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wizard-finix · 2 months

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Ao3 tag game!

THANKS @ragecndybars FOR THE TAG I APPRECIATE IT

*cracks knuckles* lets do this

How many works do you have on AO3?

24 works! I would have never expected to have that many 5 years ago, hahaha

What's your total AO3 word count?

186,291! oh wow, almost 200k!! (unsurprisingly PT minato takes up over a third of that LMAO)

How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they?

10 fandoms! I'm counting Persona 3, 4, and 5 and separate, but I'm grouping all the Zelda fandoms together since it's all Linked Universe fic.

Here's the breakdown!

The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms (6)

Persona 5 (5)

Persona 3 (5)

SPY x FAMILY (Anime) (3)

Wizard101 (Video Game) (3)

SPY x FAMILY (Manga) (3)

Runescape (Video Games) (3)

Pirate101 (Video Game) (3)

Persona 4 (2)

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom (2)

Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga (1)

Star Wars - All Media Types (1)

The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors (1)

Top five fics by kudos:

The Ghost of Mementos/Stygian Ringlet (Persona3/5) - to the surprise of absolutely no one, since this is currently my longest fic. I'm very happy with Stygian Ringlet being the top because I love my boys :)

True Crime Special on the Midnight Channel (Persona 4/5) - my Ren has a TV Dungeon fic! also very proud of the dungeon concept for this one, I really need to finish the last two chapters

Dark Clouds on the Horizon (Linked Universe/TOTK) - I feel like this one got a lot of momentum partially because it was directly in the wake of TOTK's release, but I'm happy with how it turned out :)

Strangers Are Just Friends You Haven't Met (Persona 3/SPY x FAMILY) - this was a collab series with mewrose and a few others in the marigolds discord! we were throwing ideas at the wall to see what stuck and I really had a lot of fun with Shinjiro-related prompts, because I LOVE him and hitting him with the isekai baseball bat into a universe with Anya brings me great joy

Salt Tears and Raindrops (Linked Universe/TOTK) - directly related to Dark Clouds, and I'm glad people enjoyed good ol' fashioned angst >:) (I do need to post more of my wips, I do have a couple more roleswap AU wips that I want to post)

Do you respond to comments?

Yes! I almost always do because I really appreciate them and its my way of saying thanks for the comment! If I don't comment it's because I lost track of it or because I can't think of a response.

What's the fic with the angstiest ending you've ever written?

Probably Salt Tears and Raindrops. I was in a Mood and decided to go for the tried-and-true method of putting fictional characters I like through the emotional wringer. That's how I got the rough draft for this fic :)

Do you write crossovers?

*looks at my persona fics and recent LU fics*

...I think it's safe to say most of my fics these days fall under crossovers lmao

Have you ever gotten hate on a fic?

I wouldn't say I have? One or two comments that came off as rude, but no actual hate, thankfully. If I did, I forgot about it. I've been blessed by wonderfully nice readers <3

Do you write smut?

Nope. I don't read it, so I wouldn't know how to write it anyway.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of? I sure hope not.

I have seen a couple short fics slightly imitate Ghost of Mementos though, which I thought was really sweet that they liked it enough to inspire their own writing.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, but I'd definitely be open to it!

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

RYOMINA. Hands down. I love them so much, I am so mentally unwell about these two

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will?

My two Runescape fics, Whispers in the Temple and Welcome to the Jungle. I absolutely loved going hogwild with rewriting old quests in Runescape, but I psyched myself out of Welcome to the Jungle because I got overly anxious about accidentally doing bad representation.

(in hindsight, it probably wouldn't have been as big a deal as I thought; it's hard to make it worse considering how bad Legend's Quest was with the british-african stereotypes. that quest DID NOT age well.)

I also want to finish Snake in the Grass; that was my first attempt at a genuine mystery plot and I really liked playing with Warriors in that fic in the context of the gang trying to figure out who the heck is trying to murder him.

What are your writing strengths?

I feel like I'm pretty good at dialogue! I try to make sure it matches the character's speech patterns and personality. Really well-written dialogue can tell you who's speaking without actually telling who it is. (For example, the way I write them: Minato speaks as few words as possible and has very little filter with his observations when he does share them, and Shinjiro is pretty rough around the edges, with shortened words and the occasional swear. Warriors is good with words and wit, but he has a certain military-esque directness and doesn't dance around the topic.)

I do try hard to keep the plot clear and understandable over everything else, so probably that as well.

Also, now that I think about it, maybe fight sequences? I don't do them much, but I do enjoy the challenge of making a clear sequence of what happens in a fight and trying to make it understandable. Fight sequences are easy to skip or gloss over, but I think of them like their own miniature plot. What happens? What surprises are there? What are their movesets? How do they get the upper hand? (and of course, what looks cool as fuck)

What are your writing weaknesses?

Time management. I tend to over-proofread since I beta my own work, and often I'll go back to tweak stuff if I had additional thoughts to add to it, or extra insight. Lately, it takes longer to write chapters than I'd like.

Also, dialogue-heavy scenes often get very chaotic in my WIPs because of the way I rough out fics. I'll throw together a bunch of dialogue bits I think would be cool to include, and sometimes they'll clash or get really messy, especially if there's lots of characters (looking at the latest two chapters of Stygian Ringlet)

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fics?

I think it's cool! It adds flavor to fics. If it's more than one short phrase though, or if it's story important, then I do prefer that there is a translation in the author's notes. I haven't done any non-English dialogue in fics, save for one memorable adventure into trying to figure out how Latin grammar structure works for a character that didn't speak English.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Wizard101 and Pirate101. I was obsessed with those two for YEARS. I really, really liked pirate stories in high school, and having a cast of crewmates that accompany you throughout the game really inspired me to write my first fic featuring my OC. (I was also into One Piece at the time, but I never wrote for it.)

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written so far?

Stygian Ringlet. It's really dear to my heart. I have poured so much love and effort into that fic, and the reception on it has completely blown me away.

THANKS FOR THE TAG!! Uhhhmmm for tags I'm going to go with @skyward-floored, @catreginae and @breannasfluff (but only if you want to!! no obligation of course)

and of course any other writers that want to do it as well!! go forth

#cici speaks #tagged #tag game #my god this is long if you read this I salute and respect you

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booksandpaperss · 15 days

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ASK GAME YIPPEEE

sleet sun and fog pls for me

weather WIP ask game

hi nyxi! at your service ✨

🌨 Sleet - What's the most you've ever written in one sitting?

okay so the most I have ever written in one sitting ever has been about 3k words I believe? it was when I was 14 and it was the first fanfic I'd ever written, idk what fumes I was high off of but I wrote 3,000 words in 2 hours without stopping like it was nothing. I've never been able to do that since, the closest I've come to it is when I wrote almost 2k words in one sitting in a sleep deprived delirium a few weeks ago. my writing has improved a lottt since age 14 for sure but I do wish I had what 14 yr old me had that night </3

I will say tho that I've gotten a lot better this year at writing more words at a time, it used to be a struggle to crank out any more than 200 words and now my bare minimum word count I can expect when I sit down to write is 400-500, and lately its been more so, progress! lol

also shoutout to authors who write like 4k+ in one sitting y'all scare me

☀️ Sun - What's your favorite part of your WIP?

I have many WIPs so I will go with my ultimate WIP aka my sapphic fantasy novel and hmm. I'd say my fave part is a tie between when Tessa and Sophia first really connect and Tessa realizes Sophia is the first person to see her as someone strong and brave and make her feel like she's worthy of being a person in her own right and... the scene where Tessa gets her shit rocked by [redacted] after Sophia tried to protect her by separating them and she loses it and hunts down and kills this guy she really hates lol

🌫 Fog - What was the hardest part of your WIP to write?

Ummm like. every other paragraph LMAO. there are parts that flow really easily and then other parts where I'm just like ummm what are words again. what am I even doing hello what is this? but the nice thing abt first drafts if that if I get really stuck I can always just throw in a one sentence descriptor of what I to want to happen in brackets and then move on to the next scene that flows. im sure future me will be very annoyed when they have to deal with those later but at the pace im going that is soooo far from my problem rn :D

thx for the ask bestie!

#ask game #booksandpaperss asks #elli's writing

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childotkw · 8 months

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Hiii before I start sorry for my bad english again. While I was reading CS again a lot of questions came to my mind- I'm asking because I didn't see it asked before- Here is one,

"Even though the man was clearly broaching his seventies, he moved with a grace decades younger. He was thin and tall, had what must have once been dark brown hair, now peppered with white and wore robes of the highest quality."

I was very confused while reading this chapter, I forgot that there was such a thing, I was relieved when I realized that he was younger in the later chapters. I know Riddle only looks younger when he's with harry but lily, draco, claire and the others haven't seen this and they don't know. It's kind of weird dating someone who's almost 70 but actually he's almost 70 years old so it's normal for him to look like that but its just still so weird

Oh yeah lmao it was a trip when I first described Riddle in his older glamour and a lot of people were doing double-takes 😂

I don't always indicate when he's swapping faces, or what glamour he has on for each interaction, but for the most part it's:

when he's in private with people In The Know, he's young and bootiful

when he's teaching / walking around Hogwarts, he's in salt-and-pepper mode

when he's publicly being Voldemort, he's snakeface.

Hadrian has definitely let Raina and Claire know though, but the scene wasn't included in the story, I don't think. I had a draft of it written somewhere but I scraped it because it just wasn't important enough to get crammed in 😂

#anonymous #HP #consuming shadows #harry potter #tom riddle #tomarry

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wholemleko · 3 months

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updates ig???

(reposted from my deviantart)

so i guess this is like. my plans for the future or at least where i feel like im at when it comes to comics and such.

tl;dr - bird of death is my main project now and everything else is in uncertain limbo

details under the cut:

first thing is just, the state of my projects. bird of death, which im posting now, has completely taken over my brain and its something i enjoy working on much more because its part of a bigger project that im working on with a group of 6 other people and ultimately i think art is a social thing for me. at this point ive also got a 115+ page buffer which ive never even come close to before, so i feel very much at ease about being able to put it out into the world without the months long hiatuses ive gone on with my other comics. plus, it has elements in it that are largely influenced by ideas from my previous projects which i guess leads me to my next point...

which is that im growing burnt out of my older comics. i had for a long time. i occasionally experience moments where i really love my old stories again and give myself the impression that im ready to get back into them, but then it always ends up being temporary and fizzling out again just a week or so later. like venturing. i spent years working on it and theres so much left of the story for me to tell, things that i am still excited to show. but at the same time, its a story i started when i was 16 and i guess this happens to a lot of creators, but my writing style is so different now and when i look back at it i cringe. theres also the factor that felix is almost like an undercooked version of my protagonist in bird of death (for reasons that have only vaguely been revealed). so when i think about writing his story it just feels like. he's the same guy but more poorly put together by a younger me.

this same thing goes for another comic project that ive never shared publicly but which ive been working on for just as long as ive been working on venturing. its actually the story im using for my final project for my degree lmao. the characters in it that im most invested in feel like early drafts for characters from bird of death... the catharsis of writing them has moved to this new story. my old projects just feel like early drafts of this new one but wearing different clothes. they are all born of the same train of thought.

then theres the matter of my fancomics. children of decay is so early on and undercooked that i barely have anything to say about it except that i still love the idea of having a warriors comic, but man i am just not invested in it the way i am with bird of death. (also the fact their titles are so similar... feels silly lol).

my moomin fancomics are a whole other matter... im not the writer for them, and theres still a ton of content that i wanted to cover. im still only in the first chapter of blackthorn tree, and i wanted to adapt 4 more fics afterwards. they are stories that i love, and which continue to be very dear to me, but the inspiration that gave me is, again, now being channeled into my newest project. i guess that makes sense, given that my protagonist was originally made to be a moomin oc. ive also felt increasingly disconnected from the moomin fandom, not because i like the series itself any less, but the fandom landscape is just very different from what it was. another factor is that i did actually have the rest of chapter 1 almost finished, but i lost all those files when my old ipad got fried and this really bummed me out, just a further discouragement.

putting all these things on the backburner feels bad. i dont like saying that i dont know when or even if i will come back to certain projects. i know lots of people enjoyed what i was making, especially venturing and the moomin comics. but i just cant find it in myself to commit to them again now that this new project has pretty much overtaken me, and i dont know if that commitment will ever come back. this isnt to say that i am putting an end to any of them or that im quitting them. just that they are not the thing i am committed to, and i am putting them into uncertain limbo. it feels smarter to concentrate my energy on a project i am much more devoted to now, which is very developed, and which i am making alongside other people who are also very devoted to the greater project.

if u got this far thanks for reading, and thanks to all those who've supported me over the years in my creative endeavors

#mlekoposting

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jackalope-with-a-pen · 5 months

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ok hi! pinned post time, since I'm finally using this blog a bit!

