When World's End Archive

20 | She/Her | Searching The Void...

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We are... MOVING!!!!

After a few weeks of deliberation... I have made the tough decision to move to a new primary blog (under the same name and link as before).

LINK TO THE NEW BLOG

Why? I started this blog a few years ago when I was in a very uncertain place... I didn't really know if I had a future... and I know now that I do. I want this new blog to be a way for me to have a fresh start, to start over as a person with hope and aspirations.

I thank all of you who have stuck with me this long (especially with my... year+ long hiatus) from the absolute bottom of my heart. If you want to watch be start over again from the ground up... join me in the void.

♡

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Hi I don't know if you still writing but if you do could you write TMR Minho x sister reader when she has a nightmare (she's 14) and Minho help her fall asleep by singing her lullaby?? (Really would like him to sing the lonely christina perry or Ghost of a rose) and that so cute because she's talk in her sleep and she say 'no I only love My brother or something like that pleaseeee

Hey!

I don't know how I missed this for so long but... if I ever decide to write for TMZ again, I will 100% write this on my new blog (I love a sweet sibling dynamic).

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Do you take suggestions for your work?

Hello!

Sorry for the late response, been very very busy with work and health related things.

Depending on what the suggestions are, I do. I'm always open to constructive criticism as it helps me improve my writing, wether that's advice on how to write more fluid pieces, understanding how to better portray characters/people that I write for, how to better portray traits and conditions my own characters have, and etc.

If you mean requests/suggestions on what to write about, I'm also open to that too!

I hope that answers your question and feel free to submit another message or DM me! 💜

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Hi just wondering when or if you’re going to continue “you grew up gorgeous” it’s really good happy writing

Yes! This is an ongoing series!

I've been really busy with health stuff recently so I'm on a medical leave from Tumblr but hoping to get back to writing soon (currently working on a few drafts).

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Is there going to be a part two “I Don’t Want You To Go” ? I really enjoyed reading it !! I was thinking if there was a part two maybe it falls into readers best friend peter Parker in the beginning and maybe by the rest of the reading would be focus on peter 3 and the reader

I’m so very glad you enjoyed it! 😊💜

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking on the topic of a sequel and it may be in the works sometime soon. I can’t guarantee anything as it was originally meant to be a stand alone, but I’ve found that I do want to continue writing the dynamic of Peter 3 and the reader.

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Do you have a master list, could you add it to your bio please?

I currently do not, but I am working on it. Once I make it, I’ll be sure to add it to my bio. 💜

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Taking a break for health reasons, something’s come up. I promise I’ll be back!

💜

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Get Your Hands Off My Girlfriend

A/N - New fandom! New fandom alert! Time to write for one of my favorite TMR characters, the fluffy little newty boy! So very very excited, especially since I haven’t taken part in this fandom in a while! Let’s jump right in the chaos! Enjoy! :)

Day 15 of Writer’s Block Challenge

Pairing(s) : Newt x Female!Reader

Summary : The newest green bean hits on you, not realizing that you already have a boyfriend, the glade’s second in command, Newt.

Warning(s) : Male persistence/harassment, a couple swear words.

Word Count : 797

“Go on a date with me.”

Ever since the newest green bean had arrived in the glade, he’d been after you. Ever breakfast, every lunch, every dinner, even in between, it was always the same question. If he were asking anyone else, they would have been annoyed. You however, didn’t care that much, you were very good at blocking people out. It was something you’d gotten used to, being the only girl.

“I’ll pass,” you respond, the same answer you’d given him every time.

“Just one date,” he tries again, “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

You highly doubted that. Anyone that persistent normally couldn’t keep any of the promises they made, they just made them so that people would say yes. You weren't going to.

“No means no, Greenie,” Newt pipes up from across the table, pausing from his food to tell the newbie off.

“Let the lady speak for herself,” the boy fired back.

“Like I said before,” you took a bite out of your sandwich, “I’ll pass.”

As you chewed on your food, you could see the cogs in his mind turning, trying and failing to understand why your response was the one that it was. People like him just couldn't take no for an answer.

“You’re just saying that because Newt and Minho are here. I’ll be back to ask you again later,” with that, he finally leaves, allowing you to peacefully finish your meal.

“I truly don't understand how you’re able to tolerate it,” Minho wonders in amazement.

“Lots of practice, Minho. Lots and lots of practice.”

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“I want to tell him off,” Newt stated when you were laying in the grass far away from the rest of the graders, your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you.

“We’re not supposed to be dating,” you remind him of the rule Alby had set, one to keep the peace amongst all the boys.

“Fuck that rule,” he mutters, shoving his nose into your hair, “it’s a stupid rule.”

You couldn’t deny that statement so you lean up to kiss him instead, your senses immediately sharpening as you feel every sensation; the early summer breeze blowing past you, the grass brushing your legs, the beating of his heart beneath your hand.

“Just do your best,” you say when the kiss finally ends, “neither of us want to be scolded by the man in the charge.”

“Fair enough.”

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It as during a meeting that he asked you again, sliding in beside you, bumping Thomas out of the way. He truly had the worst timing, talking to you when you were focusing on other things, other tasks.

“Go out with me?”

“No.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“No.”

“Why are you playing so hard to get?”

“Why are you talking to me when Alby is making an important announcement?”

Surprising even to you, your patience was beginning to wear thin. Normally you could hold up a lot longer against the advances of the newest green bean but there was something about this boy that ticked you off. Maybe it was the consistency at which he asked you, maybe it was the timing of when he asked you, maybe it was the way he asked you, you truly didn’t know. You just knew that it bugged you.

Wanting to get away from him, you silently begin making your way over to Gally, knowing he’d protect you from the unwanted advances. You didn’t get far however when the boy’s hand wrapped around your wrist, keeping you rooted in place.

“Release me,” you grit out.

“Not until you say yes,” he responds, looking at you expectantly. He fucking expected you to say yes.

“Get your hands off my girlfriend,” a voice rang out. Newt.

At this point, the meeting had been put on pause, everyone’s eyes and ears on you as Newt stalked over, a murderous look in his eyes. It had been a very long time since you’d seen this look.

“What?” The boy stammered out, “girlfriend?”

“Are you deaf as well as dumb?” Newt asked, coming to stand beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist protectively.

“I, I,” the poor guy didn’t seem to know what to say.

“I’ll let you off with a warning this time, but if you ever touch her again, I will shove you into the maze myself.” Everyone in the room knew Newt wasn’t kidding, he never made threats unless he absolutely meant them.

“Yes sir,” he turned and fled to the other side of the room, much like a dog with it’s tail between it’s legs.

“With that out of the way, let’s resume out meeting,” Alby called out as you kissed Newt’s cheek in thanks, “and Newt?”

“Yes?”

“You both are in trouble.”

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And That’s How It Happened

A/N - Another Spider-Man fic! This boy really has taken over my FYP but I have no complaints, I always love writing for him. Hope you enjoy this mini fluff fic! :)

Day 14 of Writer’s Block Challenge

Pairing(s) : Peter Parker TASM x Reader

Summary : Your crush and best friend, Peter Parker, shows up at your apartment and after one little mishap, something surprising ensues.

Warning(s) : Swearing and fluffy floof.

Word Count : 820

When your best friend said he was coming over at 2AM, you didn’t expect him to arrive at your apartment as Spider-Man. You also didn’t expect him to arrive bloodied and bruised and out of breath.

“Holy shit,” you mutter, opening your window, “You’re Spider-Man? Is that why you’ve been missing all our study sessions? Wait, no, no, don’t answer that one. That’s not important. Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” he laughs at your awkwardness, wincing as he climbs through the window, “but you should see the other guy.”

“I think I’ll pass on that offer,” you went along with his joke, your nervousness rising as you took the time to give him a once over.

The entire front of his suit was soiled with blood and it all seemed to be coming from one main source, a large gash running from the top right of his chest to the bottom left of his rib cage. You couldn't even begin to imagine the pain he must have been feeling, let along how much pain he’d been in climbing up to you.

“Fucking hell, Parker,” you trail your finger along the wound, pulling away when he hisses in pain, “why didn’t you go to the hospital? You need medical attention.”

“Not as Spider-Man,” he shakes his head,” it would put too many people at risk, including you.”

As much as you wanted to argue with him, as much as you wanted him to get profession help, you knew he was right. If the people he fought found out who he was, they would be able to figure out who he cared about, you’d all be put at risk.

That wasn’t the only reason you stopped arguing however. You also stopped arguing because you were happy that he’d come to you. He could have gone to Harry, he could have gone to Gwen, but no, he went to you and that fact alone send the butterflies in your stomach fluttering.

“Then I’m going to need your guidance,” you tell him as you bring your first aid kit and a few washcloths back to your room, having taken an extra minute to wrangle in your feeling in, “I’ve never dealt with a wound like this before.”

