#chapter ten's got the scene that's been sitting in my docs since day one. the scene i wrote first in january. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thexanwillshine · 3 years

Text

a;lskfjdk

Author: thexanwillshine (twitter, ao3) Pairings: Levi x Hange Cross-Postings: AO3 Notes: made for Day 2: Confessions of Levihan Week 2021

“But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Levi Ackerman can argue that every writer he’s met is always a little bit more eccentric than the average person, but no one proves his theory more than Hange Zoë.

Hange wakes him up in the middle of the night, voice screeching on the phone in her excitement. He responds groggily—as one does when their sleep is disturbed at an ungodly hour by an overly-excited author who acts as if they’ve just found out the answers to the universe—and tries to keep himself sober enough to understand what in the goddamn fuck Hange was talking about this time.

“Levaaiiii,” she says, drawling out his name in a manner that was both annoying and endearing, “I’ve figured it out!”

He can almost imagine the look on her face: starry-eyed in her joy, mouth stretched wide into a grin, fingers shaking as she bounces in glee, shifting her weight from the heels of her feet to the tips of her toes . . .

And Levi exhales in both relief and the tiniest hint of delight, because this is exactly how he wants Hange to be: happy .

Nevertheless, he replies “Figured what out?” snarkily.

Hange’s response comes out quickly, as if she needed to say everything that had to be said in the span of five seconds or less. “So you know how I’ve been trying to write a fiction novel because I wanted to get out of my comfort zone?”

Levi hums in acknowledgement as he fixes the covers over his legs before turning on his bedside lamp. He leans back on the bed frame and closes his eyes to listen to her ramble.

“So I was thinking, I wanted to write a romance novel, because you know how people fall in love and stuff?”

“No Hange, I’ve never heard of that concept in my entire life,” Levi says in a deadpan voice.

Hange laughs, because of course she would know that’s his pathetic attempt at lighthearted conversation. Levi is glad that she knows him better than most people, and it is this sense of familiarity that made him feel particularly comfortable when graced with her presence.

“Just because you’ve never fallen in love before doesn’t mean it’s not real, Levi!” Hange tells him in jest.

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“After all, you’ve probably never wanted to kiss someone your entire life!”

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“Sure, Hange.”

He rolls his eyes at her teasing, because yes, Levi has fallen in love—and maybe, just maybe, he’s still on the road to understanding what it meant to treasure someone far more than just a regular friend.

He shakes off such thoughts before maneuvering Hange back to the initial reason why she had called. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“I finished,” she proclaims on the phone, her voice proud, “I finished writing the first ten chapters.”

Levi blinks in confusion before sitting straight up, the information processing in his mind that was still a bit drunk with sleep. “You what?” “I couldn’t stop writing,” Hange told him sheepishly, detecting the slightest hint of concern in her editor’s voice, “I’ve been writing for the past 24 or so hours. Maybe more.”

Levi grunts in annoyance, pulling the covers away from his body and jumping out of his unmade bed. He runs a hand through his dark locks, sighing. “Four-eyes, you need to get some sleep.”

“But Levi,” Hange says in protest, “I need you to read my draft. There are some parts I just don’t think are super natural.”

“And I was sleeping like a regular human being,” Levi retorted as he shrugged off his shorts. After that, he put on jeans that he had recently washed before patting down the shirt he was wearing in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the wrinkles that had accumulated while he tossed and turned in bed.

“Oh my gosh, Levi, I didn’t realize the time!” Hange replies, and he can almost feel her guilt starting to set in. “You should go back to sleep,” she immediately adds. “Take care of yourself!”

Levi slips on his rubber shoes and grabs his umbrella before answering. “Coming from you? Not that credible.”

Hange laughs light-heartedly, and his heart flutters just a tiny bit. Levi pushes the feeling away almost as quickly as it had come.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, almost dreading the reply.

There was none.

“Hange,” he calls, but there’s still no response. “Hange. Answer me,” he says firmly, prodding her on. “Have you eaten?”

The laughter that comes out from the other end is nervous. “Woops.”

Levi sighs. He opens his car door and slips inside smoothly, grabbing his keys from his pocket and starting the engine. “Hange, you’re supposed to eat.”

“Sorry,” she tells him honestly. “I really didn’t want to ruin my momentum. I can’t believe I forgot.” She mumbles her second sentence, sounding almost deep in thought. “I’ll go find food now! Want me to email you the working draft? You can look at it in the morning when you wake up.”

“No need,” Levi tells her, placing his phone on his dashboard and accelerating his car. “I’m on the way.”

“Levi!” Hange exclaimed excitedly as she heard her doorbell ring at around four in the morning.

She rushes to the door in delight, opening it to reveal Levi standing in front of her, a paper bag in his hand and a jacket half-heartedly slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” he greets calmly, before walking inside and letting himself in.

Inwardly, Hange thanks whatever god is out there for her foresight. Her unit was relatively clean since she hadn’t really done anything since Levi’s last visit. The place seemed to pass Levi’s health protocols, since he sat on her couch and placed the paper bag on the table right across from him.

“Eat,” he tells her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hange grins, before plopping down beside him and opening the paper bag. “What did you get me?”

“You’ll see.”

She raises an eyebrow at his ambiguity, before taking a glimpse inside the paper bag.

The smell of quesadillas immediately fills the room, and Hange lets out a soft squeal, taking out the food from the bag quickly.

“Oh my gosh,” Hange says as she nudges him on the shoulder. “You also got me onion rings! You know me too well, Levi.”

“Unfortunately,” Levi responds sarcastically, and Hange laughs almost automatically.

As Hange hums in glee, picking apart the paper wrapped around the food items, Levi maintains his silence. They stay like that as Hange eats. Every so often, she would comment about how the amount of cheese was perfect and how the onion rings just about melted in her mouth. Levi alternates between watching her eat and scrolls through his phone placidly.

Soon, he chooses to break the silence. “So where’s your draft?”

Hange is munching on her last piece of quesadilla when she glances in his direction. “Oh, it’s on my laptop! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you, this food was just so good.”

Levi stands up and heads on over to Hange’s room, gently pushing the door open and scanning the area for her laptop. On top of her unmade bed was a half open Macbook Pro, which he gently took before returning to his seat beside Hange.

Without hesitation, Levi opens the laptop and inputs the password. For some reason, Hange made it his birthday—1225—because she claimed that no one would guess such a random date. He is greeted with a blaring Google Docs document entitled “a;lskfjdk.”

“Nice title you got there,” he comments, and Hange chuckles.

“I didn’t want to think of a title yet, okay!” Hange pouts, and Levi nudges her foot gently in an attempt to comfort her from his own teasing.

He scans the document first before reading it. Hange is a good writer, but fiction is an entirely new genre for her. Immediately, he notices common habits from writing research papers leak into her new work: overexplaining, using words that are too formal for her target audience, sentences a little bit void from emotion.

He takes note of these comments on her notes app before going over her draft again, this time more meticulously than he had done previously. During this time, Hange finishes eating, wraps her trash and tosses them all inside the paper bag before standing up and dumping the entire thing inside her garbage bin.

“Levi,” she calls as she washes her hands through the sink faucet. Levi gives her the smallest hint that he’s listening by raising his eyebrow, but he doesn’t take his gaze away from her laptop. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announces, and he waves his hand dismissively.

Hange smiles to herself. Levi is always nagging her whenever she would accidentally hyperfixate on her writing, but he acts the same way when reading her works.

When Hange stepped inside the shower, Levi was already conducting a deep dive in her third chapter. The gears in his head slowly begin to turn as he begins to analyze her work.

The story revolved around the tales of the people who went to the clinic. The first chapter was a brief introduction on who the main characters were: There’s Janelle, a bright-eyed psychologist whose passion influenced the people around her. Together with El and Bea, her trusted assistants studying under her guidance, they would aid the people who went to the Hopiatria Clinic seeking care.

Meanwhile, the second chapter featured a child who felt as if she was being blamed for the death of her mother by her father. Her mother had died in a plane crash shortly after the young girl wished that her mom could go home on her sixth birthday. Janelle talks to the child gently while El and Bea provide emotional support, offering the child toys and biscuits whenever the need arises.

The third chapter was trickier, and it was there that Levi noticed a twist in Hange’s writing. The story revolved around a boy busy getting her doctorate, and a young girl who had been in love with him ever since they were in college. It’s the young girl who comes to Janelle’s office, and she relays the tale of her unrequited childhood romance to the psychologist.

The young girl is passionate, and wanted to take a step forward in order to guide her towards falling out of love with her best friend. Janelle presents two suggestions: (1) confession, while being fully-open to the possibility of rejection, and (2) accepting rejection without confession. The young girl decides to go with the first option, but to her surprise, the boy returns her feelings.

Everything seemed well-written up until the end of the chapter, where Hange had written,

And then they kissed.

Levi scrolled down the page, tilting his head to the side in slight confusion. That’s it? He thought, trying to find the rest.

Everything had been so well-described; from the girl’s internal turmoil—caused by her fear of destroying their friendship and the pain that came with unrequited love—to the boy confessing his own emotions for her.

The ending was anticlimactic, to say the least.

As he blinked at the google document in confusion, already typing out his comment on her notes app, Hange emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was loose on her shoulders, wet from her shower. Wrapped around her waist is his bathrobe, which she had borrowed from him long ago and never bothered to return it.

Levi scoffs as he glances in her direction. Here she was, parading with the cloth on and rubbing that specific fact in his face.

“Hey,” Hange greeted, smiling as she ran a hand through her brown locks, “How’s the reading going?”

“It was okay until the third chapter,” Levi says honestly, pointing the laptop screen in her direction. “The ending’s anticlimactic.”

Hange hummed, pursing her lips together. “Yeah. I didn’t really know how to end it,” she tells him as she opens her cabinet and grabs a few pieces of clothing. “Give me a bit, I’m going to change.”

She disappears into her room and Levi focuses on her story, trying to think of a way to spur Hange on and perhaps actively improve the ending’s writing.

Hange emerges in a loose t-shirt (which was, once again, his) and shorts. She sits down right beside him, leaning over his shoulder to glance at her laptop and read the specific line that particularly irked Levi.

“It’s that one, right?” Hange asks, pointing at the last sentence. “And then they kissed.”

“Yeah,” Levi responds, shaking his head. “Everything was so well-written up ‘till that point. You were able to describe the emotions perfectly, and the narration’s not that bad . . save for a few paragraphs that maybe should’ve stayed in your research papers.”

Hange chuckles. “Old habits die hard,” she responds, before taking her Macbook from his lap and transferring it to hers. “So what should I write?”

Levi shrugs. “I’m just your editor. You’re the writer.”

Hange pouts. “Yeah, but I don’t know how to make this better.”

“Maybe describe the scene more,” Levi suggests. “Everything ended so abruptly. Every emotion you’ve created and built disappeared in that one line.”

She nods in agreement. “But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Hange’s eyes shoot open immediately, and Levi’s face turns red just as quickly.

“F-Forget it,” he says, interrupting her just when he saw Hange open her mouth to speak. Any semblance of calm in his body disappears immediately, and his heart starts pounding against his chest in a rhythm that reminds him too much of a beating drum.

Hange, however, looks elated.

“You want to kiss me?” she tells him in excitement, blinking at him. “I’d like that. It could help me write this scene, you know.”

Levi looks away. “It was just a spur of the moment question.”

“So, you’re not going to kiss me?”

He actively avoids her gaze because he can already see from his peripheral vision that she looks sad, disappointed even. He grunts in response, closing his eyes and focusing his attention on a random spot on the wall.

“Oh,” Hange replies, “Well, I thought it was a good idea.”

Contrary to popular belief, Levi does want to kiss Hange. More than anything.

There were many reasons why: Because she looks so handsome and beautiful at the same time, and her very smile could light up any room she’d walk into. Because she says his name in the most endearing way. Because she understands his flaws. Because she has one of the kindest hearts he’s ever seen. Because she welcomes him with open arms, not a single thread of hesitation in her mind.

Most of all, it was simply because she was Hange.

He steals a glance in her direction, and she’s slightly fiddling with the hem of his shirt, her head downcast. Her sad expression tugs at hi

Levi thinks he’s already in this too deep, so he decides to speak.

“Did you want me to kiss you?”

From his periphery, he sees her look up at him so quickly he thought her neck would break. “What would you do if I said yes?”

He doesn’t dare turn his head in her direction when he replies quietly, “What do you think?”

“Would you kiss me?” Hange asks inquisitively, tilting her head to the side.

Levi’s heart skips a beat.

“Maybe,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper. “If you’d let me.”

Hange is silent for a moment, and Levi thinks this is it, I’m going to be rejected, but he feels a gentle finger touch his chin and turn his head in Hange’s direction.

He is met with her brown orbs, shining just a bit in what seemed like hidden glee. He cocks an eyebrow at her then, confused.

“I’m letting you,” Hange says, laughing. “Kiss me, I mean.” Her face is already slowly nearing his, and he can almost see the way her thick lashes brushed against her skin.

Slowly, Levi raises his head just a tiny bit and responds against her lips, “Okay.”

Hange smiles and closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck as he does the same around her waist. She tastes like the peppermint of her toothpaste, smells like his shampoo (which he had kept in her apartment since he always found himself staying over), and felt warm as her skin made contact with his. Hange's lips are gentle, slow, and a little shy—so different from how she usually is. Levi knows it’s because she doesn’t want to scare him off, so he makes the first move and nips at her lower lip, taking it between his teeth and sucking it gently.

She lets out a moan, and Levi takes this as a sign to continue. He slides his hand over her back, and she shudders and deepens the kiss at the same time. Her tongue meets his, and they battle for dominance. Hange’s hand sweeps over his undercut and pushes him towards him, and it is then that he lets out a sound that vaguely resembles pleasure.

After a few minutes, Hange whispers “Levi,” as her lips make contact with his. He hums in response, pulling his lips away from her and connecting his forehead with hers.

“Hange,” he says, breathless.

“Is this you telling me you like me?” Hange asks, closing her eyes.

He doesn’t form a reply through words, but he nods and closes his eyes as well.

“Great,” Hange tells him, pecking his lips with her own. “Because I like you too. Ever since I met you, I’ve liked you. Even though you were so rude to me on the first day of college.”

He chuckles silently in relief, pulling her closer to him before placing his chin on her shoulder. “Think you’ll be able to write the ending now that you know what a kiss feels like?”

Hange laughs, and it vibrates against his shoulder as she hugs him tighter. “It’s exhilarating. I probably wouldn’t be able to put into words how good I feel that you like me back.”

“Try,” Levi teases.

“Well . . . you know that alternative title I wrote for the fictional novel?”

Levi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “The keyboard smash?”

Hange nods. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I feel like right now.”

a;lskfjdk.

#levihan #levi x hange #levihanweek 2021 #LHW 2021 #LHWeek Day 2

134 notes · View notes

ilkkawhat · 3 years

Note

All the numbers. (If not all then pick and choose a handful to answer).

lol you’re really going for it anon, huh?? 😂 bless your heart. I’ll do all of them and then idk. if anybody wants to send any again, I’m sure I can have a different answer

(I did just answer 7 & 22 so I’ll leave those out. rest below the cut)

1) is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

I guess if you count all of my active WIPs that have been sitting dormant for months or years, there’s those since I like. I know what I’m doing in pretty much all of them, just as I know what I’m doing in some of my unpublished WIPs, but I think I just need to be in a certain mood/energy to do certain ones (ie, Agony esp is a very heavy fic so I gotta be able to Deal with that)

2) what work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?

I deleted those 😂😂😂 but some of my reeeeeealllllly old stuff is still out there and I cringe thinking about that and though I could easily delete those too, I’m keeping them just since the harddrive that has the docs for it is corrupted lol

3) what order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

Just all over the place these days tbh. Even chapter to chapter it’ll change, I’ll write snippets in future chapters--and I’m talking like three or four chapters ahead--just to get it out there. But then there’s other days where I’ll sit and just write and not stop.

4) favorite character you’ve written

Nick Stokes, of course 💜💜💜

5) character you were most surprised to end up writing

Any of the Macgyver characters outside of Jack. Cause though I’ll claim not to all the time, I do know that I know the CSI characters (though I’m surprised I’m able to write in their POVs outside of Nick.) I grew up with them. I have a bond with them. The mac characters? I’ve only known for like. two years now and not even that well anymore since I’ve stopped watching the show.

6) something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now

Expanding on details. Almost every fic I write, I’ll read it again later and be like “ah shit I should have run with this idea...” but I guess that’s how I can do a sequel/missing scene

8) favorite genre to write

hurt/comfort (emphasis on the hurt, really I mean we’re talking like borderline horror)

9) what, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

See I haven’t really honed in on any one particular thing that inspires me to write. It comes out of nowhere, and the following list of things doesn’t like, always work. When I’m listening to a song. When I’m driving in the car. When I’m watching something unrelated to the source material (totes got some inspiring vibes watching Falcon and The Winter Soldier yesterday tbh lmao) When I dream. When I go on a walk. When people send me asks and I just go the fuck off and suddenly ten chapters later I’m writing a fic that they probably didn’t even want (coughSpecimenStokescough)

10) write in silence or with background noise? with people or alone?

I think the last couple times I’ve like, really written it’s been in silence. Definitely alone. Don’t got people to write around, really lmao (unless you count my parents being in other rooms with obnoxiously loud televisions and tablets)

11) what aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

All of it. And I’m sure it’ll keep improving.

12) your weaknesses as an author

Dialogue. I don’t know how people talk 😂

13) your strengths as an author

Detail, description, and I also like to think--emotion? but idk. It’s hard for me to assess my strength tbh

14) do you make playlists for your current wips?

Oh YES! At least for the longer WIPs like Last Breath or Agony. And listen to it on a loop when I’m trying to brainstorm or write if I want to write with music on. I’ve been starting to link the playlists when I’m doing with the fic (which is not many so far)

(I think Hellbound is the only one-shot I made a playlist for that I didn’t share)

15) why did you start writing?