I'm Jack (or JT, or Jackalope) and I've been writing for most of my life but I really haven't shared much yet. hoping to change that soon, though! hence this blog. :]

I have WAY too many ideas and WIPs to list 'em all, but here are a few of the writing projects I am currently focusing on...

A Tale Of Two Spies (And Some Other People) (Many Of Whom Are Also Spies)

...or ATOTS(ASOP)(MOWAAS) for short, lmao. It's the first fanfic I ever started writing; I was lowkey too intimidated to try writing fanfic for a long time, but this idea sank its teeth into me and I had to give it a shot. It's an alternate version of the Tin Can Brothers' epic musical Spies Are Forever. I've been working on it for a good while now and it has ballooned into quite a massive undertaking because I am... deranged. <3

Part one, The World's Greatest Spies, is a prequel. It will cover the span of time & our favorite agents' changing relationship from their first meeting to the beginning of the musical. I have MOST of it outlined, and I'm really having a lot of fun with it!!!

111 Waylon

Another fanfic, but this one is for Starkid's Hatchetfield universe! It's heavily inspired by I The Mighty's song "111 Winchester."

111 Waylon is just about fully outlined with 12 chapters, and it will be much shorter and quicker to write than ATOTS, lol. I'm actually going to start writing the first draft very soon! (like... tomorrow. 👁)

This story is about the night some of the popular teens from Hatchetfield High decided to hang out at an old creepy house that definitely isn't haunted and definitely isn't dangerous. Everything is gonna be fine, no need to worry. <3

The Necromancer & The Musician

This is an original work! It also doesn't have a real title yet, even though I've been working on it for almost a year lmao. help. I've done SO MUCH worldbuilding, including designing an entire glyph alphabet for my sneaky secretive necromancers to write all their sneaky secrets in, and I've been having an absolute blast with it all.

The characters in this story mean the world to me, especially the two leads: Zadock Severine (the antisocial necromancer who is Perfectly Content with their life as it is, thankyouverymuch) and Everett Flair (the overly friendly musician who likes to wander and is always on the look for his next fun experience). The two are brought together through the meddling of the nosy god Death (who gave Zadock their magic and is a little too invested in their social life) and become unlikely traveling companions. Oh, and they're both trans and aromantic. 😎

If you'd like to know more about my stories, feel free to send me some asks about 'em!

No guarantees I'll answer every question (gotta keep some things to myself! 😘) but I'd love to share what I can.

#jackalope with a pen

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definitelynotshouting · 1 year

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hi! ive been binging your stuff on ao3 because it's like, super good and i love your ideas and writing anddd i had a question! so initially i was here for scarian, but youve got some dsmp fic on there that has also been included in the reading marathon and i was wondering in particular about the ghost tommy fic? would you be up for talking about any plans you mightve had for that story? it just awoke all my old sad feelings over ctommy (〒﹏〒) totally fine if not though! anways. eats ur writing <3

ANON

This is literally the sweetest compliment oh my gods... im genuinely so flattered that you've been marathon reading my stuff!!! its always such a pleasant shock to hear that people enjoy it, but liking it enough to binge read a bunch of my other works?? i am on the floor this is literally so nice

I wanna preface this by saying none of my dsmp works are abandoned!!! I almost never fully abandon fics-- i think the only one that i've ever chosen to abandon was my voltron fic, and that was for specific fandom experience reasons. Right now, all of my dsmp fics are just kinda on hold until i can get the motivation up to eventually finish them, but i know exactly where i want to go with each one.

So with that being said, you will be delighted to know that when the night cries is actually fully finished. The fic is written, i have all five chapters done. The only thing holding me back iiiiiis... the fact that the unpublished chapters are only rough draft. I freely admit i am very insecure about my rough draft writing, especially compared to what i post on ao3. It's been an incredibly huge leap for me to even post my rough draft work on here with minimal edits-- i havent gotten near to the point yet where i feel confident posting them to ao3, which is kind of a shame considering a heart choked full with wanting, my first ever work for dsmp, is a 14k wip that has never seen the light of day 😭😭😭😭

My final drafting process is intensive. I've made a few posts about this before, but i rewrite my rough drafts entirely from the ground up, using a very strict personal style guide i've developed over the years, and while it produces quality i can be proud of, it does,,, take a while 😅😅😅 a really long while. This is why the 7k scarian fic i finished months ago hasnt been posted yet lmao

So!! Rest assured i am actually picking at wtnc chapter 3 here and there!!! It's completed, i just need to rewrite it, but unfortunately my wilbur chapters are always my goddamn problem children when it comes to editing 😭😭 akdneks sorry this got so lengthy anon, but i really wanted to reassure you that wtnc isn't abandoned. Literally just for you im gonna go poke at it rn and see if i can get any more progress done, because gods know i want it published just as much as the people waiting for updates presumably do❤️❤️❤️

#shouting speaks #asks #GENUINELY THIS IS SO SWEET #im always so caught off guard by compliments like this skdnskdjd /pos #but yeah i have been trying to make steps towards at least posting rough draft stuff to here that ppl can enjoy #the reception so far has been... shockingly positive??? and thats helping a lot #literally if you've left nice tags on my fic posts i have screenshotted them and put them in a little folder to keep #and whenever i feel bad about my writing i go and look at them again❤️❤️❤️#dkdjejddk sorry i didnt end up talking about plans much anon!!! but i will say in here that chap 3 involves some breakthroughs :]#>:]#dsmp #my aus #txt

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mundagenta · 24 days

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Thanks for the fun we had, WordPad.

Microsoft has already dropped the axe in its native word processor in Windows 11 26040 Canary, after 28 years since its inception.

A screenshot of Microsoft WordPad running on Windows 10.

After almost three decades, technology giant Microsoft has slashed WordPad off from the list of shipping features in its new operating systems.

Just in case you haven't heard of WordPad (it's probably not worth wallowing for you though), it is a word processor software that was included in Microsoft Windows releases—way back in Windows 95—which enabled users to edit documents with rich text, a subset of its paid counterpart's capabilities.

It sat as a somehow redundant middle ground between the minimal Notepad and the feature-packed Word all through these years, with its almost non-existent relevance gradually diminishing as Notepad and its equivalents close in through that space with more and better features.

As a no-fuss student writer, WordPad has been my mainstay for a decade—setting aside all those context however, I'm not here to write about my approval or dismay regarding Microsoft's decision but I would rather reminisce about my moments with this trusty software.

I recall my first encounters with this 'relic' as I was just scrolling through that classic, glassy Windows 7 start menu—it was way back in 2013, just a year after the disastrous release of Windows 8 which I despised with all my heart, and I was five years old at that time.

I never felt so ecstatic that time as I clicked on that "Windows Accessories" folder, which I stumbled upon about sixteen programs, some of which I have already used like Calculator, Paint, and File Explorer—I inevitably clicked on WordPad out of curiosity.

"What the heck is this?" I said so bluntly as the app interface showed in front of my face, since then, I was left wondering about Microsoft's rationale to include such software until I lost my Office license when I was twelve years old.

To be fair with the 'stagnant' software, I loved using it for every occasion that I find it necessary for—it was my no-fuss, uncluttered word processor for the peace of my mind, and I also found it snappier than my Microsoft Office Suite—which was a bit of a RAM hog and an overwhelming software to encounter for a kid.

During one of my online classes when I was 12, I had to pass a paper due in ten minutes, I can't open Microsoft Office at all and I don't like using Google Docs—there came WordPad, a familiar, hassle-free experience that got my paper passed within the last minute. That wasn't the last time that happened.

It's 2024 now, I'm already turning 16 years old and still sticking to a software that is twice my age— it's still amazing (this article was drafted in WordPad lmao), the experience never changed which have inevitably caused its long-delayed demise.

#microsoft #software #computing

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marvelslut16 · 3 years

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Idiots in love

Pairing: William ‘Bill’ Weasley x reader

Synopsis: (Y/N) has been in love with Bill ever since she met him their first year at Hogwarts. Will she finally tell Bill how she feels, like Mrs. Weasley hopes she will, or will Fleur and Ginny’s assumptions about (Y/N)’s love life get in the way.

Word count: 2.9k+

Warnings: Angst. Dumb asses pining after each other. Fleur, if she counts lmao. Brief mentions of death.

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for months, I wrote it as a self indulgent piece since I can’t date Bill in Hogwarts Mystery and I wasn’t sure if anyone would actually read it. It's cannon divergent. Also, tell me if you want a part 2!

My first fic of the new year! Hopefully I'll be way more consistent and inspired this year. Thank you to everyone reading any of the fics I write, I love you all!

“Molly, he’s happy with her,” you roll your eyes at the older woman who had become like a mother to you over the years.

You met her at Kings Cross Station the morning of your first year, she helped you cross the barrier, your parents are muggles who are afraid of anything different. You were in Bill’s year, the two of you becoming fast friends on the train ride. Through your years at Hogwarts you two became inseparable, both becoming Head Girl and Head Boy together. You two always studied together, explored the castle together, went to Hogsmeade together, you did everything together. Well, except one thing, you didn’t fall in love together; you fell for him, and he fell for that foul, loathsome Emily Tyler and now Fleur Delacour.

You spent almost every Christmas Holiday under the burrow’s roof, along with most of your summers. The burrow was your real home, and the Weasley’s were your family. After you and Bill had graduated Molly and Arthur insisted you use their first names, both convinced you and Bill would finally get together. But that didn’t happen, you both went separate ways, barely even owling over the years. He went on to be this fantastic cursebreaker for Gringotts, getting sent all the way to Egypt. And you, you became the astronomy professor at Hogwarts, you thrived in the subject and Professor Sinistra transferred to Uagadou.

“But you’re perfect for him,” Molly nags. You loved the women with your whole heart, but she really needed to learn when to drop matters of the heart. Especially when the topic of discussion was set to arrive soon.

“Not everything works out how we want it to,” you sigh as you hand her a clean dish to dry, you had wanted to clean the dishes the muggle way. “Especially when it involves one's heart.”

The two of you are waiting for everyone to arrive, Arthur is picking the kids up from the train now that it’s summer holiday. You had apparated to the burrow after the students boarded the train, now officially a part of the Order. Dumbledore and Sirius are dead, but that just means that everyone needs to fight harder.

“I just want you to be happy,” Molly’s eyes are soft and sad as she looks at you.

“I am,” you smile through the lie. There’s a pop from the living room, assuming it’s just Charlie you continue. “I don’t need a man Molly, my students make me happy.”

“Mum,” the unmistakable voice of William Weasley calls as he walks towards the kitchen. “I have great news, Fleur and I are engaged! We want to get married this summer!”

You accidentally drop the plate you're washing back into the soapy water, causing some to splash your shirt. For a split second you see Molly’s face fall before she puts on a bright fake smile as she turns to her eldest. You refuse to turn and see him, you thought you had enough time to prepare yourself to see him again, but you didn’t. He refused to see you after he got hurt during the battle of the astronomy tower when he was in the hospital wing and ignored you in the few weeks following.

“Oh, wow,” Molly tries to come up with a response that won’t upset him. “This quickly?”

“I can’t take the chance, not now,” his mood is hard to read from his voice. He almost seems too defensive when he responds. “Not with everything happening.”

Your heart stops its thumping for a second, you didn’t realize it would hurt this much to see him happy. You want more than anything for him to be happy, but you also know that his mother and sister will never approve of Fleur. And he’ll never be fully happy because of that. But maybe you're wrong, maybe you don’t really know him. Maybe you never did.

“I can’t believe I signed up for bloody astronomy again,” you can hear Ron complain through the open window before Molly can respond.

“You know you love me,” you holler out the window as Ron and Ginny get closer to the house. They’re the only two at Hogwarts now, they’re growing up so fast.

“Yeah, yeah professor,” he mutters as he walks through the door before grinning widely at you.

Even though you had seen Ginny hours ago, the younger girl runs up to you and throws her arms around you. You laugh as she pulls back and makes a face as some of the soap suds transferred to her shirt.

“You just saw (Y/N),” Ron rolls his eyes at Ginny’s actions.

“Yeah but that’s different,” Ginny defends. “At Hogwarts I can’t talk to her about boys, or eat dinner with her, or ask for Quidditch tips.”

“I’m always up for talking about boys,” you grin down at the red headed girl. You laugh and apologize to Molly as Ginny pulls you from the kitchen and up to her room.

You don’t glance at Bill, you can’t. You’re too scared that all of the feeling you have bottled up will resurface with just one glance. You miss the way his eyes soften at your interaction with his sister, and how they trail after you as you get pulled past him. You sit with Ginny as she fawns over Harry for close to an hour, interjecting occasionally when she asks for your opinion. This is what you always imagined having a younger sister would feel like.

“What about you?” she asks with a teasing tone in her voice.

“What about me?” you laugh lightly as your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“You and professor Snape,” she’s smirking.

