They looked at you distantly like they were staring through a ghost.
Others weren’t around anymore. Off-world or…
You didn’t like to think about it.
Your childhood was filled with faces you’d never see again. Heroic figures who failed to save your father and were wrecked with guilt at the mere thought of you.
You were 16 when he died. Old enough to want to fight, but too weak to do so. You’d tried but they promised you they’d look after him for you.
Promises didn’t mean much anymore.
Promises were made by desperate people looking only to appease. Not out of certainty and not something to trust.
You were still weak now - emotionally, at least.
The nightmares tore through the little sleep you got. They’d become worse recently. It felt as though there was a presence trying to invade your mind, scraping through memories and orbiting around one hero.
Spider-Man.
You’d wake up in a cold sweat after seeing his red suit dissipating in the arms of your father with a distorted cry. Or your vision would double with blurred figures of him standing on the Statue of Liberty as the sky swirled with impossible colours.
After each occurrence, you’d note down the details you could remember, trying to decipher the pained images.
Then you noticed a pattern - he never wore a mask in your nightmares, which was strange because you’d never seen him without one.
You’d spent time with him in the compound years ago, but he’d never removed the mask.
It stopped making sense after a while.
If he didn’t take off the mask, why could you remember dinner with Spider-Man? Laughing around the table with the Avengers when he’d come to visit.
It would’ve been unfathomable to have spent so much time together without once catching a glimpse.
And your dad trusted him. He was one of the few non-avengers allowed in the compound.
Everything you knew about him was fragmented, but you had this overwhelming feeling he was important.
The more you fixated on it, the more your dreams began to be consumed by him, until it moved into your waking hours.
That was when you knew something had to be done.
After weeks of trying to fight through the headaches and insomnia to figure out what was going on, you decided you couldn’t do it alone.
You figured that the best person to go to for any unusual changes or mental problems was definitely Dr Banner. He was one of the few Avengers that stayed local the last few years and had experience with all sorts of problems.
It wasn’t the first time you’d bothered him and it wouldn’t be the last. (and he’d never admit it, but he didn’t mind it all too much.)
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺
As you stepped into the classroom, you noticed a few eyes on you, but nothing as bad as what Tony used to get. Pepper and Happy had kept you as shielded as possible for a Stark to be in the outside world: no interviews, few news headlines, and no dramatic speeches like Tony always did.
When Dr Banner spotted you in his class he distinctly paused. Once he’d accepted it, he offered a polite wave of acknowledgment before beginning.
He spotted Cindy Moon with her hand up once again. “Is this a question about physics or another one about the Avengers?”
He could tell by the look on her face it wasn’t about physics. “Alright, let it rip Cindy.”
“If Thanos was so worried about overpopulation, why didn’t he use the magic glove to make more food?”
You winced at the question having not expected this topic in the lecture.
It took every bit of restraint for you to not snap back. To not declare that Thanos was a maniac whose ideas had so little thought and concern-
Dr Banner cut off your mental spiral and diverted the focus to something less sensitive. Not so eager on the talk of Thanos with you in the room.
“Want to answer that for me, Russ?”
…
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺
Once the class was over, you made your way swiftly over to Dr Banner, eager to ask your questions.
“So what are you doing here, kid?” He knew it was you approaching before he even looked up from his notes. “It’s not like we visit each other often and I know you’re not one of my students.”
“Maybe I’m just here for the physics lecture.”
Bruce let out a chuckle. “As if you need any lectures. You know what you’re doing.”
“I thought I wasn’t meant to grow complacent in my knowledge.” You retorted, throwing back words a younger you had heard.
It earned a smile.
One that saw you for the parts of Tony you carried.
“Besides I don’t know everything.” You spoke a little quieter.
“My question isn’t about physics. It’s a bit more… abstract. I would’ve gone to Strange about it, but you know how he can be.”
This caught his attention, eyebrows raising inquisitively before they settled in an uncertain frown.
“Go on.”
“I’ve been getting these nightmares, but they’re not the usual kind. They’re all centring around a figure. The more I try to focus on its face the worse it gets and it’s started happening in the day too… sort of like a splitting headache, but more like my mind is being ripped apart.”
Bruce listened carefully to your explanation, trying to figure out if it was anything he’d seen before. After all, he’d been around for plenty of Tony’s panic attacks where he was convinced he was dying. The two of you were equally dramatic.
“Have you experienced anything traumatic recently?” He asked, before correcting himself. “Anything new.”
You shook your head.
“Do you remember the first time it happened?”
“Um…” You tried to recall. “It started two weeks ago. But nothing important had happened that day, I only went to see Yelena in a coffee shop, then went home. Nothing unusual.”
Bruce hummed in thought, moving to find some paper to take a note down of your situation. As he did so he spotted a boy still hanging around from his lecture, eyes focused solely on you.
With the reasonable concern of any teacher, he had to check this guy wasn’t an absolute creep stalking the child of Tony Stark (it was unfortunately possible).
“Hey, are you waiting to have a chat?” Dr Banner asked politely, trying to gage the boy’s motive.