I honestly can’t remember, cause I think I’ve been writing stories (fan fiction or not) ever since I was in middle school?? Maybe even elementary? But I do feel like I had gotten more encouragement for it than drawing from the few people in my life that did actively cheer me on, and there’s just something about writing that is so...fulfilling? Esp since I can’t like. Just manifest the images or make the “movie” in my head, at least I can write them down and hopefully convey what I see/feel in my mind through words.

16) are there any characters who haunt you?

All my neglected OCs lmao. I did and I guess on some level still do want to make an original series.

In a chilling way Veronica also haunts me cause I realize how much of that like, darkness in myself I put in her.

And Nick, well, he’s just always on my mind.

17) if you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

Just fucking go for it! Don’t give a shit if anybody will read it or not. Take your time, flesh out those details. Describe what you see, what they see, what they feel.

If you think you’re going too far...you’re not.

keep going

18) were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? what were they?

I mean any fan fiction I read in the past has probably influenced me on some level. I know that when I came back to CSI in 2018, reading all of kristen999′s nick whump def encouraged me cause I was like “oh...there’s others like me who like to see him hurt!?!?” and I do think that maybe sometimes after I read a fic, I might like. Try to incorporate those styles I see. The way words are described, sentences constructed. Not like, copy of course but I feel like a long time ago my writing wasn’t really idk, novel-like? very short, almost read like a script whereas now, since I’ve seen the way people write their stories (some novel length stories, too), I flesh mine out a lot more.

19) when it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

I don’t 😂 Thinking of my bigger projects like Agony, I do just kind make up some of it as I go with a rough outline although sometimes it is a bit more detailed--like First Flight actually has a super detailed outline but I know that once I start writing, something might come up, some twist I didn’t think of before--or even one that somebody suggests to me, but idk I feel like I do have a way of tying everything together regardless? Cause especially with those bigger WIPs I will try to go back and re-read if something seems familiar or if I’ve forgotten a detail, or if I’m planning on diving back into it after a long break from it.

20) do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?

Depends. I feel more accomplished with the long sit down sessions so I target that, but lately it’s been little spurts with maybe one big dump at the end of the week.

21) what do you think when you read over your older work?

Mostly cringe, but there are times I’m like “holy shit this is really good???”

like I remember recently I re-read Agony and loved it, when I wanted to delete it maybe like. a week before that. I think it honestly depends on my frame of mind, and why I’m going back to read the fic? Cause I’ve had times where I’m like “wait what was this one?” and then I read it and laugh at how bad it is, but then other times where I’m like, “I wanna read that one fic I did...” and then I do and it makes me happy.

But, I will always kinda criticize at the same time--”aw, I could do this better, I could have expanded on this,” etc

23) any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

My life is suuuuuuper boring so. not really lmao. One of my earliest CSI fics that actually created what I consider to be my number one OC (she’d be the lead in that original series I mentioned earlier) came out of me sitting and staring into a campfire lmao.

also there was this teacher I had (one of those good IRL supports) that told me a story of something that happened to her (or was it her daughter?) and I turned it into a story (back in my teen days) so. I guess there are somethings.

24) have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?

Expert? No. But I will do numerous google searches to try and figure some stuff out and get lost in a rabbit hole of “research” for a while and hope that when I do write it, it comes off as I know what I’m doing when really, I do not lol.

25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of

haven’t really written much in this past week, and certainly nothing to be proud of, but this line hit me like a ton of bricks for Specimen Stokes and I’m in love with it:

“Because, my dear specimen, I wanted to see if you loved the danger...or if you loved me.”

#mk.fic #mk writes stuff #nonny #mk talks

4 notes · View notes

sagittariuswritings · 4 years

Text

smile. (1/?)

A/N: It’s kind of long for just an introduction to the series, but I enjoyed writing it.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 1.9k (This literally filled up like five pages on google docs and it felt like I was writing a chapter book but what do i knoW)

Warnings: None, really.

Steve had a whole list of books he planned on reading, and since he had a day off, he figured he might as well put that list to some good use. He had his little notebook full of things people had recommended to him. Things he should discover, since it had only been two years since he was unthawed. He still hadn’t got to listen to the full album that Sam had recommended to him. He only listened to about three songs when he was recovering in the hospital from the fall off of the helicarrier. As soon as he’d healed up, he went straight back to work. Which was not surprising for the people that knew him personally. If he wasn’t kept busy doing something, he might lose his mind. He was a good man who loved to work. It wasn’t like he could really help it.

He pushed open the door to a small local library, reaching into his back pocket and taking the small notebook out. Closing the door behind him, he opened the notebook, and flipped to a page with a list of books upon books. One of the books had been The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien. Steve was intrigued. He was more of a history nerd, really, but the title of this book definitely intrigued him.

Not wanting to bother the librarian who seemed to be busy reading already, and hadn’t noticed Steve, he made his way to where the fictional books were. It had been so long since he walked around a library. He normally just went to a store and bought those small really thick books you’d find in a single aisle of a grocery store. “The ones for old people.”, Natasha would tell him. “Maybe you should get a pair of reading glasses while you’re at it, old man.” She’d even said.

After about ten or fifteen minutes of no luck, Steve grumbled something like “Gosh dang-it.” under his breath. He made his way to the front desk, and the librarian was still reading.

Her y/e/c eyes skimmed across the paper intensely, almost as if she was having a staring competition with the book itself. This can’t be happening, she thought, her eyes wide as the scene unfolded in front of her. Her favorite character got stabbed, and she let out an audible gasp. A loud “NO!” slipped passed her lips shamelessly, not caring that she was in the library she worked at. She grumbled some curse words under her breath that Steve couldn’t quite hear, it was so quiet, and she slammed the book shut, putting it on the desk.

Shutting the book seemed to have brought her back to reality, because she looked up, and another gasp passed her lips. “Oh my word, I’m so sorry, sir! My favorite character just died, and, well, you see, pretty much everyone refers to me as a geek or a nerd, so I guess you just witnessed my inner nerd or… geek… I don’t know-- I’m sorry, again--” She blabbered on, embarrassed now. “How can I help you?”

Steve suppressed his laugh that dared to break free from his lips, and cleared his throat before he spoke. “It’s quite okay, ma’am, really.” He offered her a little smile, his eyes glancing down to the name on the desk. It read Y/n Y/l/n, and he looked back over to her. “Y/n, is it?” She nodded. “Y/n-- Does this library happen to have The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien in stock?”

She looked at him blankly. He must not know anything about the series. “...Which one…? The Lord of the Rings is a trilogy, sir, the first book is The Fellowship of the Ring, the second book is The Two Towers, and the last book is The Return of the King.”

He looked at her, surprise written in his futures. “...All three, I suppose. Why not?” He shrugged with a small smile, uncertainty in his futures as well, though.

Y/n read the uncertainty in his futures, and offered him a soft smile. “I think that’s a great idea. Lucky for you, I just brought them back from my place. I’ve read them plenty of times before, but it’s nice working at a library. You don’t have to buy your own copies or pay rent.” She winked, still smiling. She stood up out of her chair, and walked into the backroom behind the giant desk she was originally sitting at.

She came out of the backroom with a frown on her face. “I’m afraid I forgot them… Here, how about this: I get off this shift in about two hours. Come back here at exactly 2pm, and I’ll grab the books from my place and give them to you, free of charge. You look like a busy man, and I don’t think you’ll be coming back for a while.”

It was one of her specialties. She was able to read people quite easy, almost like a detective. If she looked hard enough, she might be able to tell you what your job or hobby is. Her friends nicknamed her Sherlock, and so she of course nicknamed her bestest friend Watson.

“Uh… Yeah, actually… I’ve got a full schedule most of the time, this is my one in a million day off.” He answered, unsure. He didn’t know how Y/n didn’t recognize him. If anything, going into the library, he expected to be noticed upon first glance. He was so used to it, and honestly, it was a relief to not be asked for whatever a selfie was every second he walked down the sidewalk.

“What do you do?” Y/n curiously asked. When she saw he took a moment to reply, she spoke up before he could. “Sorry-- You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I’m just a curious person.” She sheepishly shrugged. “Gets boring here in the library when barely anyone comes in.”

“No no, you’re fine. I’m Steve Rogers. I worked with S.H.I.E.L.D. before it fell out. Now, I’m an avenger.”

Her jaw seemed to slacken when she heard who he was. “Steve Rogers? You mean Captain America?” She asked, dumbfounded.

He seemed to regret what he said as he nodded, but his regret disappeared when she said. “My sister is a huge fan. I’m not gonna be one of those annoying people that constantly ask for pictures or autographs. I wasn’t here during the attack on New York. I was in the Faroe Islands for a few months.” Y/n cut herself off, feeling herself about to explain in full detail of why she was there, how much fun she had, etc. It was a bad habit of hers. If she started speaking about her passions, it would be hard to make her stop.

A wave of relief washed over him when he heard she wasn’t about to ask for anything of him. “Faroe Islands? I’ve never heard of it…” Y/n’s eyes seemed to light up when he said that, obviously excited. Not many people had heard of the Faroe Islands, and she was more than happy to explain it to people. But she didn’t want him to feel like he had to stay there.

“Since it’s your day off, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of things to do, so, how about when you come by here at 2, I’ll explain on the way to my apartment. Deal?” She offered him her hand to shake on it. Steve gladly shook it, his small charming smile gracing his lips. “Deal. See you at two, Y/n.”

“See you, Cap.” She grinned at him, watching him leave.

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

2pm came faster than Steve expected. He was in the middle of ordering a sandwich at Subway when he realized it was 1:45. Thankfully the sandwich-maker was quick and finished his sandwich within 2 minutes. Subway bag with sandwich inside in hand, Steve ran down the blocks to the library.

Y/n was on her way to the doors of the library when the doors burst open, and Steve ran into her. Y/n lost her balance and almost fell, but Steve’s strong arms wrapped around her waist to keep her standing.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry--” Steve quickly spoke, his eyes flickering over her face to make sure she was okay. It surprised Y/n so much, that it took quite some time for her to finally speak up.

She cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine.” She quickly nodded, offering a reassuring smile. “Promise.”

Steve got caught in her y/e/c eyes for a moment before he realized he was staring. He removed his arms from around her waist after making sure she could stand.

“Do you wanna get those books and get a history lesson on the Faroe Islands, Steve?” She asked with a small sheepish smile.

“I don’t see why not. I could use the information.” Steve smiled back at her. He turned and opened the door for her, letting her walk out.

Y/n locked the doors behind them before turning and starting to walk with him. “So, first things first, the Faroe Islands are off the coast of Denmark. It’s a total of 18 islands, and it’s absolutely gorgeous there. You get from island to island by either ferry or underwater tunnel. It’s actually really cool. It’s a lot like Iceland, which some people might mistake photos of the Faroe Islands for Iceland. My absolute favorite location on the Faroe Islands, was Lake Sørvágsvatn…”

As she went on and on, before they knew it, they were at her apartment. “You can come in, if you want.” She nodded to the inside of her apartment after she unlocked the door.

Steve walked in behind her, looking around. The first thing that caught his eye was a giant shelf with books on them, camera lenses, two camera bodies, and so much more. “You’re a photographer.” He noted.

“Very well, Sherlock!” She teased, shutting the door behind her. “That’s why I went to the Faroe Islands. Well, I’d always wanted to go there and photograph the landscape, but I was contacted by National Geographic, because I signed up for some sort of random pick thingy, I dunno, but I was chosen, and I had the time of my life there. I wish I could go back, but… Money’s short right now, and it sucks.” She sighed, walking over to the shelf.

After a couple moments, she let out an “Aha!” and pulled out three books off of the shelf. “Here you are, all three of the books.” She handed him the stack.

Steve took the stack, brows raised. “How long are these each?” He asked a little warily. “Well over 400 pages. Good luck, soldier.” She chuckled.

“Thank you, really. I’ll return them to the library as soon as I’m finished with them.” Steve smiled down at her.

“Anytime! Here,” She turned around and jogged to the dining room table, grabbing a notebook and ripping a paper out of it. She scribbled an assortment of numbers on it, and handed the paper to him. “If you have any questions or something about the books, just call me. I’ll probably always pick up.”

“Sounds like a plan, Y/n. I’ll see you around?”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

With a wave goodbye, Steve was out of her apartment, and Steve was left with a sudden interest to get to know her even more.

#steve rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america x reader #marvel #avengers #quite a bit of self insert here bc i'm a photographer and a lotr nerd #soft!steve

6 notes · View notes

comicgeekscomicgeek · 5 years

Text

Their Hero Academia: Chapter 19

My on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fan-fic! Chapter 19, presented raw and unedited and featuring Shota Shinso! Chapters 0-18 (plus an interlude) can be found here

“Yow! Look out and shout, listeners! This is Present Mic and the time is 0630 on this beautiful Tuesday morning! If you’ve got work today in Hosu City, better give yourself extra time, because there’s a Villain attack downtown that has everything all tied up! Fortunately, new outlets on the scene are reporting that Ingenium and his sidekicks are on the case! We’ll keep you updated when we know more. But for now, here’s the latest hit from Jiro and the Jamming Wheys!”

Shota’s sleepy fingers prodded at his alarm clock until he found the volume button, lowering it to something less likely to jolt him out of bed. He’d stayed up too late (again), reading through the various Hero News sites and watching videos of Heroes in action. He always paid for it the next morning, but he always considered it worth it.

He threw back the covers and put both feet on the floor, blinking his eyes for a few moments as he adjusted to being awake. Pro-Heroes stared back at him from every corner of the room, from the posters along every wall, to the statues and action figures that covered nearly every other available surface. It had been a real challenge deciding what to bring to U.A. with him, but he’d somehow managed. But maybe he’d trade a few things out the first time he went home.

As he set his phone to voice response mode as he started to get dressed. “What’s the current Top Ten Hero Rankings?” he asked it, one of his pre-programmed searches. While the Official Billboard rankings only came out biannually, there were plenty of other Hero-fans and communities out there using similar algorithms to track on a more regular basis.

A hologram popped up of the results:

1) Deku

2) Lemillion

3) Shoto

4) Ground Zero

5) Nejire-chan and Suneater

6) Ingenium

7) Rodeo

8) Gale Force

9) Froppy

10) Red Riot and Real Steel

Most of those weren’t surprising. Deku and Lemillion traded off spots fairly frequently and both had been working overtime in the advent of the Quirk Virus outbreak. Shoto had pretty consistently held the Number Three spot for a number of years, though Ground Zero occasionally rose to the Number Three or Two spot for about a day or two before dropping down. Ingenium had been pretty solidly Number Six for even longer.

Neijire-chan and Suneater both worked at the same agency they’d founded with Lemillion after he’d gotten his Quirk back, and typically worked together still, even when his duties drew him apart from them. Even without him, they’d racked up a number of impressive victories, rescues, and captures to their name. Hero couples usually did. His parents frequently worked together too and had similar results, her Quirk complimenting his quite nicely. Even if they were largely Underground Heroes, operating below most people’s radar.

The only real surprise on the list was Rodeo, Mika Mineta’s mother. After he fixed his tie and slipped on his jacket, Shota opened the article associated with the most recent list for more information. She’d previously been hovering in the low to mid-teens, but it looked like a victory against the Villain group known as the Rustlers, she’d been propelled up several notches. It looked like the Villains had taken a bullet train hostage and she’d pulled off the rescue single handedly.

Unfortunately, there weren’t very many video clips of the rescue, just a couple of hastily taken and shaky cell phone videos. There were more when the train had pulled in the station and she’d walked out with them all tied up, but those weren’t nearly as exciting.

On the other hand, a linked article showed that a newer Pro-Hero, Wreck-It, was rapidly rising in the ranks following his fight with Fullmetal last week, having hit Number Twenty-Seven already. Most people were speculating he’d crack the teens by the end of the year. Looking at the time, Shota saved a video of Wreck-It fighting Cy-Bug for later. If he wanted breakfast, he’d have to go down now.

There was never enough time for the important stuff!

***

Shota came out of his room at the same time that Isamu Haimawari was coming out of his. Tall and skinny, Haimawari had a good six inches or more on him. Shota gave him a wave. “Morning, Haimawari!”

“Oh, morning, Shinso,” he said. “You, ah, you look tired.”

Shota shrugged. “Stayed up too late again watching Hero videos. I’d watch one, and then it just kept suggesting more!”

Haimawari laughed. “You do know that’s just what it does, right? For the clicks and ads?”

“Yeah, well… they shouldn’t have so much cool stuff if they’re gonna do that!”

He laughed again as they headed for the stairs. “If you say so, little dude. Just don’t let Aizawa catch you napping. I don’t think it’s be pretty. He’s really scary.” He held open the door to the stairwell for Shota.

“Oh, I don’t worry too much about that. Uncle Shota’s not nearly as scary as he seems.”

Haimawari missed a step and began skidding down the stairs, only stopping himself by throwing out his hands and using his Quirk to brake himself. He got uneasily back to his feet. “’Uncle Shota’?” he asked, sounding as if he didn’t really believe what he was saying. “How do you two have the same name?”

It took Shota a minute to remember that Haimawari hadn’t grown up with the rest of them. It had only been a week, but he’d already gotten completely used to having him around. “I’m named after him,” he explained. “He’s my godfather. He was my dad’s mentor, back in the day. Helped get him into the Hero Course and everything.”

Haimawari tilted his head. “That’s a thing?”

“Oh yeah!” Shota said. “Lots of Pro-Heroes started off in the General Education Department but got to transfer to the Heroics Course after they made their mark in the Sports’ Festival! It’s pretty much a U.A. tradition! There’s the Negotiator, and the Safari Samurai, and Iron Blood, and Life Sewer, and…”

“Wow,” Haimawari said. “Too bad more schools don’t do something like that. Dad applied to a Hero school too… but missed the exam. He might have made it up after. Course, if he did that, he probably never would have met Mom, so…” He shrugged. “Guess things work out.”

“Your dad was gonna be a Hero?” he asked. “Awww, man! You said he’s got the same Quirk as you, right? Your Quirk is so cool! I bet he could have made an awesome one!”

That got a smile out of Haimawari as they reached the bottom of the stairs and headed into the Common Room. “Yeah… well, guess it’s up to me then.”