“Severus?” you laugh before your face pulls into a disgusted look only Ginny can see. “We’re coworkers. Dare I say friends. And he’s a part of the Order, we have to at least tolerate each other.”

“Mhm,” she sounds unconvinced. “He smiled at you the other day! In the Great Hall, where people could see! He never smiles!”

“Ginny, we’re friends,” you try to get through to the stubborn teen. “Plus he’s known me since I was eleven, that would be gross.”

Before Ginny can respond there’s a knock on the open door, you turn around and see Bill for this first time in years. His red hair still falls to his shoulders, and he still has that fang hanging from his ear. There are scars down his cheek now, those and the fang make him look bad ass. Your heart stutters as your eyes meet his, the heartache that disappeared when you were gossiping with Ginny resurfaces with just one look.

“Dinners ready,” he says before turning and walking back down the stairs.

Dinner is loads of fun, the two eldest Weasley’s joining the group since there’s a small Order meeting afterwards. Dinner is full of Charlie joking with you, something you're happy about since Ginny wouldn’t be able to bring up Severus again. You ignore the giggles and the French accent that poke holes in your heart as Bill only pays attention to Fleur, who showed up at the Burrow when you were upstairs.

After dinner you agree to show Ron and Ginny some Quidditch moves you had picked up over the years, borrowing an old broom left behind by one of the other boys. Remus and Tonks appear in the front yard, signaling that the meeting would start momentarily. Ron thanks you as he continues to practice the moves as you fly to the ground. Ginny follows you, wanting to get a drink from the kitchen before it's closed off to the youngest two.

“Are you going to take his last name, or is he going to take yours?” she teases.

“Ginny, not now,” you sigh, not sure how to get it through her head that you have no feeling for the potions master without revealing that you’re in love with her oldest brother. You aren’t sure who’s worse, her or Molly.

“Alright, whatever you say Mrs. Snape,” Ginny wiggles her brows in your direction as you head for the kitchen.

“Mrs. Snape?” Severus’s monotonous voice comes from behind you two. Ginny’s eyes widen before she takes off running, and a strangled sound leaves your lips.

“Ginevra Molly Weasley, that’s a month of detention next year!” you yell after her. You take a breath before turning to stare into Snape’s obsidian eyes. “Ginny saw you laugh at my stupid joke in the Great Hall a few weaks ago and now she’s convinced you have feelings for me.” Severus raises his eyebrows at you before looking in the direction Ginny ran off in. “She’s just a kid Sev, don’t hold her delusions against her.”

“Weasley’s,” he mutters before heading to the kitchen himself. Dumbledore had told a select few in the Order the plans for Severus to kill him so Draco didn’t have to, and since the Headmaster was already dying nobody was as mad as expected. “Don’t you have feelings for the oldest one?”

“Be quiet!” you hiss, as look to make sure no one heard. He smirks before walking into the room where the meeting is to be held, leaving you standing confused in the hallway.

The meeting is small tonight; Remus, Tonks, Charlie, Molly, Arthur, Sev, yourself, Bill, and Fleur. The rest had prior engagements unfortunately, so it was essentially just family and Severus.

Molly uses her magic to pour you a glass of tea as you sit beside Sev, the only open seat. You smile a quick thanks before lifting the cup to your lips. The warm liquid soothing your tired throat, students liked to talk over you during the last week of school so your throat was a little raw.

“Do you want a cookie with that, love?” Snape’s monotonous voice is slightly louder than it normally is. The term of endearment comes as such a shock that you spit out the tea that's in your mouth, landing across the table on Fleur.

There was no denying that Severus’s question was directed at you, he’s holding the plate full of Molly’s cookies right next to your face. The room goes deathly silent as the seconds pass by. Ginny, who was getting herself some pumpkin juice, drops the glass she was holding, it shatters when it hits the ground. Molly, Arthur, and Charlie abruptly stop their conversation to stare at you and Sev in shock. Remus furrows his eyebrows as he looks between you two, Tonks looks like she's holding back a laugh. A flash of pain seems to cross Bill’s face before it goes blank, and horror crosses Fleur’s when your tea lands on her.

“I’m so sorry!” you cover your mouth, thankful the liquid wasn’t warm enough to burn. Bill doesn’t even turn to look at his fiancee, just stares at you.

“Are you alright?” Snape has a small smile only you can see. You aren’t sure how to respond, especially as you stare at the amusement dancing in his onyx eyes.

“I knew it!” Ginny yells, finally breaking the few seconds of silence, seconds that felt like years. You flick Sev’s leg under the table, and he has the audacity to grin larger.

“Thanks honey,” your eyes narrow slightly as you grab a cookie off the plate, passing it to Bill without looking away from the man in all black.

The rest of the meeting is awkward, and as soon as it’s over you pull Sev out of his chair and outside. The cool night air cools your burning cheeks and he lets out a laugh that he had been holding in.

“What was that?” you pull at the ends of your hair.

“We made your precious Weasley jealous,” even though he’s smirking, there’s no change in his inflection.

“And now they all think we’re together!” your voice is high pitched and squeaky.

“Good luck with that,” he disapparates before you can respond.

“I hate you!” you yell at the spot where Severus was just standing.

“You and Snape, huh?” Charlie’s voice cuts through the silent night.

“Not bloody likely,” you roll your eyes, before plopping onto the ground. Charlie joins you as you lay and stare up at the stars. “He heard Ginny saying she thought he liked me, and he knows who I like, so he decided to run with it. He’s actually fun when you break through his cold exterior.”

“You still love Bill,” it isn’t a question. No matter how many times you denied it while you three went to school together, Charlie never believed you.

“Yeah,” you sigh, turning to look at him. He’s already facing you so you continue, “your mum kept going on about how I should be the one with him this afternoon. She won’t drop it.”

“I love my brother,” Charlie makes sure you keep eye contact with him as he continues. “But he’s being stupid. I agree with mum, you should be the one marrying him.”

“He’s happy without me,” your voice comes out sadder than you thought it would, guard finally down. “We’ve barely talked in years, and he wouldn’t even let me see him after the attack. He doesn’t need me, nor does he want me in his life anymore.”

Charlie just sighs, annoyed that neither you nor Bill could see the truth starring you both in the face. You love each other. Charlie just lies next to you in comforting silence, staring at the night sky until he has to head back to Romania and you off to bed.

A single tear slips down your cheek as you lay down in the bed that once belonged to Charlie. Ginny enters the room without knocking, and you quickly wipe away the tear.

“Why didn’t you tell me!” she practically screams.

“There’s nothing to tell, he was messing with you, Gin,” you look her directly in the eyes so she knows you aren’t lying.

“What aren’t you telling me?” she sits beside you on the mattress.

“I’m in love with Bill,” you whisper, finally saying the words out loud. Sure you had agreed with Charlie earlier, but you had never said the five words out loud before. It feels like a weight is lifted off your chest, until a new wave of heartache hits you. “I have been since we were in school, and it hurts Ginny. Fleur, she’s perfect, I couldn’t possibly compete with her.”

“You’re so much better than her, (Y/N),” Ginny grabs your hand, causing you to look up at her. “And he’s a fool if he doesn’t see that.”

“Thanks Gin,” you smile sadly, squeezing her hand before she heads off to her room.

“Zank you,” Fleur’s French accent is the first thing you hear in the morning. Ginny comes up behind you as you stand in the hallway, and puts her hand on your shoulder. Today is the day you forget about all of this foolish childish love you have for Bill.

Molly watches you closely as you sit down at the breakfast table, Ginny plopping down beside you. As you talk to the young girl about Quidditch over breakfast, a black owl flies through an open window. You roll your eyes as it plops a letter beside you, you give the owl some of your toast before it flies out of the window again. Ginny looks over your shoulder as you open the letter, the rest of the Weasley’s not-so-secretly watch you read it.

The letter isn’t anything special, just Severus letting you know that you had left a book at Hogwarts. You know full well he’s being his dramatic self, going out of his way to send an owl, just so he can say he was right. He even added a p.s, asking if Bill had gotten jealous yet. You laugh at the ridiculous question, causing Bill to excuse himself and walk outside. Fleur doesn’t move from her seat, causing you and Ginny to make a face at each other.

A few moments pass before you decide to follow your old best friend against your better judgment, but someone should check on him. He’s in the backyard pacing like a madman, running his hands through his long hair and pulling on the tips.

“Bill?” you ask softly. He whips around and looks at you, once again his face is hard to read. Your eyes, however, soften as soon as they see what Fenrier Greyback did to him. “What’s wrong?”

“You and Snape?” his voice is hard and cold. “He hated us growing up, and you just pretended that never happened and you're with him? He hated you!”

“It’s none of your business William!” your voice is high pitched, you’re angry. He doesn’t talk to you in ages and now all of a sudden he thinks it’s okay to judge your relationships. “We were annoying kids back then, of course he hated us.”

“You could do better than him!” his anger seems to rise at the use of his full first name.

“We’re just friends!” your voice is shrill, and you're sure everyone inside can hear you two clearly. “Not that it’s any of your business anyway! Severus was letting me know I forgot some of my belongings at Hogwarts. You have no right to judge who I choose to spend my time with and who I befriend, not when you haven’t tried to talk to me in years Bill!”

With that you turn and head away from the burrow, not wanting to face anyone right now. Especially any of the Weasley's, and most of all, Molly. Bill calls your name as you walk away from him, but you don’t turn around. You can’t. William Weasley has broken your heart multiple times since you met him, and you aren’t about to give him the satisfaction of watching himself break your heart all over again.

Part 2

Permanent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen @rexorangecouny @mrs-malfoy-always

#bill weasley x reader #bill weasley #bill weasley x y/n #bill weasley x mc #william weasley #william bill weasley #harry potter fanfiction #bill weasley x you #harry potter #harry potter imagine #bill weasley one shot #bill weasley imagine #bill weasley fanfiction

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sanktnikolais · 3 years

Text

Invisible String

The three major events of Zoya's life that Nikolai has had glimpses of, and he feels her emotions all the way to his side of the invisible string connecting them.

or that zoyalai psychic/emotional connection au

@grishaverseonline mission 12: favourite character - nikolai lantsov

A/N: guess who’s posting a new content after months of hiding? HAHAHA. This was supposed to be posted yesterday for my birthday but I wasn’t able to finish early. So have this late birthday treat from me. ;-;

Warning tho, contains some RoW spoilers, and contains the alternate version (Am’s version LMAO) of the garden scene.

Word count: 5174

They said that it would take a lot for one to get accustomed to the pain that came with losses.

Nikolai never realized he had lost so much until he had everything within his reach.

He didn’t know it was already a loss when his mother had decided to be unfaithful to the King of Ravka and bore an illegitimate child with a Fjerdan merchant. He didn’t know it was already a loss when he had met a certain brown-haired boy in one of his private classes, not knowing that he would be the reason why that same boy would be drafted early for the war that would take his life later on. He didn’t know it was already a loss when he still tried to seek the approval of the older brother that never wanted him, and that would end up in him developing a cunning personality to gain acceptance from everyone around him. He didn’t know it was already a loss when he dropped the guillotine that would imply that his father was guilty of such a heinous crime, exiling both him and his queen to a faraway place, never to set foot on the country they had sworn to protect yet failed in every possible way.

It only came to him, when he was finally sitting on the throne and overseeing a broken country, that he hadn’t really gained anything along the way. Only nightmares that weighed on his shoulders and kept him awake at night, and the black scars that were just as dark as the blood of every life lost in the war coating his hands.

And pain.

Both the ones he had known and acknowledged, and the sudden, unexplainable bursts of physical or emotional pain that came to him in the most random times throughout his life.

Nikolai didn’t know when it started. Being a young royalty that grew up doing everything in his own cunning way had taught him to mask the pain into something less hurting. Whether it was telling horrible jokes or making something more complicated by talking too much—it was his way to beat around the bush and away from the impending truth, thinking that if he ignored it long enough, he would forget it.

It worked, somehow, but it only pent up the emotions in his heart that were bound to explode later on.

Even though that fact was clear to him, it still wasn't enough to justify his first, sudden outburst when he was twelve.

It was quite a normal day—he had another hour with the extra reading on chemistry and Kaelish history he had requested from his tutors, and he was stuck in the library until the late hours of the afternoon. But the truth behind it, however, was to have time to sneak in and out of the palace to visit Dominik and his family in the countryside.

The whole day of learning to braid Dominik's sisters' hair had ended happily, with Nikolai able to finish tying all of them, albeit resulting in tangles that would need more attention to fix later.

You'll get used to it, Dominik had mused with a light laugh. I didn't learn this in just one day.