“Uh yeah- I just didn’t want to interrupt you two-”
You turned to look at him before being hit with the worst ache yet. You held your head, sound shrieking in your ears in a splitting cry, your eyes closed, face scrunching together.
Images flooded in, but this time they weren’t riddled with pain, but something much brighter and just as suffocating. There was laughter and legos and sunsets from rooftops, hands intertwined with the red material, tracing the texture of the web-like seams. You heard him speak, *promising* he’d find you and that everything would be okay.
Then you were back, with Bruce’s hand on your shoulder, gently stabilising you. “Hey hey, sit down.” He analysed your symptoms closely. “Did it happen again?”
You nodded as best you could. You were unable to see the concern adorning the face of the boy who stood braced to help, still halfway across the room.
“I’ll call Pepper to send a driver to take you home.” Bruce suggested.
“No- Going home won’t fix this. I need a solution!” You protested, which didn’t shock Bruce. Always too eager to have answers immediately and unwilling to rest until you get some.
“You need to rest. I’ll gather some research and keep in contact, okay?” He never had before, but there wasn’t much you could do to argue as it still felt like a hammer was descending on your skull.
As Banner was occupied calling your mom, the boy cautiously approached.
“Um- hi. Are you okay?” His eyebrows furrowed together in concern.
“Mhm just a headache- It’s easing up.” You assured politely, still rubbing at your temples in the aftermath.
You expected a reply, but after the prolonged silence you looked up at the boy only to find his eyes already on you.
If it were anyone else you’d have been startled, but for some reason you could only find yourself staring intently too.
He looked familiar.
He sounded familiar, although he hadn’t spoken much.
“Do I know you?” It felt like an odd question to ask. One that you should’ve known the answer to.
“No uh- I don’t think so.” He shook his head lightly with an expression you couldn’t pinpoint.
It had more emotion than it should have for a stranger.
You felt like you were going crazy.
Like the blurred face from your dreams had jumped alive and was assuming the identity of those around you. It was like he was speaking with the voice that haunted your every moment.
Maybe it was evolving from a dream to a hallucination?
*Something’s wrong.*
“What is it?” He asked.
“Huh?”
“You said something’s wrong.”
“Oh.” You’d spoken aloud. “Nothing’s wrong.”
He looked at you incredulously. “I can tell when you’re lying.”
He said it like he knew you.
“How?” You looked at him suspiciously.
“Because you’re a terrible liar.” He laughed. He didn’t need to know you to see that, but he did.
“I’m injured here and you’re criticising me. It’s unfair.” The reply felt so natural.
“Mh sounds dramatic for ‘just a headache’.” He quipped before softening up again. “So which is it?”
“Fine.” You breathed. “I don’t feel great, but what’s it to you?”
“Oh- nothing, I’m just a… concerned classmate.” He murmured.
Yep. Classmate. You definitely go here. So does Peter. Neither of you are lying to each other or undercover in the exact same place. You’re both students at whatever collage this is…
“That makes complete sense.” No more questions; it wouldn’t be good for either of you.
“So, are you gonna tell me your name, concerned classmate?”
He hesitated. Long enough for you to question if he’d forgotten his own name.
“Ned. Ned Leeds.”
Hm.
“You don’t look like a Ned.”
He shrugged bashfully. “Well I didn’t choose the name.”
You offered him a polite smile and introduced yourself in return. He nodded and you wondered if he’d heard of you.
“So… Ned, you’re wanting to speak to Dr Banner?” You interrogated.
“Yeah- I have some questions.” He seemed nervous for some reason. “About physics.”
“Oh well he’s the best physics teacher and scientist I know, so I’m sure he can help you with whatever it is.” You smiled.
“I hope so.”
Bruce returned to let you know the car was almost here. You thanked him and said goodbye to ‘Ned’, looking back one final time before you left.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺
You couldn’t stop thinking of him after that, replaying through the interaction as if answers could be found in it.
That voice.
Why did it turn into his voice?
Was that his voice?
Was Spiderman some random guy in Dr Banner’s class?
It wasn’t making sense.
You decided that you needed to test your hypothesis as any good scientist would do. To do that, you’d need to meet spiderman and unveil his identity - not publicly of course - for your own sake.
Everyone knew the best way to find spiderman, was to be in (or become) *danger*.
And since you’d lost his number and nobody you knew seemed to have it, you needed to take quick action into your own hands.
Going against everything your mother had ever taught you, you planned your victimisation.
It’d be simple in New York. You could basically stand in the street and wait for the crime to come to you!
If you’d been of a more sane mind at the time, you’d have realised how terrible of an idea this was. However, after weeks of sleep deprivation and super-powered headaches, you didn’t know much better.
You chose the wrong day to put yourself in danger, but how were you to know that a traumatised mind-controlling mutant with powers of possession would be walking around!
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺
“You idiot! What were you thinking?” You heard the voice echo out as you faded back into consciousness. Snapping back to reality far too fast to process it all.
