hey guys! I'm back early. I came down with a fever and they booted me out of camp. Im really upset about that, but hey! What're you gonna do? I still feel insanely tired and lightheaded, so l probably wont be tackling any requests today or tomorrow. But I will try to get caught up on everything else.
pairing: child!Marvel x child!Glimmer (The Hunger Games)
summary: Glimmer embarrasses Marvel the day they meet.
warnings: none
wc: 1.3k
an: you guessed it, I found this in my notes. It was supposed to be part of a mini-series, but I never finished it. This was supposed to be chapter 1. Hope you like it!!
When Marvel was ten, he was humiliated.
By a girl.
Marvel walked into the District One Training Academy after school on his first day with a pep in his step. To say he was excited was an understatement. This was where his life would begin. This was where he would train to be a winner.
He could hardly wait.
“Name?”
Marvel looked up at the woman behind the front desk, eagerly bouncing on his toes. “Marvel Sanford,” he responded proudly. In about 8 years time, maybe even less, people would know that name. Wherever he went, people would recognize him. Marvel Sanford. Victor of the Hunger Games.
The woman took a pen out of a little cup next to her and scrawled something on a little rectangle of paper. Then she peeled the sticker off the backing and handed it to him. “Put that on your shirt,” she said in a monotone voice. Clearly she had done this many times today already. Marvel did as he was asked and stuck the little rectangle with his name on it to his shirt. “Find the sign with the three on it. That’s your group. Have a nice day.” Three. Okay. Marvel thanked the woman and continued through the glass doors into the academy gym. He was immediately hit with the sound of grunting, metal crashing together, fists hitting punching bags, knives hitting cork boards, and most noticeably, the pungent smell of sweaty adolescents. He fought the urge to scrunch up his nose in disgust, and instead looked around in search of the sign with the three on it. He looked up to his left, and lo and behold, there it was. A bright green sign hung from the ceiling with the number three on it. Under the sign were about ten other kids, all his age with name stickers on the fronts of their shirts. Marvel sauntered on over to join the little group but was stopped with a firm hand on his shoulder. He looked up and was met with the kind of intimidating icy blue stare that could humble a man in seconds.
“Are you Marvel?” The woman’s blonde hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, with two face framing pieces coming down on either side of her tanned face. Marvel didn’t know why, but she seemed familiar. He was so captivated by the sheer blueness of her eyes that he almost forgot to answer the question.
“Yuh huh,” he faltered.
“We need to fix that,” the woman muttered, scribbling something on the clipboard she was holding. “Alright I think we have everyone,” she announced, turning to the whole group. “Welcome to the District One Training Academy. I’m Cashmere, victor of the 64th Hunger Games, and I’ve been assigned to give you all a tour of our facility.” So that’s where Marvel knew her from. “I’m gonna go over some quick ground rules. First, no bothering our older students. Second, no touching equipment unless I tell you you can. Third, no mingling with other groups, and forth, ironically, no fighting. You guys got all that?” The group nodded. “Okay great. Follow me.”
The tour began in the short-range weapons area. This included a variety of knives, daggers, swords, and axes. Cashmere let each of the kids hold one of each. “Everyone has their specialty,” she said, “you have to bond with your weapon. Like it’s your best friend.” She demonstrates this by taking a throwing knife out of a basket and expertly throwing it at the target twenty feet away. Everyone applauds. Even the older girl who was already at the station. “You might have come in here thinking you want to throw axes, but leave wanting to shoot an arrow. Think about that.”
Next was the long-range weapons. Bows, crossbows, slingshots, and spears.
Again, Cashmere gave her group a chance to “bond” with each one. Marvel found the slingshots to be too unassuming, the bow too big, and the crossbow way too heavy. That left one more. His last chance at bonding with any of the weapons rested in the spear. Cashmere handed him a javelin and Marvel smiled. It was menacing, but it was lightweight and compact. Not clunky and stiff like the sword. He ran a hand over the smooth wooden shaft and pictured himself throwing it. He liked that picture. But he didn’t get long to spend with his new “best friend” before a girl took it right out of his hands.
“Hey!” Marvel exclaimed, turning to face the girl with a frown etched onto his usually cheerful face.
“Glimmer!” Cashmere chided, swiftly confiscating the spear. “You can’t just take things!”
“He was taking too long!” The girl named Glimmer whined in protest. She instantly shut up with one glare from Cashmere.
Glimmer turned towards Marvel and grumbled an apology under her breath, not making eye contact. She was very blonde with a fierce gaze, like Cashmere, and was wearing a yellow floral romper. Marvel just grunted bitterly in response. He decided right then and there that he didn’t like this “Glimmer.”