Nikolai thought of them on his way home, seeing how their smiles seemed to reach their eyes when they laughed around each other, something he never saw or felt in the Grand Palace. An unwanted pricking stung his eyes, and he immediately reached up to wipe the tears away. It was foolish to be longing for something insignificant when he already had everything he needed. He could just ask anything from his servants and tutors, and they would appease his request without question. So why was he suddenly—

His throat clogged up with muffled sobs, the sickening feeling of both anger and sadness constricting his heart as if there was a fist was trying to crush it. The next thing he knew, he was collapsing on the palace gardens, and the tears were endless.

The wind picked up around him, followed by the sound of thunder. But they fell deaf in his ears as the wails tore from his throat.

Then it happened. The dreadful images of a ruined church and a horrified expression from the face of an old man flashed before his eyes, along with the searing feeling of anger directed to him.

But then the images faded as fast as they had come, and there was the sudden hollow feeling in his chest.

Palace guards found him in the same spot a few hours later, curled into a fetal position as if to shield his body from harm. The King had demanded he explain what had happened, and knowing their judgment to anything Nikolai had ever done and said made him lie. He told them he had hurt himself when he tripped and fell in the gardens, and they easily believed it as it was his own foolishness. There was no way they would believe him even if he tried to tell the truth.

He had been sent to a Healer right after that to check for other injuries, even when he knew to himself there wasn't any.

Except for the sudden hollowness in his heart that could never be filled.

***

The next one didn't happen until three years later, when Nikolai was fifteen.

He would never know what had given him away, but years of sneaking back and forth in the palace made him careless, and it was only a matter of time before Vasily, his ever cruel brother, knew about it.

"You're just turning sixteen," Vasily said with a sneer. "But you're already tumbling peasant girls. You're no better than father."

Fear gripped at his mind almost instantly when he realized that this mistake would befall on Dominik. Nikolai knew too well how commoners who had done something wrong would be punished by being barred from the palace in disgrace, sending them back to their families with nothing else but their clothes and themselves.

Nikolai had begged Vasily to hold his tongue, to keep a secret for him. But if there was one thing he knew about his older brother, it was that Vasily never cared about him.

So why would Vasily care about some boy with no name?

"Do you understand what you have done?" Nikolai asked furiously the next morning when he had cornered Vasily in the lapis drawing room.

Vasily merely shrugged. “Your friend won’t get to study with his betters, and you won’t get to keep rambling in the fields like a commoner. I’ve done you both a favor.”

“His family will lose their stipend. They may not be able to feed themselves without it.” His rage was boiling into something much worse, and he could feel it coursing through his veins. But he still held back. It was his weakness, he realized, that he didn’t have the heart to lash out his anger on someone close to him, no matter how cruel they had treated him. “Dominik won’t be exempt from the draft next year.”

“Good. The crown needs soldiers,” said Vasily. Then he scoffed, giving Nikolai a once-over. “Maybe he’ll learn his place.”

Nikolai had expected his anger to explode, all the pent-up emotions to finally be let go. But he felt disappointed instead, as if he had lost something important. It took him a second to realize that he had lost his respect and admiration for his older brother.

For years, he thought that Vasily was better than their father. Whereas their father sat slouched on the throne and shoulders hunched when he stood, Vasily was the exact opposite of him. He always stood tall, chin held up high. He was the spitting image of what Nikolai had imagined a royal should be.

But Nikolai had never been ashamed to admit that he was so wrong.

"You should be ashamed," said Nikolai quietly.

But Vasily only jabbed a finger to Nikolai’s chest. “You do not tell me what I should or shouldn’t do, Sobachka," he snarled, his voice laced with poison, the same one that Nikolai almost drank when Vasily had mixed a droplet of it into Nikolai's cup. "I will be a king, and you will always be Nikolai Nothing.”

Then it happened again, the strange images appearing before his eyes. Where Nikolai expected it to be the same ones he saw four years ago, they were different this time.

The drawing room morphed into a rough terrain full of snow, and an enormous white tiger had replaced the spot where his brother was in front of him, its teeth bared and hind legs laid back to pounce.

It was then he felt the sudden feeling to protect himself, his survival instincts kicking in, and he did just that. The images faded, his surroundings fading back to the drawing room.

With a strength that came from nights spent roughhousing with peasants and workers alike in some shady fight club in Os Alta's outskirts, Nikolai snatched his brother's finger that was on his chest and twisted hard.

Vasily fell to the ground with a yelp. He looked impossibly small. A satisfying feeling settled itself in Nikolai's chest. It was most likely the worst he had seen his brother, and if Nikolai had only known that his older brother was nothing more than a facade to hide such a vile and weak face underneath, he wouldn't have wasted his whole life trying to be like Vasily.

"A king never kneels, brother," Nikolai hissed before he left his brother's prone form on the ground.

He was sure that Vasily wouldn't let him forget what he had done to him.

But the next time his brother would try to come for him, Nikolai would be ready.

***

The worst one happened almost five years later.

He was finally fulfilling his dream as a privateer in the seas, and the name Sturmhond was born right in the middle of the True Sea, never to be forgotten by all sailors and pirates as the years would go on.

It was supposed to be a diplomatic meeting with the Fjerdan traders that came from Djerholm. They were set to talk about the territories, with Fjerda claiming that they didn’t allow enemy ships to sail freely at the northern True Sea without permits unless they wanted their ships obliterated by Fjerda. Nikolai had wanted to laugh when he saw the ship; it was too enormous and too sturdy-looking to be of trading purposes only. He assumed that it had to be a warship since its captain and crew were too confident to stop the Volkvolny. No one ever dared to go against the Volkvolny —the black sails that had guided them for years were already a familiar sight to all the sailors and pirates. Though it was smaller than any warships in the seas, it could still go on par with ships twice as big as it, and it had sunk numerous vessels and gotten away unscathed.

These Fjerdan ‘traders’ should have known better than to get in the Volkvolny’s way.

True enough, when Nikolai had stepped into the enemy ship to negotiate the terms, he immediately noticed the heavy artillery carelessly covered by a rag on the main deck. They had even attempted to blend it in among the cargo crates scattered on the floor, but the canons were obvious underneath the thin material covering them. He let out a breath. He suddenly wasn’t sure if going here with only his two Shu mercenary turned personal guards was ideal. At least twenty rough-looking men were surrounding them, and their captain, Captain Hjar, was only a bit shorter than Tolya, and yet he still looked impossibly tall than all of them. His hair had been cropped close to his skin, exposing the lined scar that ran from his temple to the spot behind his ear.

Tamar had voiced out her concerns then, telling him that something was not right, and Nikolai acknowledged it greatly. The Shu mercenary’s gut instincts already saved their lives countless times before, and he wasn’t going to ignore that. But he knew the Fjerdan crew’s taste for dominance. He wasn’t just going to let these men do as they please to the travelers that would pass their private routes.

He could only hope that this risky meeting they were doing would turn in their favor.

And yet as soon as they stood in front of Captain Hjar and his men, the wooden bridge that connected the two ships was cut off, causing shouts of protest from his crew back in his ship.

“Oh, wow," said Nikolai with mocking surprise. Tolya and Tamar tensed behind him, their hands already poised on the weapons strapped to their belts. He turned back to Hjar. "We haven't even started the meeting yet."

Captain Hjar only smirked. "Better not waste your time, little wolf," he said, his voice scratchy as if he had been shouting his whole life. "Why try to prolong this when it would still end in the same result?"

"Lay down your sword, Hjar."

"These men would be making bread from the bone and skin of skinny Ravkan boys tonight, little wolf. And I can assume your ship has plenty of valuables, aye? I cannot promise not to hurt your men," he said, and his men laughed together with him. When he stopped, his cold eyes held a dangerous glint as he stared at the twins behind Nikolai. "And it'd be fun to have some nice, warm campfire with those two Grisha of yours."

Something in Nikolai's mind had quieted, shutting out anything logical from coming into his head. The thoughts halted. His rage slowly took over like a monster finally overwhelming its prey. He felt numb and empty, and he realized that the rage was focused on the Fjerdan captain.

Then for the third time in his life, it happened again. Everything else faded around him and threw him under the landscape of complete darkness. It was like he had been thrown into the Fold. After a moment, it blurred and shifted to another—a small, empty shop in some town he couldn't recognize where. Then it shifted again, and this time, it showed him a man who was on his knees, clawing at his throat as if he were struggling to breathe.

Nikolai held onto those images in vain, so he could make sense of them earlier on. But the rage inside him had him forgetting them in a snap, and all he could feel was anger. Anger towards everything.

With that, his body relaxed, and he regarded Hjar with a calm tone. These men needed to know their places. "Maybe you're right about that, Hjar," he asked, and he saw the Fjerdan captain acknowledge him with mocking curiosity. "But it wouldn't be my men who would be butchered today."

He saw the shift of expression from the Fjerdan captain's face, and Nikolai pounced with his own sword.

The fight hadn't even lasted for a minute. Hjar's men had completely underestimated the mercenary twins by just being Grisha, but they were just as deadly as any well-trained assassins. Soon enough, Nikolai’s crew had the Fjerdans tied up and shoved them down their knees, with Hjar at Nikolai’s mercy. But he felt nothing at all.

"You want to know something, captain?" asked Nikolai mildly as he went behind the burly man and held up his tied hands on his back. Hjar gave a pained grunt. Then Nikolai leaned down near the man's ear. "Foolish old captains aren't fit meat for Ravkan men."

Then he took out his knife and cut the Fjerdan captain's fingers.

Nikolai barely heard the man's screams or even felt the blood gushing out from the wounds. He just felt numb all over. If his crew noticed the sudden change in his behavior, they didn't voice it out. Only the twins were the ones who showed a bewildered reaction as Nikolai held the decapitated fingers in his bloodied hands.

He threw them over his crew's guard hound dog at the side. "Eat up, Razjen," he said. "I'm pretty sure the dogs would appreciate that kind of meat given to them."

That same night, he and his Volkvolny crew had drunk and eaten to their guts' limits from the spoils they had divvied up from the Fjerdan trader ship. From the night until the earliest hours of dawn, they had laughed, celebrated, and sung until their throats were raw and their bellies full.

But when the night ended and Nikolai had retreated into the confines of the captain's quarters, he had thrown up everything he had eaten until tears stung his eyes. He had expected them to stop when he was done, but it only worsened as sobs and wails tore from his lips again, just like it had almost a decade ago, when he had collapsed in the palace gardens and cried himself out for a reason he had never known.

And as the hours passed and night broke into dawn, the tears had finally stopped. Nikolai fell asleep, but the hole that had made its way to his heart from the first time he felt the sudden shift in his emotions now only felt deeper than before.

***

Nikolai blinked as he felt the heavy tug in his heart again. It was much more painful than before as if whatever at the other end of the string wanted him to hurt on purpose, and he was left to choose whether to still follow her in or not.

The funeral had ended hours ago but he could still feel the heaviness and gloom lingering in the air. He wanted to visit Genya in her quarters for the night, just to extend whatever he could offer her for the meantime. But he decided against it when he rounded the corner leading to the Tailor’s chambers, and that’s when he saw Zoya coming out from the door. She had lingered outside for a moment, her hand clutching at the handle as if to hold herself upright. If he looked harder, he was sure it really was the reason as he saw her shoulders shaking and her head was bowed down, something his general never did.

A searing pain in his chest made him wince, the hurting so painful it felt like he had just been burned by a branding iron. The want—the need—to reach out for her was the only thing he had wanted to do at that moment. But he willed the thought away, remembering how the things were between them.

They did not look to each other for comfort, and he knew the last thing Zoya would want was for him to give her his sympathies. It had been their unspoken agreement ever since Ravka was put on their shoulders. There was no time for sentiments, they would only spiral them down much worse.

After another minute of silence, Zoya had quietly left, her form completely blending in with the gloominess that surrounded the palace walls. Nikolai decided to follow her out then, and it led him to now, following her through the dark, narrow walkway that led into someplace he wasn’t sure of. Tangles of vines pricked at his skin as he walked further. Eventually, he reached the other end of the path, and the sight of the place astonished him.

Flowers and shrubs of every variety were lined up in the soil beds, overwhelming the ground in different colors. The open ceiling of the area had allowed frost and snow to fall over the plants, and it coated the leaves and petals alike. It looked almost like a small world of only peace and serenity, and yet it felt like a garden of sadness, with grief dripping on every plant and bleeding through the four walls that surrounded it.

Nikolai spotted Zoya in the middle of the dim garden, her back turned to him as she looked around. Snow was starting to fall, and it caught in the dark waves of her hair. Under the moonlight, she was glowing, a saint watching over the people. But behind the light that masked her real face, something was wrong. What once was her perfect stance and chin held high, she was now hunched, bent down, as if she were hiding from the world.

Then he felt it again, the sharp and painful tug in his chest. But this time, it felt different. This time, it was leading in a direction.

And it was leading towards her.

Nikolai blinked, his eyes widening a fraction. Could it be—

"I'm running out of room," she said, her voice barely a quivering whisper.

Had she known he was following her all along?