“I knew it! I wasn’t going crazy. It’s you!” You half-yelled, voice still recovering from what seemed like screaming?
“Is that what all this is about? Figuring out who I am?” He seemed mad. Not just that - exasperated and a bit bloodied even visible over the suit.
You then realised you weren’t where you thought you were. It was windy up here. Once you took a look around, you realised all the buildings didn’t seem so tall because you were on a rooftop. With a very unhappy spiderman. But a real one. Not a dream one.
“You almost died!”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Was all you could manage, trying not to worry too much about whatever just happened that you couldn’t remember.
“No you don’t get to act so unconcerned about this! You always do this!” He seemed so frustrated, the eye plates shuttering and widening in emotion.
“What?”
You frowned.
He paused. Taking a step back as if he’d just realised what he said.
“I don’t remember ever doing anything like this before. We only saw each other at the compound, right?”
“I just meant- you were always trying to run towards the danger.” He tried to save it with an explanation. Not willing to tell you that a stunt like this was exactly what got his identity revealed to you the first time.
He should’ve known when he saw you at Banners.
“No there’s something else. There’s something you’re not telling me. It’s been plaguing me. And I need answers.” You stepped towards him, footing a little shakey from whatever incident had occurred.
“C’mon. Just tell me. We were friends right, once?” You hated that you had to ask.
He breathed. “Yeah… We were friends.”
You reached for the curve of his neck, finding the edge of the mask, slowly enough that he could move away at any moment. Enough that it was still in his control if he needed it to be. The movement felt too familiar.
“Why does it feel like I’ve done this before?”
He went to speak, but you didn’t trust it, halting your movements ever so slightly.
“I want the real answer, Spidey. Don’t bullshit me.”
He sighed, feeling the mask be lifted off his neck.
“You have done this before. We have.” He spoke with little power, quiet and a bit hesitant.
“…So why can’t I remember it?”
AUTHORS NOTES:
Lmk if anyone wants a part 2 cause I have plans… I’m also taking more requests.
Can i request one where reader starts dating peter after everybody forgot about him and he miss mj and reader thinks he still likes her but its not the case? Angst with happy ending please 🙏 thank you!!! English its not my first language sorry
Don’t You Want Me?
BRAND NEW DAY SPOILERS!!!
Summary: When Peter’s powers start acting up you can’t help but wonder if it’s anything to do with his past.
Warnings: mentions of a needle and stitches (I can make a needle-free edition if anyone wants it), brief mention of stalking, Peter is partially influenced by the arachnid changes before the party. I’m also accepting more fic requests!!
Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
Word Count: 2.9k
AO3 link Other Spidey Fic
There was nothing simple about dating Spider-Man. With the moments he’d run off in the middle of a movie or suddenly cancel on date night, it didn’t exactly make you feel secure in the relationship.
You didn’t blame Peter. After-all, the whole ‘crime fighting’ and ‘saving the world’ gig was far bigger than you, but sometimes it got to you having to always chase after time with the man you love.
This pile of complexity was only added to by that cursed spell that some wizard had cast four years ago. Although this was before you met Peter, you knew how important this was to him. It had changed his life entirely.
You didn’t realise how much more it would change until one night.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺
“Come with me.”
“To the party?” You looked at him incredulously. “Peter, this is borderline staking. I understand you follow people for your spidey purposes, but this…”
On another occasion your moral concerns would’ve hit him and knocked him out of this determined haze, however something was different. He seemed more intense than usual, eyes still trained on Ned’s fading figure, set on moving forward.
“I need to see them. Just once.”
His voice ached with a desperation and grief that took you aback.
This meant something to him, more than you could understand. You let him continue.
“Besides it’s a party, anyone’s invited.” He tried to rationalise his actions as his hand interlocked with yours, pulling you forward with him as an accomplice.
As you wondered through the streets, you couldn’t help the sinking feeling settling in your stomach.
Each corner Ned turned you weren’t far behind and it felt so obsessive?
Peter wasn’t like this.
He’d watch a few instagram stories and visit a few coffee shops, but he wouldn’t do anything like this so spontaneously.
“I’m not so sure about this.” You murmured, as you approached the building.
Even in his focused state Peter noted your anxiety.
“Hey, we don’t need to stay long.” He reassured, turning towards you and finally meeting your eyes.
He seemed different in this light.
“I just want to see what their lives are like now. Then we can move on.” The gentle certainty of his tone provided some relief.
Moving on was exactly what you needed. Maybe this would provide some much needed closure.
You let out a resigned sigh, keeping a firm grasp on his hand as you walked up the stairs.
You could hear the party bellowing nearby. It was busy enough that the two of you entered unnoticed by the array of drunk college students.
That was until Peter had the bright idea to walk directly into Ned’s room, carried by emotion rather than rational thought.
As you stepped inside, he dropped your hand in favour of exploring the room.
He didn’t make it far before Ned walked out of his bathroom, startled by the strangers in his room but pleased to share his spiderman studies.
“Oh I see you’ve stumbled across my board. I’m not one of those weirdos, I swear.”