“You don’t need to worry, he tells you softly, “you can’t make things any worse than they already are.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I’m sure.”

His words gave you a feeling of comfort, knowing that you couldn’t somehow mess up and hurt him further. You weren’t sure if he was just saying it to make you feel better or if he meant it, but it calmed you down nonetheless.

“Disinfect the wound with rubbing alcohol first, right?” You were pretty sure that’s what you needed to do. It was what all nurses and paramedics did when drawing blood or putting in an IV, when anything needed to punctured the skin. Considering the fact that he needed stitches, your brain made the logical connection.

“Correct.”

With his confirmation, you douse one of the washcloths in the fluid before pressing it to his chest gently, rubbing around the wound. You nearly pull away when he hisses loudly but continue on. You needed to do this before you could proceed with closing the injury.

You look up only once to check on him, regretting the action immediately when your lips brush against his. You first response it to jump back, covering your face with your hands to hide the furious blush.

“Shit,” you exclaim, “I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. Fucking hell. Of course I’d kiss my crush by pure accident. That’s fucking typical. Wait. Shit. Fuck. I’m sorry. That wasn’t supposed to come out. Shit. Sorry.”

You continue to ramble out apologies for a few more seconds before he moves forward, putting one of his hands behind your head to pull your lips back to his, his other arm wrapping tightly around your waist.

The kiss is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, soft but tender, loving but forceful, and it went on and on and on and on and on. Neither of you wanted to pull away but when you’d lungs screamed for air, you had too.

“That was,” you whisper when you were finally able to talk again, your arms still wrapped tightly around his neck, making sure to keep him close.

“Amazing?” He finishes for you.

“More than amazing,” you respond, smiling shyly before remembering the reason why he was even here in the first place, “but that doesn’t get you off the hook for stitches Spider-Boy.”

“It’s Spider-Man.”

And that’s how you ended up kissing him after each stitch, how you ended up cuddling on the couch once you’d finished patching him up, how he ended up spending the night after you begged him not to leave.

That’s how you ended up dating Spider-Man.

That’s how you ended up dating your best friend.

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The Marauders!

A/N - This one is one I’m very excited for! I grew up reading Harry Potter and I’ve always loved the Marauders era so I really hope I do these boys justice. Sadly, with the one day deadline I have for each of these (due to the challenge), I’m only able to do the first year. I promise I will be coming back to edit this after I finish the challenge to make it the true Sirius x Reader fix I intended it to be. In addition, I hate Peter Pettigrew so I didn’t write him in. Besides that, I hope you enjoy the fic!

Day 13 of Writer’s Block Challenge

Pairing(s) : Marauders x Reader

Summary : It’s your first year at Hogwarts and you make three new friends on the train ride there.

Warning(s) : One swear word.

Word Count : 1,205

Year One

“My dear, we are not going to be late,” your mother spoke in her infamous “mother knows best” voice as she pulled your sleek black suitcase from the car trunk. The reason for her statement was your brother, a current third year, who was impatiently tapping his foot while complaining about the time.

While they were having their normal disagreement about punctuality, you were running through your mental checklist. You wanted to sure that you hadn’t left anything behind during the chaos of trying to get out the door and into the car.

That should be everything, you concluded, checking off each item one more time; your textbooks, your regular books, your stationary, your cauldron, your owl Petram with his many toys and treats, a bunch of extra clothes, and some of your favorite candies. All of it was accounted for.

“Good grief, Max,” your mother muttered when you finally tuned back into the the conversation, her fingers pressed to her temple, Max listing off all the things your family had been late to, “just go.”

That’s all it takes for your brother to sprint off with his dark blue bag and suitcase in hand, his destination being the wall that would take him to Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

As he disappears into the bricks, you take the time to wonder how the first people to do this had felt. Had they been worried about slamming into the wall? That they been scared about the pain? Or were they excited like you were now?

“Are you not worried about being late?” Your mother asks, pulling you from your thoughts as you mindlessly follow behind him, your pace much more leisurely than his.

“No,” you grin, “I set his watch five minutes early. The train doesn't leave for another ten.”

With that, you take hold of your luggage and run towards the wall, a sneaking suspicion that you mother was shaking her head behind you. She wasn't a prankster like you or your father and she normally scolded you whenever you pulled one off successfully, not that it ever made you stop. She just didn’t understand your love for it.

After your pass through the bricks, your surroundings change from London King’s Cross Station to a large group of Hogwarts students saying goodbye to their parents and hello to all their friends.

Being a new student who didn’t know anyone, you instead pass off your luggage to the luggage man and pull yourself up into the train to begin looking for an empty or quiet cabin, someplace to plan your next few pranks. You didn’t shove those dung bombs in your bag for no reason.

The train was mostly empty but you found yourself drawn to a brown haired boy sitting in an otherwise empty portion of the train. The reason was the book in his hands, your favorite book, Misery by Stephen King.

“Is this your first time reading it?” You ask softly, awkwardly shuffling into the compartment so you wouldn’t block the middle path. You weren’t used to starting conversations so your movements were rather clumsy. You hoped he didn’t think you were weird.

His head shoots up in surprise and you quickly begin to apologize, “sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just don’t know many people around my age who also read his books.”

“It’s actually my second,” he answers, seeming to accept your apology, “and I could say the same thing. The name’s Remus.”

“I’m Y/N,” you tell him, “mind if I join you?”

He shakes his head and gestures to the seats around him in a “take your pick” sort of manner. With his permission now gained, you sat down across from him and pulled your thickest notebook out of your carry on bag.

This notebook had documentation of every single prank you had pulled in the past and planning for every prank you would pull in the future. Each page was a compilation of notes, lists, photos, and random souvenirs. It was a roadmap of all your favorite successes and you carried it with you everywhere.

You were in the process of writing down a new list of materials you needed for a prank when a boy with jet black hair and an untied tie opened the door, yelled out “fuck you Regulus,” and sat down beside you.

“Hey,” he waved to you both when he noticed he wasn’t alone, completely brushing off the fact that he was twelve and swearing already, “I’m Sirius.”

“I’m Y/N,” you respond, giving him a once over while Remus introduces himself, still slightly taken aback by the fact that he’d said “fuck.”

You already knew he’d be popular among the girls with his messy hair and unkept appearance. They wouldn't be able to resist his “bad boy” persona. They wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to try and tame him. You however knew better. It was never worth the hassle.

“So, how’d you two meet?” He asks, pointing between you and Remus.

“I noticed his book.” It probably wasn’t the response he was expecting but it was the truth and you weren’t one for trying to impress people.

Maybe you were being a bit short, maybe you were being a bit antisocial, but could anyone blame you? All you had wanted to do when you stepped onto the train was find a quiet place to plan your newest prank.

And you’d just about gotten back to writing your notebook when another boy opened the cabin door and stepped inside. This one had messy brown hair, green eyes, glasses, and a uniform almost as messy as Sirius’s.

“James,” he stated, taking a seat beside Remus, “and if anyone asks, I didn’t set off those dung bombs.”

“My lips are sealed,” you state, holding your hand up in a scout’s solute.

There was an unspoken agreement among all pranksters to vouch for each other whenever possible and you followed it to a T. The agreement kept pranks alive, it kept pranksters able to prank, and you wholeheartedly supported the cause.

“So the Miss is a prankster, eh?” Sirius nudges your shoulder playfully, his own hand mimicking yours as he catches on to the fact.

“Very much so,” you laughed, nudging him back, “my mother’s always wondered where she went wrong with me.”

“You should join me in a prank,” James suggested, beginning to get excited, “we could all work together. We could be a tag team.”

“A tag team implies that it’s just two individuals,” Remus pipes up from over his book, “the correct term, since there’s four of us, would be ‘team.’”

“Then we’ll be a team,” James exclaimed, not letting Remus steal his thunder.

“Then what will we be called?” You asked, deciding that it could be fun, “We need a name if we’re going to be a team.”

“How about The Pranksters?”

“Too bland.”

“The Pranking Kings?”

“I’m a girl, James.”

“What about the Marauders?”

“The Marauders,” you muttered softly, “I like that.”

“Me too,” James agreed, nodding vigorously.

“Me three,” Sirius added.

“The Maunders it is then,” You held your arm forward, waiting for the other three to place their hands on yours.

“The Marauders!”

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His Empress

A/N - This is the first time I’ve gotten a Star Wars prompt and I’m so excited for this Kylo Ren story! Please know that this somewhat of an alternate timeline, with Kylo Ren and Rey’s force-bond existing while Poe is captured and Poe’s capture lasting a few weeks rather than a few days.