“You’ll do great,” Shota said. “I know it!”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, dude,” Haimawari said.

The Common Room was abuzz with activity, with most either eating breakfast, fixing their breakfast, or otherwise engaged. Shota saw Toshi sitting with Takuma Sero and the Iida Twins on one of the sofas. Sora Iida was sitting very close to Toshi, practically in his lap, while Takuma and Tensei Iida were sitting close, but not as close, though both looked rather relaxed with each other. Everybody had already known about Sero and Tensei Iida, of course, since Kimiko Ojiro had blasted it to the farthest corners of the internet, but Toshi and Sora Iida was new. Good for them, though.

“Haimawari!” Chihiro Kaminari’s voice cut across the room, from where she was sitting with Mika Mineta. “Your mom’s a music reporter, right?”

Haimawari looked over in their direction, maybe looking a little pale from the attention. “Ah, yeah?” he said.

“Then get over here! You’ve got to have the inside scoop on these Double*Pop girls!” Kaminari said.

“Bunch of wannabes,” Haimawari said, looking disgusted for the first time since Shota had known him. “Hang on, let me get a Pop-Tart and I’ll give you the real gossip.”

He gave Shota an apologetic grin. “Sorry, I’ve gotta get in on this. Just… come check on me in about fifteen to make sure they haven’t kidnapped me to have their way with me,”

“Oookay?” Shota said. He wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but he’d still check up on him anyway. He’d grab some cereal and then go join Asuka, Izumi, and Kirishima-Bakugo for some quick breakfast before class.

Hopefully the morning wouldn’t drag on too long. He couldn’t wait to get back to the USJ!

***

“Go, Shinso!” Akaya Koda directed, pointing with one massive hand. “My trees have grown strong, but they will not hold back rubble’s collapse for long!”

Back the USJ, they were continuing their Urban Rescue Training. Yesterday, they’d been training with Doc Clock (she wasn’t very high in the Hero Rankings, but Aunt Eri was definitely one of the top Heroes in his book), and today they were working with All Might himself! The former Number One Hero in Japan and the world! The Symbol of Peace! And he was still teaching after all these years! It was the coolest thing in the universe!

He was working with Akaya Koda, Takiyo Aoyama, Takuma Sero, and Izumi Todoroki. The cityscape around them was in ruins, with numerous small fires and many of the buildings in states of significant collapse. They’d already cleared three buildings and were on to a fourth. Koda had used her Quirk to fast grow trees from seeds (decades of growth in seconds!), shaping their growth enough to reinforce a collapsed section of a building. But they wouldn’t hold forever. So they had to know how many people were inside to be rescued.

Shota took a deep breath and concentrated on his Quirk, sending out as high a pitch as he could manage, almost past the range of human hearing. Invisible waves of sound penetrated the building, bouncing all around it, until they bounced back to him, painting a perfect picture in his mind. He could see every nook, cranny, door, pipe, light fixture, and “person” inside.

“Five people inside,” he said. “Two on the ground floor, three on the third.”

He had spent a lot of time with Quirk Specialists and Quirk Counselors over the years. His was a true, rare, once in a family line mutation, completely different from anything anyone else on either side of his family had. They were still figuring out everything he could do. He just knew he could make a lot of things happen with different sounds. And every time he found something new, it meant it was a new way he could help people. But sonar was really useful here. Not that it didn’t have its drawbacks. There was the time he’d used it when Kimiko Ojiro was around…

“I can take Todoroki up,” Sero said, pointing to the third floor. “I can get there, but I can’t get past the fires. You up for that?”

Izumi nodded. She looked a little tired; she’d been making lots of ice to fight the fires, only occasionally and carefully letting out little puffs of her own flames to balance herself out. The silver pieces on her costume were flashing yellow. Shota knew they did something to help regulate her temperatures, but he didn’t know what the flashing meant. He hoped she was okay.

“I can manage,” Izumi said. “Just get me close enough.”

“Guess that leaves us on the ground floor!” Shota said to Aoyama.

Aoyama shrugged, his glow bright and partially obscuring his features. “I suppose they shall be grateful for the rescue,” he said.

“Best hurry,” Koda said. “I shall do what I can to reinforce what I have already grown, but I fear providence shall not be with us for long.”

They moved. With Todoroki on his back, Sero fired a strand of his Acid Tape upward, pulling them towards the third floor. Shota sprinted inside, Aoyama hot on his heels and soon passing him.

He probably could have navigated with his Sonar—though the picture it had given him was fading fast from his mind—but Shota was grateful for Aoyama’s light. With the power out in the ruined building, it cast a soft glow over everything.

“You said there were deux,” Aoyama said. “Where?” He held up a hand and concentrated, focusing his light through the reflective armband he wore as part of his Support gear. The armband focused the light into a powerful spotlight beam, which he traced over the dark corners of the room.

Shota pointed a little to the left of where Aoyama’s spotlight had fallen. “One there… one further in the back.”

The ground began to shake and pieces of rubble fell from the ceiling. Aoyama let out a frightened yelp and jumped to the side as one nearly fell on him. “Then let us get them and get out as soon as possible,” he said.

Swiftly, they checked the first of the animatronics. There was a fallen filing cabinet pinning its legs and the vital signs meters displaying on its chest told a story of a great many injuries. Shota grabbed onto the cabinet and tried to lift it, grunting and straining with all his might, but it was too heavy.

Aoyama let out a sigh. “Allow me to show you how it is done.” He pointed a hand at the filing cabinet and made some adjustment to his arm band. A beam of light as wide as his fist shot out, striking the cabinet and slicing through it, splitting it into the portion that was over the animatronic’s legs and the portion that wasn’t. The beam continued on and went into the wall behind it, leaving a smoking hole and red hot edges on the cabinet.

The lights on the animatronic lit up like a Christmas tree before shutting off completely. Shota reached a hand towards it and pulled it back. The animatronic and the air around it was still hot from Aoyama’s laser beam. No wonder it had… died? Was that the right word for what had happened?

He knew Aoyama was powerful, but he also knew he mostly relied on his Support gear to control his Quirk. Shota’s eyes went wide as he looked at his classmate.

“Non…” Aoyama said. “I did not mean… We… we must have been too late already!” He gave his cape a flick. “Let us see about the other one, Shinso.”

Shota was very sure that they hadn’t been too late and that it had been Aoyama’s fault. But after seeing the horrified look on his French classmate’s face, he wasn’t going to push it. Maybe he’d be a little nicer after that.

As they headed to the back room, the ground shook again and more of the ceiling began to fall. A big piece of the ceiling fell near Aoyama, causing him to shriek and Shota to flinch at the noise of the crash. More started to fall, but when Aoyama tried to move, he couldn’t! His cape had been caught under the rubble that had nearly hit him. And more was falling…

Shota screamed. The air around the rippled with the sonic energy he had unleashed, forming a protective dome around both of them. Several more pieces of rubble fell from the ceiling, but they bounced off the dome. Finally, it stopped and Shota could breathe again, coughing until his throat felt right again. That had been longer than he typically used his Quirk for. He was best in short bursts and could only keep it up as long as he could draw in enough air to make sound.

Aoyama looked at him with wide eyes. “You saved me,” he said, his voice soft and quiet. “Merci.”

“You’d have done the same!” Shota told him, even if part of him wondered if that wasn’t true. “And they wouldn’t let us really get hurt, not during training!”

“Still…” Aoyama frowned and tugged at his cape, until it came away from the rubble with a long riiiiiip. “A pity. My poor cape.”

Shota was going to tell him that he shouldn’t wear it, that very few Heroes wore them these days, exactly because of what had happened. He even remembered reading about an American Support Gear and costume designer who had campaigned very hard for the international Hero community to outlaw capes in their entirety, though she had not been successful in that. Too many people thought they were too iconic to give up. But Shota could quote a lot of statistics on why they were a bad idea…

“Aoyama! Shinso!” Koda’s voice rang out. “The structure is becoming unstable! You need to get out!”

Both turned and ran for the door. Shota hated leaving the exercise incomplete…but it looked like they had no choice.

The second they hit daylight, the building finished collapsing, taking Koda’s trees with it. “Thank you for your sacrifice, my woody friends,” she said quietly. “Rest well knowing the lessons I have learned here will mean it was not in vain.” Her rocky features were tired and a little sad. Shota knew she took it hard whenever her plants were hurt, even in training.

“You two okay?” Sero asked. “You were in there a long time.” Soot covered his costume and he held his helmet in the crook of his arm, scrubbing at the faceplate with a cloth.

“And your cape is torn, Aoyama,” Izumi said. She was letting flames dance over her fingertips, the blinking lights on the silver pieces of her costume fading from yellow to green.

“We just ran into un petit bit of trouble,” Aoyama said, putting on a proud grin. But he only held it for a minute, Shota bet he was remembering that they’d all be reviewing the video later. “But… Shinso was quite good at getting us out of it. Even if we did not complete the rescue.”

“An unfortunate truism of being a Hero,” All Might said, as he left the safe zone he’d been monitoring them from. Shota had seen plenty of videos of him in his prime, but there was something captivating about the man he’d mostly known as Toshi’s grandfather. He’d been a Hero longer than almost anyone; and Shota knew he was lucky to learn whatever he could from him.

“Sometimes,” All Might continued, “you cannot save everyone. Sometimes… you will be pushed to your limits and it will still not be enough. We hold tremendous power and responsibility in our hands. Our profession is an unforgiving one, one which demands perfection of us, when the slightest misstep or wrong choice can cost lives. But if you train your minds, bodies, and Quirks… You can at least ensure those moments are as few and far between as possible.

“I think you all know where you can begin to improve, but that being said… You are all showing great progress! We will discuss the specifics later, but the other groups should be finishing up and Water Spout and Doc Clock will be wanting to continue your first aid lessons. But know that I am very proud of all of you! You are truly showing you know what it means to Go Beyond… Plus Ultra!”

Shota was pretty sure he’d never felt happier. All Might believed in him!

***

“Remember, kids, playing by the rules is super manly! If you see someone cheating, let them know that’s not fair! And that’s what Red Riot Sayz!”

Shota turned down the volume on his computer while the ad between videos loaded. Someone had uploaded a bunch of Public Service Announcements that Red Riot had done more than a decade ago and he just had to watch them all! He wouldn’t be up too late if he did that…

“Shota, go to bed.”

He looked up from his computer to find Asuka, Izumi, Toshi, and Haimiwari in his room. He must have been watching so intently he didn’t even hear them!

“Go to bed,” Asuka repeated.

“Sorry, dude,” Haimiwari said, an apologetic smile on his face. “But you looked really tired this morning. I had to call in the heavy artillery.”

“I’m only gonna watch a couple more,” Shota said. And he was! Probably. Sometimes they were just too tempting!

“Those’ll probably get taken down anyway,” Toshi said. “That’s not an official video channel.”

They might? Then he had to watch them all tonight! He started to turn back towards his computer.

“Maybe not the best thing to say, Toshi, *chirp*” Asuka said.

“…Ooops?”

“Shota,” Izumi said. “It is only Tuesday and you’ve already been tired both mornings this week. This is not healthy for you or your future as a Hero.”

“Dad doesn’t sleep that much,” he tried.

“But you are not your father,” Izumi continued. “And besides… your godfather would tell you to rest whenever you are able. We must insist you go to bed.”

Shota became uncomfortably aware of the four sets of eyes on him. And of the fact that despite her soft voice, there was a firmness to Izumi’s words that meant he wasn’t going to win this argument.

“Okay,” he said, dejectedly, getting out of his chair.

“Turn the computer off,” Asuka said.

“And no using your phone either,” Izumi added.

They’d really thought of everything! He was definitely trapped. Well… one day without too many videos probably wouldn’t kill him.

He’d just have to watch even more tomorrow!

#my hero academia #their hero academia #fan fiction #fan fic #My writing

2 notes · View notes

jakeekiss · 5 years

Photo

*Note to my players, I’ve linked to some docs in here that are behind-the-scenes knowledge, if you see a hotlink, only click it if it pertains to you*

Hearts of Heimir, diary 2 It has been many millennia since Ragnarok, long enough that most people without a deep knowledge of religion wouldn’t even recognize that term (and those who do recognize it as describing the birth of the world more often than the death of a previous one). The Nyungir (new gods) have been around for thousands of years while the few remaining Vanir and Aesir (almost all forgotten now) are tens of thousands of years old. Heimir is an old world made new by water and fire.

Prologue: Again, we return to the coldest winter of perhaps the last century, and to the tavern on the side of a mountain and within a quiet trapping village. The old woman from the previous prologue exits the tavern, wounded, exhausted, still clutching a finely decorated urn which contains the ashes of someone very important to her. She has slain the highwaymen, but been grievously wounded herself. She manages to speak a few words.

”In this chest still beats... in this chest... still...” and then she collapses into the snow. The innkeeper and his barmaid rush to her, bringing her inside and propping her up against the fire to tend her wounds. They owe her their lives, and they mean to return the favor. Chapter 2: Cowneck The party is still at the river, and though some of the caravan has made the crossing, more of it sits on the bank of the river now being crowded by bandit raiders. Griselda the cleric, Aeraval the Bard, and Winsys the fighter defend themselves, while Shayln the sorceress, on the far bank looks for a way to aid her new comrades. Between them, in the middle of the river on the rope ferry, is Daytien the Ranger, facing the Berserker alone. Though the Berserker misses his first strike and loses his great ax in the process, he is no less dangerous, and grabs hold of Daytien. Lifting him overhead, the Berserker brings Daytien down across his knee, severing his spine and paralyzing him. The party is horrified as the Berserker drops Daytien onto the ferry, and then, unceremoniously, shoves him into the river to drown. Shayln dives into the river to save Daytien, while the Berserker pulls the rope ferry towards the shoreline where the rest of the party is fighting the remaining bandits. The battle goes well, the bandits are routed and Winsys eventually slays the Berserker. In the wake of the battle it is discovered that Bjorn, one of the bandits the party took prisoner the day before, has escaped and left his erstwhile comrade Ivar the scout behind. Griselda manages to heal Daytien of his injuries once Shayln has pulled him to shore. He’s none the worse for wear physically, but his time in the river seems to have shaken him badly. He experienced something in the water he’s reluctant to speak about. Aeraval senses Daytien’s rattled state and teases out some of his history. As a youth, he fell into a frozen and cursed lake, and ever since has had the appearance of a water-logged corpse. He’s not sure how he got onto the lake, and he is only alive due to the timely intervention of a friend.

After crossing the river, the party arrives in Cowneck. They deposit Ivar with the town’s guard and are told by the Cowneck mayor that the town’s hospitality is theirs as guardians of the caravan. The party notices a commotion starting in the town square where a sellsword and peasant farmer have returned from visiting the nearby town of Greenleaf which has apparently been burned to the ground. No survivors were found, nor any bodies save one, the charred remains of a large creature with features of both beast and man, and sporting wicked, thick jaws. The smell of the burnt corpse triggers in Shayln a memory of her own past, and Griselda presses her enough to find that Shayln has a phobia of fire for reasons she does not explain. Griselda opts to use her knowledge of medicine to autopsy the beast to perhaps learn more, and she is allowed to use a back room of the local inn to do so. She learns that the monster was likely stabbed to death before it burned, and in its stomach she finds a mush of freshly eaten meat, a torn swatch of embroidered cloth, and a small, delicately engraved gold ring. The mayor of Cowneck does not recognize the ring, but upon further investigation, Griselda learns from a local priestess of Eir that the ring was a wedding band worn by the Greenleaf farmer, Sven. The party decides to rest for the evening, most taking lodging at the inn and Daytien opting to sleep in the stables. Before bedding down for the night the innkeeper stops Aeraval to deliver an urgent message to her from her father in Palace. Daytien, passing by, hears the innkeeper refer to Aeraval as “Lady Donlatarine” a name Daytien half remembers his mother once saying in his youth. Meanwhile, Winsys lounges in the local tavern, winding down from the day. While there he notes a finely dressed skeleton sitting at the bar, drinking ale and being ignored by the other patrons. Winsys strikes up a conversation and the skeleton introduces himself as The Death of Comedians. It seems he’s generally unnoticed by those who have a particular faith, but given Winsys follows no gods he can see the lighthearted psychopomp. The two share a few drinks and jokes, and eventually Winsys turns in for the evening. That night, Griselda has portentous dreams which echo in her mind the next morning at breakfast. While considering this, Aeraval presents the party with a proposition. She claims to have been hired to perform on a ship leaving port outside of Cowneck later that evening, and the ship has extra room. Aeraval offers to book passage for her new companions as thanks for their help defending the caravan, and in so doing speed up their mutual journeys to the city of Palace. She says the ship is a large galleon, and has commissioned her after hearing of her prowess as a bard. The party agrees, but Griselda wants to investigate Greenleaf first, feeling that perhaps there is something left unfinished there. While Aeraval makes preparations to meet up with the ship, Griselda, Daytien, Winsys, and Shayln travel to Greenleaf. There they find the village completely razed. Clearly the place was attacked, but there are no bodies to be found. Thanks to Daytien’s Great Dane, Ajirajaw, the party discovers a survivor buried in the charred debris of a supply shed. The girl, unconscious, is around the age of 14, wearing a breastplate two sizes too large for her, and clutching a bloody dagger in her hand. They rouse her to find that she has little memory of the attack. She was an orphan in the care of a local farmer, and seems to be the sole survivor of Greenleaf. Griselda asks for her name and the girl replies “Saga”. This name has power and history within Griselda’s religion as a follower of Eir, former valkyrie turned goddess of life and death, and Griselda decides to give Saga Sven’s ring and fabric so that she may give them a proper burial. Saga is grateful for this, and quickly develops an attachment to Griselda and the party who saved her. On the return to Cowneck it is decided that since she has nowhere to go, Griselda will ask the local priestess to consecrate and outfit Saga as a new acolyte for Eir, and Griselda will train her in the ways of a cleric. The party then sets out for Aeraval’s chartered ship, and after a short journey arrive at its river dock. It turns out the ship is not a galleon at all, rather a small trading vessel, barely big enough to hold the gathered comrades. While the party looks to Aeraval in skeptical silence, Daytien voices what everyone else is thinking. “So... is this the ship that takes us to the bigger ship?” And perhaps they will find out next time...