The interaction seemed to absolutely ruin both Glimmer and Marvel’s days, as they sulked at the back of the group for the rest of the tour, staring daggers into each other when their eyes met. Cashmere led the group to the combat area where the wrestling mats and punching bags were located, the many classrooms scattered around, the locker rooms, and, most importantly to a ten year old boy with a bottomless pit as a stomach, the cafeteria.
For the kids who were serious about training, the cafeteria was where they would eat dinner. And for the sake of the tour, it was also where group three would be eating theirs. Now Glimmer and Marvel, being at the back of the group, were the last to get their food: sloppy joes, tater tots, and an apple on a white cardboard tray. It didn’t look especially appetizing, but as we established earlier, Marvel had a bottomless pit as a stomach, so he wasn’t too picky. Glimmer, on the other hand, took one look at her tray, scrunched up her nose, and carefully plucked the apple off the tray before throwing the rest of it in a nearby trash can. Marvel shrugged and weaved through cafeteria, which was now slowly filling up with other noisy students, all eating an identical meal to his. He sat down at the table numbered ‘three’ next to a short boy with round-framed glasses, but just as he was about to strike up a conversation, someone sat to his right. Marvel scowled. It was none other than Glimmer.
“That’s a stupid name,” he snarked, hoping to get a rise out of her in vengeance. Glimmer lowered her apple from her mouth and turned to him.
“Yeah?” She retorted, her green eyes flaring with anger. Marvel noticed that there were little flecks of yellow in them. Anyways, her eyes flicked down to his name tag and back up to his face. “Well what the heck kind of a name is ‘Marvel’??”
“Actually, my name means ‘something that causes wonder, admiration, or astonishment’, thank you very much,” Marvel smirked, feeling quite confident in that response.
“I bet you don’t know what any of those words mean,” dared Glimmer, her mouth curving into a smirk of her own. Marvel faltered.
“Well-“
“My name is pretty. Yours is stupid.”
“I-“ Marvel started, but realized he didn’t have anything else to say. With his cheeks flushed red and his head hung low, he stabbed his plastic fork into a tater tot and shoved it into his mouth, chewing aggressively. He heard Glimmer snickering and the loud snap of an apple from next to him, and Marvel swore to himself that he would never feel this humiliation again.
When Marvel got home, he went straight to his dad’s old study which his mom had refused to touch after he left, pulled a heavy dictionary off the bookshelf, and searched up ‘astonishment’.”
જ⁀➴ WELCOME TO MY BLOG ✶ ⋆ .˚ .ᐟ
…# Hello!!! My name is Abby (kind of like Abbey Road, get it??)!! Some of my hobbies include writing fan fiction, figure skating, singing, acting, drawing, romanticizing (to a concerning degree) the mid west, south, and the 20th century, and making and listening to music! Fun fact: my favorite genre is hurt/comfort. I’m a sucker for that stuff. Also the “who did this to you?” trope. GAHHHH-
જ⁀➴ …# author profile:
I’ve loved to write ever since I was in elementary school. The first fan fiction I wrote (I believe) was around three years ago, and it was a Hunger Games fic that followed the lives of Katniss and Peeta after Mockingjay. It was pretty bad. But it was so much fun to write! I tend not to focus too much on minute details, instead focusing on getting the point across in a way that’s easy to read without having to focus too hard. So, no, my writing isn’t the most advanced, but I think that’s what makes it endearing and easy to read for all ages. All of my writing is clean, and spice-free!!!
જ⁀➴ …# fandoms + favorites:
movies + shows:
Twisters
The Hunger Games
Five Nights at Freddy’s
A Good Girls Guide to Murder
Stranger Things
Wednesday
Hamilton
Legally Blonde
EPIC: The Musical
Michael Jackson
The Beatles
books:
The Hunger Games
A Good Girls Guide to Murder
The Naturals
જ⁀➴ …# requests:
ships I write for:
Glimmer x Marvel
Marvel x reader
Finnick Odair x reader
Peeta Mellark x reader
Emmett Forrest x reader (musical edition)
Boone x reader
Telemachus x reader
The Beatles (probably not John) x reader
⚠️DISCLAIMER (please read before submitting a request):
I cannot promise that I will write your request, and I cannot promise that it will be written in a certain amount a time. What I can promise, is that I will do my best to get to it as soon as I can. I’m a full time student before a writer! I have the right to ignore/turn down your request if I don’t feel comfortable writing it for any reason. I write fem!readers only, and I do not write smut, make out sessions, poly relationships, queer relationships, or anything like that. I just do not feel comfortable doing so. I won’t be writing any specific poc!readers, because I am not a poc, but all of my writing should be general enough for anyone to read unless specifically stated.