You hadn’t met Ned before, but you’d heard plenty about him. Enough to know that the Lego figure Peter picked up meant more than just a childish toy to him.
“I’m only looking for spiderman because I want to thank him in person. Not to tell anyone or make it a newsworthy thing. He saved me a few times in high school. I remember it well.”
Not well enough.
“Oh.” Peter’s expression softened.
“I even made an app!”
“Spidey tracker.” A small smile adorned his face.
“Oh you know it?” Ned beamed at Peter’s shared awareness.
The two spoke like the closest of friends, even now, and you felt almost as if you were watching the interaction from afar.
“Do you want to see my main spiderman suspects?” Ned seemed so eager to share his theories.
You had to admit, you were a bit intrigued to see the possibilities, all whilst knowing you were already stood next to spiderman himself.
When Ned unveiled two random guys, you noticed a flicker of acknowledgement in Peter’s expression. It was somewhere close to a bittersweet laugh.
He seemed so overcome with a new joy and sorrow all at once.
As you turned to check up on him, a voice interrupted you.
“Hey I need help in the kitchen, some guy is throwing up. I still don’t know why we invited so many people…” She murmured, unimpressed with the turnout of the night.
“We can clean it up, it’s bound to happen at a party.” Ned replied shrugging, yet all you could notice was the way Peter’s focus was trained on the woman. His lips parted as if words had escaped him, and all he was staring at was a ghost he longed to reach.
That’s when you knew it was MJ.
“Who are you two? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.” You could see her analysing you both intensely.
“You don’t know them?”
“Um, we’re just…” You started to try and find an explanation, but Peter cut you off abruptly.
“May- Maynard and June.”
You couldn’t help but grimace at the atrociously obvious fake names, wondering why Peter would cut you off to offer such a terrible cover. He was supposed to be good at this secret identity thing!
“Yep. Maynard and June. We’re new here.” You forced yourself to back him.
Peter was stood like a fool, still clutching May’s flowers, half-frozen in place aside from his few unhelpful additions to the conversation.
“Are those flowers for someone?” She questioned. “Or do you just walk about with them?”
“Oh- oh! Here, they’re a housewarming gift.” He fumbled with the bouquet as though he’d suddenly remembered it existed.
You tensed as he handed her the flowers.
Her eyebrows raised in acknowledgement of the alternative gift. “Oh thanks, most people just brought alcohol.”
After offering the polite reply, she looked back at Ned, still needing his help. “Anyway… I better go stop any more mess from being made. Ned?”
“Can we go now? I think they’re busy.” You murmured to Peter, barely loud enough to hear amongst the noise of the party.
“We’ve just got here.” He lightly protested, but was evidently still dazed from the conversation.
You sighed as he followed them out into the kitchen a few moments after they’d left.
“Peter.” You grabbed his hand once more, trying to stop him, but forgot his inhuman strength as you did nothing more than stumble forward with him.
He instinctively caught you mid-fall and grasped your waist to stabilise you.
“We’ll leave soon. I promise.”
You couldn’t help but believe him as his eyes met yours with a quiet pleading.
“I don’t think this is helping you.” You admitted.
As he went to protest, he caught sight of a man with MJ, cozying up to her in a familiar fashion. When he kissed her, you felt Peter’s grip on you tighten, causing you to look in the direction of his focus.
He was so preoccupied he didn’t spot your distaste.
You shook your head, a sigh turning into an emotion-filled huff.
“I’m going. You can leave with me if you want, but I’m going back to my apartment. Alone.” You pursed your lips together, restraining yourself from saying anything more.
“Wait-”
His pleading voice faded out into the atmosphere as you passed through the drunken crowd. You caught sight of the happy couples, making out in corners and dancing to the music, as you sped away from your boyfriend.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺
The next few days weren’t great for spiderman as you watched his life through the news.
The Daily Bugle reported a police officer in critical condition at his hand, but you knew they weren’t the most reliable news source when it came to “SPIDER-MENACE”. What you did notice in the footage was the smaller details that the untrained public wouldn’t have considered: the absence of his usual webshooters; the slowness of his spidey senses; and the force with which he fought.
It wasn’t right.
That’s when you finally gave in and found your way over to his apartment, letting yourself in with the key he’d given you months ago.
It was in a worse state than last you’d seen it, as though a few too many of his web-bombs had exploded. Sketches were littered across his desk as his machine worked away, evidently having tried (and failed) to create many prototypes of this device you’d never seen before.
That meant it was new.
Something had changed in the last 48 hours.
In all the chaos, the weird technology wasn’t the strangest thing you spotted - lying on his laundry basket were another woman’s clothes, a crop top and some “juicy” sweat pants.
As you went to observe them, you heard the twist of the door handle revealing a battered, beaten-up Peter, looking the worst you’d seen him in a long time.
His eyes widened as he spotted you, immediately springing into a frantic explanation despite his exhaustion.
“I swear there’s a reason for those clothes- You see I sort of fell out of a web cocoon half-naked and they were all I could find in the laundry room-”
Your concern for him had already overruled your frustration.