#d&d #Dungeons and Dragons #tabletop #Tabletop RPG #art #Hearts of Heimir

5 notes · View notes

mamgt · 6 years

Text

There’s No Way

Chapter 3

Note: ALRIGHT THIS IS IT MORE CHEESY STUFF BUT WHATEVER. Click here to read chapter 2.

The decision to watch Back to the Future was met with no resistance. The trio all agreed and were all pretty excited to watch the adventures of Marty McFly and Doc Brown. Ned was sitting in between Peter and Michelle, squished together on Peter’s bed because it faced the TV directly. After the first few scenes of the movie, Ned felt a little tight until it was unbearable. It was like MJ and Peter were two magnets pulling on each other and Ned just so happened to be the patty in between buns.

“I’m just going to stay on my bed,” he proposed as he got up and moved there.

“Aw! Come on dude! We fit!” Peter whined.

“Yeah, loser! You won’t see the movie theater style, you’d have to crane your neck” MJ showed him by craning her neck that bumped into Peter’s head. “Ow”

“Ow” Peter said softly, rubbing his head. He waited for MJ to scold him but it never came.

“You see! We barely fit there! I’ll be fine here,” Ned squinted at the screen, craning his neck, “ It looks the same.”

“A-are you sure, man?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

Peter turned to MJ whose eyes were glued to the screen but was hugging herself.

“You...you okay, MJ?”

“Hm? What?” Her eyes were still on the TV and it lingered there for awhile before she turned to Peter.

“Are you cold?”

“Hm. A little.” She shimmied up the blanket up to her neck. Peter looked at Ned and then at the space that he had left on his bed. The arms on his hair stood up. He was cold too and the blanket wasn’t enough. He needed body-heat. He slowly inched his way closer to MJ.

“Uhm. What are you doing?” MJ turned to him, one eyebrow up.

“W-what? It’s my bed…” his voice coming close to a whisper.

MJ shook her head. “Whatever, loser.” She went back to watching the movie.

It was still cold and Peter couldn’t concentrate on the movie. For some reason, the idea that he was was inches away from MJ made him nervous. He kept watching her from his peripheral vision, hoping against all hope she won’t turn and catch him at it. The room was dark enough, he guessed. It was well past midnight and the temperature only went lower. He looked again at the space between him and MJ.

Shaking his head. He got up.

“Where are you going?” MJ called out.

“Uhm...I’m just turning up the heater.”

“Oh. Okay…” MJ watched him as he clicked the buttons to an incompetent heater that was already turned all the way up three hours ago. Peter slips back into his bed, just when the movie ends. He looks at the clock beside his bed and realizes he should have gone out by now to find more information about his unknown rival. But MJ was still in the room. What would be his excuse to go out?

“So. Are...are you, uhm...sleepy?” Peter asked, stammering from the cold or from MJ being inches away, he couldn’t tell.

“Nope.”

“Oh.”

The room was dark and Ned had fallen asleep. His slow breaths were calming, like a small little tempo played in the background of coffee shops. The room was dark and the only lights were coming from the TV and some from the lights outside. Peter was going through several excuses from asking her to go back to her room to I need to buy milk but the more he thought the more absurd his ideas became.

“Are you sleepy?” MJ asked. Maybe he could tell her he needed to sleep. But what would that do? She was still in the room and his spidey-suit was tucked inside the dresser underneath the TV. He needed to get out now.

“No.” He replied. He turned to the television and saw the next movie coming up. “Do you want...to uhm, watch?” he nodded towards the movie: Roman Holiday. It was a black and white movie. Maybe this would lull MJ to sleep. He could wait a few more minutes.

“Fine.” She hugged herself again and Peter saw her violently shake from the cold. He poked her shoulder.

“You can...you can move closer, you know?”

MJ looked at him skeptically.

“Body heat…” he explained.

“Ew.” She laughed. “Don’t call it that!” She scrunched up her nose and Peter’s stomach did a little flip.

“Suit yourself. I’ve got all the body heat to give…” he laughed it off and held his stomach.

“You’re so gross, Peter. You know that right?”

“Yeah…” he shrugged, turning his attention to a black and white Audrey Hepburn. MJ shook from the cold again and Peter caught it from his peripheral vision. He sighed and moved closer to her. MJ bent away when his arm brushed hers. “Don’t be a baby” Peter teased.

“I’m not a baby. You’re the baby.” She slowly eased back to her previous position. Her arm tucked beneath Peter’s arm. She shifted a little and Peter felt her whole leg pressed unto his. He swallowed.

The movie rolled on and Peter could barely breathe. What was happening? He kept glancing at MJ in the dark. When he got brave enough to turn his whole head he caught her looking at him and immediately turned back to the television. Peter’s gaze moved to Ned’s slow breathing, his chest rising and falling. Peter took a deep breath.

“What?” MJ asked.

“No-nothing...sorry...just breathing…”

“Even your breathing is annoying…”

“Hm” he smiled to himself. His body relaxed. Every tense muscle in his body loosened. He remembered who MJ was. She was snarky, intelligent, beautiful...She was...a friend. He fixed his gaze at the movie, trying to run away from his thoughts. Thoughts he’s had since forever but he’s been pushing aside because it had no basis before. Now with everything he’s experienced, his thoughts were starting invade more and more. They felt more...tangible. A weight on his shoulders so physical it felt real...and it was because MJ’s head had fallen on his shoulder. He watched her like this, the light of the television flickering on her golden brown skin. Peter smiled to himself. He slowly moved her curls from her face.

That’s it. You’re just removing her hair for better...sleep. He thought. Leave, Peter. The mission…

Peter cleared his thoughts and slowly moved out of the bed. He tucked MJ in as she curled into a little ball. His heart thundered just by looking at her. He justified it was the adrenaline because he was about embark on another adventure as Spider-man but inside, he knew...he’s always know.

“Good morning, Peter,” Karen chimed in as he put on his suit.

“Hey, Karen! Is-is it morning already?”

“Yes. It’s exactly twenty-three minutes past four in the morning.”

“Oh. Well, then. Let’s go!” Peter released a web unto one of the building beside his hotel but just when he was about to swing off, Karen chimed in again:

“Incoming call from Liz Allens.” Peter groaned.

“Accept it Karen, “ Peter rubbed his neck and sat back down on the roof.

“Hey! Sorry, did I wake you?” Liz’ soft voice came through his suit.

“No, it’s fine haha, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me too…”

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, worried.

“Nothing! I just… I didn’t think you would pick up, “ she laughed lightly. “I just miss you…” she sounded sad.

“I miss you too.”

“Today’s our last day, ladies and gents! It has been a pleasure to chaperone NYU’s brightest stars in this year’s innovation convention. I hope this experience has opened you up to the challenges and endless possibilities science has to offer. So, if you can turn your attention to our itinerary planned by the event organizers, Italy is the last stop before we head back to the concrete jungle.”

Mr. McCallaghan’s enthusiastic voice rang through the lobby of the hotel where fifteen of NYU’s “brightest stars” fought sleepiness, some already losing the battle without even trying. Their bags were rolled out with them, backpacks stuffed with dirty clothes, books, and souvenirs. They were packed and ready to go except, Peter Parker, who was nowhere to be seen. Mr. McCallaghan quickly noticed his absence as it has become an incessant habit over the last few days.

“Ms. Jones, where is Mr. Parker?”

MJ whipped her head to Mr. McCallaghan, “Why are you asking me?”

“Is he, not, your friend Ms. Jones? I suspect since the last time you were willing to ‘wait’ for him that you are good chums?”

MJ rolled her eyes. Why did her professor still use old fashioned terms. It was 2018. Even her grandma had better colloquial terms.

“Ask Ned,” she pointed at Ned who was hugging one of the pillows on the hotel lobby’s couch. His snoring was gradually getting louder.

“Mr. Leeds!” Mr. McMcCallaghan shouted but Ned didn’t budge. “Mister! Leeds!” He tried again to no avail.

Betty poked at his side, and Ned jumped out of his seat. “Hey! You know I’m ticklish ther--” Betty gave him a pointed look at then nodded towards Mr. McCallaghan. Ned swallowed.

“Where is Mr. Parker?”

“Uhhhh…..” Ned was still confused from having been woken up so abruptly. He swallowed again and search the room for Peter. Of course he wasn’t here. He was still out being Spider-man. Ned looked at MJ who wouldn’t meet his gaze, instead was staring too intently in her Great Expectations book.

“Diarrhea?” Ned shrugged at the professor, hoping that excuse could still pass.

“You mean to tell me Mr. Parker is still in your room?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then, let’s go ahead and check on him. If I don’t find Mr. Parker in your room, what will I do to you?” Mr. McCallaghan held his hands together and had a serious stance. A chill went through Ned’s spine. He was so sure Peter wasn’t in the room. That, or Peter could come in while the professor was inside and see him the Spider-man suit.

“Uhm…,” Ned said.

“He just texted me!” MJ shouted a little too loudly. “He-...uhm..He said he just woke up now and will be down in 10 minutes.”

“Okay, great. We can all wait for Mr. Parker then. Tell him we are ALL waiting for him.”

The class groaned.

Ned leaned into MJ and whispered, “How come he texted you? He didn’t text me--”

“SH! Ned be quiet. He didn’t text me.”

“So…?” Ned looked at MJ in disbelief. Another lie. For Peter. MJ nodded to confirm his thoughts.

“But if you can contact him tell him he needs to get his ass over here, I don’t care what it is. TEN MINUTES,” MJ whispered forcefully.

Ned went to his phone and started calling Peter. “Peter...where are you?!,” he recorded a voicemail.

MJ looked at him questioningly. Ned widened his eyes, a face of fear. MJ shook her head. Where does he even go to?

“How come you don’t know where he is?” MJ bickered at Ned.

“I don’t know! I’m not his keeper!”

“His what?”

“You know...I am not my brother’s keeper?”

MJ rolled her eyes exasperated. The whole group was really waiting for this boy. MJ turned to her phone and started typing messages to Peter.

Peter where are you??

Hello?! This is MJ. Ned’s been trying to call you.

You need to get your ass here in 7 minutes.

I’m not playing, Peter. Pick-up the phone.

Peter Parker, I swear if you don’t come here in 5 minutes I will personally send your ass on a platter to Mr. McCallaghan.

MJ looked up from her phone to find Ned was already biting out his nails. Betty was rubbing his back. Lucky him. Who was going to comfort her fast-paced beating heart?

“Ms. Jones...it would be seem you’re 10 minutes is up…,” Mr. McCallaghan tapped on his watch. “Would you like to tell me where Mr. Parker is? Or should I just call his parents?”

“I-”

“I’m here! I’m here!” Peter bellowed, his bag still open, the content spilling out as he ran through the lobby. “I’m here...Mr….McCallaghan….I’m--”

“Yes. I can see that. Mr. Parker you are on very thin ice. I expect that you behave yourself for this one last trip. Do you understand?”

Peter gulped. “Yes, sir.”

“You are fortunate to find friends who aren’t willing to rat you out,” Mr. McCallaghan looked from Peter to MJ to Ned, then walked off to the bus waiting outside the hotel.

Peter walked to Ned, Betty, and MJ. “Thanks guys,” he was out of breath. Ned was going to say something but Betty cut him off, “I think you better go to the bus, you’re heart is beating really fast,” she told Ned. Ned nodded and dragged his belongings towards the bus. Betty had her arm around him.

He’s not the only one who’s heart is beating fast, MJ thought. She had been looking down on her shoes the whole time and finally looked up.

“Yeah. I owe you one,” Peter meant to seem annoyed that MJ had covered for him again but he couldn’t help but smile.

“Yup.” She awkwardly smiled back and walked off towards the bus, fearing that her cheeks were going to start turning red.

Peter ran to catch-up to her, “So where to?”

“What do you mean?” MJ said as she continued walking without looking at him.

“Uhm...what’s our next Prague?” a boyish smiled imbedded on his face. MJ had to quickly look away when she caught a sight of it. Why does he make her feel this way? She focused her attention in getting into the bus, where of course, Peter decided to sit beside her like a little puppy following her around.

She tried to play it off as if she was annoyed but her smile was starting to surface, “It’s a surprise,” she replied blandly, turning to the view outside.

Peter stared at her for awhile, then faced forward but he and his stupid grin for the rest of the trip.

Chapter 4 - Soon!

#there's no way #spideychelle #spider-man #peter parker #petermj #peter x michelle #peter x mj #peter parker x michelle jones #peter parker x mj #zendaya #tom holland #spider-man: homecoming #spider-man: far from home #fan fic #fan fiction #fanfic #michelle jones #mcu

30 notes · View notes

ingloriousblasters · 6 years

Text

Three (Yondu x Female Reader)

So here is the final chapter of my little, (sickeningly fluffy) Yondaddy story. The first two chapters can be found here, if you missed them: Happy Days Ahead and A Waking Nightmare. I’m happy I finally got this all out of my head.

Thanks for reading!

Warnings: small smut scene, lots o’ fluff.

Sitting on the brown sofa in the cozy living area, you reached behind to adjust the small pillow supporting your lower back. The lamp on the table next to the couch on its lowest setting, you had grown accustomed to not being able to sleep throughout the night anymore. Trying not to make too much noise, you moved into a more comfortable position and picked up where you left off in your book. A few minutes later, a startled cry from your son’s room filled the quiet air. Setting the book down, you walked down the short hallway and slowly opened the door to his room. His blue body tossed and turned in his sheets, while pleas of “no’s” came out of his mouth. Gently, you sat on the edge of his bed and called out his name, waiting till his motions slowed some, before placing your hand on his arm. His eyes bolted open at your touch and he flew into your arms where it was safe.

“You okay?” you asked, rubbing your hand up and down his back and kissing the top of his head. He nodded and laid back down on his pillow, looking up at you with wet eyes. You wiped away the few tears on his face, and he grabbed hold of the red, felt blanket he had grown too big to be wrapped in.

“Box dream,” he finally said after he calmed down. Letting out a sigh, you nodded your head, wishing you could rid your baby of those dreams. It had been three years since the Kree had captured and locked him up in one of the containing cells, and every once in awhile your son would still wake from nightmares of the ordeal. The ‘box dreams.’

“You wanna read for a bit?” you questioned. Over the years, you and Yondu had found that reading to him helped soothe him back to sleep. He shook his head declining your offer.

“When’s Daddy gettin back?” Smiling at his question, you grabbed the datapad off his nightstand and had him scoot over so you could sit with him on his bed. Tapping the screen, you typed in the code to access the tracker on Yondu’s M-ship. The screen expanded out to show a map, with a dot on Xandar to represent you, and a dashed line path to another dot out in the atmosphere that slowly blipped its way closer.

“See,” you said, wrapping an arm around your son so he could better view the pad. “He’s about halfway here. I bet he’ll be home sometime tomorrow.” You looked as he studied the map on the screen, watching Yondu’s dot closely. The glow from the pad reflected in his eyes, the same color as yours, and they sparkled in the dim light. Sometimes you couldn’t help but take in how much he had grown over the years; not the little baby you could carry in your arms anymore, but not quite fully a kid with his own agenda yet.

“I hope so,” he said with a yawn. “I miss Daddy.”

“Me too, baby,” you said turning off the pad and giving him a kiss on the cheek. You stayed with him until you heard steady breathing letting you know he had fallen back asleep.

You walked back into the living room of your tiny cottage and spent ten more minutes finding a comfortable position on the old couch. Too tired to read anymore, one of your hands absentmindedly rubbed over your swollen belly as you closed your eyes, thinking about your grumpy Centaurian, and how crazy the last couple of months had been.

—————————-

You woke one morning feeling a little off. Thinking you might have come down with something, you thought nothing of it, until the smell of food being cooked in the Eclector mess hall turned your stomach, and you ran to the nearest bin you could find. Not wanting to worry Yondu just yet, you managed to keep your symptoms hidden for awhile. You two weren’t trying for another kid, but not doing much to avoid it either, and you weren’t quite sure how Yondu would react. Eventually, he questioned you one night about why you’d been acting so weird lately, and you told him you thought you were pregnant. First thing the next morning, he dragged you down to the med bay to get checked out.

“Everything looks good,” the technician said as they ran a palm sized device over your stomach. All your vitals popped up on a floating screen, indicating positive signs of health. Beside the box for embryo status, there were two green dots.

“Ay doc,” Yondu said, noticing the unusual data. “There a glitch or something? What’s that mean?” He pointed to the the screen.

“Oh, there’s no mistake. There are two embryos inside.”

“What?!” Yondu barked out.

“I’m sorry,” the tech said. “You, you didn’t know?” They looked over towards you, still laying on the patient chair. Pursing your lips, you shook your head and looked at Yondu. His blue tone had gone shades lighter, and he had to place a hand on the technician’s desk to keep himself from tipping over.

“Are…are you sure?” you asked, suddenly excited and terrified of the thought of carrying twins.

“Pretty sure,” the technician replied, tapping the screen and bringing up a black and white grainy image. They drew a circle around two tiny gray dots, confirming that you were, in fact, carrying twins. The technician excused themselves from the room to give you and Yondu a moment.

“Are you okay?” you asked Yondu, breaking the silence. He was still gripping the desk, but the color had come back to his face. Looking at the ground, Yondu shook his head.

“Two,” he muttered under his breath.

“Yondu,” you called out softly, not sure how to read his actions. His crimson eyes connected with yours and he walked over to you, taking your hand in his. His crooked teeth appearing as he smiled.

“Ya having two of mah babies, Darlin,” he drawled kissing your temple. Letting out a breath, you relaxed at his touch and laughed.

“I know,” you smiled. “You kinda had me worried for a second,” you admitted to him looking down. Yondu furrowed his brows at your statement.

“What? Why?”