"Do you—" Nikolai shook his head, unsure of what to say. He tried again. "You tend to this place?"

Zoya was silent for a moment. Her shoulders had gone stiff the same way she was poised for battle. But Nikolai had merely asked a question, and he wondered if it was prying enough to cause that reaction from her.

"I needed somewhere to go to distract myself, and this has always been the place my feet would lead me to," she said quietly. "It was an old vegetable garden. I found it years ago, back when—" Her voice broke into a muffled cry, and yet there were no tears, like she refused to let them fall. She shook her head, her hands lifting as if to brag about the wonderful bunch of plants around her. But the gesture looked so helpless, so lost, and she let her arms fall back limply to her sides. Then in a broken whisper, she repeated, "I'm running out of room."

Nikolai's eyebrows drew tight in concern. He took a step towards her, and stopped almost immediately. It felt like he was treading across a dangerous line that neither of them ever had the guts to cross. Things were already too complicated, whether it’s about Ravka or about them, and he didn’t want to make things worse. But he refused to leave her on her own. Not like this.

Slowly, he made his way towards her, feeling the tug become stronger and stronger until he stopped at her side. He felt the cold seep through his clothes, harsh and biting like Zoya’s daily demeanor. But tonight, there was only grief and sadness, and it made everything even colder.

There was a long silence between them as he waited for Zoya to speak. Or if she wanted to speak. He wasn’t going to force anything from her. It was already a painful day for them to get through, and he wouldn’t add to the burden they were all carrying on their shoulders. He was grateful for the silence either way.

But when Zoya spoke later, her voice was quiet, lacking the usual sharpness it always had. “I plant something new for every Grisha lost,” she started. And there it was again, the heavy feeling in Nikolai’s chest that weighed down on him and made him struggle to breathe. It took all of Nikolai not to reach out for her. Then she lifted her hand and started pointing to the plants. “Heartleaf for Marie. Yew for Sergei. Red Sentinel for Fedyor. Even Ivan has a place. He was once a soldier like us too, before the Darkling corrupted him.” She touched her fingers to a frozen stalk near the edge of the soil bed. “This was for Harshaw, and they will blossom bright orange in the summer, just as bright as his ridiculous hair.”

Nikolai felt a small smile twitch on his lips. There was an obvious jest in her tone, but her words were sad, still haunted by the past war they could never be free of. He reached for the plant, letting his fingers touch its leaves delicately. He dusted off the frost from the leaves’ surface, and it almost looked as new as ever. The Inferni had once fought beside him in the mountains and with Alina and the others in the Fold, proving his loyalty up until the very end. It was unfortunate that he didn’t get to see past the war as it had already taken his life.

“These Dahlias were for Nina when I thought she’d been captured and killed by the Fjerdans,” Zoya continued, her hands reaching out to the flowers next to Harshaw’s. “They bloom with the most ridiculous red flowers in the summer. They’re the size of dinner plates.” Then as steady as her hands were when she first reached out to touch them, they began to tremble badly. “This was the last one I vowed that I would plant. I kept promising myself over and over and over. But they only kept increasing. There was no end. And now David—” She stopped abruptly, her throat clogging up with a quiet sob. “I’m running out of room, Nikolai.”

A tear escaped Nikolai’s eye, and he quickly wiped it away. He didn’t know why he did that. Earlier in the funeral, he didn't shed a single tear when he gave the eulogy, only the prickling pain that gave the first signs of tears. But they didn’t fall. Guilt had been clawing at him ever since, thinking that he hadn’t cared enough to show that he was mourning the loss of an old friend. It was only reasonable to cry; they were all grieving, after all. So why still hide, when there was no one else to see him?

Then he realized it was what he had been used to. This was what they were taught. You don’t let yourself wallow in sadness—you get back up and continue on. No matter how heavy the weight on your shoulders was.

Soldiers did not cry. Princes did not weep. And kings should never get fazed by such sentiments and emotions.

But what if it was the only thing left to do?

Nikolai glanced at Zoya, seeing tears staining her cheeks as well. She wiped at them hastily and tried her best to blink them away. He heard her draw in a shuddering breath.

“They will continue to thrive and bloom as long as they get taken care of,” said Zoya, her fingers curling around a stalk from the dahlias. “But what if they don’t? What if they stopped even as I tend to them everyday?”

He immediately understood the deeper meaning behind her words. Every life lost under her watch; every Grisha blood staining her hands. It was the weight on her shoulders she had always carried, a weight that existed ever since she had been a soldier, up until now that she was their general.

If he could only take all the burden from her chest and carry it along with his own, he would have done it. But that wasn’t how it worked. They were all bound to have their own burdens—it would only be a matter of difference with the people around them that would help them get back up on their feet whenever they get too tired from carrying it all.

Nikolai let out a long breath, his gaze landing on the twisting gray branches that ran along the perimeter of the garden. He recognized it right away. “Thorn wood,” he murmured. He felt Zoya’s confusion even before she could voice it out, so he continued speaking. “It grows around, protecting everything within these walls, stronger than anything else in the garden, weathering every season. No matter the winter it endures, it still persists, all prickles and thorns and spines anger just to keep protecting everything here.” Then he turned to her, looking down at the bright and never-ending flames behind her eyes. He gave her a lopsided smile. “Those thorns, they remind me of you. Prickly and sharp, just like you are. But its purpose was to protect all these flowers and plants, like the way you protect our people.”

Zoya almost looked like she was on the brink of breaking, but her questions persisted. “And what if the winter is just too long and hard? What if it can’t continue protecting them all?”

He was afraid to reach for her, but he did it anyway. He took her gloved hand in his, and when he expected her to pull away, she didn’t. Instead she folded into him like a flower closing its petals at nightfall. “Then it would still be there, watching over all the flowers and plants, giving them the sense of protection, keeping them strong until the summer comes, even as its life withers away.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, a laugh escaping his lips. “I do hope I made sense with all that blabbering.”

This earned a huff from his general. “Who says you ever did?” she said, but he felt her hand squeeze his back, gratitude evident even from that smallest of gestures. That was when tears fell from her eyes again, and Nikolai felt some of his own as well.

Trusting what his gut told him to do, he wrapped his arm around her.

And in the same exact moment, Nikolai didn’t feel the painful tug in his chest anymore. It was as if he had undone all the tangles and knots between, and he could finally pass through the thread without difficulties.

Zoya seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then with a soft breath, she let herself lean against him. Zoya the deadly. Zoya the ferocious. The weight of her against him felt like benediction, the long lost piece from the puzzle that he had been trying to figure out for years. For the first time in his short life, he felt at peace. He had been strong for his country, his soldiers, his friends. It meant something entirely different to be strong for her.

When he thought that they did not look at each other for comfort, he had just been understanding it quite differently. No, they gave each other comfort in their own way—whether it was through sharp wits and harsh words that kept their will stronger, or even just through knowing looks and long silences. It was their way to tell each other that they were always there to keep each other marching on their feet, and pull each other from the darkness they were both continuously fighting their way out of.

There would still be a lot of problems to face, obstacles to get past with, lives to be lost. But they would be alright. They still had each other to get through everything, and it was enough.

Together.

And that’s how it would be from then on until the very end.

***

He used to believe that the other end of the string was just like any other end, blunt and empty. Not once did he ever think that he could be wrong.

Now, Nikolai knew one thing. It would always lead towards her.

#zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #king of scars #my writing #hHNNNNGGGG #guess who came back to post some shitty mess #HALJKHASDFLJAS #the canon events in their childhood are so close to their ages so it's quite fun to make these parallels #and it's sad sad #;-;#i hope i did justice with the garden scene rewrite/alternate version #tiff came up with this idea some time ago and i only finished it today T-T #everyone go support tiff and her galaxy brain plz #no that is not a request #it's now time to disappear again for another few months HAHAH

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jellidile · 2 years

Text

Between Bookshelves (Barris Sakan x fem!OC)

This WIP has been in my drafts for like... ever?? I never thought I’d share it but I don’t see why not. I haven’t played Helix Waltz in such a long time but I had so much fun when I was. I absolutely recommend it just for the characters and story even if the actual gameplay is... repetitive (it’s sad but true). NOTE** I have not played Helix Waltz in like... two years?? So I would basically be writing before the more exciting chapters came out and off memory so if any die hard fans are like, actually in the lore- I am sorry my knowledge is not up to date Deveraux as an OC was made originally for this game but as my interests shifted I’ve reworked her into other media because I like her that much lmao I just like my shy baby too much to let her collect dust :))

Life for Deveraux La-Fey was simple. She stayed at home. Ran her shop, and got to be surrounded by books, all in one place. Days would come and go. And nothing ever changed. Sure she was surprised when Lady Nyx came to the store the first time. But by now, it had been months, and Nyx always seemed happy to have someone who would listen. It was a good life. Visavis may not have approved of it, but then again, he was a bird.

It was just another day when the shop bell rang and Deveraux peeked out from one of the bookshelves,

“W-welcome to La-Fey’s books!” She’d been dusting off the racks as was almost done. A deep baritone voice cheerfully answered,

“Ah! So I am in the right place. My lady, do you happen to have any Casebook collections?” Deveraux smiled to herself,

“Back left corner, call me if you need something.” the gentle but purposeful steps of a man quickly passed her by. As she finished the dusting she trotted over to her counter. She couldn’t see her customer but she didn’t mind, until he came out of hiding.

Now, her store did have a small reputation for being a place where almost any rare and hard to find book you asked for could be ordered and eventually purchased. Though almost no nobles ever came. This left Deveraux not only happy she didn’t have to stress herself out with their arrival. But gloomy because it meant she didn’t get a lot of good business. Never in a million years however, did she ever expect the Minister of Justice to walk into her store. She’d only ever caught glimpses of him. Never had she been face to face. Why would she? She shivered, why was he here?? The Minister though, seemed none the wiser to the flurry of thoughts running through Deveraux’s head as he spoke,

“Ms. La-Fey, do you have the Lionheart casebook collection 3 in stock?” Deveraux cleared her throat and smiled,

“U-um, actually yes! Apologies for its absence on the shelf. I’ve been doing a reread of the whole store,” Quickly she dipped under her counter and pulled up the old book. She smiled gently pushing it towards the man towering in front of her. He smiled sweetly opening it and paging through quickly,

“Yes, this is exactly what I was looking for! This I’ve heard is a very rare book indeed, how on earth do you have a copy Ms. La-Fey?” Deveraux chuckled lightly,

“I-I’ve had it since I was a child S-sir, it’s my favorite book. U-um, please, you can just call me Deveraux.” The minister seemed to study her before nodding,

“How lucky Ms. L- Deveraux! Is it for sale perchance?” Deveraux nodded,

“Indeed Minister, I have it up right now for 100 gold. Is that alright?” the Minister nodded digging into his pocket and pulling out a small pouch,

“Exactly 100 gold for you, Ms. Deveraux.” Instead of picking up the money Deveraux grabbed the book,

“This is your first time here, right Minister?” he nodded, confused. Deveraux continued,

“Well, there’s a special trick I can do, which means I never run out of stock.” as she held to book in one hand the other began to glow. The Minister watched silently as in her other hand, a perfect copy of the book appeared,

“Here, is your copy Minister. Please don’t fret, it’s an exact copy with only one large difference so people know. All within the law.” The Minister gaped before smiling again,

“How very interesting… What is this flaw you mentioned?” Deveraux put the two book side by side and opened them. There on the other side of the copied books cover, was a large ornate purple brand,

“There it is! The brand for the shop. Is that alright sir?” The Minister smiled picking up his copy,

“Oh yes, I’ll have to come back once I’ve finished this collection and see your opinion on some of the cases. Have a nice day Ms. Deveraux. Thank you for the book.” Just as quickly as he appeared, the Minister left. Leaving Deveraux bent over the counter almost shell-shocked. He was coming back? And he wanted to talk to her? She whimpered to herself as the shop bell rang again. Springing her back up from her position. At the door was Lady Nyx,

“Oh! Ms. Deveraux I just saw Mr. Barris walk out of here! Did he buy something from you?” Deveraux nodded slowly, putting the money into her register. Still shaking, from the experience. Nyx frowned,

“Ms. Deveraux, please don’t be scared! Mr. Barris is very nice. He wouldn’t say anything bad about the store.” Deveraux listened as Nyx spoke more about the Minister. She sighed in defeat,

“If you say so, then it must be true. How can I help you today?” Nyx smiled trotting to the window seat,

“Mind if I sit and read here today? Father said I had to get out of the house today.” Deveraux smiled,

“Of course my lady. You are always welcome to sit and read. Oh, before you get too engrossed, those raven and eagle quills finally came in. I must say, the crow feathers look dashing.” Nyx jumped up from the seat and rushed back over to the counter,

“Oh! Deveraux you must let me see them! And just call me Nyx! None of this my lady stuff!” Deveraux laughed, pulling out the quills. Most people just used the new fountain or dip pens. But the quill was much more fun and greatly cheaper. Nyx’s eyes went wide with delight as she held up an eagle feather. In the company of Nyx, Deveraux found herself relaxing. The Minister wouldn’t come back. She thought. No, he just said that to be polite. This was just a small surprise. Life would continue on as it always had.