Your words left you with an urgent worry, simultaneously loud yet weak.
“It’s fine, Peter.” You blinked, eyes scanning up and down his form for the injuries.
“Just get out of that suit and sit down-”
He froze, before cracking a small forced smile.
“Do I really look that bad?” That playful laugh left his split lip in a way that made your reluctant heart melt.
“Yeah idiot.”
You matched his mood, rolling your eyes as you reached for the conveniently placed first-aid kit in his room.
If you didn’t laugh along, you worried the other emotions would rise to the surface. Your many fears - for his safety, of his love, of his past - they were consuming you recently.
Once he was undressed and planted comfortably on his sofa, you approached with the medical equipment. It wasn’t an infrequent practice, but the circumstances were different.
You’d missed a lot in a short time it seemed.
“So, you gonna tell me what happened to get you all scraped up?” You asked, eyes meeting his for a moment before you started deciphering which injury needed attention first.
“You know the job. This isn’t the first time.” He looked bashfully away and you noticed his unusual embarrassment.
“Peter.”
He should’ve known that explanation wouldn’t suffice.
“It’s difficult to explain- I don’t really understand it myself still.” He winced as you applied pressure to his most recent wound, voice becoming more strained in his attempt to keep composure.
“Try.” Was all you encouraged gently, needing an answer but not willing to argue with an injured man.
He nodded in resignation, knowing he couldn’t avoid the situation forever. “My DNA is changing in a way. The arachnid hormones are taking over sometimes and I can’t control it.”
You paused your movements.
That wasn’t what you’d expected.
“When did it start?”
“The morning before yesterday. That’s when I woke up outside in the web cocoon and why I have those clothes.” He pointed at the basket you’d been looking at earlier, forgetting his injuries for a moment before but being reminded by the sudden pang.
“You didn’t call me.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“Bullshit. You tell me everything.”
You frowned, trying to refocus on patching him up. “From fighting aliens to free churros from a stranger on the street. You tell me. You always do.”
You sighed, keeping your composure as well as possible as you continued on. “Why has it all changed now that she’s showed up again?”
The sentence was more of a heavy breath than a question.
“You need stitches.” You murmured, interrupting your own grievance to search for the medical needle.
Peter tilted his head at your evident discomfort. His senses were strong enough to hear what you said even if you didn’t intend it.
“Hey, stop that for a second.” He reached out to slowly place his hand on your shoulder.
“Stop helping you?” You raised an eyebrow before ignoring his instruction.
“I mean it. We need to talk without all the distractions.” Peter’s tone was nothing but kind, yet in the haze of your anxiety it all sounded wrong.
‘We need to talk’ clearly meant he wanted to break up. You wouldn’t let that happen until he was at least stitched up.
Once he realised you weren’t stopping, he decided to speak on anyway.
“I didn’t tell you because I was ashamed. I’ve had full control of my powers for years and then suddenly web fluid is spewing from my wrist? I found it gross enough without showing my partner.” He admitted, inhaling sharply as your needle pierced his skin.
Although you believed him on that, it didn’t answer everything.
One question kept running through your mind.
“Do you still like her?”
You blurted out abruptly before you could stop yourself, squeezing your eyes shut when you realised you’d spoke it aloud.
“Who, MJ?” Peter frowned as if the idea of you thinking that had never crossed his mind.
The question worsened your frustration because who else would you be referring to? It wasn’t like he had many notable exes you’d be talking about.
You tried to stay focused on his wound to ground your irritation as you replied.
“Yeah, everything’s gone all haywire since you saw her.” You noted, laced in an undertone of insecurity. “Seems a strange coincidence.”
All of these changes to Peter were seemingly happening because of her.
He paused, unsure of how to address the matter. The pain didn’t help him think clearly.
“You can’t function without her. Your body’s literally telling you it, like it’s in your blood or something.” Your words tumbled out as you thought over and over about the recent events.
“I don’t think that’s why this is happening-” He tried, attempting to placate the worry, but failing to do so fast enough.
“Well I do. You may not have seen it but I have. That look in your eye you’ve had recently… it’s different. It flickers for a moment and then suddenly you’re chasing your old life.” You pointed out.
“A life that I wasn’t a part of.” You mumbled uncomfortably as you finished the final stitch.
The words revealed your true dispute with this and Peter finally understood the complexities of what you’d been feeling.
He spoke your name to snap you out of your mental spiral.
“What I feel for MJ, it’s not love.” Peter’s hand found yours, guiding you to place down the needle and focus on him. “Or not the romantic kind at least. It’s not like what I feel for you.”
You looked away, struggling to meet his eyes. He reached to tilt your face towards his gaze.
“I want the friendship back where I spent all of my high school years by their side. But then we go to college, and I meet this incredible person at Aunt May’s charity and we spend all our time together.” He assured.
“You’re a part of my story. No matter how I write it.” Peter emphasised every word.