“I just thought...I didn’t know if you were wanting another baby....or babies”

“Darlin,” he said, while tilting your chin up so he could see your eyes. “Ya could have a hundred kids and I’d still love every damn one of ‘em.” Smiling at his words, Yondu’s hand went from your chin to the the side of your cheek, brushing over the soft skin.

“I’s just wasn’t expectin no bonus baby.”

“Bonus baby,” you laughed at his phrasing, causing the Centaurian to let out a chuckle.

“Yeah,” he said. “Probably got that one cause we’s so good at makin ‘em.”

Feeling a heat rush to your cheeks, Yondu leaned down to meet your lips in a soft kiss. He rested his forehead against yours before whispering to you.

“I’s don’t want ya worrying ‘bout nothin anymore, ‘kay?”

Nodding your head, Yondu placed a kiss on your forehead before getting the technician to come back in the room. You were prescribed some vitamins and left the med bay with Yondu’s arm wrapped around you, his hand stroking the side of your stomach.

—————————-

“(Y/n),” the raspy voice whispered. “(Y/n), Darlin, I’m back.” Rolling over to the open side of the couch, you groaned softly switching positions.

“What time is it?” you asked yawning.

“Early,” Yondu said. Eyes still closed, you sensed the smile in his voice. “What ya doin out here?”

“Bed’s too uncomfy,” Through heavy lids, you opened your eyes to see the old, red ones you loved. Yondu forced you off the couch, guiding you down the hall and back to your bedroom. He took off all his gear and got into bed with you, pulling you flush against him so that his strong build helped support your back. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep again, now that he was home.

Later that morning you woke up to the soft snores of Yondu, still pressed up against you. How he tolerated being a living body pillow for you, you didn’t know, but both you and the babies appreciated it. A creak of a door down the hall let you know your son was up. Hearing a gasp, you knew he had peered out the window of the living room and saw Yondu’s M-ship. You heard the gallop of feet getting closer and the click of the door to your room open, before it shut abruptly and a soft knock sounded from the other side. You and Yondu had started teaching your son to knock before entering your room after one too many close calls.

“Mama,” you heard him call from the other side.

“Come in sweetheart,” you said softly. The door opened again and your son ran over to Yondu’s side of the bed. Yondu jolted awake from the force of your son jumping on him from the side.

“Daddy!” Yondu rolled over on his back, his morning scowl still on his face.

“Boy! Whatcha doin?” Yondu grumbled as he grabbed your son and tossed him over his body so he landed in between the the two of you on the bed and began tickling him. After your son begged for mercy because he couldn’t breathe, Yondu stopped his movements.

“Ya bring me anything back?!” Your son asked as soon as he caught his breath.

“What makes ya think I brought anything back?” Yondu lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Daaaaaadddd!” he whined while falling on top of Yondu’s stomach. “Ya always bring something back!” Yondu started laughing and told him his bag was out by the couch and your son bolted out of the door.

“You bring me back any presents, Daddy?” you cooed while turning over on your side, snuggling into Yondu’s frame. A playful rumble sounded from his chest as he placed his arm around your back.

“Ya just gonna have to wait till tonight for ya present,” he teased. You hummed and smiled at him before getting out of bed to go get a late breakfast started. Your son laid on the floor in the living room, playing some handheld game Yondu had found on the markets. After breakfast, your son asked Yondu if they could go practice outside. Ever since he got the hang of whistling, all he ever wanted to do when Yondu came back from his trips was practice controlling the yaka arrow. You watched your boys from the window in the kitchen as you cleaned up, their blue hues brighter in the Xandarian sun. It had taken some time to get use to your new way of living.

—————————-

Yondu paced back and forth in your quarters, deep in thought and not being able to stand still for more than a few minutes. Aboard the Eclector, it had been about a month or so since you both found out about the twins. You were sitting in bed, your back resting against the headboard trying to read, but the blue figure moving in your peripheral view kept distracting you. Setting the book down, you finally asked him what was wrong. Yondu froze in his tracks and let out a long sigh before turning around to face you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, thinking one of the Ravagers pushed his buttons too far today. You motioned for him to sit on the bed and he drug his heavy feet over to the fur covers. Staring down at his hands, you swung your legs over the side of the bed to sit next to him.

“Yondu?” you said, grabbing one of his hands with both of yours and setting it on your lap. After another moment of silence, he spoke up.

“Been thinkin ‘bout things recently,” he said, still looking down.

“About what?”

“ ‘Bout them.” The hand you were holding broke free and the back of his index finger glided up and down your stomach. “ ‘Bout our boy, and ‘bout you.” Yondu told you he had been thinking about grounding somewhere. That Kraglin knew of a place on Xandar, on the outskirts of the city, and he made arrangements for you two to go look at the small dwelling. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like the right move. You listened, but your mind couldn’t process what he was suggesting.

“But what about all this?! About the Eclector? It’s your ship. You’re the Captain!”

He shrugged his shoulders, he had thought about that too.

“Maybe I’s don’t need ta be the Cap’n anymore, at least not all the time.” You shook your head in protest. Sure, you had thought about having a place to raise your growing family that wasn’t a spaceship floating across the galaxy. Something private where your children could run around without risk of trouble or the impending harm that space brought. But those were just daydreams, you could never ask Yondu to give up what he had built his life around.

“Yondu, I can’t ask you to do that,” you said.

“Ya ain’t.” He countered, finally looking at you. “I want this for ya, for us. At least until they old enough.” His eyes pointed to your belly before looking back up at you. There was silence between you again.

“What happened before,” he said, his raspy voice softer and trailing off while memories of your son’s kidnapping played in his mind. “I can’t put ya through that again. It damn near killed me. Can’t risk it.” You leaned over to him, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

“I just don’t want you to resent us if things change,” you admitted.

“Darlin,” He grabbed a hold of you, bringing you into his lap and enveloping his arms around your body. “Ain’t nothin ya could do that would make me resent ya or this decision. I want what’s best for mah family.” You felt his lips on the top of your head as the reality of it all sunk in.

The first time you laid eyes on the small, abandoned cottage, you knew Yondu was right. Your son ran straight for the door as you got off the M-ship. When he couldn’t open it, he walked up to the living room window and cupped his eyes to peer inside. You asked Kraglin how he knew of this place and he said he had remembered it from when he was younger. An old Xandarian woman lived in it for many years. Off the beaten path, it was surrounded by woods so no one from the city knew of its existence, and he figured it was abandoned by now. It was the perfect place to raise your family.

You and Yondu agreed that he shouldn’t give up his Ravager ways completely though. He would go on small, less dangerous missions with his crew, and Peter if he called, but would only be gone a week at most.

When the time came, he called his crew for a meeting. The new crew he had were more accepting of the way he had been captaining the Elector and were shocked when Yondu announced that Kraglin would be the interim Captain for the foreseeable future, with the young Ravager, Murk, as his First Mate. When Yondu concluded the meeting, all the Ravagers stood from their seats to give him the Ravager Salute.

“Ya’s don’t have ta do that. I ain’t the Cap’n no more.” Yondu waved them off.

“Once a Cap’n, always a Cap’n, sir,” Kraglin told him.

—————————-

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Your son was attached to Yondu’s hip the whole day, while you tried to finish getting the twins’ room ready. By the time night fell, your son’s head was bobbing, trying to keep awake so he could stay with the both of you longer. Yondu reassured him he’d be here in the morning, but your son still protested going to bed, and stayed on the couch until he passed out on Yondu’s lap a half hour later. Yondu picked up his little body, and carried him to his room to tuck him in, while you made your way to your own. Entering the attached bathroom, you slipped out of your clothes and tied your hair up in a bun. You walked over to the oversized tub and turned the water on. The day had worn you out and your body was aching for the hot water.

When the tub was filled, you slowly worked your way down to sit, which was proving more difficult as your pregnancy went on. By the time you sat down, the door to your room opened and Yondu walked in, catching your body in the tub. Making sure to lock the door, he took off his duster and boots and made his way towards the bathroom. Resting your head on the edge of the tub, you watched him smirk as he sauntered towards you.

“Mind if I join ya?” he drawled. Smiling, you shook your head and watched as he stripped of his Ravager clothes. His burly, blue body on full display, you bit your bottom lip when he undid the fastening of his pants, exposing his long, thick cock. You squeezed your thighs together, realizing you had another ache growing in your body.

“Scoot up,” he told you. You lifted your head, hands grabbing both sides of the tub to pull you forward, and Yondu slipped in behind you. Jumping slightly, you were surprised when his hands landed on your shoulders and started massaging your tired muscles. Slipping kisses to your neck, he gently worked his way down your back, making sure to work out the knots in certain areas. Moans of satisfaction from his work escaped your lips, the warmness of his hands, along with the water, releasing the tension that had built over the last couple of days. Grabbing you by the waist, he pulled you back into his body so that you rested on his chest.

“How’s come ya didn’t call me while I was gone?” he whispered. Sighing, you knew he was going to bring that up. Your late night video calls were one of the things he looked forward to when he was gone.

“Because, I’m starting to look like a beached whale,” you huffed out, hands going to the top of your belly exposed by the water. “Not very sexy,”

“Darlin,” he said, kissing your shoulder. “Ya always look sexy.” You rolled your eyes at his statement, staring at your bump.

“And ya look even more sexy when ya carryin our babies. Not like them other species out there carrying their youngins in their back. Or them ones who carry their eggs in their mouth.”

“Yondu!” You finally laughed. “That’s mean!”

“Ain’t mean, baby. I’s just statin the facts.” His hands trailed lightly up and down your arms.

“Ya gotta a glows ‘bout ya. More curves too,” he whispered in your ear as his hands made their way to your breasts, slowly massaging and kneading them, his thumbs flicking over your sensitive nipples. Moaning, your back arched into his touch, your head falling back on his scarred shoulder. His fingers teased your nipples, rolling and pinching them until they stood erect, while his lips consumed your neck. You reached an arm around his neck, bringing him closer to you and tilted your head up to kiss him, your fingers stroking the back of his neck, where the base of his fin met his skin. A groan emanated from his chest and Yondu slid one hand down your body towards your thigh. His fingers trailed over the area, nails gently scraping over your skin causing goosebumps on your body. Gripping the back of your knee, he lifted your leg, propping it over the side of the tub, opening you up to him. Back and forth, you watched his blue hand disappear under the water as it trailed from your knee to the inside of your thigh, slowly inching towards your center, before moving away again.

“Yondu,” you moaned. A devilish laugh escaped his body, his blue lips flush against your ear as he smiled.

“What s’matter Darlin?”

“Stop teasing me!”

“But I like watchin ya squirm when I’s touch ya,” he said as the other hand stroking your breast gave your nipple a quick pinch, causing you to jerk at his touch. Letting out a whine, you looked up in his eyes, giving your most pouty expression.

“Baby,” you begged. “Please?” The hand that had been caressing your thigh finally hovered over your core, his finger tracing over your lips before he slipped it in. Slowly stroking up and down, in and out, your body relaxed again as you moaned in pleasure. His lips trailed up the side of your neck, taking your earlobe in his mouth, while his other hand continued switching between breasts.

“Ya miss me?” he asked as he slipped another finger inside of you, opening you up more.

“Yes!” you gasped, your hips rocking against his thick fingers. You could feel his hardening cock against your back. Pumping his fingers in a steady rhythm, he eventually found the sweet spot inside of you when you moaned loudly. You moved the leg hanging over the tub higher to feel as much of him as you could.

“Mmm Yondu!” you cried as his rhythm became faster, the hand that was teasing your breasts now making its way down in search of your clit. Bringing two fingers down on it and rubbing in a circular motion, the combination of his hands was bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You bit your lip to suppress a moan before letting out a gasp. One of your hands gripped the edge of the tub, while the other reached for any part of Yondu you could hold to ground yourself.

“Yes! Yes!” you muttered under your breath as the warmth started to spread throughout your body.

“That’s it Darlin,” Yondu whispered. “Cum for me.” Hearing his low, gravelly voice in your ear sent you over the edge, the leg hanging over the tub twitching at the intense sensation. Your body pressed into Yondu’s as you moaned out in pleasure. Yondu’s touches slowed as he let you ride out your high. Exhausted, your leg fell back into the tub, causing the water to splash as you caught your breathe.

“Good?” Yondu asked, kissing your temple.

“Mmhm,” was all you could respond with. Once you had come down from your high, you became aware of Yondu’s needs and slowly moved forward to try and turn around in the tub. Getting stuck halfway, he had to lend a hand to support yourself as you moved your legs around to rest on your knees in front of him. Straddling his thighs, you reached for his dark blue cock and gave a light squeeze. Yondu groaned as his head rolled back, resting on the tub. Twisting your hand as you stroked him, Yondu let out a few curses and sighs under his breath. A few moments later, you had him twitching in pleasure as he released himself. You leaned forward to kiss him and he grabbed his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. Once you both recovered, Yondu helped you out of the tub and bent his arms as if preparing to lift you off your feet.

“No, stop!” You called out startled.

“Why?”

“Cause I’m gonna break your back.”

“Ya know how much cargo I move when I’m gone, hmm?” he asked you. “Ya ain’t gonna break me Darlin.” Eventually you convinced him to trade carrying you to the bed for giving your feet and lower calves a massage instead. After all was done and you two settled for the night, you passed out as soon as Yondu hit the lights.

—————————-

A couple more weeks went by, and you wondered how much further your stomach could stretch. The twins were hardly letting you sleep through the night and not wanting to wake Yondu, the couch became your best friend. He and your son tried not to bother you too much, but you knew something was up one day when Yondu started catering to your every need.

“So,” you asked, raising an eyebrow when he had gone into the city to get you some Xandarian chocolate you’d been craving. “What do you want?”

“What makes ya think I want something?”

“Yondu.” you responded in a knowing tone. He always thought he had no tells, and maybe most people couldn’t see through them, but you weren’t most people. Letting out a sigh, he finally caved in.

“Peter called me, said he needed me for a mission that was dealin with children being held hostage.” His red eyes peered up at you. You were only a month away from your due date, if that. He knew he shouldn’t have been thinking about missions anymore, but the issue was very personal for all three of you, and he felt like he needed to help.

“I’s know this is awful timin, Darlin. And if it was anyone else I’d say no, but it’s Peter.” Thinking it over while biting a piece of the creamy chocolate, you finally nodded your head.

“Go.” You said.

“Ya, ya serious?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Go. I can’t keep you to myself all the time. Peter needs you, we’ll be fine.”

“Stars, I love ya Darlin,” he leaned in and placed his lips on yours. “Won’t be gone more than a week. Best make sure them lil’ ones keep cookin while I’m away.”

“I’ll try,” you laughed. “But they are your children, so I don’t think they’ll be the rule following type.” His crooked teeth sparkled at your statement, and he went to pack for his trip.

The following day, you and your son saw him off as his M-ship took off from your secluded sanctuary. Knowing your son was feeling sad about seeing his Daddy off again, you suggested that you two go into town and pick out some new books to read.

By the third day, you had become very uncomfortable in your body. Thinking you needed to stretch out, you and your son walked to the small playground on the edge of the city. You sat on a bench, watching your son interact with a young Krylorian girl, when the first pang hit you. Sensing your discomfort, your son’s head turned towards you and he left his new friend behind.

“Mama?” he called out.

“I think we need to get back home, baby.”

By the time you reached the cottage, you knew it wasn’t a false alarm, the pain too real and frequent. You were able to make it back to your bed, and called out for your son to find the datapad. Fighting through another contraction, you had to ask him if he remember how to dial out for a call and had him contact the doctor you had seen when you first arrived on Xandar. You talked to doctor over the pad and told her you couldn’t get to her office, and she agreed to come to the cottage, but it would take her a little while. Nodding, you sent her the coordinates to your hidden place and hung up. The discomfort getting to you, you had your son turn the water on in the bathtub, and slowly made your way over. You told him you needed him out front because the doctor was coming and he had to let her in. Leaving just your bra and panties on, you eased yourself into the warm tub. Inhaling and letting out a deep breathe, you finally called Yondu.

“Shit,” he answered, when he saw your state through the screen.

“Hi,” you said through a shallow breathe. “Uh, guess who decided to break your rules?” Yondu rubbed a hand over his face.

“What’s goin on?” he asked, and you told him the doctor was on her way and your son was waiting for her up front.

“Pete!” He called, and you saw the lower half of the Terran man appear on the screen. “(Y/n’s) in labor, we gotta turn this thing around soon as we can.”

“Shit!” You heard Peter react and tried not to laugh at their similarities.

“Okay, Darlin. Imma stay witcha till the doc gets there, then we gonna get there as fast as I can.”

“But what about the...the mission?” You asked as another contraction took over, your face wincing in pain.

“Breathe, Darlin,” Yondu’s raspy voice cooed through the datapad. “Ya gotta try and breathe.” You gasped out a breathe as you whimpered from the crippling pain.

“It’s done, got the kids early this mornin. They all aboard Peter’s ship. We was just havin a bite ta eat.”

“Of course,” you rolled your eyes.

“Baby, I’ll be there,” he said, looking straight at you through the screen. Just then your son barged in the room with the Xandarian doctor. She checked your vitals and slipped a pain absorbing bracelet around your wrist. The burning pain you had felt was now just an annoying pressure in your body.

Eventually the doctor had to move you from the tub to the stacks of blankets and pillows on the ground, not wanting to use your bed. Your son stayed by your side, his tahlei, now many inches tall, brushed against your cheek as his head rested on your shoulder. His eyes had closed for a little bit, when the vibrations from an engine hit the room.

“Daddy!” he called out and ran for the the front door. You heard a commotion of voices from the living room and in walked all three boys. Your son in Yondu’s arms, he walked straight for you in the bathroom.

“Hey (y/n),” Peter smiled, walking in after Yondu.

“Hi, Pete,” you called back. “How did y’all get here so fast?”

“Yondu set our M-ship to hop 500 jumps atta time!”

“What?! I figured if the rat could do it, so could I.” Yondu barked back.

“Yeah, but my head is still ringing from it,” Peter replied. Ignoring him, Yondu walked over to you, setting your son down and crouching on his knees.