Day 12 of Writer’s Block Challenge

Pairing(s) : Kylo Ren x Female!Reader, slight Poe x Platonic!Reader

Summary : You, feeling angry that your boyfriend is ignoring you for his force-bond partner, befriend a captured resistance pilot. When he finds out what you’ve been doing without telling him, he’s just a tab bit mad.

Warning(s) : “God” is said once. Mainly floof.

Word Count : 1,546

You’d never admit it to anyone but you were jealous.

You were jealous of her, of the girl who had attracted the attention of you boyfriend, of the girl who shared a “connection” with him through means you could never understand, of the girl who kept him up at night.

At first you had been okay with it, your daily routine stayed the same. You still woke up to soft morning kisses from your beloved, you still ate breakfast together while discussing his plans for the day, you still joked around while watching him practice new tricks with his lightsaber, you still talked about your days over dinner, and you still fell asleep in his arms.

But now, you weren’t so okay with it. All your moments, the ones that were sacred between you two, were now part of the past because of her. Gone where the private kisses and lingering touches. Gone were the silly conversations between his meetings that neither of you wanted to end. Gone were the moments spent alone in your bed when you were cuddled up together.

You’d tried your best to enforce those moments, you really had. You’d asked him to join you for meals, asked him to walk with you around the ship, asked him to set aside time for you, but even still, he always ended up brushing you off with something about how she was “important to the success of the First Order.”

What about what’s important for the success of our relationship? You think bitterly as you stride through the ship, no particular destination in mind.

Left, left, right, left, right, each turn takes you farther and farther away from your empty room. Just what you need. You don’t feel like being reminded of that fact that he had left you alone, that he had chosen her over you once again.

It’s not for a bit that you finally look up and find yourself in a place you do not know. You current status turning from bitter to completely and utterly lost.

“Where the hell am I?” You ask the air around you, not expecting any answer due to the fact that you were alone.

“You’re in the prisoner’s quarters,” a voice pipes up from your left.

You jump in fright, whipping around to see that a doorway had opened up when you passed. It revealed a man strapped to a contraption that looked rather uncomfortable. A handsome man, in a rugged way, black curls, tan skin, not exactly your type but close enough.

“And you are?” You ask softly, entering the room cautiously.

“Why should I tell you?” He had a fair point, being the one tied up when you weren’t.

“Nevermind then,” you sit down in front of him, “I’ll just call you Joe.”

“My name’s no Joe,” he states indignantly.

“Then how about Matt?”

“That’s not my name either.”

“Liam?”

“No.”

“John?”

“No.”

“Thomas?”

“What’s with all these stereotypical names?”

“My creativity can only stretch so far,” you shrug, “you won’t give me your name so I’m trying to settle on something else to call you.”

“It’s Poe,” he finally states after a few seconds of consideration, “and you are?”

“Y/N,” you smile, trying to convey that you meant him no harm, “and I know it’s a stupid question but humor me. How had your day been so far?”

“Pretty good,” he plays along, “went to the gym, practiced with my blaster, had a pleasant conversation with a beautiful gal. All in all, it’s been a pretty decent day. What about you?”

“More or less the same. Got up, had some breakfast, took a stroll to nowhere in particular, had a nice conversation with some handsome guy,” you respond accordingly, both of you choosing to ignore the situation he was in.

“What did you have for breakfast?” He questions, continuing the flow of conversation.

“Had some blueberries with a slice of bread,” you respond, thinking back to your meal.

“I haven’t had blueberries since I was a kid,” he comments softly, "can’t remember what they taste like, just that they were good.”

“What if I brought you some later? If I can find my way back here?” Your offer, not for purely selfless reasons.

“I’d like that,” he grins, something that implies his stay just got a little bit better. Good.

“Then I’ll be back later with those blueberries.”

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And that was how it went for the next few weeks. Every meal you had, you would share with Poe, bringing him different types of food each time. It had become habit, a ritual, your new form of normal, and you liked it.

“How are you today kind sir?” You ask as you enter the room, two plates of strawberries, jam, and toast in your hands.

“Not too bad, my fair lady,” he responded playfully as you unlocked and unhooked the leather straps restricting his arms.

That was another thing that had changed, the level of trust you had in one another. At first you had fed him yourself, but somewhere along the line you began to release his bindings so he could eat on his own. He'd never once tried to get the key from you, not that you gave him much of a chance.

“Did anything interesting happen while I was away?” It was your typical way of starting a conversation.

“Not much besides getting grilled for information,” he answers plainly, taking a bite out of his toast.

“God, this is so good,” he mumbles through his mouthful, “can I have this tomorrow too?”

You let out a laugh, taking a bite out of your own toast and nodding, “that can be arranged.”

He pumps his fist in the arm, being careful to not jostle his other arm, a sight that makes you laugh out loud. It's a laugh that gets cut short when the door opens and Kylo Ren steps in, General Hux following short behind.

“Kylo Ren, General Hux,” you stand up, your plate forgotten on the ground, “what are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that question,” Kylo’s voice sounds through the helmet, slightly garbled from the voice modulation box.

“I was keeping the prisoner company,” you tell him, standing your ground.

“Seems like a little more than that,” Hux comments, to which you respond with a deathly stare.

If looks could kill, that man would be well past six feet under.

“That is enough,” Kylo boomed, “General Hux, re-strap the prisoner. And you, you will be coming with me.”

You looked over your shoulder at Poe as Kylo drags you out of the room, mouthing a quick “I’m sorry” before he disappears from view. You were worried for him and the pain Hux would instill upon him, but as Kylo strides down the corridor, you begin to worry more for yourself.

You count each turn as you take them, left, right, left, right, right, every single one nurturing the seed of fear rooted deep in your stomach. Whatever Kylo had in store for you, it likely wouldn’t be pretty.

You finally come to a stop at your door, his hand going to open it before pushing you inside with a surprising amount of gentleness. The second it closes behind him, his helmet is peeled off, his arms are wrapped around your waist, and his nose is buried into your hair.

“Kylo?” You ask softly, scared to move even a millimeter.

“I couldn’t find you,” he whispers softly, “I looked everywhere and I couldn’t find you. I thought you’d left me.”

You’re about to comfort him, about to wrap your arms around him, about to kiss him, but then you remember the reason you were with Poe in the first place.

“I should have,” you pull away from him, turning around to jab your finger into his chest, “with the way you’ve been treating me these past few weeks, I really should have.”

“What are you talking about?” A confused look crosses his face.

“You really don’t know? The all powerful Kylo Ren really doesn’t know why I’m mad?” You used his full title, something you only did when you were truly angry.

“I wouldn’t have asked you the question if I knew the answer. I don’t dance around the point like you do.” His answer only served to infuriate you more.

“Her,” you state, “you’ve been ignoring me for weeks because of her.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d have assumed you’d rather be in a relationship with her than me.” That last part was a teeny bit uncalled for but you didn’t care, you were livid with him.

The second he registered what you had said, his hand was pressing against your lips to keep you quiet while his other arm brought you back against his chest.

“Never,” he growled, his eyes staring into yours, “she means nothing to me. She is just a means to the end, a way to end those rebels once and for all. You, you my dear, are my everything, you are to be my Empress.”

That’s all it takes from your boyfriend for you to connect your lips to his, sealing his vow with a kiss.

“Then may the emperor reign supreme,” you smiles against his lips.

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You Grew Up Gorgeous Pt. 3

A/N - Spidey Boy was once again on my feed so I decided to give you the next part of You Grew Up Gorgeous. I do apologize for how short it is, life’s been kind of hectic recently and I needed to let myself rest. Beside that little issue I ran into to, I hope the chapter is still enjoyable for you!

Day 11 of Writer’s Block Challenge

Pairing(s) : Peter Parker TASM x Osborn!Female Reader

Summary : While getting dinner with your brother and his best friend, you struggle to hide your crush.

Warning(s) : “Jesus Christ” is said once and I think only one swear word.

Word Count : 1,120

                                                        Previous

“Order for me too?”

You turn around to see a smiling Peter standing behind you.

“What do you want?” You smile back, butterflies beginning to erupt in your stomach despite your best effort to squash them.

He turns to look at the menu, contemplating what he should get while you take the opportunity to observe his appearance. He’s wearing a gray shirt with a dark blue jacket and his signature olive green jacket thrown over it. His hair is stylishly messy either from him running his fingers through it or from riding fast on his skateboard.

When he finally looks back to you, you dart your eyes quickly to the menu so it wouldn’t look like you were staring. You didn't want him to catch you looking at him and you needed to choose something for yourself anyway.

“Know what you’re getting?” You ask, to which he nods.

“Think I’ll just get what they’re advertising,” he says, pointing to the sign just above your heads.

“Alright, that’s the same as Harry,” you think out loud, quickly deciding between the two options you were looking at so that you didn’t hold up the line any longer than you already had.