“I’m not trying to get MJ back. That’s not what made me so… distressed. The emotion is in what I lost: we were meant to live together; go to M.I.T. like Mr Stark wanted all those years ago; build those damn star wars legos together. All those things we’d planned - that’s what I mourn. And that’s why everything’s gone haywire. Not because I’m planning on cheating on you with someone I haven’t seen in four years.”
He finally let the feelings he’d been trying to hard to ignore out.
You fell silent, mentally replaying every word he’d just said.
“When you left the party the other night you thought I felt something when I saw that MJ has a boyfriend, but the feeling wasn’t jealousy. It was a reminder that everything changes and that no matter how I try, Aunt May was right. I can’t see the future.” He struggled through her name. “And I worried if something like before could ever happen to you.”
The emotion in his voice tore through any doubt you had.
“It’s not safe to love me.” He reiterated his point.
“I’ve always known that. It’s not some new threat.”
“It’s worse now. There are darker forces at play, I’ve seen possession and mind control just within the last week.” He hadn’t told you that part before either.
“Hey nobody would want to be up there in my head.”
You offered him a moment to laugh beyond the obvious concern, satisfied when you heard the light chuckle before his seriousness returned.
“I just don’t want to see you hurt.”
He spoke in a pained desperation that you’d seen far too much of in the past few days.
“Ironic coming from the man who won’t let me finish patching him up…” You tilted your head at him, eyes meeting his intently. “I know you’re being serious, but I know what I’m getting into.”
You leaned in to kiss him, careful of his split lip. He didn’t seem so concerned, eagerly accepting the offer - injuries be damned. As you pulled back to breathe, you spoke once more.
“Besides, even the worst that could happen wouldn’t be enough for me to stop loving you.”
Anyone got any requests for Spiderman Brand New Day fics…? I’m taking requests & prompts of all sorts. (Can’t guarantee I’ll write them all as I’m working on my other fics, but I’ll definitely give a few a go.)
Skimming back through my fic and this foreshadowing I did is getting to me now that it’s actually coming to fruition…
An inevitable death is coming up and it always hurts a bit too much to kill off my characters, even though I know I signed up for this in a damn hunger games fic. Probably could’ve skipped the arena and the pain, but I’m here for the lore.
I should probably link the fic if anyone wants to read it. Hey, Little Songbird Finnick Odair x GenderNeutral!Reader
series summary: sejanus plinth’s great grandchild (you) gets reaped for the 69th hunger games.
warnings/notes: dizziness, declining mental state, mentioned hallucinations, the arena. this chapter is from finnick's perspective.
pairing: finnick odair x gn!reader
wc: 1.6k ao3 link
︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶
Suddenly, nothing is as it was
Where are you now, Orpheus?
︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶
[Meanwhile in the Capitol, One day earlier.]
The cameras had been erratically flitting between tributes all evening, never showing enough that any of the mentors could fully gage what impending danger awaited. There was no way to fully tell what was going on behind the carefully presented display.
Despite it being the 7th day of the games, the gamemakers were still keeping the mentors in the dark with their ‘twist’.
It was predictable enough to the career districts. Mags had overheard a mentor from district 2 discussing a source of delirium in the arena, developed by the same technology as the trackerjacker venom. It stemmed from a genetic modification of the underwater plants with a higher in concentration in the bigger bodies of water like the cornucopia - a place all of the tributes would be pushed towards as the borders would begin to close in.
The threat was environmental: in the air as released by the willows; in the water with each deadly plant; and in the very soil beneath your feet. The cameras had been hinting at it throughout, zooming in on specific features of the arena, enough to build some suspicion, but keep a dramatic reveal ready.
For that reason, they had less mutts this year. Aside from the modified bees you and Halle had faced, there were only two other known mutts in the arena: the lake trout that stuck to tributes like leaches with teeth like piranhas, and the toads which secreted a toxin only found in the ponds of district 6 and worsened tributes conditions over time.
There had been varied reactions to the exposure, but the paralysis from the toads had been the most difficult to witness; it left Dove Farwillow of District 6 to starve to death, unable to move and consume the food she’d carried with her. The girl was only thirteen.
Neither Mags nor Finnick were sure if there was any worse to come. Mags’ experience couldn’t ever fully prepare her for the maniacal ploys of the gamemakers and Finnick, having only won the year before, held limited wisdom as a child himself.
Finnick suspected that they’d have to announce the subtle effects to the Capitol audience soon, but they’d need something important to demonstrate it. Something dramatic and captivating.
Until then it would be safe for a time. Afterall, the arena was in the aftermath of a spectacle; it could afford some level of peace before the final showdown. You, Halle, Moss, Tulip and Iris had provided them with enough.
Unfortunately, with the extra tributes this year and 13 still remaining, Finnick knew that the peace couldn’t last too long. They’d need to whittle down the numbers towards the endgame.
Yesterday’s focus had been on you. The whole day had worked up to the impending disaster as the arena had been subtly manoeuvring your group towards Tulip and the girl from 5, Iris.
The two were fierce tributes despite their young ages. They’d gotten into a few scrapes in the arena, against mutts and once with another tribute. In both scenarios they’d come out on top.