Except life did not. Two weeks later the Minister returned. Deveraux had been engrossed in her logs as well as absently rearranging the quills which sat on the counter using a simple levitation spell. When the shop bell rang she quickly called out,

“Welcome to La-Fey’s books! If you need anything just ask!” When the customer had responded Deveraux almost spilled all of her ink and dropped the quills,

“I was wondering if you had a moment to talk Ms. Deveraux.” She whipped around quickly floating the quills to where she wanted them. Deveraux felt her legs shake,

“W-What about Minister?” He smiled,

“Oh, there’s a few cases I read that interested me and I’d like your opinion, and maybe just talk. Would I be interrupting anything? I could come back another time.” Deveraux shook her head,

“N-No, you aren’t interrupting anything. There’s a table at the back over there where we can sit. W-would you like anything? Tea?” The Minister shook his head,

“That’s very kind of you, but no. I wouldn’t want to be a bother. Ah, also, you may call me Barris. The only people who call me Minister usually want to sell me something.” he laughed and Deveraux blushed beet red. How could he be so oblivious. This was strange, no one came to a bookstore just to talk to the shop keep! Deveraux hesitantly sat down as Barris followed. She fiddled with her hands seeing sparkles slowly twinkle back at her,

“I don’t mean to be rude Sir, but… Why come here to talk? Seems a bit odd, doesn’t it?” Barris furrowed his brow as he took out the book she’d sold to him,

“I guess you could look at it that way. Lady Nyx told me that you talk to her though?” Deveraux gasped,

“Oh! No wonder you’ve acted so comfortable here! I should’ve guessed you heard something from her.” Barris looked surprised,

“Sorry… Do you not talk to everyone?” Deveraux shook her head,

“N-no. I didn’t speak to Lady Nyx for a time either.” He blushed lightly,

“My apologies… I just assumed-” Deveraux laughed,

“It’s quite alright, I mean you’re here already. Please, what cases have you curious?” Barris smiled lightly opening the book and pointing to a particular passage,

“Here, right here.”

For a moment the pair had their eyes meet. Something sparked. A quick flash as Barris looked down reading what he’d prepared days ago. Deveraux felt a twinkle in her heart as she looked down as well.

#helix waltz oc #helix waltz barris #barris sakan #helix waltz nyx #fanfic #helix waltz fanfic #oc x canon

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my-autistic-things · 3 years

Text

/// end of the semester post again + long rant oops

I have an undefined extension for my paper but I self imposed a deadline for Monday night/Tuesday morning. I did this with the realistic thought of working on it Sunday night for a few hours (thinking I would be 90% done), and then working on it for a few hours Monday night (then being fully done). Wellllll I didn't work on it yesterday so now I gotta do everything in one night. I got to sleep at least all day, but I'm like,,,, so overwhelmed. I genuine could not work on my paper last night/this morning bc I was so anxious and depressed and tired and every time I mustered up the ability to just re reread my draft the babies needed food. I think I could finish it all tonight, but I'm going hiking/hanging out with a friend tomorrow morning so regardless of whatever happens, I won't get to sleep more than an hour or two. And the faucet still isn't fixed. I tried last night and the whole sink may need to be removed bc there's so much rust I can't tell if the raucet fused to the sink or the sink fused to the faucet. Anyways, me and my mom are fighting again bc she was discouraging me from doing anything last night in case it turned into a huge project (and ofc it did) and I couldn't handle it in one night and we would have to call a professional. Changing a faucet is pretty damn easy,, when there isn't like an INCH of rust surrounding the base. Well, i can change the sink myself (that part doesn't have any rust), but we just need to buy one and ofc our house has a giant single sink that may have been custom made so we would need to call a professional to resize our sink hole to fit in a new sink. But she needed to call to find out who sells our sized sink (if they do) so we know if we can just go buy a new sink I can change it, or we buy a new sink then call a professional. So she didn't do that. And that's understandable and everything bc she's busy, but the point is, I said I needed to at least attempt this faucet change last night bc when else would it get done???? (hint: it will not be done until at least Wednesday, realistically at the earliest Frday, probably this weekend). Plus in attempting it, I got to see it's impossible to change and we can reasses what needs to be done. She said we would just handle it tomorrow when its not the middle of the night, which in a deluded idealized world would be perfect, but she works until 3:30 and nothing would get done until 4, and then we have no time to really do anything huge before 5:30/6 when we waln the dog,, then put the chickens to bed,, then need to feed the kittens again, and now its dark out just like yesterday and wow nothing got done. This happens every project and I'm sick of her saying "tomorrow" and MONTHS of not YEARS go by and nothing gets done. I have to do it myself while I have time and energy otherwise it genuinely will never be done. My plan is to measure, buy a new sink and keep it in the box, call a handyman/plumber, then make sure the old faucet can't come out and then they just replace the whole thing. Even tho I can probably figure out how to do it myself (the sink easily unscrews), it would be difficult and I'd rather sleep lmao.

I'm also slaty bc the neighbor was over when we argued a bit last night, and they both "deal with teenagers" (but her son is....really bad and not comparable to me at all) so every time I voice anything or call my mom out or anything she rolls her eyes and the neighbor agrees and thinks I'm irrational. Like, the neighbor only ever hears testimony from my moms side so of course she will think I'm an ungrateful insensitive child who needs to chill bc she doesn't see how my mom doesn't follow through on anything she says will happen, and it's a cycle of this until I blow up and do everything myself for years. I'm 20, almost officially a grad student, I know I'm young but I am certainly in no capacity a child anymore. Especially if you consider the responsibilities and real world adult roles I've taken on since I was 15. Even if I was a child, moms arent god and 99% of the time they are at fault for something in the situation.

This week I got my 2 finals too, so hopefully after this paper is done TONIGHT, I can hang out with my friend, sleep, do my first exam, then go to work Wednesday, then work and take my second exam on Thursday, and then work and do the faucet fiasco Friday. Until then, I will still not be eating much bc its such a big issue to wash stuff in the bathroom sink. But I'm surviving -- I'm eating enough calories, it's mainly just in potato chips and popcorn and cashews.

#max live blogs his final days of undergrad #rant #gotta go feed these kittens again #i am not cut out to be a momma cat #this is why i will never be a parent to a human child #this baby stage lasts WAY to long and the stakes are so much higher #plus you cant get excited about them opening their eyes lmao its one of my favorite parts about raising kittens from birth

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mydearesthrry · 3 years

Text

places we won’t walk (chapter one) || peter parker

summary - the doors at midtown seem a little boring, but when you get introduced to someone you seem to remember, what happens when they seem to remember you too?

word count - 2.9k (wow shes gettin better!)

pairings - peter parker x fem!reader

warnings - like mild mention of s*xual assault, angst if you squint really hard, mj being a softy for you, mj being a lowkey bi, peter being stupid as always, y/n calling peter a colonizer.... thats it ok enjoy

a/n: so i know i last updated in october, but as u all saw i have a 25 days of xnas thing going on (PLS I WROTE THE A/N LIKE A MONTH AGO PLUS I FORGOT ABOUT THE XMAS THING DISREGARD) so pwww updates will be slow (as if they werent already omg) but the next chapter will be arriving hopefully, fingers crossed, on xmas eve or xmas! also, are you guys watching the new euphoria episode? also, i’ve stopped using the word ‘stuttering’, as it may be ableist, and i’d never wanna come off as insensitive. anyway lmao, enjoy chapter one, the trials and tribulations of hitting someone in the nuts.

also side note psa: biggest thank you to @blossomparkers for helping me so much w this chapter. i owe it all tooooo u lani yani. thank u for everything !!!!!

series masterlist | regular masterlist | series playlist

(gif not mine!)

when y/n y/m/n stark was in her early years, she was never aware of the impact her father would and did hold over her life, and in turn, the whole world. for the longest time, you’d always assumed that your father wasn’t real, and everything that had been told to you by malicious family members who were jealous over your father’s “successes” had been lies, and you had it believed yourself. no one would even think that you were tony stark’s daughter until it had been mentioned. tony’s snarky attitude had been a character trait that you’d gotten, and you always took pride in your humor and attitude.

the story of your mother and tony had been messy and all over the place. from a drunken hook-up followed by multiple days of morning sickness, to a surprise pregnancy test, the storyline of your parents had been.. well.. interesting to say the least. you never focused on your family’s history, solely based on the fact that you didn’t have two fucks to give about your family history, but you also never knew your father which was-- bizarre.

when tony had found out about you, he claimed it was a drunken accident, a mistake, and one he made when he was “less responsibly a stark”, which was actually just some fucking bullshit, but he didn’t wanna admit that he hooked up with some random chick at a bar that he thought was hot.

since you had been raised by a mother who was barely there, you had to raise yourself. you were kinda street smart and book smart, and you were always smart when it came to books, because you were the type to want to learn-- unlike others.

when you were in your teen years, you had tabs on you and the media on you 24/7 to make sure you didn’t royally fuck up. the unwanted attention became too much when you started realizing that people didn’t want you for your personality, they wanted you for your title. but this was after you moved from brooklyn. nuvale and peter never saw you as some “movie star”, or some famous person in the media because you weren’t. but when you had grown to learn what your father did, he had forced you to not fuck up to maintain his-- somewhat okay reputation.

you always wanted that superstar life, as a fantasy of course, but when you got to it, you realized the cliche-y-ness of it all. you’d idolized the famous women in the media-- idolized how they looked like. you realized fairly quick how fucked up the media truly is. you realized how things really aren’t as they seem. its not just the galas that look extravagant, or getting to wear a fancy new gucci outfit every night. it honestly was a whole bunch of other shit you wouldn’t even imagine. it comes with the no privacy thing- people stalking you in public, the death threats, so much shit that wouldn’t happen as common if you were just anonymous.

being an avenger (basically), your dad had natasha teach you the ropes; the basic rules of how to kick someones ass. it was a handbook that the women of the avengers had created, and it had all the rules and regulations of how to spar someone on the team, and basically how to righteously beat someone's ass up. it was never really something you found too important, but as you grew older, you realized that it was very important to know, especially since you were a girl.

despite your harsh remarks and snarky attitude, your father always knew how to hit a sensitive point in you that always managed to break you down. you never quite understood why he would want to make you feel worse about yourself than you already felt, but regardless, you always felt underappreciated by him. being a stark, you were expected to be a genius, get over the top grades, and constantly be able to keep up, but with your luck, you were graced with depression, social anxiety, and a 4.0 gpa. fun, right?

wrong.

when you were 11, you had made friends with the kids in your apartment halls, and you learned that their names were nuvale jones and peter parker, and you were basically the golden trio. you were hermione, peter was ron, and nuvale was harry. which, now that you look back at it, makes much more sense than any other arrangement. you also had another friend, harry osborn, but once he moved away, there was no way for you to talk to him anymore. he had moved across the country to california, and from then, it was just you, peter, and nuvale. your best friends ha been there for you for what seemed like decades, although you only knew them for about three.

peter was the boy with the rosy cheeks who little 12 year old you would get butterflies in her tummy. or the type of boy to bring you an extra snack if you weren’t able to pack it the night before. he was the type of boy to walk you to the nurses office if you got hit with a dodgeball. he was the type of boy to fall for someone like you. but he didn’t. or so you thought.

little prebubescent y/n was an awkward girl who thought the world would be on her side when she needed it the most, or that whenever you needed peter or nuva, they would be there. you didn’t think your best friend would stop talking to you after you had moved away. you were too naive to know that peter liked you, and you were too naive to know that he had liked you back, but you wanted to believe what your brain would tell you, so you decided to flush your feelings down the drain and forget about them, which, in hindsight, was a pretty shitty idea. who would’ve known?

your alarm clock blared loudly from beside you, causing you to let out a loud groan in protest. you hit the side of your head angrily, then whining and rubbing the spot which you hit. whines and loud sighs fell from your lips as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and pulled the covers over your head, knowing what would come next after you would try to snooze your alarm.

“good morning, miss stark, how could i be of service to you this morning?” friday’s voice echoed through your large bedroom. you peaked your eyes and forehead from beneath the covers, your eyes slowly starting to adjust to the light that was pulled through the big blinds which were now open.

“mmm, fri, just tell happy to get the car ready, ill be ready in a few min- nevermind, tell him to get ready in thirty, im probably gonna fall asleep in the shower.” you croaked, taking your phone from the charger which was on your nightstand. you slipped on your bunny slippers and turned on the heater in your room, the draft filling your room with cold air throughout the night.