“We’ll take two of the special, an appetizer of popcorn shrimp, and a side of white rice please,” you tell the man taking your order, sending him a polite smile as he types it into his machine.

“That will be twenty seven thirty nine. What name should I put the order under?”  He asks, returning the smile as he pushes the card reader across the makeshift counter towards you.

“Y/N Osborn,” you answer, inserting your credit card into the slot and signing when it prompted you to do so, “do you know how long the wait will be?”

“It should be sometime between five to ten minutes,” he lets you know, “I suggest heading back to your table. My employee will call your name when your food’s ready.”

You give him a quick thanks before guiding Peter back to the table where Harry was sitting faced away from you. From what you could tell, he was on his phone, too engrossed in his scrolling to hear you approaching.

Wanting to take advantage of the situation, you hold your finger up to your lips in a shushing manner as you begin to advance on your brother, all your focus going towards making your footsteps as quiet as possible.

When you finally reach him, you grab his shoulders tightly, laughing uncontrollably as he shoots upwards with a loud “shit”, his knees slamming into the bottom of the table with a thump.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N,” he mutters, “of all times you could do it, you chose the one where my legs are underneath a table?”

“It’s your fault for not paying attention,” you chide through your laughter, “you know I can’t resist the opportunity.”

It was a point to you in the silly little competition you and Harry had started a year ago, a challenge to see who was superior at sneaking up on the other. As of now, you were six points ahead and headed straight for victory.

“I really wish you did,” he grumbles before noticing Peter, “and you, whatever happened to loyalty? Does our friendship mean nothing to you when there’s a girl involved?”

“Sorry Harry,” Peter put his hands up in surrender, struggling to hide his own laughter, “she told me to be quiet and you never cross a lady when she’s out for blood. That’s a death wish.”

“Smart boy,” you muse as you sit down across from Harry, Peter taking a seat beside him.

“Pranks aside,” you begin, “the guy said his employee would call out my name when the food’s ready, and since Peter and I waited in line to order, you will be the one retrieving it.”

You believed it was only fair considering how long you had had to stand in the line. Harry however, decided to try milk his slight injury so that he wouldn’t have to get up.

“You’re making your brother, the one you gravely injured, do it?” He whines, “have you no dignity, woman? Have you no shame?”

“Harry, it’s literally across the street,” you deadpan, “you’ll be standing for less than two minutes.”

You knew that if it was anyone else, he would have to argued more, he would have kept complaining, he would have tried to see if you would falter first. But it wasn't someone else, it was you, and whenever it came to you, he would always give in.

“Fine, fine,” he relents, “you win.”

It wasn’t a moment too soon either, a few seconds later your name was being loudly called out and your attention being drawn to the employee who was holding a white bag with several containers in it.

“That’s my cue,” Harry stated, getting up and making his way over to the stand.

“You need to teach me how to do that,” Peter comments, leaning over the table towards you, “whenever I try to get him to do anything, he immediately start acting like a child.”

“That certainly sounds like my brother,” you laugh, “the second anyone asks him to do something, he’ll do everything in his power not to. Even if it means he’s exerting more energy than just doing it.”

“But it’s different with me,” you turn serious, “he’ll do it because I’m his sister, because I’m important to him. He might fight the stupid asks a little, but for the ones that are actually important to me, he’ll do them without hesitation.”

“So he does it because you’re important to him?” He asks, seeming to be deep in his thoughts.

“Yeah,” you respond, watching as your brother walks back with the takeout bag hanging on his left arm, a happy smile on his face, “he does.”

When your brother finally reaches you, your conversation fizzles out naturally, getting replaced with discussions about the latest way Flash has bullied someone, about the approaching finals you all have, about the projects you’re all been working on, and so forth.

You’re only pulled from the discussion once when your phone buzzes, looking down at it quickly to scan the message you just received.

Peter : Guess you must be important to me too, Gorgeous.

You shake your head in amusement, the butterflies in your stomach exploding as you face begins to redden. Despite the symptoms he’s inflicted upon you, you sneak a quick look up to see him locked in a conversation with you brother.

Thinking “what the hell,” you quickly type out a text and hit send before you think better of it.

You : Just as you are to me, Handsome.

Taglist : @loverhyunn​ @ilovewandastevethor​ @themorningsunshine​ @fairchildflag​ @andrews-lovr​

[when-worlds-end-archive]

Never Again My Dear

A/N - Another Marvel man showed up on my feed and I had to do his return from the snap. I know there’s the lot of these fics out there but it’s too wholesome of a prompt to pass up, especially for the sort of angst writing that I normally do (I try to keep it pretty fluffy for Tumblr). Please know that as a person who has used self harm as an escape, I am not glorifying the act nor am I encouraging it in this fic. This character knows it’s an unhealthy habit, she knows it doesn’t fix the problem, and I do my best to make that very clear. With that out of the way, down the rabbit hole of angst to fluff we go!

Day 10 of Writer’s Block Challenge

Pairing(s) : Stephen Strange x Reader

Summary : Your husband Stephen finally returns after the five year blip.

Warning(s) : TW! Descriptive self harm. Please don’t read this if you are not in the correct headspace to do so. Super angst to floofy fluff.

Word Count : 1,369

It’s been five years since the snap, five years since half the universe’s population ceased to exist, five torturous years without your husband.

Rather than returning to the normal world like all of your friends had, you took up work within the sanctum, helping Wong with his Sorcerer Supreme duties and keeping all of Stephen’s things intact. It was one of the few ways you could feel like he was still with you after years without his touch, his voice, his presence.

It had been extremely hard, getting used to all the changes and the feeling of being incomplete. It had taken countless sleepless nights and crying in the arms of your closest friends before things began to feel even the least bit bearable.

During that time, you’d slowly fallen back into some of your past bad habits. Once again you were skipping meals you knew you shouldn't, pulling all nighters you knew you didn’t need to, even going as far as doing things to feel any pain other than emotional. You weren’t proud of your choices by any means but you made no apologies for the ways you chose to cope, especially when they hurt no one but yourself.

Under most circumstances, they probably would have hurt the people around you, but you took precautions to make sure no one looked under your sleeves or noticed your scars. It was better that way, for everyone.

Even so, despite all your meticulously planning, you had the sinking suspicion that Wong knew. He never came out and said that he did, but his subtle changing of your duties so that you were almost always accompanied by someone else made you think so.

And while you hated being babied, you appreciated the sentiment, the show that he cared. You also knew that he wasn’t just doing it for you, he was doing it for Stephen too. He was doing it because you were his best friend’s wife, because you weren’t the only one remembering him.

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

On this particular morning, you were having a rough time.

You had woken up in one of his shirts only to realize his scent had finally disappeared due to the amount of nights you’d spend curled up in it. One of your last reminders of how he made you feel safe was gone.

You were already forgetting exactly what his voice sounded like, exactly what his touch felt like, you couldn’t loose his scent too, you couldn’t forget what being with him felt like. You couldn’t, you couldn’t, you couldn’t.

As you lay curled up in a ball with tears streaming down your face, your heart feeling like it was being pulled out of your chest, you felt the overwhelming urge to replace the extreme emotion pain you were feeling with whatever physical pain you could inflict. You just needed to get to the bathroom.

When you finally make it there, you collapse harshly onto the cold tile. It takes all your strength to pick yourself up off the ground enough to rummage around for the shaver that would give you that sweet stinging relief.

As your hands shake violently, you begin to remove a blade from the shaver, the metal feeling cold in your hand as you grip it tightly, holding it over your wrist but not bringing it down.

You’re at war with yourself. You know it isn’t healthy, you know it isn’t a solution, you know it isn’t going to take away your pain in the long term, but you also know you need some sort of relief. You can’t bear the pain in your chest, the pain in your head, it’s killing you from the inside out.

With the last shred of your resolution breaking, you press the blade deep into your wrist, pulling across gently, ripping at your skin slowly. When you finally drop the blade, what used to be thin red lines are now quickly dripping blood onto the white rug beneath you.

The agony soon hits you like a semi-truck, a forced gasp leaving your lips as you lean your head back against the tub, eyes squeezed shut as the pain swiftly overtakes you. 

It burns. It burns like nothing you’ve ever felt before. The rest of your body feels weak, slumping against the wall as waves of hot and cold wash over you, as anxiety takes root deep in your stomach.

Did I cut too deep? Did I go too far? Am I going to die? Those words repeat over and over in your mind as your vision starts to blur, as the buzzing in your ears gets louder and louder.

You stay slouched against the tub for what feels like hours, waiting anxiously for the symptoms to go away, to let you be, to indicate that you’re okay and eventually they do.

Eventually you’re able to muster the strength to sit up and take care of yourself, slowly disinfecting your wounds with rubbing alcohol and wrapping them tightly in bandages.