Their portrayal was staggeringly different to yours. The cameras seemed to emphasise your vulnerability: the moments in which Halle needed assistance from exhaustion; the tunes you’d sang; and the softness of your friendship. It was a sharp contrast to the murderous atmosphere.
It made you look sympathetic.
It made you look weak.
Finnick didn’t expect it. The moral standing.
He knew that the arena could draw out the most carnal, vile instincts, even of those cheerful and light characters. He’d witnessed it first hand - hell, he’d killed. In the heat of the moment anyone could change in an instant.
But not you.
Well, not towards violence at least.
As you were tumbled into the aftermath of loss, the cameras barely flicked to you. They would dart between scenes with no clear narrative.
That could only mean one thing: that your behaviour wasn’t painting the perfect picture for their audience.
Something was wrong. Finnick could see that from each momentary clip they’d provide of you. There were moments of hope, like when you received your sponsorship, but even then, the light in your eyes lacked. You didn’t look well.
He glanced over at Mags, who sat beside him on the sofa still in the tribute centre. The same sofa that you’d slept on all those nights before. It was like you were a ghost now in some ways. You might be soon. He thought, much to his own discomfort.
“They’re not coping well alone.” Finnick murmured, head in hands as he tried to think of what could be done.
Finnick was still young, freshly out of the arena himself, with memories of his own games invading his mind.
Mags offered a sorrowful hum of acknowledgement.
He continued. “Even that night before the arena- They couldn’t-”
He remembered that night, how you’d refused to sleep in that Capitol room. It seemed you despised isolation. He thought back to the days when you were younger and how you were always eager to be included, a light, positive presence. You clung to connection. It was even more evident by your insistence to have allies in the first place. Now, they were gone.
Mags placed a hand on Finnick’s shoulder in comfort, trying to provide words of advice, but they were fleeting in her moments of stress.
Instead, she offered a gentle expression of reassurance. She couldn’t promise that you’d be okay, just as she couldn’t for Tulip or Petunia, but she could be there for Finnick regardless just as she had been during his games.
︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶
Finnick didn’t sleep that night as he dwelled on the games.
Although you were more sheltered than the night before, he’d grown paranoid too. Yesterday, he’d lost his first tribute and the whole event was heavier than he’d imagined. Sure, he’d lost his district partner in his games but they weren’t an ally like you’d made; he was in his games alone at whatever stakes and there was no time to worry for others. Now, being a mentor, time was all he had, endless waiting and watching for the impending tragedies.
It was all made worse with his understanding that there was more to come.
Despite the horrors he’d witnessed, Finnick wasn’t separate from the experience; he’d still cry and waver at the violence with the facade of detachment not yet formed.
You’d gotten your fair share of screen time through the games, almost as much as the career pack, which was rare. There was a strange appeal that came from saving another tribute in a game where only one could survive in the end. It was unheard of on such an open level and that drew people in.
That moment when you first saved Halle he’d looked at Mags with incredulous disbelief. In her eyes he could see Mags’ admiration and fear entwined together, a similar feeling he couldn’t convey aloud. Since then that same fear had set cold around his heart.
You’d saved a child you barely knew. It had started a capitol-wide debate about whether you were foolish, kind, or just ‘different’ than the typically ‘savage’ district kid.
It was good that people were interested. It mean that there were opportunities for sponsors when you needed it and you certainly did.
Mags was more cautious from this. She’d seen how the gamemakers pry off of popularity, orchestrating deaths to kill off capitol favourites in the most drastic ways, or they’d ensure their win. It was an unpredictable pendulum.
You needed to keep up the aspects that they admired of you as any swift changes to your state would be scrutinised. That must’ve been why the Capitol wouldn’t show the reality of your state, clawing at your own mind for some semblance of motivation and sanity.
There was much work to be done.
The little sleep that Finnick obtained that night was on the tribute centre’s sofa as he hoped that his tributes would too make it through the night.
︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶
The next day you’d found the locator map much to Finnick’s relief because it was finally something he could control. He could undoubtedly sway a sponsors choice so that you could find someone beneficial.
His first thought was Petunia, so that you could be reunited with your only remaining district partner, but after your last run in with Tulip, some doubt hovered in his mind - resulting in his final choice of Evan.
He took another look at the tributes locations before asking Mags what she’d suggest.
That was when it became clear.
Mags pointed at the movement of Petunia, a solemn frown accompanying the light shake of her head.
His eyes caught track of Petunia’s route. A single tribute marker lit on the map heading towards a much larger cluster of light flaring with the colours of the career districts.
Neither would have noticed this if it weren’t for the map in front of them, which was only allowed to decide who to direct you towards. The Careers mentors wouldn’t know it.
Knowledge was no advantage here though. No sponsorships could be sent to Petunia without raising suspicion. She was doing well enough not to need them at this moment. However, Petunia, unlike you, hadn’t found any allies in the arena. The agreements she’d made in the training centre were only distant promises that never had the chance to come to fruition.