“How’s she doin doc?” Yondu asked. The doctor gave him an update, you and the babies were okay and she thought you’d be ready to push soon. Peter took your son out of the room, even though he begged to stay to see his new brothers or sisters.

“Trust me kid,” Peter told him. “You don’t wanna see this part.” Yondu moved behind you, his legs on either side of your body as your back rested on his chest, never letting go of your hand as your contractions hit.

“I got ya, Darlin,” he said as he whispered encouraging words and comforted you when your body finally told you to start pushing. For what felt like a lifetime you pushed until the first of your twins finally arrived.

“It’s a boy!” the doctor said as the baby’s legs were the last to emerge. An overwhelming feeling of joy flooded you, finally seeing one of your babies. The doctor cleaned him off in the sink before handing him to you and Yondu. His skin tone resembled yours, only when the light hit him just right, did a subtle hue of blue appear on his skin.

“He looks just like ya!” Yondu beamed. But when your new son’s eyes opened, small rubies stared back at you and you smiled. Fifteen minutes later, your daughter arrived.

Yondu’s heart stopped when his eyes landed on his little girl. He had never seen anything so small and delicate before in his life. Tears formed in the corner of his eyes as she was cleaned off and handed back to you both. Her appearance matched her father’s, same shade of blue and tiny red eyes looked up at you both.

“I love ya,” Yondu whispered in your ear, taking it all in and watching you hold both babies in your arms. You smiled up at him as tears ran down your face.

Yondu carried you back to the bed, where you rested for a bit. After you had fed the babies and things had calmed, you both knew you couldn’t keep your oldest boy away anymore and let him and Peter come in to see the twins. Yondu went out to get them, and your son made his way over to the bed, climbed up, and sat next to you.

“So,” Peter said as he stood next to Yondu, watching you and your son. “Ya finally gonna name one after me?” Yondu laughed and shook his head as they neared the bed. You asked Peter if he wanted to hold one, and helped slip your daughter into his arms. Your son asked if he could hold one too, and Yondu helped him sit up straight on the bed. Gently, you moved your younger son into your eldest son’s lap, still supporting the baby’s head.

“These are my brother and sister?!” he said.

“Yep,” you smiled at him. “And you’re their big brother, so they’re gonna look up to you and wanna do everything with you.” He giggled looking at his little brother, excited about the new playmates.

“Yeah, but you can also boss them around sometimes,” Peter chimed in. “Play harmless jokes on them. Just don’t threaten to eat them, because that’s not funny.”

“Huh?” your son looked up at him with a confused look on his face. Glancing over at Yondu, you saw him shake his head and you tried to hide your smile.

Peter stayed for a couple more hours before he had to get back to his ship and help the rest of the Guardians with their haul of kids. As night fell, your not-so-little family was still gathered on the bed. Your head rested on Yondu’s shoulder as he held both babies in his arms, your oldest boy asleep near the foot of the bed between Yondu’s legs. Happy silence filled the air and soon you couldn’t keep your fluttering eyes opened.

When he looked over at you, Yondu smiled seeing your sleeping face. He kissed the top of your head lightly and turned his head back towards his kids. He thought about how drastically his life had changed since the day he saved Peter, and how he couldn’t picture it any other way. The woman he loved more than anything beside him, while his three, little rule-breaking miracles slept before him. Lucky couldn’t begin to describe how he felt. Yondu almost thought he must be dreaming, that this couldn’t be his life now. But the soft cries of his daughter brought him back to reality.

“Shh lil’ girl,” he whispered as he began rocking her lightly in his arm.

“Daddy’s got ya.”

#yondu x reader #yondu udonta x reader #yondu fanfiction #yondu fluff

130 notes · View notes

humanity-shortest-soldier · 7 years

Text

Question tag for AO3 writers~~

I found the original questions on AFF a while back, and I thought since I’ve been tagged in so many meme things lately, I’d also tag a bunch more people in this one XD Since the questions were designed for AFF, I’ve reworked some of them to fit for AO3 writers. I also removed two questions rather than trying to translate them to AO3 terms. So, I’ll fill out my answers first, and then put the blank questions again at the bottom for you to easily copy and paste!

1. How did you come up with your username and what does it mean?

SIFU_HOTMAN because Zuko is one of my favorite characters and honestly Aang calling him “Sifu Hotman” is hilarious.

2. Which fanfic of yours has the most feedback? (bookmarks/subscriptions/hits/kudos)

Exactly My Type by a long shot, lol.

3. What is your AO3 profile icon and why did you choose it?

It’s Izaya Orihara to represent the trash on my page.

4. Do you have any regular/favourite commenters?

Yes! I’m shocked when I read through my comments and see how often the same people will comment on each chapter. And there are definitely one or two that I look forward to seeing. I recognize a ton of usernames on AO3 but I don’t know many of them on here.

5. Is there a fanfic that you keep going back to read again and again?

THIS fic by the super-talented @courtingstars! I swear I’ve reread this fic like 6 dozen times at this point, as well as the sequel! (For real tho, I could probably recite this fic word for word, I love it so much. AkaFuri fans, if you haven’t checked it out, I can’t recommend it enough!)

6. How many stories are you subscribed to? How many do you have bookmarked?

I’m guilty of not subbing or bookmarking that much, because it got to the point where I had so many that it kinda made it pointless, lol. But I’m subscribed to 2 users, and 5 fics, and I have 46 bookmarks.

7. Which AU do you find yourself writing the most?

I don’t really write AU’s all that much? (I think I only have 2, the Nanny/Single Parent AU and a Red String of Fate AU). I definitly want to try doing more tho! I was super nervous about the Nanny/Single Parent one, but now it’s my hightest hitting fic! And it was from a prompt! lol

8. How many people are subscribed and bookmarked to you in total? (you can view this on the stats page)

Total bookmarks: 311 Total subs: 337

9. Is there something you’d like to write about but are afraid of people judging you for it? (Feeling brave? If so, share it!)

The only thing I can think of right now is I want to get better/ more comfortable with writing smut lmao. I’ll conquer it one day!

10. Is there anything you would like to be better at? Writing certain scenes or genres, replying to comments, updating better, etc.

Updating better, for sure. It eats me alive that it’s been almost a year since I started Exactly My Type, and I’ve only written 5 chapters! It’s so hard to find time with all the overtime at work, and with everything else. BUT that’s something I definitely plan on changing.

And maybe replying to comments? I generally don’t reply (I feel so bad about this, I’m so sorry. Comments just make me an incoherent mess and I’m never sure how to reply without rambling and making an idiot of myself)

11. Do you write rarepairs or popular ships more often?

Is AkaFuri a rarepair? I know it was more considered one a while ago, but I don’t know anymore. I guess whatever category they fall under, that’s it lol.

12. How many stories have you posted on AO3 to this day (finished and unfinished)?

Eight! Which is eight more than I thought I would write.

13. How many stories do you have saved in/with your writing program?

I have 30 stories saved on Google Docs. (I’m shocked? lmao)

14. Do you write down story ideas, or just keep them in your head?

Everything in my head. My ten hour shifts at work mostly consist of me staring off into space and writing fan fiction in my head.

15. Have you ever co-authored a story?

Other than bouncing ideas off of a friend, no. It sounds fun tho!

16. How did you discover AO3?

Searching for ATLA fanfiction like, 4 years ago. After reading everyting FanFiction.net had to offer, I found AO3 and immediately made the switch.

17. Do you consider yourself to be a popular or famous author in your fandom(s) on AO3?

God, no lmao. I think I’m IN the AkaFuri barrel, but far from the top of it.

18. Do you have a nickname or fandom name for your readers?

Not that I know of? I get comments about how much people like my username sometimes, so I’m cool with it if people just wanna call me Sifu Hotman lmao.

19. Was there an author who inspired or encouraged you to write?

My inspiration mainly came from a desire for more AkaFuri fics, lmao. But there were a few amazing writers who reallllly made me want to try writing, and I was encouraged plenty by my best friend, so here I am lol.

20. What writing advice would you give to a beginning author?

To just write. I worried for so long (and I still do) about not being good enough, or making a mistake, or failing. But the only way to get better at writing is to write! If someone doesn’t like you’re story, odds are you’ll either get some helpful advice, or feedback on the part they did like. Even if you don’t want to post it publicly, just write it out anyway. I think I’ve improved so much since the first thing I wrote, and I hope I get even better the more I do it.

21. Do you plot out your stories, or do you just figure it out as you go?

Again, spending 10 hours a day, 5 days a week in my own head, I get most of my stories down to the tiniest details before I even get to a computer. Once I sit down, some things may change or come out different, but I rarely go to write without having any idea.

22. Have you ever gotten a bad comment on a story? If so, what did you do?

Actually... no, I don’t think I have.

23. Is there a certain type of scene that you have a hard time writing? (action, smut, etc..)

Smut, for sure lol.

24. What story(s) are you working on now?

Fucking chapter 6 of Exactly My Type! (I just broke 6K the other day, and it’s not even halfway done). After that, I’m on to Defying Fate, with a couple of prompts inbetween.

25. Do you plan your next project(s) before you finish your current ongoing story(s)?

Sorta...I guess. Exactly My Type happened because of a prompt request that got waaaay out of control, so that was poor planning on my part lmao.

26. Do you have a daily writing goal set for yourself?

Not at all. I just go for it whenever I get the chance.

27. Do you think you’ve improved as a writer since you first started?

100% yes. I want to crawl into a hole whenever I think about my first fic, lol.

28. What is your favorite story that you’ve written?

I’m gonna shove the AkaFuri away for a second and go with Absolutely Baked. Mayuzumi is my favorite character to write for, and I think I got some pretty funny dialogue in that one. It makes me laugh, and the extra chuckles my friend and I got while discussing it were totally worth it.

29. What is your least favorite story that you’ve written?

I don’t think I have a least favorite? If I had to pick probably my first fic, Emperor's Weakness.

30. Where do you see yourself (as a writer) in 5 years?

Hopefully still writing fanfiction, lol. I would like to try writing some original work, but I doubt it.

31. What is the easiest thing about writing?

Dialogue, I think. Once I get in a characters head, I find it very easy to write from their point of view.

32. What is the hardest thing about writing?

Getting a full plot to run together. I’m pretty good at getting certain scenes down, but I have trouble piecing them all together sometimes.

33. Why do you write?

Simply, because it’s fun. I know how happy it makes me when I read a super-awesome fic, and I like the feeling I get when someone tells me I gave them the same feeling.

Anyways that’s all the questions, so I’ll put them here as well without the answers to easily c+p.

1. How did you come up with your username and what does it mean? 2. Which fanfic of yours has the most feedback? (bookmarks/subscriptions/hits/kudos) 3. What is your AO3 profile icon, and why did you choose it? 4. Do you have any regular/favourite commenters? 5. Is there a fanfic that you keep going back to read again and again? 6. How many stories are you subscribed to? How many do you have bookmarked? 7. Which AU do you find yourself writing the most? 8. How many people are subscribed and bookmarked to you in total? (you can view this on the stats page) 9. Is there something you’d like to write about but are afraid of people judging you for it? (Feeling brave? If so, share it!) 10. Is there anything you would like to be better at? Writing certain scenes or genres, replying to comments, updating better, etc. 11. Do you write rarepairs or popular ships more often? 12. How many stories have you posted on AO3 to this day (finished and unfinished)? 13. How many stories do you have saved in/with your writing program? 14. Do you write down story ideas, or just keep them in your head? 15. Have you ever co-authored a story? 16. How did you discover AO3? 17. Do you consider yourself to be a popular or famous author in your fandom(s) on AO3? 18. Do you have a nickname or fandom name for your readers? 19. Was there an author who inspired or encouraged you to write? 20. What writing advice would you give to a beginning author? 21. Do you plot out your stories, or do you just figure it out as you go? 22. Have you ever gotten a bad comment on a story? If so, what did you do? 23. Is there a certain type of scene that you have a hard time writing? (action, smut, etc..) 24. What story(s) are you working on now? 25. Do you plan your next project(s) before you finish your current ongoing story(s)? 26. Do you have a daily writing goal set for yourself? 27. Do you think you’ve improved as a writer since you first started? 28. What is your favorite story that you’ve written? 29. What is your least favorite story that you’ve written? 30. Where do you see yourself (as a writer) in 5 years? 31. What is the easiest thing about writing? 32. What is the hardest thing about writing? 33. Why do you write?

I was tagged by: @herdustisverypretty <333

People I’m tagging: @anime-saved-and-destroyed-me | @kaguneko | @shootmesenpai | @cerberosthehellguard | @jubesy

#(I tried to tag as many as I could. Anyone else join in!)#by this was a long one #and very detailed #i'm into it #i wanna see everyones repiles

3 notes · View notes

docfuture · 7 years

Text

Line and Sinker

[This is a background vignette that contains some material I cut from The Maker's Ark. It occurs just after the scene with Donner and Stella in Chapter 26. Links to my other work are here. I try to post new chapters or vignettes every two weeks.]

Donner watched the tree branches sway in the wind at the isolated campsite where he'd met Stella. It hadn't rained yet, but the clouds still looked ready to soak anyone who got too complacent. "No," he said. "I just can't. The more I think about it, the more scared I get. If I start putting more power into my regular singing again... Yeah, the effects from Concert in the Dark seem good so far, but that was one song, once. Who knows what would happen if there were millions of people listening regularly mixing with others who don't? I sure as hell don't. And neither do you. Keep sorting through what already happened with DASI. I'll have other questions. But I'm not about to try anything else like that without a good reason." "As you wish," said Stella. She smiled faintly. "You're really giving up? Just like that?" he said. "I expected more of a hard sell." "When you say no, I listen." Donner remembered their first meeting, all those years ago. "Yeah, you do. But that smile worries me. You were pretty damned convincing. Did I pass some kind of test?" "In a way," said Stella. "This was what you wanted, fifteen years ago. And some of the reasons you stopped are gone. I wanted you to think hard about this before we hit a crisis. I gave you my best pitch--because I wanted you to hear it from me. Not Osk. And not Flicker." "Oh. Yeah, that's..." Donner trailed off, and he realized his hands had started to sweat. "There. Now you're scared for the right reasons. Mass mind control is terrifying. I've been studying it for most of my life, and we still need better defenses. That's what I'm really after. I'd like it if you were involved in the research. Popular impressions to the contrary, neither DASI nor I are omniscient. DASI will be happy to talk to you whenever secure conversation is possible. As will I, when I'm not in the middle of a crisis." "Really? You're--" "I am very short on safe ways to relax." She took a drink, then studied her glass, still half full of gratuitously expensive Scotch. "Discussing the theory and practice of mind control with you is one." "Ways to relax. Right." Donner took a drink from his own glass, and watched a flock of birds swirl in the distance. "I guess finding out more about it is better than not knowing. Yeah. Yeah, I'll help." "Excellent. Want to hear another interesting and slightly alarming tidbit DASI uncovered about the concert?" "Whoof. Okay, go for it." "Disentangling the effects of your song from the psychological relief at the end of the battle was rather tricky, so DASI examined a lot of data to correct the correlations. She looked at hospital childbirths, because they're good at recording exact times, and music is a common aid for pain management. And she found something very interesting. Complications and pain reported by women who were in labor or gave birth during the last song of the Concert in the Dark were quite low." He frowned. "You mean, low for the women who listened to the broadcast?" "No. That's not what I mean." Donner digested that. "Okay, what do you mean?" "Since the effects of your song on those DASI could confirm were listening seemed so positive, she decided to compare to a control group of women who gave birth at the same time. And ran into a little snag." "I'm listening," said Donner. Stella seemed to enjoy building up to something scary just a bit too much for his comfort. "DASI first tried to limit the control group to women who were listening to some other music. But some of those later commented that someone changed the station, mix, or track. Even when that definitely did not happen. They heard you anyway. But it was difficult to pin down, because there was a strong correlation with someone else nearby listening, so audio leakage was possible. "But there were a few cases where we could completly rule out nearby music... Like one from rural Madagascar. No one was present at the birth except the mother and a midwife. Neither was aware of the concert, the Xelian attack, or even your existence. DASI could verify the time, because the midwife was using a smartphone to help monitor vital signs. The mother reported hearing a man with a nice voice, singing in some language she didn't understand, just before the birth. And her pain went away." "Oof." Donner looked down. "Halfway around the world. Without even hearing me. So the wrong song could really go far." "Or even the right one," said Stella. "Which brings me to another topic I'd like to discuss. Fifteen years ago, Doc asked you to serve as Earth's last line of defense against mass mind control. I'm sure you've thought about what you'd do, if someone started taking over the world with mind control, and you had to recover it, with no holding back." Donner eyed her warily. "I'm... not sure that's something that's safe to talk about. Are you?" "It doesn't matter what I say." He only hesitated for a moment, but it was already too late. "...Shit. How long have you--scratch that, does anyone else know?" "I seriously doubt it. A few might have guessed, but there's been no recorded discussion. And DASI did check, thoroughly." "How did you figure it out?" Stella smiled. "It's been one of my favorite songs for a long time, for some of the same reasons you chose it. I wasn't certain when I first studied you. But the ubiquity of the instrumental structure was a point in its favor, in case you needed to use it on short notice without recent practice." "Everybody knows Pachelbel's Canon. It's a running joke for musicians. But that can't have been enough." "No. But I understand your unique relationship to song lyrics better than anyone but you." "Ah. Yeah. I can control reactions while I'm singing, but people always bring their own baggage to lyrics, so they're gonna diverge as soon as I'm not actively preventing it. And the more people who hear, the further the extreme ones go, in all directions. If I sang full power to mind control a big audience, and it's broadcast or recorded--like it would have to be--it would be real hard to keep from killing anyone with side effects." "Unless the song is about mind control," said Stella. "But none of the organizations that are paranoid about you understand that, or how serious you are about not hurting people. And your excuse for never using the song in concert was very well thought out." "Well, it's true. I might need ten mil in a hurry someday, and I can only sing it for the first time once. And anyone studying the lyrics would catch the connection to the last line. So I figured that would keep them from realizing I might be saving it for some other reason." Donner looked down. "So what's wrong with it?" "Nothing," said Stella. "Except that it would work." Donner stared at her, then laughed, ending with a groan. "Yeah," he said, wiping his eyes. "You see the problem. It works. I say jump, everyone jumps. But then what? How do I let go? That's the part I've never been able to figure out. I could sing another song to release people--but it's not going to get everybody, it would spread differently, there'd be an unholy mess while it's working, and a whole bunch of people would be pissed at me afterwards. Even if I did it to save the world." He waved a hand. "And that's not the worst part. There's no way we'd be able to get rid of all recordings of the original song these days. They'd still be out there, sitting around like a bunch of stray nukes for anyone with a mixer and an agenda to try to use. The genie would be out of the bottle once and for all." "Not necessarily. With advance warning and the right kind of broadcast, DASI can track every recording." "Seriously?" "It might give away some capabilities that we would prefer to leave unrevealed, but this isn't something you'd do without an overriding threat. As for the rest--we can study potential solutions without it being obvious. Some of them are likely to come out of the defense research I'd like to work on anyway." She met his eyes. "I hope you never need to sing the song that way. But if you do, I want to minimize the damage. Just like you do." "Yeah." Donner nodded slowly, then looked down. "Listen. This has been... educational. And I appreciate finally learning about my family. But I've got a lot to sort through. So I think I'd better go, before you drop anything else on me." "I understand. Do you want a ride home? My flyer has an autopilot, I have space for your bike in the back, and it's no trouble." "Nah, I'm fine. It's only..." He looked over at the Scotch bottle, almost empty now. He knew his limits. He should be fine. But there was no reason to turn her down, except reflex. "Okay, yes, I would." Stella didn't talk much on the flight back. She asked him a few leading questions, then just listened while he blathered about concerts, goddesses, aliens, and the music industry. After they unloaded his bike, she paused for a moment. "Donner?" "Yeah?" "Thank you." "For what?" "For being understanding. And kind. And human." "No problem. You take care. I never know what Flicker will drop on me next, but whatever happens, I'll be in touch." She smiled wryly. "I know. It doesn't take a hook to bring you back."