Once you're satisfied with your results, you slip back into your bedroom to grab a long sleeve jacket to cover the wrappings as you begin to walk around the cold Sanctum.

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

After walking around for a while, about ten minutes, you come to the conclusion that you are the only person in the building, something you had never experienced before.

After deciding to not question the reason and wanting to take advantage of the situation, you head to the kitchen to prepare some pancakes. It was a practice both men in your life would disapprove of if they were there. Luckily for your cravings for pancakes, and unluckily for the rest of you, they weren’t.

An hour later, after hand preparing the batter and heating up the pan, the smell of blueberry pancakes and the sound of Mr. Brightside at full volume is circling around the room.

You’re so engrossed in consuming your breakfast and screaming the lyrics to your favorite song that you don’t hear the doors of the Sanctum open and a voice calling out your name.

It isn’t until he’s standing in the doorway that you notice him, your eyes widening in shock as your plate crashes to the floor with a loud bang, the porcelain splintering into a million tiny pieces.

You don’t want to believe it’s him. You don’t want to get your hopes up again. You’ve dreamed of this moment a millions time and you can’t suffer through the loss of losing him a single time more.

“You’re not real,” you whisper, backing away, every shred of willpower being used to not run towards this perfect mirage.

“I am,” he states, his voice sounding so real, so flawless.

“You’re not,” you state firmly, shaking your head as tears beginning to cloud your eyes.

That’s all it takes for him to surge forwards, for him to wrap you tightly in his arms, for him to hold your face in his hands, for him to press his lips harshly against yours to make up for all those lost years. And as his scent floods your senses, you feel safe for the first time in years.

The happy feeling doesn’t last long however as the guilt begins to eat away at you, the knowledge of what you’d done, the habits you’d fallen back into plaguing your mind, ruining the moment between you and your husband, the only person you’d ever apologize to for doing what you’d done.

“What’s wrong?” He asks softly, immediately noticing that your heart was no longer in the kisses.

“I couldn't stop myself,” you whisper, “even though I promised you, I couldn't stop myself.”

“You never need to apologize for the way you coped when I wasn't here,” he tells you sternly, lifting your chin so that you were looking into his eyes, “if anything you should blame me for ever putting you in a position where you felt that it was your only option.”

“How about we skip the blame and just promise each other to never do this again?” You ask softly, loving your husband for never blaming you, for always understanding you.

“Never again my dear,” he whispers, holding you tightly once more, “never again.”

[when-worlds-end-archive]

You’re An Idiot

A/N - Two PJ and Heroes of Olympus posts in a row, because my page is suddenly filled with them! Decided to write a fic about Percy because there aren’t nearly enough of these on Tumblr. I didn't end with them as an official couple because they’re 6th graders at the end of TLT, and I wanted it to feel realistic.

Day 9 of Writer’s Block Challenge

Pairing(s) : Percy x Reader

Summary : Percy’s been ignoring you for Annabeth ever since you finished the quest to return Zeus’s lightning bolt and you finally confront him about it.

Warning(s) : Actually nothing, it’s just wholesome kiddos being stupid.

Word count : 1,421

Ever since you’d arrived at Camp Half-Blood, Percy had been ignoring you. Whenever you tried to talk to him, whenever you tried to invite him to do something, he always brushed you off.

It was always “I’m busy” or “I have to go train” or “not now, Y/N.” You had been trying for weeks and eventually you just stopped trying, even you knew when to give up a fight.

It all started when he meet that blonde haired girl, Annabeth. The second he met her, it was like you never even existed, all your years of friendship thrown out the window.

When you’d talked to Grover about it, hoping that he could shed light on the situation you were in, he told you that he had been experiencing the same treatment, the same blatant dismissal.

“I hate her,” you state, settling down on one of the rocks surrounding you, Grover nodding and sitting down beside you.

“And him,” he added to your statement.

“And him,” you repeated, rolling your eyes.

“I mean, look at him,” you exclaim, gesturing towards the boy who was following her around like a lost puppy, “it’s pathetic.”

Even so, you couldn’t help but be jealous of her. She was everything you wanted to be. She was beautiful, and brave, and a leader, and most importantly, she had Percy.

You’d been harboring a crush on the boy ever since the start of third grade when you’d been put in the same class. You’d broken your red colored pencil while trying to draw Ariel and he’d offered up his without hesitation, the start of what most parents had called a “beautiful friendship.”

Somewhere along the line, around fifth grade, Grover had joined your group, your pair turning into a trio with an unbreakable bond. At least, you had thought it was unbreakable, they didn’t seem so now.

“Think she likes him?” Grover asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“I don’t know,” you respond, “and I don’t really care.”

With that last sentiment, you began pulling your notebook out of your bag, deciding that you would continue working on the drawing of a demon you had started the previous week when you were still in a normal classroom.

“Is that the one Percy gave you?” Grover questioned, making you study the colored pencil you were holding.

“I guess so,” you mutter softly, twirling it in your hand.

“You still have that? Why?” To which you just shrugged.

“It’s a good pencil. The lead doesn't break.” You could tell that he didn’t fully believe your answer but thankfully he didn’t question it, instead picking up the book he had at his side and beginning to read.

You continued your silent activities until an arrow wizzed right past your head, barely missing you by an inch, startling you enough to make you fall backwards off the rock.

“What the hell!” You exclaim, rubbing your back as you sit up.

You look in the direction that the arrow came from and with deductive reasoning, seeing the bow in Annabeth’s hand and the arrow sticking into the tree to you left, concluded that she had been the one to fire the shot.

“That’s it,” you mutter, standing up and walking towards them, “I’m tired of them. I give up. I’m done.”

“Y/N,” Grover called out, beginning to follow you, “Y/N don’t.”

You ignored his plead, continuing to march your way over to the two imbeciles, your entire aura radiating anger and frustration, two emotions that most would not attribute to you.

“Listen here miss prissy,” you point to Annabeth, “I don’t really care what the hell you do, mean or otherwise, but the second you put my life or my friends’ lives in danger, that’s where I draw the line.”

“I’ve tried to be nice to you, I’ve tried to get along with you, I’ve tried it all. You just continue to be insufferable and immature,” you state, no longer caring about the looks you were getting from other campers, no even caring about the look she was giving you.

“And you,” you turn towards Percy, all the contempt you’d felt building over the weeks finally being let out, “you’re even worse than her.”

“Don’t even try to argue. The second we got here, the second you met her, you forgot I existed. You’ve been ignoring me for over a month, blowing me off constantly without a single thought. Can you even remember the last time we hung out? The last time you hung out with Grover?” You ask, watching as he tries to think of a time and comes up blank.

“I can’t believe I was ever friends with you,” you mutter, storming off to your cabin, Grover following close behind you.

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

A couple hours after Grover had left you to your devices, you hear a knocking at your door followed by a shout from your cabin leader, “Y/N, someone’s here to see you.”

“Just say it’s Grover,” you mutter, pressing your fingers to your temple at her high volume, “no one besides him ever comes to visit me.”

You're stopped dead in your tracks when you see Percy standing in front of you, a sheepish look appearing on his face when he finally catches sight of you.

“Hey,” Percy breathes, “can we talk?”

You go to try and shut the door in his face but he puts his foot in the doorway, stopping it from closing all the way. It was a clear indication that he wouldn’t leave without you hearing him out.

“I just want to apologize,” he states, looking at you pleadingly through the crack in the door.

“And why should I forgive you?” You really didn’t feel like having this conversation right now, especially not when you’re entire cabin had gone quiet to listen in on you.

“Just hear me out,” he asks, “just a few minutes of your time and if you still don’t forgive me, I’ll leave you alone.”

Knowing it was the only way to get him off your back, you open the door and begin walking in the direction of the lake. You wanted at least some semblance of privacy during this talk and the lake was your best bet.

“Go,” you order once you’d reached your destination.

“I know I’ve been a jerk. A stupid, selfish, insensitive jerk and I apologize. For ignoring you, for brushing you off, for everything. I shouldn’t had ditched you and it’ll never happen again. Also, don’t worry, I’ll apologize to Grover too. I just wanted to apologize to you first.”

After he said his piece, he waited for your response, watching you anxiously as you thought about what he said.

“I should apologize to you too, for blowing up at you earlier,” you finally say after a minute of silence, having given yourself some time to think about the real reason you were upset with him. “No,” he shakes his head, “you have no reason to apologize.”

“But I do. You ditching me wasn't the only reason I was mad,” you say softly, knowing that you had to tell him or it would eat away at you until there was nothing left.

“It wasn’t?” He asked curiously.

“No, it wasn’t,” you mutter, “it was also because I like you.”

The quiet that followed you statement made you feel a level of stress and worry that you’d never felt before. The only way you could semi-calm yourself was to fiddle with your hands and look at anything but him.