She was treading a lonesome, uncertain path with nothing more than a small dagger and a few berries shoved in her pockets as she brushed past the bushes towards unforgivable danger.
It seemed the next tragedy was coming sooner than expected.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
CHAPTER 14 out on AO3, also available in Tumblr format.
Gender-neutral reader, Finnick Odair fanfiction. Details for tags, relationships and summary below ⬇️
Chapters: 14/?
Fandom: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Relationships: Finnick Odair/Reader
Characters: Finnick Odair, Mags (Hunger Games), Wiress (Hunger Games), Haymitch Abernathy, Johanna Mason, Reader, Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, Annie Cresta, Beetee Latier, Cecelia (Hunger Games)
Additional Tags: Not Canon Compliant, Song: Hey Little Songbird (Hadestown), Poetry, Fluff, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Minor Character Death, Murder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Mental Health Issues, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Mentor/Tribute, District 4 (Hunger Games), Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Finnick Odair Lives, Emotional Baggage, Survivor Guilt, Jealousy, Codependency, Comfort, Nightmares, Mentioned Sejanus Plinth, Temporary Amnesia, Drowning, Escapism, Not Always Depressing, Referenced prostitution, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Plinth Ancestory, President Snow Hates Your Family, Canon Related, Confessions, Love, Death, Feelings Realization, Denial of Feelings, Suicidal Thoughts, Grief/Mourning
Summary:
Almost 60 years after the death of Sejanus Plinth, his descendent is reaped for the 69th Hunger Games causing President Snow to come face to face with his past. You navigate the games and life after as a Victor from District 4.
The 69th Games contain 36 tributes and no volunteers are allowed, leaving your fate up to the Capitol alone.
I intend to go up to post-mockingjay (Finnick will not die and neither will you).
Knowing the title song is not significant or necessary, so dw about that.
No use of Y/N. Your last name is Plinth. Gender neutral reader, the reaping isn’t done by gender. Sunshine!Reader.
🎶✨when u get this, list 5 songs u like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (positivity is cool)🎶✨
omg im one of your favourite followers 🥹 tyy
(in order of rn)
Wet (i LIVE this one)
how to make crows cry
war isnt murder
Mr brightside
mitti ke bete
*other ones that are just as important but i cant fit all of them in 5 and i feel like more people should know them(not in order)
Just a girl
girls just wanna have fun
labour
dont cry for your daughters eve
feed us your girls
Ghar kab aaoge
all the dhurandhar songs lmaoo
NPC by cavetownnnn rhahhh
devil town :33
For us
SAILOR SONGGG
Update: im too lazy for this shit so um ignore if youve already been involved(if ur close to me and not tagged its because i think youve alr been tagged xx)
@kurobkasa @moro-thekebab-noodles @walking-mushroom @whackybird-offical @jess-is-toolazy @deltasimaginaryland @evelyn3377 @the-king-of-kaumidy @random-indian-girl (tag pipes i forgor her url ;-;;;) @fancysheepnacho
tagging: @theverycoolfish @eleventhirtythoughts @dramaticinlyf @istillwishforyouateleveneleven @arikakari @epitome-of-stupidity @aamtreeanalogy @classclowns @paraskeinia @ravensncrowsx + I love all of you but picking faves is so hard I just tagged whoever came to mind
Thank uuu @ineffablelyqueerwolfstarshipper i love this
• lover you should've come over by Jeff Buckley
• Arabella by Arctic Monkeys
• Lunch by Billie eilish
• Sweet Dreams TN by the last shadow puppets
• Cherry by Lana del rey
@edensolace @starcroww @b4rty-r0s13r-w1ll-fck-y0ur-m0m @regulusblack-potter @space-girliee @prongsievans @m1dn1ghtcanvas @moony-toast-mornings all the hot people who want to participate.
I really need to find that enjoyment in my fanfiction again. I’ve been reading through my ideas plan for Hey, Little Songbird and it actually has me so excited for it!! I’ve missed that feeling! Normally I find it in other people’s fics and I think I’ve made writing mine too much of a stress for perfectionism when it’s really fun with the right mindset.
I’m going to re-read Hey, Little Songbird before I post chapter 14 and then hopefully I can get back to posting regularly for it.
I think a part of me has been procrastinating it because I know the order in which my tributes die and I’m trying to delay it?? As if it wasn’t my writing anyway. That’s on me for writing a tragic Hunger Games fic i guess. They’re still gonna haunt the narrative when they’re dead though… so I’m in for a long painful ride.
idk what neurodivergent young adult needs to hear this but you are NOT supposed to give 100% at your job. I've gotten more promotions and raises since I started giving 40-60%, which my evil CEO uncle informed me is what bosses actually expect when they say 110%. My mental health has improved tremendously. I've spent 2 out of 5 workdays secretly writing my novel for the last 2 years and I've never been more respected and appreciated. Also--when you see glaring wasteful errors in the company's operating systems, say absolutely nothing! Embrace inefficiency. It is your friend in this capitalist hellscape.