[“Hook” by Blues Traveler.

Lyrics.]

#FallofDocFuture #FallMisc #Maker's Ark

8 notes · View notes

littlemissheartfilia · 7 years

Text

Light Up My Night

Hello all!! I’m alive and still writing wow shocker right? This is a Stingue fic that has been sitting in my WIP doc for longer than I care to remember. And since I’m not updating What’s In A Prince anytime soon I figured this will do. Don’t worry the whole thing is written and finished so updates won’t take forever. It’s only a two-chapter though. Either way I have put a lot of revision into this so I hope you’ll love it!

Parts: [1] [2]

Summary: Sting Eucliffe is a senior now and finally has to face his one and maybe only chance to ask his high school crush out. With the help of Minerva and Yukino things get a little more than nervewracking.

Parings: Stingue, Yukinerva, Mentioned Fraxus

Setting: Modern day high school au.

Text Messages

Sting sat in a quiet room, staring blankly at the last page of homework he had for the night. He sighed. Homework was the bane of his existence. It was bad enough that chemistry wasn’t his strongest subject but it was eleven at night and he could hardly keep his attention for more than ten seconds.

He glanced at his phone for the twentieth time that night. It was tempting him like there was no tomorrow. ‘What’s the harm of a little mental break’ The distracted half of his brain told him, but the better half of his brain reminded him that he had just had a mental break that consisted of two hours on social media and not an inch of the page completed. He picked up the phone anyway.

After checking social media, that had literally not changed at all since he last looked at it, he decided to see if Rogue was still awake.

Hey you awake? He waited a few seconds, staring at the screen and hoping for a reply. His fingers typed out a second message, If yes, can you come and smash my head into a wall. Chemistry homework is killing me…

It was a few seconds of staring at the ceiling before a ~DING~ sounded, signaling Rogue’s reply. He looked at the text. If you had paid attention in class today maybe your homework would be done already.

Why pay attention when I have you? What’s the answer to question 20?

Question 20 is a short essay if I gave you my answer it’d be copying and we’d both get in trouble.

C’mon, can’t you just change it up a little? That way it’s not REALLY copying!

Sting could practically see the roll of eyes and deadpanned look Rogue was giving his phone right now.

One of these days you’re gonna have to be more responsible. Sting was thinking of a reply when Rogue sent another message. Why are you up this late doing homework anyway? We had two weeks to get that paper done.

Sting grimaced when he recalled everything he had done for the past two weeks, all of it consisting of nothing but procrastinating in any way he could. He had even finally cleaned out his car the day before as an excuse not to do the paper.

Well, ya see...The thing about that is, I was pretty busy all week! He wasn’t fooling anyone.

Which translates into ‘I’m lazy and don’t wanna do my homework’

Wow you read my mind. You know me so well. Rogue replied with his usual bored faced emoji. Well I’m not getting anywhere with this homework so...wanna go for a walk with me?

Sting, it’s nearly midnight. We have school tomorrow.

Yeah but you’re a night owl anyway and we won’t be out for long!

He could almost hear the exasperated sigh that came from Rogue’s lips. He already knew what his answer was going to be before he replied, he knew Rogue would come.

Fine. But this better be worth it.

“Yes!” He said aloud, quietly enjoying his victory. After sending a quick reply Sting got off the bed, completely abandoning his still unfinished homework. He got dressed and opened the window to his room. Thank god he had convinced his dad to let him have the ground floor bedroom. It made it so much easier to leave undetected. Not that his dad knew that, or ever would.

Sting met Rogue in their usual spot, the meeting point halfway between both of their houses, on a normally quiet suburban street under the light of the lampposts. Seeing Rogue in person somehow made Sting’s breath quicken. He was wearing black skinny jeans with his dad’s overcoat protecting him from the winter air. But what really drew Sting’s attention was that cursed ponytail of his. The way his chin length black hair just fell over the back of his neck had him entranced and the way his bangs hung freely, a little bit messy but tame too, like a mild bedhead. Sting could only think about how hot it made him look. And those reading glasses that framed his face perfectly were taking his breath away. Sting was a sucker for guys in glasses and he guessed Rogue hadn’t bothered to put his contacts in like normal, so he could be blessed with his favorite sight.

God, I’m hopeless aren’t I, he thought. He knew he had a crush on Rogue. He had known since freshman year of high school and yet here he was, both of them seniors and he had yet to ask out the love of his life. Looking at Rogue now he didn’t think he would. Love is a complicated thing and the last thing he wanted was to ruin their good friendship.

Rogue’s face was unsurprisingly emotionless. As he approached Sting though, he noticed those red orbs of his growing a little softer in his expression.

“Glad you came.” Sting started the greeting.

“Like I had a choice. I’ve learned you can be extremely persistent when you want something.”

“But you don’t mind it anyway,” Sting said, a grin spreading across his face as he walked, his company falling into step beside him.

Rogue didn’t bother giving him an answer. For a while they walked in silence. Sting had no words to say that Rogue didn’t already know and he didn’t feel a need to say anything either. They were comfortable that way. Another thing Sting didn’t want to ruin. When they finally reached the park a question popped into his mind.

“So, are you gonna sign up to be prom king?”

“What’s the point.” Rogue replied, not breaking his attention from the path in front of him. “I don’t have a date, I hate dances, and I’m pretty sure you’d be the only one to vote for me.”

“Aw c’mon, Rogue,” Sting pleaded. “You only get one prom. Besides what if you actually are chosen for prom king?”

Rogue scoffed. “Then they’ll be s-o-l ‘cause I’m not going.”

“There’s no changing your mind, huh?” Rogue shook his head, confirming Sting’s question. “Not even if I go with ya?”

Rogue hesitated for a moment then looked at Sting, curiously. “You seem unusually interested in this. Why?”

Rogue raised his eyebrow and the little pout he did was so damn cute that Sting had to stop himself from blushing by covering it up with laughter. “I just think it’d be fun, is all!”

Rogue made a pfft sound with his lips. “Sure. I’ll sign up for prom king when you agree to be prom queen.” He was being sarcastic, that was clear enough in his tone. Still Sting took it to the next level, wondering how far he could push the boy.

“What if I already did?” he said as he looked over and gave him a mischievous smirk. Rogue stopped in his tracks.

“You didn’t?”

Sting just shrugged, reveling in his friends confused but mostly surprised face for a few seconds before saying. “Nah! I’m just messing with ya!” Rogue rolled his eyes and kept walking.

By the end of the night it seemed they had talked for hours. Rogue checked his phone, it had only been two hours but he followed that up by saying he had to get home and sleep.

So Sting and Rogue parted once more by the lamppost. As Rogue walked away, his mind went back to their conversation of the prom. This was their senior year and it was almost over! He’d waited so damn long for any sign that Rogue liked him back but the guy was too damn unreadable. Sting could never tell if he actually liked him. Even if he didn’t Sting couldn’t let their last year in high school go by without saying something. He wondered how hard it would actually be to sign up for Prom Queen...Maybe if he talked to the principal and got enough of his friends to back him up it’d be possible. Maybe then he would finally have the courage to fess up. And the idiocy to expose himself to relentless ridicule and embarrassment from just about everyone else he knew.

But maybe him and Rogue...He shook his head. He was just thinking romantically again, Rogue probably didn’t like him like that. Besides Sting had never seen Rogue with anyone, he wasn’t even sure that his friend was gay, or on the spectrum at all. Sting turned around and quietly walked back to his place.

When he plopped down onto his bed, after shoving all other items off it including his phone and laptop, he just lay there in thought. It looked like it was gonna be another sleepless night for him.

“Yukino, you gotta help me!” Sting shouted while running up to his silver headed friend. She was sitting with her girlfriend, Minerva, eating lunch by a tree outside the lunch hall. For all his years of high school, and probably even before, Minerva and Yukino had been his biggest supporters of his crush on Rogue. Many times they had tried to set up a scene but Sting would chicken out at the last minute or mess up his line, scared of making Rogue uncomfortable.

Both girls turned as he ran up to them, out of breath and bent over panting. Sting was never the athletic type and a run from the main buildings to the opposite side of the campus was a long one.

“Sting? What’s wrong?” Yukino began. While her head was turned Minerva stole a strawberry from her lunch box, Sting ignored it.

He straightened up, finally taking a deep breath and saying; “I wanna ask Rogue to go to prom with me!”

Yukino’s expression changed to one of sympathy, and it looked like Minerva was just barely refusing the urge to roll her eyes.

“Well if you really want to ask him you should just say it. You know Rogue would want you to be honest with him,” said Yukino. Sting nodded his head and took a seat with his legs crossed right in front of them. He placed his arms on his knees and closed his eyes as if in a serious meditation process.

“Yeah, and we all know how well that went down last year at winter carnival.” The last time Sting tried to ask Rogue to a dance it ended up with his face in some poor students lunch tray and all ten pages of Rogue’s award winning essay flying in the breeze through an open window. It was a long story. But he never did hear the end of Rogue’s riot act for losing that essay.

Yukino faked a laugh for pity’s sake. “Well, that is true.”

It was Minerva’s turn to speak up. When she did she grabbed Sting’s shoulders and forced him to look at her. “Listen, Yukino’s right, if you really want Rogue to go to the dance with you just ask him! A simple question isn’t gonna ruin anything. And don’t be a coward!” She wagged her finger in his face, speaking the last words with conviction.

Sting crossed his arms. “Easy for you to say, no one cares about a lesbian relationship! Just last week Freed tried to come out and got a slushie thrown in his face!”

“But those kids weren’t even from our school.” Yukino reminded him. “And remember what Laxus did to them after they pulled that stunt.” Sting remembered well. It was all the school could talk about, and still talked about. Laxus hadn’t left any one of those guys without a bruise, and it seemed a relationship between the two was still up in the air.

“Yeah but Rogue isn’t Laxus and neither am I. Besides, I don’t even know if Rogue likes guys! He’s never showed an interest in anyone!”

“Anyone but you,” Yukino said, matter of factly. It was spoken quietly but Sting had picked up on it and stared at her in confusion.

Minerva chimed in; “Tell me you’ve noticed the way he looks at you when you’re both in class?”

Sting shrugged, the girls groaned. “I tried asking him to prom last night, or rather asking if he was going. He said he wasn’t even interested. I figured if I could at least ask him to a dance maybe I wouldn’t chicken out again…” Minerva’s brow was furrowed for a while, deep in thought. “What?” Sting asked, confused at her lack of words.

“I think I have a plan, and one that you can’t back out of!” Sting’s eyes widened with rapt attention as Minerva leaned in closer to explain. “Ok, all you have to do is get Rogue to go to prom with you, not as a date, not yet anyway. Just convince him it’ll be fun to go. Yukino and I will take care of the rest.”

Sting raised an eyebrow. “Oookaay…” Then he perked up, eager to listen, “What’s your plan, then?”

Minerva gave an evil grin, “It’s not gonna work right if you know too. Just get Rogue to come to prom. I promise it’ll be worth it!” She winked and gave him a thumbs up. Just then the late bell for his classes rang.

“Shit! I’ll be late for class again!” He cried and stood up with a running start toward the building. “See ya later, guys!” He called back to Yukino and Minerva, yelling out a, “I haven’t even done the homework!” in his existential crisis to get to chemistry.

When he finally recovered his bag from his locker and made it to the chemistry door he had to witness every eye in class staring at him as he awkwardly knocked on the locked door. The chemistry professor, a tall elderly women who held a deadly eagle eye glare, opened the door with a scowl. She didn’t move from the doorway as she spoke with him.

“Why are you late, Mr. Eucliffe?”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Porlyusica. I forgot my textbook in one of my classes and had to go back to get it.” It was a poor excuse but one she seemed to take with only an intensified frown. She didn’t say anything else, just stepped aside to let Sting in. Then she took her spot back in front of the class.

Sting dropped his bag by his usual seat next to Rogue and sat down with a sigh, putting his head on his arms in defeat.

“That’s a lie ‘cause I have your textbook right here.” Rogue leaned in and whispered into his ear.

Sting perked up when he was handed his book. “What! I thought I lost that, where was it?”

“Under your desk as always, idiot.”

Sting took his textbook and hugged it to his chest. “You’re a lifesaver!”

“You can thank me later. Class is starting.”

So Rogue said, but Sting could hardly pay attention. Not with his red glasses that matched his eyes and every five minutes when he subconsciously tucked another piece of his bangs behind his ear as he took notes. Once again that ponytail Rogue had started to favor was Sting’s arch nemesis.

In the middle of her lecture, Ms. Porlyusica stopped to announce his distraction to the whole class. “Mr. Eucliffe!” She began, her voice filling up the otherwise quiet room. “If you paid half as much attention to this class as you pay to your friend over there maybe you wouldn’t be failing!”

A few kids in class snickered, some others looked at him with remarks of ‘ouch’ and sympathetic faces. Rogue was distracted from his papers where he was writing down notes and looked at Sting in confusion. He felt his face grow hot and imagined he must look so red, the thought only made it worse. Sting slunk down in his chair, picked up his pencil, and started to write notes from the board in his notebook. He mumbled out a, “Sorry, Ms. Porlyusica.” Then kept writing, making sure to avoid eye contact with Rogue, and everyone else.

So he had survived chemistry class, and thankfully Rogue didn’t bring up the subject of Ms. Porlyusica’s outburst. Sting kept quiet for the rest of the day, saving himself from further embarrassment.

It took it’s sweet time but finally school ended. Sting waved a goodbye back to his classmates, Natsu and Gajeel, then took off down the hallway. Hoping to meet Rogue and ask him about prom before he left.

Per the norm Rogue was waiting outside the main doors for Sting. Minerva and Yukino were chatting with him while Ogra, Rufus, Dobengal and Dhoot, one the newest members to the school and one with a very strange nickname, were chatting a few feet away.

“Took you long enough.” Rogue teased with a sly smile as Sting walked up to them.

“Shuddup! Not my fault your class lets out ten minutes early.”

Rogue chuckled. Sting wanted desperately to say something about prom but he couldn’t find the words to change the subject and choked up instead. It seemed that’s what friends were for as Yukino put his thoughts into words.

“So, are you guys going to prom?”

Rogue didn’t answer immediately and Minerva interjected with a playful, “You better be! Everyone else is going and it wouldn’t be the same if we didn’t end the school year with each other.”

“When you put it that way, it makes it hard for me to refuse,” said Rogue with a slight frown. “But you know I’m not the dress up type, and dances were never my thing.”

“Then we’ll just stand in the corner all night, who cares!” Sting found the courage to speak up. “We only have one prom! We should spend it together.”

“Fine, but I’m not going to dance.” Even as Rogue said it Sting could see a small smile lighting up his face, which in turn made his own smile wider.

The group talked for a while longer, as they always did at the end of the school day, then said their goodbyes. As Sting was driving home there was only one thing on his mind. Where he was gonna find a tux for prom night.

#stingue #stingue fanfic #fairy tail fanfiction #fairy tail #my fanfic #wow you can tell this is old because of the dhoot reference #thats right i wrote this in the midst of the great dhootxdobengal binge #what is that like over a year ago???#dear god i need to write more #i have fics that are older tho....#oh boy anyway!!#leave a like or reblog with tags if you liked it!!!#but rereading this the writing it PRETTY bad....damnit

20 notes · View notes

crypticcravings · 7 years

Text

Memories Remain, Chapter 5

Prev Chapter << >> Next Chapter

Also on Ao3

Another day, another four emails from Nathalie about Gabriel HQ meetings.

Adrien was positive he'd made his stance clear, but that never stopped Nathalie from keeping him in the loop. Adrien set aside the catalogue she'd mailed him and skimmed her emails with little interest. Nothing new. Things were running fine. That’s all that mattered.

Adrien shut down his work email without checking the rest of the meeting minutes or bank statements that were cluttering his inbox. He wasn't about to deal with all of that.

This was supposed to be a good day for him. He was determined to keep it that way, and a good day did not involve looking over his father's assets.

Instead, he fed Plagg another round of cheese before approaching his closet.