“You like me?” He questioned, pulling your attention back to him, “you like me like me?”

“Yeah,” you mumble quietly, “I do.”

“I like you too.”

Your head shoots up at his words.

“Then why did you ditch me?” You wanted to know why he’d done what he did.

“I was trying to get over you. I’ve had a crush on you since we first met but you never didn’t seem to feel anything for me, I thought that hanging out with Annabeth rather than you would kill my feelings.” He explained, to which you pinched his shoulder.

“That was a really stupid idea.”

“Yeah, I know. In hindsight it was really stupid, but cut me a break, I’m not the most logical person,” he said, making you laugh.

“That’s true,” you speak through your laughter “you’re an idiot.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, hiding his happiness to see you laughing.

After you finally stop laughing, you’re both left with grin on your face, everything sliding back perfectly into place.

[when-worlds-end-archive]

I Love You

A/N - New fandom today, Percy Jackson and Heroes of Olympus! This was one of my defining series as a kid so I really hope I do it justice (I haven’t read it in a really long time). I wrote this as a platonic ship/family ship, because I want found family fluff, but if you want to read it as romantic, you can. Now, let’s jump into it!

Day 8 of Writer’s Block Challenge

Pairing(s) : Nico x Platonic!Reader

Summary : The 3 times Nico wanted to tell you he loved you for always being there for him and the one time he actually does.

Warning(s) : The words “goddammit,” “god,” and “assholes” are said once. Plus floofy fluff, suffocatingly so.

Word Count : 2,907

The first time.

It happened when you were just sitting in the Hades cabin with him, just the two of you, your midday shenanigans spread out around you. The blanket and pillow fort you’d made shielding you from the rest of the world as you continued to make progress on the project you two had started.

“What do you think about this?” He asks, showing you the card stats he’d just made. It was balanced as usual, he had always been good at that. Even so, there were still times when you’d suggest a small change. 

“Oh, that’s really good,” you respond, “maybe buff the stats though, or lower the mana.”

He nods, returning the card to the makeshift desk he’d made out of stack of textbooks for editing. While he did that, you continued to handprint the cards that you have both approved of, cutting them and setting them into stacks once you’d finished with them.

You were so engrossed in your task that you didn’t notice him look up. You didn't notice him watching you with a smile on his face. You didn't know how he had memorized everything you did, each little cut, each little facial expression, each little puff of your breath. You didn’t see it.

He was so grateful for you, for your existence in his life, and he wanted to let you know. He wanted to say it, those three words, he really did. He was about to say it but the dinner bell rang and the moment was lost.

“It’s really that late?” You ask, looking up for the first time in hours. You hair was a mess from running your fingers through it while you worked and you hand still held the pencil you hadn't put down once this entire time.

“Yeah,” he laughs at your bewildered expression, “you’ve been working on our cards all day, Dummy.” 

Even though he teased you for it, he really did appreciate the devotion you had to each and every one of his ideas. You were the reason why he even attempted any of them in the first place. 

With you behind him, backing him up, he felt like he could actually do something with his life besides just being the son of Hades, besides just being a demigod.

You were even the reason why he took up game making, creating the things he’d loved so much as a kid. The thing he would be scribbling about in the black notebook Jason got him for his birthday. The thing that made him write down any ideas he randomly got onto his skin. The thing that he could think about when the thoughts overtook him.

You join in on his laughter, “guess I’m just too invested in this game to put it down.”

“While I’m flattered by that,” he stood up, brushing off all the pencil shavings and eraser bits with his hands, “you really need food. Will will kill us if we skip out on another meal.”

You’d both skipped lunch today, being too occupied in your tasks to stop and take a break to eat sustenance. Lucky enough for you guys, Will was nice enough to bring you both a plate of crackers to hold you over, but that wasn’t enough for growing teenagers.

“So do you,” you argue back, following his lead as you also stand up.

“Which is why we’re going to eat,” he states, walking to and holding the door open for you.

“Such a gentleman,” you joke as you step through the doorway, heading towards the dining hall.

“Shut up,” he groans, jogging lightly for a few seconds to catch up with you, his shoulder brushing yours.

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

The second time.

It happened while you were playing capture the flag, while you were searching for the other team’s banner. You hair was tangled with twigs and leaves and you were covered in dirt, but you were both having a lot of fun.

You had broken off from the main group, deciding to look in a different area than them, where you believed the flag to be. You didn’t know if you were correct yet but you really hoped so.

You’d concocted this plan weeks ago, mulling over each detail, collecting every shred of information. It was his idea but you helped give it life, and in the end, you’d both spent more than ten hours on it.

You both knew exactly what you needed to do during the game, you just didn’t know if you got the location right. The only way to know was to keep searching behind every boulder, behind every tree.

The first part of your plan had been successful, you’d managed to sneak past all their guards with no problems, completely undetected. At least, you were undetected until he stepped on a twig and alerted their head defender, Annabeth, that something or someone was in the area.

“Goddammit,” you muttered under your breath, doing your best to not alert the rest of her other teammates as she began to double back.

There wasn’t a good chance that you’d make it past Annabeth, but if her teammates joined in, you would stand absolutely no chance. Your only shot at winning now was to outthink and get around the daughter of Athena, and you really didn’t like those odds.

Even so, you chose to stick to the plan, darting into the bushes to hide when she got too close rather than running away. And despite the foliage being rather uncomfortable, despite the painful little cuts and scratches it gave you, your resolve remained strong.

“We can stop,” he began, noticing that you were in discomfort, but you instantly cut him off.

“No,” you state, shaking your head adamantly, “we’re doing this.”

“We’ve spent hours on this plan, we’ve run through hundreds of different scenarios, different outcomes. We’re not letting a tiny little accident ruin this for us, not when we’re this close. You stepped on a twig. So what? Any animal could have done that. We just have to be smarter than her,” you continued, making sure your voice was only loud enough for him to hear.

“Are you sure?” He asks softly, feeling guilty.

“I’m one hundred percent sure, Nic,” you smile softly, squeezing his hand, “I believe in your plan and I believe in you.”

“Want to know why?” You asked, getting an idea of how to cheer him up when you noticed a splash of red off to your right.

“Why?” He questioned, to which you responded by simply pointing at the flag.

“Because you were right, just like I knew you would be.”

It was then, in the cramped area you two occupied, while you were hiding from the searching gaze of Annabeth, that he felt the urge to tell you it once again. It crept up on him, caught him off guard, and even though he knew it was probably the wrong time to say it, he still wanted to.

He wanted to because you trusted him. You had trusted him when he said that the flag was somewhere else. Even when the rest of your team had argued that he was wrong, that he was trying to get you all to throw the game, you had trusted him enough to say that he wasn't, to follow his lead. Just like you always had.

“When she turns her back, that’s when we’ll go. I’ll aim for the flag, you’ll find a place to hide until I pass it to you. She might expect a smaller group using the larger group as a decoy, but she won’t expect the two of us. Once I get a hand on the flag, we do exactly what we practiced.”

While you two waited for a window of opportunity to take the flag, he was trying to build up the courage to say it. Unfortunately, the second he was about to say it, you noticed an opening you had to take.

“Go,” you shout, jumping up from your spot suddenly and sprinting towards the flag.

While he runs to get into position, he decides on next time. Next time he would tell you.

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

The third time.

It happened when a new camper arrived, a camper who, for some reason, was hyper-fixated on you. He followed you around everywhere, always chatting with you, always taking up your attention, and it was driving Nic crazy

Every time he tried to hang out with you, the other guy would butt in and steal you away. You hadn’t gotten to hang out in days, all your daily traditions and rituals getting put on the back burner, much to both of your dismays.

It didn’t help that the camper would say mean comments to him whenever you weren’t around, picking at each of his insecurities. He would say that no one trusted him, that no one liked him, that you were just pitying him, that all he would ever be known for, and hated for, was being the son of Hades.

He hated it, it made him feel like he was nothing, like he was bad. And just like that, he was reduced back to his heritage. All the work he’d done, all the things he’d convinced himself of with the help of you and the big seven, it all went down the drain.

He wanted to have faith in your friendship, he really did, but insecurities do things to people. They're hard to control and they’re even harder to change, to work on. If you’re only halfway through your work, even the smallest thing can make you fall back.

He decided he’d try one last time, at dinner. If things went badly again, if the guy intervened, he’d give up. He’d give up on the most important person in his life because he knew when to cut his losses, he knew when he was on the brink of falling apart, he knew when he needed to shut his emotions down so he could keep on living.

“Hey Y/N,” he started, before instantly being cut off, his plan of inviting you to join him for dinner and keeping your friendship alive falling flat.

“Y/N, come sit with me at the Hermes table,” the guy yelled loudly from across the room. His volume making everyone cringe.