-------

once you walked through the large industrial doors of midtown’s cafeteria, everyones voices started to drop into sharp hushed whispers, making you roll your eyes and pull your hood up over your face. you pulled your airpods from your pockets into your ears and tried your best to avoid any and all eye contact with anyone you did end up coming into contact with. you walked over to the food bar where you grabbed a red school tray and plastered on your best smile to the lunch ladies who work oh so hard to make sure you all were fed. as you walked through the line, you could feel the intensified stares on you, making your back erupt in chills. you didn’t like to be watched, and the fact that you were a so-called celebrity didn’t help your cause in any way.

“hey.” a low voice called from behind you. it was a girl with curly hair with gorgeous light brown skin, and a jawline that would cut you. you were almost astonished by her beauty, but you remembered the facade you had to hold, especially to strangers that you didn’t know.

“hey?” you asked unsurely, wondering if she was with the media or not. which was something that tended to happen quite a bit.

“don’t worry, i’m not with the press. you just seem interesting.” she said in a monotone voice, but still with a strong look of seriousness on her face. you giggled softly when your eyes locked and your faces went totally still, making the girl in front of you laugh as well. she held out her hand in front of you, while also balancing her tray and book in the other hand. you placed yours into hers and shook it, smiling when she told you her name.

“michelle jones.” she smiled, your throat getting a little tight at her last name, and you had to admit that it struck a little chord within you, but you quickly cleared it from your thoughts and introduced yourself as well.

“y/n stark. pleasure to meet you, jones.”

“pleasure to meet you too.”

“so, i get that you’re new here,” she started walking, inviting you to walk along with her. “what- what are you doing here? i mean i get you’re smart and all, but this is a nerd school; you literally could’ve gone anywhere, so, might i ask, why here?”

“hm, interesting question. seriously i don’t know. my dad and i don’t really get along so he makes the decisions and i tell him if i like it or not. which by the way, i’m gonna have to stay near you-- you’re the only one making this bearable for me right now.” you snorted, nudging your elbow to hers.

“hm, daddy issues. great song, love the artists.” she smirked, making you shoot your head back in loud laughter, gaining some side eyed glances from a few people sitting at the tables around you.

“so, where are we sitting? i usually nev-”

“hey mj!” you were interrupted by a boyish laugh and hoots and hollers coming from a table two tables ahead of you.

“jesus fucking christ. what? just because i got some and you didn’t doesn’t mean that you have to be that fuckin’ loud about it.” she grumbled, placing her tray down, slinging the backpack on her right shoulder beside her. you looked at her with a nervous but curious glint in your eyes. she gave you a knowing look which said, ‘just go with what i say’, making you nod in understanding.

“woah! holy shit! i m- i mean woah- nice to- nice to meet you!” the boy fumbled over his words, looking at you and michelle in disbelief, shaking his friends shoulder and poking at his cheek.

“nice cut, g. looks nice.” you said to him, giggling as you stuck your straw into the mini juice box.

“o-oh, thanks… g?” he said back to you, observing your looks with a confused expression written on his face making you giggle at his confusion.

“peter! look! y/n stark is at our table!” he whisper shouted to his friend, making you look at michelle with a smile on your face and playfully rolling your eyes. she looked back at you, rolling her eyes as well, gesturing to her head as if saying ‘idiots’, making you giggle and turn back to them.

“so, bowl cut dude, what’s your name?” you nodded to him, picking at your salad with the blac spork that was so cordially given to you by mj.

“n-ned, ned leeds.” he smiled sheepishly.

“and you, colonizer, what’s your name?” you tapped on the table, alerting the boys attention. you could hear michelle and ned hollering and snickering from their seats, but decided to keep your poker face rolling. but i mean, how couldn’t you? the look on his face was absolutely priceless.

“peter park- wait did you just call me a colonizer?” he cut himself off in his own sentence, looking at his other friends for confirmation, to which they nodded, still cackling at the fact that you had indeed call him a colonizer.

“peter park, hm?” you teased, ignoring the way you hesitated and ignoring the way your chest felt heavy when the name of peter was said.

“n-no thats not my name-” he said, tripping over his words, making you let out a chuckle.

“i’m messing with you. with what you’ve given me, i could only guess your name is peter parker?” you rested your chin on your hand, engaging in the awkward conversation.

“yeah. thats my name.” he said more confidently, giving you a tight lipped smile.

“nice to meet you, parker.”

“you too, stark, my pleasure.”

----

after the small encounter with your new found friends, you had gone back to your respective classes, which meant that your next class had peter in it. after you had split up, you decided to get there early to avoid any commotion surrounding you.

as the boring class continued, you heard the loud clicking of high heels in the hallways, which had to be one person and one person only.

“stark,” someone shouted from the door which swung open. low and behold, in front of you was the prickly bitch, your principal, mrs cunningham. “come with me, eugene’s parents have requested a meeting with you and your father considering that you had just hit their son in the private areas!” everyone snickered and laughed. finally someone had stood up to flash’s shit.

“y- you punched flash in the nuts? i thought that was just a rumor?” peter stuttered, looking at you in disbelief.

“yeah, the fuck was i gonna do? let him flirt with me? no. that bitch tried to grab my ass. i’m a stark, i was raised better than that.” you whispered to him, packing your bag as you did so.

“hm, guess you’re right. well, good luck stark.”

“thanks parker.”

--------

once you arrived in the principals office, you saw what seemed to be his mother in one of the seats decked out in expensive pearls and diamonds. typical.

“little miss over here punched my son in the privates! i will not allow this to happen!” fuck. you thought; another one of those stuck up cunty parents.

“pfft, probably paid to get their son into here.” you muttered under your breath, playing with your protection bracelets incase anything was to ever happen.

“wHAT? mrs cunningham, i will not allow this child to talk about my son this wa-”

“hello! i was called in?” a voice interrupted, one you could only peg as your father.

“ahh! mr stark! you’re finally here!” your hilarious excuse as a principal said cheerfully.

“i am! and i am here to.. come and have a meeting about my daughter's- behavior?” he asked questiongly, already seeing the triumphant and cocky look on your face. he knew you weren’t at fault, and you were gonna lie your pretty ass out of it.

“well, mr stark, we have a student in the nurses room due to the actions of your daughter!” she looked at him menacingly. he shook his head with a smile on his face and walked over to you, grasping your shoulders in his hands.

“well kiddo, wanna explain what and why you did what you did?” he smiled, giving you two taps on your shoulder, already knowing what was next. you two had a pretty good acting schedule when it came to it, when in reality, you despised eachother.

“sure daddy! eugene had been hitting on me for several days now, and even found my private social medias in use to.. how can i say this, use me for my fame? he tried talking to me, very inappropriately on several occasions, and even went as far as to try and grab me in areas in which i find extremely inappropriate, without my consent, might i add, which doesn’t seem okay with me. does it seem exceptional to you, mrs thompson?” you asked, while only keeping your eyes on his mother.

“why, i am so sorry miss stark! his father will be in contact, i did not raise my baby to be this way! im sorry for any inconvenience he may have caused you!” she gasped, raising a hand to her heart.

“it’s okay, i just request, may this never happen again? i would not like my privacy to be invaded, much less from your son, and can i please ask that he never try to hit on me, nor any girls at this school ever again? i can only imagine how many other girls this may have happened to, mrs thompson.” you sighed, your eyes filling up with fake tears. you reached up to touch your fathers hand, tapping it twice back, knowing that you both had just won.

“never again miss stark, once again, i am so sorry this happened to you.”

“it’s okay. now mrs cunningham, shall we see our way out?” your father answered for you, looking over at the old white woman who looked like a piece of cheese. she could only nod in awe, giving you the cue to pick up your bags and walk proudly to the door.

“thanks i guess.” you muttered, pulling out your airpods once more, hoping to seal the conversation with your father.

“yeah yeah, no problemo.” he muttered back, avoiding eye contact and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

once you reached the door, you remembered that you had left something in your locker, and informed your dad that you’d be going back to get it. he all but nodded and looked back at his shoes before trudging to the car.

once you entered the seemingly halls, much to your surprise, you saw a scrawny teenage boy lifting open a set of lockers, which you didn’t even know was possible, and pulling out a red and blue suit. once you saw who the hands belonged to, your mouth fell agape as you gasped,

“peter?”

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peaches-writes · 4 years

Text

relax—i’m nervous too

description: something short and sweet member: jeongin / i.n. word count: 2.2k genre: fluff, implied best friends to lovers au, first date au, summer au notes: innie went on vlive then i remembered that this has been sitting on my drafts since i posted hwang’s guide to gardening lmao

You wonder if you should hold Jeongin’s hand as you walk down the natural slope of the road, eyes fleeting down to his hands hidden inside his long coat’s pockets. You are, after all, in the middle of quite a packed crowd on this particular Sunday—it’s dangerously easy to lose each other (especially you since you haven’t been exactly the most attentive to the people coming from the opposite direction)—and the sidewalk’s quite steep since it’s, first and foremost, a hill. Also, it’s not like you haven’t done it before; holding onto Jeongin in any way is a long-established habit of yours formed at the first instance he declared you as his best friend years ago.

Holding onto Jeongin in this situation, from a casual standpoint, is the most logical thing to do—except this situation is anything but casual. It’s your first date ever and your first date with Jeongin, your best friend since forever. Holding his hand without permission, along with the other kinds of skinship that you used to initiate for this matter, meant nothing that can easily be misinterpreted before but now it’s suddenly everything. I don’t want to seem too clingy, you frown to yourself absentmindedly, almost tripping on your walk in the process.

Jeongin immediately seems to notice even when he’s walking slightly ahead of you, turning around and placing a concerned hand to your upper arm that does nothing but fluster you more. He doesn’t tell you but he’s noticed this entire time that you seemed really nervous and it’s not helping his own nervousness at all.

“You okay?” He takes a step closer to you in order to avoid bumping into other people as the two of you stop in the middle of the crowd, pure concern in his eyes since it’s the second time you’ve tripped on nothing.

Unconsciously, the two of you both contemplate if the question’s asking if you’re okay from your small accident or if you’re okay despite acting a bit off and distant.

Quickly recovering, you muster up a smile. “I’m fine.” You take a step forward, a gesture that you continue moving. Assured, he follows and the two of you resume walking, his hand immediately sliding down to yours when you try returning them to your own coat pockets.

“I noticed.” He points out sheepishly, as if he’s still unsure if he should bring it up. “Relax—you’re making me nervous too.”

“Sorry.” You squeeze his hand as you steal a glance in his direction, catching the way he briefly returns your look with a small smile. He’s flushed red, nervous too, while trying to look past the people ahead of you for the building you’ve been looking for. “I was just—overthinking about holding your hand. It’s silly, I know.”

But he shakes his head no. “It’s not, I was wondering the same thing, too.” He then touches the nape of his neck with his free hand, chuckling to diffuse the awkwardness.

Somehow, it calms you down knowing that you’re on the same page.

“Oh, hey, we’re here.” Jeongin points to an old building across the street, showcasing endless racks of clothes and trinket shops. There’s no sign or any identification for the building itself, Jeongin just knew from the old cinema next to it that serves as a landmark.

Thank God the road to this particular shopping district is closed on the weekends.

The two of you cross the street along, careful of avoiding the chalk drawings and the people squatted over them on the ground. You make a mental note of this—and the flyer for a music festival later posted on the streetlight that meets you at your destination—for later.

“Try this one!”

“This one suits you!”

When you’ve completely mastered how to efficiently navigate the maze that is the thrift shop you and Jeongin found yourself in (which only took some 30 minutes actually), the two of you immediately tackled the shops with clothes and shoe racks that caught your eyes. Exchanging clothing suggestions, buying trinkets you don’t actually need but found too adorable not to buy, thinking of what you could do to upgrade certain pieces, trying to haggle for some of the more unique pieces you’ve found (with decent success), and playing with the occasional toys you found on display in your way, you feel more at ease with each other now—as if it’s just another hangout and not your first official date.

“I like this denim so much. I think we look rather cute!” You stand in front of a full mirror next to Jeongin who looks back at you through your reflections with a matching denim jacket you found hanging above your heads while you were looking at jumpsuits. “We can paint these and put the pins we bought on them and—“

You stop yourself from talking immediately when you notice Jeongin trying to stifle a giggle, making you laugh. Instinctively, he covers his face in embarrassment, “What?”

“You’re smiling so much!” You can’t help but smile now too, turning your head to him so that you’re looking directly at him and not through your reflections. “What’s getting you all so giggly?”

He initially shakes his head no, teasing with a smile, but you insist. “...You said ‘we.’”

Your heart melts right there and then. “Well, yeah, they’re matching denims after all?” You tease despite knowing what he meant. “I’m not going to layer these on myself.”

You’ve done a lot of things together, there’s no doubt about that, but now it’s just a little bit different—but for a good reason. It makes you feel strangely excited.