“Actually, I’m going to sit with Nic tonight,” you state, Nic’s head immediately darting up, “I haven’t been able to spend any time with him recently.”

“Why do you want to spend time with that loser? I’ve been trying all week to get him to stop annoying you. You should be thankful.” At those words, you froze, anger beginning to grow in the pit of your stomach.

“Is that why you’ve been doing these past few days? You’ve been trying to ruin my friendship with Nic?” You asked coldly.

“Why do you even want to be friend with him? He’s the son of Hades.” he boy spat, which only made you angrier.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is.”

What happened next was something no one expected. You, the sweet girl who always lent people a helping hand, who always had candy to give to the younger campers, who was always willing to be a shoulder to cry on and a person to vent to, finally exploded.

“No, it’s actually not.” You state, your voice conveying every bit of contempt you felt for this guy.

“Nic is the sweetest boy I’ve ever met and he doesn’t even try to be,” you began, starting to look around at all your fellow campers.

“Did you know that he shadow traveled to 17 different stores across Long Island Sound just to find me a specific stuffed animal on my birthday?” You watched as they all shook their heads.

“Did you know that he baked the cake for the party that we threw when Percy and Annabeth got into the college of their dreams?” They shook their heads again. “That’s just because he's friends with you guys,” the guy tried to argue.

“Then did you know that the only reason we survived the fight against Gaea, the only reason we are friends with the romans, is because he put his body through hell and back bringing the Mark of Athena to camp?” You fire back.

“Nico had proven beyond a doubt that he is much more than just being the son of Hades, that he is good, and I’d chose him to have my back over any of you time and time again. You assholes just don’t want to see it.” With that final statement, you sit down next to him and begin eating your food.

All he can do is stare at you, his food going untouched. You had chosen him over everyone else, over everything else. Despite the fact that he was the son of Hades, despite the fact that death followed him everyone, despite the fact that he could communicate with the dead, you didn’t care about any of it. You still chose him.

When you finally did look over at him, you gave him the most beautiful smile while also bumping his shoulder playfully, “you didn’t think I’d leave you hanging did you?”

He shrugged slightly, feeling guilty that he had. But you didn’t and couldn’t blame him. You hadn’t given him a single reason to believe it all week. Your tendency of being too nice to people, your inability to say no to things that others asked you to do, had given him the wrong impression.

“Never Nic,” you tell him, “never gonna happen. You’re stuck with me.”

After you said that, he knew now was the time to say it. There would never be a more perfect time. At least, he didn't there ever would be, so he opened his mouth to speak up.

“Y/N,” he started, before being cut off for the second time that night.

“Nico?” It was the guy again.

“Yeah?” He asked, squeezing you hand to indicate that it was okay for him to be near you guys.

“I just wanted to apologize to you. I was wrong.” He said, looking down, ashamed of his actions.

“It’s okay.”

And after sharing a look with you, he knew it wasn't a lie. Things were slowly changing and everything would end up being okay.

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

The time he actually gets to say it.

It was the perfect moment, the true perfect moment.

You were both lying on the dock, enjoyed the peaceful silence. Your legs were spread out wide, your hands underneath your heads to act as pillows as you enjoyed the Long Island Sound breeze.

The summer had come and gone quickly and you’d be going back to your biological family for the school year. It wasn’t something you necessarily wanted to do, you enjoyed your time at camp much more, but you were looking forward to seeing them.

“How different do you think things will be at camp when we get back?” You ask softly, breaking the silence while fiddling with a strand of your hair.

“More or less the same,” he responds, rolling onto his side to face you.

“You’ll call me? Whenever you can right?” You follow his lead, rolling over onto your side to face him.

“Every day,” he promises, drawing a bittersweet smile from you.

“I’ll miss you.”

“And I’ll miss you.”

With that all being said, you roll onto your stomach, pressing your cheek to the warm wood of the dock and closing you eyes blissfully, letting out a sigh of content.

Rare moments like these were your favorite. Moments when it was just the two of you coexisting, no words needing to be said, no actions needing to be done. You could just relax and close your eyes, safe within the bounds of Camp Half-Blood.

Unbeknownst to you, he was gathering up enough courage to say it, to say the words he hasn’t said to anyone since Bianca died and Hazel left for Camp Jupiter. Outside of them, you were the only person he’d ever considered saying them to.

“Hey Y/N,” he spoke softly, his words shaky as he prepared to do what could make or break your friendship.

“Yeah?” You ask, your eyes still closed but facing him.

“I love you.”

When you hear those words, your eyes snap open and you shoot up into a sitting position, your body frozen, your face showing how shocked you were. Those three words were the only words you’d never heard him say. They meant that you were one of the most important people in his life.

“Y/N?” He sits up as well, waving his hand in front of your face as his nerves begin to take over.

A few milliseconds later you lunge for him, tackling him onto the dock with a big bear hug, hoping to convey just how much you care about him, just how much you love him.

“I love you too Nic.”

“You do?” He wanted to be sure. He had to be sure.

“With all of my heart,” you state.

“You don’t know how glad I am to hear that,” he laughs, releasing all the previous tension, “I’ve been so stressed out. You have no idea.”

“You never need to worry when it comes to me,” You laugh, “I’m not disappearing on you, ever. That’s not how I roll.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[when-worlds-end-archive]

Not A Word

A/N - Another Star Trek meme has appeared on my page, so have another Bones fic. There’s not nearly enough of these on here, so hopefully I can add this one and many more to the collection in the days/weeks/months/years that I continue to write.

Day 7 of Writer’s Block Challenge

Pairing(s) : Leonard McCoy (Bones) 2009 x Reader

Summary : You get stuck on a foreign planet when the Enterprise’s teleportation pads go down. The good thing, is that you on what seems to be on a peaceful planet. The bad thing, is that you’re stuck with a very hostile doctor.

Warning (s) : “God” is said once and swearing (it’s Bones).

Word Count : 1,257

“Well this is fucking typical,” McCoy muttered under his breath at the current situation you were stuck in.

You’d been collecting samples from a newly discovered planet when the Enterprise’s teleportation pads went down. Meaning you couldn’t be beamed back up. Meaning you were stuck.

You would have been fine on your own, you knew how to defend yourself and you had more than enough food and water in the bag you were carrying to sustain yourself. But you weren't alone. You had a very hostile doctor with you.

You don’t know when the hatred between you two had started, but you and the doctor had come to the mutual agreement that you did not like each other and would prefer to avoid each other whenever possible.

“Since we’re stuck here, we might as well get comfortable,” you decide as you lean back against a rock.

It wasn’t the most comfortable thing you’d ever leaned against, but it certainly wasn’t the least. The least, you didn’t want to even think about, it was too disgusting, too traumatizing.

“Of course you’re just going to relax,” he rolls his eyes. “What the fuck are you on about?” You ask indignantly.

“The fact that we’re stuck on a foreign planet, that could be hostile for all we know, and you’re choosing to lay back and soak in the sun,” he responded, making you narrow your eyes.

“At least I’m not acting like I have a stick up my ass,” you fire back.

He sends you a glare before walking in circles around the clearing, his repeated footsteps beginning to drive you crazy. You would speak up about it but you knew it would send you both on a tangent that would only serve to annoy you more.

“Why the fuck did Jim send both of us down here?” He exclaimed angrily, continuing to pace back and forth, pissed off at the situation Kirk had gotten him stuck in.

“You tell me,” you answer, equally as pissed off, “you’re the one who’s friends with him.”

He chooses not to answer you this time, simply continuing to pace, both of your moods only worsening as time passes by at the speed of a snail.

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

You found that you could learn a lot about the planet if you were with someone you couldn’t stand to look at or interact with. It forced you to look at other things, interact with other things.

Something you took note of while you were waiting was how the world seems to come alive at night. During the day, when you’d been collecting samples, the world look dead. The trees looked droopy, their branches sagging, their leaves crumpling in your hands when you’d reached out to touch them. The grass was course and rough, scratchy against your skin whenever you walked. The pools of liquid in the dips of the ground were empty of moss and algae and any other type of common flora.

But at night, everything seemed to be at full bloom. The trees no longer looked droopy, their branches having straightened out, the leaves returning to a soft and lush green. Beneath your feet, the grass was now silky smooth, it was even enjoyable to touch. Around you, the little pools that have been void of life were now filled with plants growing out of every crack.

You’re pulled out of your observations only when Kirk finally contacts McCoy’s transmitter.

“Bones, Y/N, we’ve figured out the problem with the teleportation pads,” he starts, “so that’s the good news.”

“What’s the bad news, Kirk?” You ask, wanting him to just cut to the chase.

“It’ll take us a while to fix it.” Fuck.

“How long?” Bones speaks up, both of you praying that you wouldn’t be in this situation for too much longer.

“A couple hours, so try to get comfortable and stay put,” he tells you.

Those directions seem easy enough.

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

You and McCoy had finally settled into a somewhat comfortable silence, both coming to the conclusion that the best way to make it through this was to not talk at all.

“Y/N,” McCoy speaks up about an hour to two hours in, breaking your tentative truce and earning a glare from you.

“You better have a good reason for interrupting my peace and quiet,” you hiss, “or I swear to god-”

“Y/N.”

“I will shove a stick so far up your ass-”

“Y/N.”

“that my insults are-”

“Y/N!” He exclaims. “What?” You shout back loudly.

“That sound,” his words make you freeze.

You listen to your surroundings carefully, eyes widening when you hear a low murmur. It sounds like talking, not a language you could understand but certainly a language. And they were getting closer.

You and McCoy share a look, instantly darting to grab your materials before cramming both your bodies into a tiny little alcove as a few figures come into view.

They were human sized but certainly not human with their mostly grayish skin and red hair. The clothes they wore were dark gray rags, an indiction that they were still a developing race,

This was a great find but would also cause McCoy and you some problems as they couldn’t be alerted of your presence or the existence of other life. You couldn't break the Prime Directive.

“What do we do?” You whisper to McCoy softly as you both try to keep as quiet as possible.

“We stay the way we are until they either leave or the Enterprise beams us back up.” He responds, his voice a lot closer to you than you initially thought.

It was dark in the tiny alcove, dark enough that you didn’t realize how close you were to him, close enough that you could feel his breath fanning the back of your neck now that you were hyper aware of your positioning.

A shiver runs down your spine. You hadn’t been this close to someone since stepping onto the ship, too busy with your work to put any effort into an actual love life.

“Are you cold?” He asks, his voice gentle now that you both had to be quiet.

“A little,” you lie, not wanting to give anything away.

You feel him move, placing his arms to either side of you, still respectfully not touching you. It was surprisingly sweet of him, something you didn’t expect from the gruff man who was always drinking and speaking cynically.

“Do you want me to?” He asks, to which you nod in response, giving him permission.

A few moments later, his arms are circling around your waist, pulling you close to his chest, giving you warmth. Subconsciously, your body moves towards him, plastering you to him in a way that would have made you embraced had you not been thankful for the body heat.

“You know, you’re not so bad,” you whisper quietly, half wanting him to know and half wanting to keep the thought to yourself.

“So I’ve been told,” he jokes, to which you pinch him arm.

“I’m being serious, Bones,” you state, “you’re not as bad as I thought you were.”

“You’re no so bad either,” he responds.

With that, you two fell into a comfortable silence, knowing enough was said and enough was done. You had come to another mutual agreement, this time that you didn't hate the other and wouldn’t avoid each other.

So when Kirk alerted you that you were being beamed up, Bones let you go with a smirk.

“Not a word, Bones.”

“Not a single word.”

Taglist : @leosandbuckysgirl

[when-worlds-end-archive]

You Grew Up Gorgeous Pt. 2

A/N - It’s always Spider-Man isn’t it? At this point, I’ll become a Spider-Man blog before the end of this challenge... I’m just kidding, I will always write for other characters, my feed is just flooded with Spider-Man contact rn (still on the craze of NWH). Soooooo... gonna write the second part of You Grew Up Gorgeous! Hope you enjoy!

Day 6 of Writer’s Block Challenge

Paring(s) : Peter Parker x Osborn!Female Reader

Summary : The day after your brother’s best friend calls your “gorgeous,” you’re too flustered to text him for help. But when you’re brother invites him to dinner, you’re forced to shoot him a message so it doesn’t seem like you’re ignoring him.

Warning(s) : Swear words.

Word Count : 1,120

                                                  Previous | Next

You grew up gorgeous.

Those words had been stuck on repeat for the past 24 hours.

It was on your mind when you feel asleep and when you woke up, it was the only thing in your brain. Everything going on inside your head was just those four words being repeated over and over and over and over and over again.

It repeated when you were making breakfast. It repeated when you got on the bus. It repeated when you tried to start your Spanish paper. It repeated when you had lunch. It repeated when you were in Physics, it was even repeating now as you were arguing with Harry over where to get dinner from.

“For fucks sake, Harry,” you muttered, rubbing your temples, ”for the last time, we are not buying seafood from a cheap corner store.”

He’d been pleading with you for the past 5 minutes to get their “prized” sushi, ever since you passed that stupid shop two blocks down from Midtown High, and it was beginning to get on your nerves. 

Was that because you wanted to keep thinking about what Peter had said to you yesterday? To keep daydreaming? Maybe. But you would never tell Harry that, not even if your life was on the line. It was his best friend after all, and his little by-3-minutes sister.

“But Y/N,” he pleads, giving you those puppy eyes that you can’t refuse.

“We’re going to get food poisoning, I bet you 50 bucks,” you say, finally giving in.

“Yes!” He exclaims, overly happy about the fact that you were buying street food worth maybe a quarter of what you normally ate.

Even if he annoyed you beyond belief, seeing him this happy always brought a smile to your face. These moments were few and far between with all the weight on his shoulders to carry the mantel of Oscar Industries after your father stepped down.

“Let me call Peter and see if he wants to join us,” he states, already dialing his number before you could stop him.

“Wait,” you start, before shutting up. He’d already hit the call button, it was too late to stop it now.

He gives you a weird look before he starts talking into his phone.

“Hey! No, no, no emergency... Just wanted to know if you wanted to grab food with Y/N and I... From that place two blocks down from school, the sushi place... Time? We’re about 5 minutes away, we can find a table while we wait... Yeah, yeah, see you soon.”

With that, he ended the call.

“Is something wrong?” He asks, “between you and Peter?”

“No, no,” you adamantly shake your head, “just didn’t want to make him come all the way back here if he already got home. Faster on a skateboard, you know?”

He seems to accept your answer as he nods and begins to lead the way back from which you came, all the buildings and people blurring together as you let your thought take over.

You still hadn't texted Peter, even though you’d put his number into your phone the second he’d left the room. You’d typed out countless texts only to leave them left unsent.

You knew were you being a chicken, but that didn’t change the fact that you were terrified of texting your crush for the first time, even if you had an actual reason to. It didn’t help that he had also called you gorgeous.

Well, it’s now or never. You thought as you pulled out your phone, beginning to type out what you thought you should say. If you typed what you wanted to say, you would run the risk of him running away.

You : Hey! Sorry for not texting sooner, been really busy with classes.

You let out a deep breath, not believing you’d actually hit send until you see the read notification below the messages, the dots to indicate that he was typing appearing on your screen.

Peter : It’s no problem! Classes have been super busy for me too. Need help with anything? I’m free most of tonight if you do. After dinner, of course. :)

You smile at his response. He was so sweet, being so willing to help you for absolutely nothing in return, even when he was swamped with prepping for his own finals. It was one of the reasons you liked him so much.

He didn’t care about your guys’ money, didn't care about your guys’ social standing, he was kind because he genuinely wanted to be. You couldn’t ask for a better brother’s best friend. He was the best.

You : That would be great actually! There’s a few concepts I’m really struggling with.

Peter : How about 7:30? We can hop on FaceTime and I can explain stuff to you for as long as you need?

You : Sounds great! Call you then!

Peter : Call you then, Gorgeous!

“Who are you texting?” Harry asked, startling you from your thoughts directly  after you read his last text.

“Peter,” you responded as casually as you could, hoping that you blush wasn’t visible, “he’s going to help me with physics tonight. We were talking about it yesterday.”

“Oh right,” he responded thoughtfully, remembering the interaction you two had had the previous day.

“I don’t know if even Peter can save you,” he teased, “but maybe you’ll pass. Maybe.”

“You better shut the fuck up and help me look for a table before I throw away my inhibitions and shove a piece of sushi so far down your throat that you choke.” You fire back threateningly.

“So violent,” he fake shivered, to which you rolled your eyes in response.

Choosing to ignore any other teasing comments he made, you return to searching for a table, your eyes darting around to all the possible seating in the surrounding area.

“How about over there?” You finally point at a table.

The table sits beneath a small cherry tree with two benches, one on either side, loose leaves and petals scattered around it. It was outside of a restaurant but the store was closed today, meaning that you wouldn’t get in trouble for sitting there. It seemed like the perfect place to settle down and have your dinner.

“I’ll go grab the table if you order for us,” he bargains, wanting to avoid standing in line.

“That works,” you say, “you just want the one they’re advertising right?”

Harry nods, “Peter wants the same.”

With that, you two split up, Harry going to claim the table while you go to stand in the short line.

You just about to order when you hear a voice behind you.

“Order for me too?”

Peter.

Taglist : @loverhyunn​ @ilovewandastevethor​ @themorningsunshine​ @fairchildflag​ @andrews-lovr​