“Okay, yeah, I agree, we do look cute in these. You, especially.” He concludes, a wide grin still on his face, before taking out his phone and putting an arm on your shoulder. “Can we take a pic?”

He ends up snapping a handful photos of the two of you, making a mental note to change his wallpaper later when he gets home.

“Do you think the auntie can give us some kind of couples’ discount.” You joke as you shed off the jacket, feeling more light and free now that you’re doing something with Jeongin.

“You’re doing it again!”

“What?”

“’Couple.’”

You roll your eyes playfully, elbowing him on his side as he takes off his jacket. “You asked me on this date and you’re suddenly nervous about the word ‘couple’?”

Even though, it’s your turn teasing him now, you did feel the same jittery feeling of calling the two of you a couple. It’s such a long jump from calling each other best friends, especially since you’ve grown accustomed to it for years.

“No, I like the sound of it.” Jeongin is quick to defend himself when he’s fully recovered from your sudden attack. You laugh because it took him a while.

Also, you did manage to get a discount after that.

On the way out, you spot a corridor that leads to an adjacent building. Tugging on Jeongin’s arm, you excitedly point it out, specifically the paintings hanging on the walls that peek out from your limited view. “Should we check this out?”

It’s not like the two of you had anything planned specifically for the day besides checking out the thrift shop—you wanted to eat lunch in between, of course (since it’s nearing 2 PM) but somehow you didn’t want to sit down yet.

And Jeongin seems to agree. “Yeah, let’s go.” The two of you then make a turn, heading to the mysterious corridor instead of back outside.

Walking in the other building, it immediately dawns on the two of you that it’s the old cinema Jeongin referred to as the thrift shop’s landmark, remodeled into a more open space with art galleries, snack stands, and other upscale stores, especially him. It suddenly made him extra nervous as the two of you look around while walking over to the art gallery that has caught your eye, displayed at very center where the light from the clear ceiling seems to be focusing its light on.

Jeongin wanted to check this place out for the longest time since he asked his dad where he could take you on a first date. Watching a movie at the old cinema would’ve been your second date—if you agreed to it, of course—but here you are.

“We can eat lunch here afterwards.” Jeongin points to a couple of mall restaurants as the two of you approach the displays. He also notices that there’s still a theater on the highest floor—he’s noticing a lot of things, actually, taking notes for later. “Or maybe check out the jewelry shop over there.”

“Lucky I spotted the corridor, ‘no?” You briefly look at him from examining a painting of a girl and flowers, a proud smile on your face. “It’s really cool—especially if you think about how it used to be a cinema!”

He nods in agreement, matching your slow pace of moving from painting to painting to appreciate the details of the work on display. “You know, my parents used to go here a lot.”

“Really? Is that how you knew about the thrift shop?”

“Yeah...” He then briefly ponders over telling you the rest. “...They also went on their first date here at the cinema.”

Oh.

“Was that too much?” He asks, following with a nervous chuckle. Are you supposed to say that on a first date? All the gears in his head turn to panicking internally. “It’s just—“

“No, it’s not—I’m—“ You stutter out, looking at him fully now instead of the paintings. You’re almost done circling around the entire display, anyway. “I’m honored...is that the right word? Like I feel really happy—like I can boast this to Seungmin and the others and go, ‘yup, Jeongin took me to a very special place for our first date last summer’ when school starts again.’—I can say that, right?”

“It’s...it’s not weird or anything?”

“Why would it be?” You shrug nonchalantly, curious as to where this conversation is going. “This is like your parents’ cool date suggestion or something.”

“If you say it that way, it makes it look like our date’s very unoriginal.” He pouts in frustration, making you giggle.

Shaking your head, you counter, “No, it doesn’t because even when the place is the same, it’s still ours in a way—like, did Mr. and Mrs. Yang buy matching denim jackets and questionable statement pins at the thrift shop? Or checked out this amazing installation?”

“No, definitely not.” You manage to return a smile on his face. “In fact, they didn’t go on a Sunday so they couldn’t enjoy the night music festival.”

“You caught that too?” His eyes widen.

“Do you want to go later?”

“If we can draw on the road too with chalk!”

It fully sinks on Jeongin that this is, in fact, your very first date and, hopefully, the first of many. He suddenly feels excited to tell his parents later all the things they missed out on this shopping district when he gets home later. “Okay, deal. Let’s eat first, though, I’m starving!”

“Chicken?”

“Chicken, yes please.”

You leave the cinema-turned-mall late since you both decided on drinking iced coffee and eating fries after your meal. Returning to the outside world somewhere around 5 PM, hands now naturally clasped together, you buy chalk on a nearby stationery store then cross the street, finding a spot after 10 minutes amidst the long stretch of already painted road.

It’s almost the end of the day so most people are on the other lane, waiting for the night music festival under tents set up by the organizers. Still, that didn’t stop the two of you from doodling along with some children, couples, and friends.

“What are you doing?” You ask after a while, peering over Jeongin’s shoulder curiously.

“I’m drawing a fox and a rabbit.” He points out, the mismatched colors he’s used used making you laugh. “Guess who’s who.”

“We have red and white colors here—where have you ever seen a pink fox and a pink rabbit?” You chuckle, glancing back at your own own work of making a bouquet of flowers.

“Just this morning when you were blushing so hard about holding my hand—” He teases cheekily, earning him a slap on the arm. “—Hey, I mean, I was too!”

“You talk like you weren’t so giggly about me referring to ourselves as a couple.” You’re the one pouting this time, but lightheartedly. “I’m erasing your card on this bouquet.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Yes, I can!”

The playful banter eventually makes you laugh that you almost stumbled and accidentally sat down on the road before Jeongin steadied you with his dust-free hand on your arm. When you’ve recovered, you go back to working on your chalk drawings.

“Hold on, let me take a photo.” You whip out your phone once the two of you are done, standing over your drawings and giggling all the way. Jeongin drew, as mentioned, a fox and a rabbit walking around buildings and under ‘Jeongin and Y/N were here’ in big letters. You, on the other hand, drew a bouquet with a message and two people in matching denim jackets. “This is so cute.”

While you take photos, Jeongin decides on reading aloud the note you’ve written along with the bouquet. “‘Jeongin and Y/N’s first date, summer ‘20. Let’s make more memories like this together!’” He then turns to you, now done taking photos. “We’re going on a second date?”

“Aren’t we?” You look up at him despite the feeling of heat rising from your neck. “Today was fun—not disastrous like they say about first dates, we can accidentally do those later.”

You really are looking forward to a second date now—and a third, fourth, fifth...

Meanwhile, it feels like a weight is lifted of Jeongin’s chest and his first instinct is to pull you into a hug. “I’m glad.” He rests his chin on your crown. “Let’s go on that second date soon.”

“And go back here in the future, I like it here.” You hug him back, relieved that you’re still, even at the end of the day, on the same page. “Maybe they do have really good movies at the old cinema, we didn’t check.”

Jeongin only chuckles at this now. “Sounds like a promising future date.”

Later that night, the two of you enjoy lively music at the night music festival, jumping around, dancing, and singing to the songs both familiar and unfamiliar.

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themilky-way · 4 years

Text

the help

gif credit: starkissedtom

pairing: peter parker x gn! reader

summary: when peter comes back home from being spider-man, he finds that someone is already there to welcome him.

warnings: mentions of cuts and bruises, a very hilarious, mistaken taquito robbery (in my opinion, if i’m to be quite honest lmao)

author’s note: back on my peter parker bandwagon bc i miss that mf

----------

as soon as it had come, summer left without notice. the sun rays that continued till the evening were now replaced by the moon’s melancholic ones, and it appeared that this year they were brighter than they’d ever been. tricolored leaves-dry and shriveled from its ending cycle-peppered the crosswalks, streets, and roofs of new york without leaving a junction of space. drafts of sudden wind caused random civilians to pull their jackets closer and walk into the closest coffee shop for warmth. night came sooner now, with the time change and all, so the majority of the city’s lights whirred to life beginning at five in the afternoon. no one ever complained because they’d been looking forward to these aspects of autumn ever since it’d left the year prior, and everyone made sure to express their excitement as vividly as possible.

the one person who didn’t fit into this group was new york’s friendly neighborhood spider-man, and who could blame him? stacks of messy and scribbled papers lined the desk he should’ve been at, with his backpack unopened from every zipper and pencils and pens of all hues poking out from them. the wall in front of his workspace was decorated with tiny sticky notes that had reminders on them, almost as if they’d encourage peter to finish his tasks. they served a purpose, perhaps not its intended purpose, but more of an excuse in case aunt may asked him. essentially, his plan went like this: cross out random assignments, maybe add a few question marks for emphasis, and hope for the absolute best. so far, it’d worked.

tonight, peter’s plan was still in effect. towers of packets and due dates were now progressively worse than they’d been last week, but his mind was somewhere more important than his college entrance exams. as of now, he was kneeling on the edge of an old building that provided a clear view of downtown queens, internally debating whether a suspicious-looking man exiting a 7-eleven had stolen a box of taquitos or a whole wad of cash. “friday, what’re we thinking?”

“peter, it may be that he just has these things at random.”

he furrowed his brow. “no one has stacks of cash unless you’re dwayne johnson,” he paused for a second, and a cricket chirped as if on cue, “that guy’s not dwayne johnson.” he swung away before he could register another thought, changing the direction of his webs to ultimately land at the small shop, and he did what he needed to do. the mask allowed him to voice his witty commentary amidst a series of hard blows, which did not earn any laughs from the opposing side. his vision was pure technology and estimated diagrams-courtesy of friday, thank heavens for her-that enabled the web-slinger to trap the robber against the counter. the man yelled something, but it was too vague for anyone at the scene to fully comprehend. peter snatched the money back and handed it to the owner and then stood back, waiting until the sirens of police cars became more audible to swing away. when he did, he wished his fellow observers a good and safe night, placing a web ball shaped like a spider to a little boy gazing up at him. truthfully, he’d be lying if he said this wasn’t his favorite part of his (unofficial) job because it most certainly was.��

on the way back to somewhere, he asked his computer buddy for the hour, and he realized the somewhere was going to have to be home. so, he swung and he leaped and he ran for a short while to get to the window of his bedroom, except he found the light on instead of how he left it: off.

his mind first told him it was may who had discovered his absence and was about to give him a whole lot of hell for leaving without notice. yet, as his eyes scanned the window for clues of a foreign presence, the panic in him settled and was replaced with confusion and then with relief.

“hey-oh, crap-hey, watcha doing here?” peter asked as he entered through the narrow vicinity of his window, bumping the top of his head along the way. it was you he was referring to since you were seated rather comfortably in the chair of his desk, writing what looked to be like his homework?

“may let me in. i just told her you needed help with physics and that we’d be studying,” you spun the seat to answer. you weren’t totally lying per se; you had been filling out his study guide and reading his physics textbook-minus peter. “i hope you don’t mind me showing up like this, and doing your packets. i know you’ve been struggling and i wanted to help.”

the boy standing in front of you still had his mask on, but the moment he dragged it down his tired face, you abandoned everything near you to rush up to him. new but trivial scratches caressed his chin and nose, while a bruise or two accentuated the highlight of his cheekbones. he hadn’t noticed them at all. hell, he hadn’t even felt them for a split second until the pads of your thumbs had touched them. “can you-wait, just hold on for a little, let me go grab the kit,” you stammered. peter’s hand grabbed your own in an attempt to keep you there instead, assuring you they didn’t hurt as bad as they seemed. his eyes were honest, and maybe it was the pent-up fatigue washing over him or the stress of needing to be everywhere at once, but he was genuine about his pain for once.

“you’re tired, too. get some rest, yeah?” his grip tightened on your hand to hearten his request before leaning in steadily to kiss the skin of your forehead. “you’re warm? do you have a fever?” he questioned, “i’ll go run-well, swing actually-and i-i’ll buy you some medi-”

you placed the gentlest touch to his cheek and kept it there so he’d take a breath and calm his nerves, surprising you a bit when it looked like it worked. “i’m perfectly fine, i promise. you need to sleep, too,” you repeated, adding a tiny smile.

somewhere in the joy of the moment you entangled into an embrace. peter’s suit smelled of smoke and barbecue sauce when your nose pushed against his chest, and he laughed at how detailed you expressed your opinion on the matter. he, on the other hand, was more curious about whether you solved problem three on-what was it? page 5? no, definitely page 6.

in the middle of bickering, you’d cleaned up and peter had changed to regular sleeping attire, to which you’d been offered a matching set as an insinuation for you to stay. “i, personally, would like to rejoice in the act of sleeping in the top bunk,” you proudly claimed.

he turned off the light when he ensured you were under the blanket. before settling down below, he reached up to press a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“yeah, yeah. it’s full of baby spiders anyway.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagines #peter parker fluff #spiderman x reader #spider-man x reader #peter parker #spider-man #tom holland x reader #my writing!

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