He had just a few hours left before he went to meet Ladybug. He needed to get dressed. Adrien pushed his pair of thick rimmed glasses up his nose, forgoing contacts for the day. Typically, he didn't worry about his appearance, especially when meeting Ladybug. There was no point brushing his hair and wearing his best shirt when he'd just transform and be covered from head to toe in a magical leather cat suit. Besides, ever since he'd quit modeling, he hadn’t been as concerned with how well his shoes matched his belt.

This was different.

He was about to meet Ladybug.

Honest to god, real life Ladybug.

And on his life, he was not going to meet her in his coffee stained work shirt and a pair of loose fitting jeans. He was going to call back to the 18 year old Adrien Agreste who sold cologne on billboards wearing only the highest quality designer clothing.

He was going to have to go into his closet.

"It's been a while since I've seen you wear something that comes off a hanger," Plagg said as Adrien opened the double door walk in. "Getting all dressed up to see your love bug?" The kwami made a kissy face.

"She's not my love bug," Adrien quipped.

He flipped through the hangers, shifting through the pairs of designer jeans and pressed slacks. He laid out no less than five outfits, shuffled shirts around, considered his socks, then began pacing, much to Plagg's chagrin. The tiny pest flitted around complaining loudly the entire time.

Finally, Adrien settled on something to wear.

He donned a pair of tight fitting navy slacks, a soft, dark blue t-shirt, and a grey sports jacket. Not too dressed up, but not too casual either. He shoved his feet into a pair of Doc Martins and pushed up the sleeves of his sports jacket. Of course, his father hadn't raised a slob. Adrien folded a handkerchief and placed it neatly into his breast pocket.

After spending a half hour ensuring his hair was absolutely perfect, it was just about time. He wound a large, heavy knit scarf around his neck and shoved his keys, phone, and wallet.

"Are you ready?" Adrien ran his fingers through his hair and shut the curtains.

"Are you asking me or yourself," Plagg asked.

He rolled his eyes. "Plagg, transform me."

Once he was officially Cat Noir, he snuck out the back window of his apartment. It was finally time.

Marinette was ready. At least, she kept telling herself she was.

She was glad, at least, that Cat Noir suggested meeting today instead. It gave her time to style her hair--curse her heavy Chinese locks that couldn't hold a curl to save her life--and do her makeup. She had been too nervous yesterday to take care of any of that. She'd gotten dressed in a daze, and had spent more time tearing her hair out with nervousness than she had considering what would happen when she actually had to drop the mask and face the actual boy she'd had feelings for for her entire young adult life.

But this morning, she'd woken up with a strange sense of clarity. She wasn't nervous any more. She wasn't worried. Everything was just…serene. Because she was meeting Cat Noir today.

So she put on a brightly colored outfit to contrast the dreary February weather. A navy blue skirt with pink butterflies, a pink, long sleeved shirt, a pair of yellow tights with polka dotted heels and a red knitted scarf. Once her hair was pulled back into twin buns, she checked her appearance in the mirror one last time before turning to Tikki.

"Are you ready for this," She asked her kwami, who was sitting on Marinette's chaise lounge.

"I'm ready if you are," the tiny red bug said.

"I'm definitely ready."

"You seem way more confident today."

Marinette smiled and looped her purse over her shoulder. "I feel better. I mean, no matter what happens, Cat Noir is my friend. He still wants to meet me, so that's a good thing, right? Whoever he is under the mask, we're still going to be friends."

"Do you think he's someone you know already?"

"I mean, a while ago I wondered if maybe he was someone in my class. After Chloe repeatedly got everyone in school akumatized, and he was always on the scene so quickly, I had to wonder. I doubt it, though."

"Well, I guess you're about to find out."

Marinette grinned the type of sappy grin of a school girl in love. "I guess you're right."

She put on her coat and a pair of earmuffs, then let Tikki fly into her purse. She stopped into the bakery downstairs for some macarons, because bringing cookies along almost always led to a good first impression--as long as she didn’t drop them all.

Once she was out of the bakery, she slipped the cookies into her purse and let Tikki out of her hiding place.

"Ok, Tikki, the coast is clear."

"Just say the word, Marinette."

It was finally time.

Thank goodness the school was empty. Marinette had to double check the principal's office, but thankfully Principal Damocles never outgrew his habit of taking Saturdays as a personal day. As long as there were no students on campus for activities--and Marinette hadn't noticed any--the coast was totally clear.

Now all that was left was to wait.

She wasn't sure which direction Cat Noir would be coming from. Would he walk through the front doors? Unlikely, since they were locked for the weekend. Which meant he was probably going to drop into the courtyard from the roof. So Ladybug picked a nice spot on the overhang above the library to sit and wait.

She looked down on the basketball court and wondered what life would have been like if she and Cat Noir actually had gone to college here together. Would they have had classes together? Would they have recognized each other? Marinette liked to think she wasn't so dense she wouldn't see her partner right in front of her. Then again, she could be totally wrong. It was completely possible that she did know him in her everyday life.

She would find out soon enough.

She wasn't waiting long before the cat dropped in. Always the show off, he flipped over the rooftop of the side corridor, caught himself on the second floor railing, then landed at the center of the basketball court below.

"You can't do anything normally, can you?" Ladybug stood on the overhang and tossed out her yoyo. It wrapped around a railing, and she swung herself down to the courtyard to stand before Cat Noir. "You're always doing something to show off."

"What can I say," the stupid tom cat smirked, "I needed one last chance to show you just how purrfect I am before my true identity sweeps you off your feet."

"Somehow I doubt that," Ladybug lied. She knew he was right. Just the thought of seeing him without his mask had her heart nearly pounding out of her chest.

"I guess we're about to see, aren't we?"

Cat Noir stood to his full height, a solid nine inches taller than she was. She was a little bit salty she hadn't actually opted for the small heel in her boots when she'd redesigned her suit last year. At least then he only would have had eight and a half inches on her.

Maybe it was the strange silence between them, but Ladybug noticed that Cat seemed almost nervous. It was a rare occurrence to see him like this, but she understood how he was feeling. If she hadn't used all of her nerves up yesterday, she'd probably be on edge too.

"I guess it's time, then," Ladybug suggested.

"Wait." Cat Noir held up a hand. "Can I have, like, one minute?"

"What, are you a scaredy cat?"

"No! Yes? Look, this is…it's a big deal, alright?"

Ladybug looked down at her hands clasped in front of her. "I know. It is. You're right."

"It's just--I've been wanting to know you for, like, ten years now. And now it's about to happen. And this is just a big deal, you know?" He covered his mouth with his hand.

"I've wanted to know, too," she murmured. "I mean, it's not like I never wanted to know."

"I know," he said. "It wasn't safe. But I'm glad it's happening now."

"Me, too."

Cat Noir took another deep breath before finally meeting her eyes. "Okay. Are you ready?"

"Are you asking me or yourself?"

He scowled. "My kwami asked me the same thing this morning."

Ladybug giggled. "Well, I'm ready when you are. How do you want to do this?"

"How about this," he put a hand on her shoulder, "You turn that way," he turned her to face the basketball hoop by the library. "And I'll face the other way. Then when we've detransformed, we can turn back around and see each other."

"So complicated," she teased.

Adrien turned to face the opposite basketball hoop. "Okay. I'm ready."

"Me, too."

Unable to help himself, and in need of some grounding, Cat Noir grabbed Ladybug's hand. She squeezed his in return. He gulped. "On three?"

He felt rather than saw her nod. "One," she counted.

"Two."

He squeezed her hand, and together they said, "three."

Each of them called off their transformation, and two bright lights shone in the college courtyard, one a brilliant pink, and the other electric green.

The lights faded, and suddenly Adrien was holding Ladybug's hand.

Barely a few seconds had passed, and Marinette was touching Cat Noir's skin with her skin.

In a few more seconds, they would be looking at each other's faces, unobstructed.

And suddenly it was all too much.

All of the anxiety Marinette hadn't felt the entire day slammed into her at once.

A fine sheen of sweat appeared across Adrien's brow.

Both of them considered running.

But neither of them moved. They stayed rooted in one spot, too terrified of seeing, and too afraid to leave.

It was a good fear, though, Marinette rationalized. It was excitement, anticipation, and the unknown. It wasn't a bad fear.

So she took another breath to steady herself. She should really start doing those deep breathing exercises her father pushed her to do so that she wasn't always gasping like a fish every time she got nervous. But that wasn't relevant right then.

"Should we turn around?" His voice sounded higher with nerves.

"Yeah, that would make sense, wouldn't it, kid?" The response definitely did not come from Marinette. Instead, she turned her head slightly to the right to see a floating, black, cat-like creature that must be Cat Noir's kwami.

"Plagg, if you don’t…"

"Oh, stop it with your empty threats, and just turn around already!"

"He's right, you know," Marinette said, "we should just do it. Like ripping off a bandaid. Get it over with. Not that there's anything to get over, but just…get it done."

"Yeah. Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool cool. Let's do this."

They squeezed each other's hand one last time. Marinette squeezed her eyes shut. She had no way of knowing, but behind her Adrien did the same. In sync, they released their hands and spun around towards each other.

"Oh would you open your eyes," Plagg complained.

"Give them some space, you pest," a small, high voice chided.

Marinette giggled. Leave it to her kwami to take control and try to deescalate the situation.

Feeling at ease after hearing her kwami's voice, Marinette felt brave. She squinted one of her eyes open, reminding herself that it was the same old Cat Noir, just without a mask. A glint of blonde caught her eye, giving her the courage to open her eyes fully.

Her breath caught in her throat. "Hey, I know you!"

The boy in front of her winced, and his eyes didn't open. "Yeah, I, um, thought you might…"

Of course she recognized him, Adrien thought, he was a model for most of his life. Why hadn't he thought to warn her about that?

"You're from the coffee shop!"

Huh?

"From the…coffee shop?" Adrien's muscles relaxed a bit.

"Yeah, you're my barista!"

"That's how you recognize me?" His voice was full of disbelief. "From the coffee shop?"

"Open your eyes, you silly cat!"

So he did. Slowly, and cautiously, but he opened his eyes.

What he saw nearly knocked him off his feet. He'd been right.

"You're the baker's daughter," he said, his voice filled with awe. "And I was right!"

Ladybug had a look of confusion on her face. "You were right?"

"I was right!" Adrien threw his arms around her waist and picked her up. He swung a very shocked Ladybug around in a circle, laughing all the while. "I was right!"

Marinette's hands went to Cat Noir's shoulders as she braced herself against the motion. "What do you mean, you were right?"

He finally stopped spinning, but he didn't put her down. "I was right! I've known since I was fourteen that if I ever met you in real life, I would recognize you, and I was right!" He finally placed her gently on the ground, hands resting gently at her waist. "That night you came into the coffee shop to work on your project, I knew you looked familiar. Everything about you was familiar, and I just, I had this feeling. And every time I saw you I kept feeling it, and here you are!"

Marinette's cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but she wasn't about to stop any time soon. "I guess you were right, then! And what do you mean, you thought I might recognize you? Conceited much?"

He groaned and bowed his head. "I'm not being conceited, I'm just used to being recognized. I, aha, I used to be a model."

"A model?" She deadpanned.

He took one hand off of her waist, just to rub the back of his neck. "Yeah…"

"Wait a minute," she said, taking a step back, "hold on, you were a model, weren't you? I recognize you now! I knew you looked familiar, but it's hard to tell when you wear those glasses, and your hair is so much shorter now! I used to see you in magazines all the time!"

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Maybe I shouldn't have pointed it out…"

She laughed. "No, no! It’s fine! Everything's fine."

"Are you sure you won't go all fan girl on me," he teased.

"Dude," she said, putting a hand on her hip, "I'm literally Ladybug. Not to brag, but I'm pretty used to the celebrity life by now." She flipped a strand of hair over her shoulder and struck a pose, earning her a hearty laugh from her partner.

"Well that's good to know." A glint of mischief flashed in his eyes, and Marinette marveled at the familiarity of the look, even without the mask. He bowed at the waist, taking her hand. "It's nice to formally meet you, my lady. Adrien Agreste, at your service."

Marinette tried to quell the butterflies in her stomach, but to no avail. "Pleasure to meet you, good sir. Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

Adrien righted himself. "I don't know about you, but I'm getting hungry. Would you care to join me for lunch, my lady?"

"That sounds lovely, chaton." She looped her arm in his. "And lucky for you, I used to go to this school. I know the back way out so that no one sees us sneaking out."

"You never cease to amaze with your impurressive tricks, Bug."

She began to lead him to the back of the school "What can I say, I've always told you I'm a genius."

"And so humble." He assessed her outfit. "And what are you, a fashion student? You're wearing, like, a hundred colors!"

"As a matter of fact, I am. Working towards a masters in design."

"Don't get me wrong, I love it. It reminds me of summer."

"Who dressed you today, Cat," she shot back, "you have on a big scarf like that, but no jacket? What happened to you, Monsieur Agreste?"

"It's almost 10C out. It's not even that cold!"

They bantered back and forth like that the entire way out, leaving their kwami to trail behind them, forgotten in the excitement.

They had a feeling that would become the norm from then on.

#memories remain #adrinette #adrienette #ladynoir #ladybug #chat noir #marinette #marinette dupain cheng #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien #adrien agreste #marichat #ladrien #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #cryptic fic

8 notes · View notes

darlingpetao3 · 7 years

Text

Great Scott, Barry! (Chapter 5/9)

“I can't believe this is happening right now. What are we going to do?”

Sitting at a table in the back corner of Jitters, you and Barry talk in hushed voices about what had come to pass. Your mind was still blown from the (clearly not) impossible fact that you were currently stuck in the past. Not to mention that you had, not that long ago, stopped Barry and yourself from having your first encounter, thus never meeting. How that will affect the future from here on out, you had no idea. The timeline has now been altered and not knowing what comes next scared you.

“Relax, it'll be alright,” Barry says, trying to calm you. You take a deep breath. “He'll be here any minute.” As if on cue, Cisco walks through the door and Barry gives him a stressed wave. He was the first person Barry had thought to confide in and the fewer people that knew about your current predicament the better. You were a little skeptical, though. How well would he take this dump of information? If he even believed you...

“Barry, I got your text. What's so urgent?” Cisco looks at you up and down. “And who's your lovely friend?”

That's right, we haven't met yet. Barry introduces you and instructs Cisco to sit down.

“Listen, this is going to be a lot to take in, so just, you know, keep an open mind.”

“Dude, we live in a city full of Metas," he laughs. "My mind's pretty damn open.”

You and Barry lock eyes, hesitating to confess, which leaves an awkward pause around the table. But ultimately it's Barry who blurts out the almost unfathomable truth.

“Cisco, we're from the future.”

“Five days in the future to be exact-” you jump in.

“I ran back in time-”

“And I totally just messed up the timeline-”

“So now we've never met-”

“Which means I won't get kidnapped by Captain Cold-”

“Who I'm supposed to save her from, but I can't now because my powers are gone-”

“So Barry can't run fast enough to create a portal back to our time-”

“And now we're stuck.” Both of you are out of breath from the long winded explanation and it also doesn't help that you hold your breath while waiting for Cisco's response. Cisco sits there with his mouth slightly agape and big round eyes staring back at you both. He gives his head a downward shake.

“Whoa,” he finally utters. “This is heavy.”

“Okay, okay. Let's walk through this again, only slower this time.”

Cisco paces the floor of his small apartment, where the sensitive conversation had been immediately moved to, where it could be talked about at full volume and without any interruptions or more potential life altering run-ins.

“You two are from the near future. This upcoming Friday, to be exact.”

“Yes,” you confirm.

“(Y/N) was kidnapped by Snart and Barry saved you by running so fast that he accidentally created this time portal to the past. To now.”

“Correct,” Barry says.

“Now (Y/N) ran into, let's call him 'Past Barry,' and changed the course of events that led you two to meet. Or rather, not meet. See, this could be a real problem.”

“No shit...” you mutter under your breath.

“Because – if my line of thinking is correct, if you don't meet, you don't go out. And if you don't go out, you don't fall for one another, care enough for each other. And why would Snart kidnap someone Barry doesn't care for? He likes to hit you where it hurts.”

“You don't have to tell me,” Barry agrees.

“And finally, if you don't end up caring for (Y/N), then you won't push yourself to run as fast as you did, thus creating the time portal.”

“Wait,” you start voicing your line of thinking. “The only known way at the moment to create a time portal is by Barry running fast enough, right? Cisco, since my Barry has lost his powers, would it be possible for 'Past Barry' to create a portal home for us?”

“Interesting...” Cisco ponders. “It seems the only reasonable solution right now. But there is a flaw in that idea.”

“What's that?” Barry asks.

“Doc Brown's law,” Cisco points out.

“We can't interact with our own past selves,” you explain.

“What about interacting with each other's past selves? Like, I talk to you from the past and you talk to 'Past Me'?”

“Barry, that just might work! Good thinking, baby!”

Cisco rubs his hands together like he's already got a plan in motion. “Now we're cooking with plutonium!”

“Now where do we start?” Barry thinks aloud. You let his question roll around in your head for a moment.

“We didn't meet again until the club when Iris invited me out tonight. We'll both be in the same room, then. Cisco, since you're in on this, when you meet Past Me at the club, you'll need to pretend you've never seen my face before.”

“I think I can pull it off.”

“Great. And remember, you can't tell anyone else about us being from the future.”

Cisco salutes you in understanding. “Alright... let's get you two together, or back together? You know what I mean!”

Barry, Cisco, and yourself use the rest of the day to plan out your team's attack at the club tonight. Knowing that both your past selves will be there will require everyone to be on their toes, alert. There cannot be any run-ins with your double, it was reiterated. You both made sure you had everything before leaving for the club. New night-on-the-town outfits and thanks to Cisco, burner phones.

“We don’t want to have you guys texting each other and then having the texts show up on your past selves’ phones. How bizarre would that be? However, you will be able to see what they are texting from your old phones.”

“Okay, got it,” you say.

“Thanks, man,” Barry claps his friend’s back.

“Don’t mention it. Anything to help.”

Barry and yourself leave for the club early enough so that you could find the best vantage point to keep an eye on everything. The place is bouncing, just like that Monday night.

“Is it considered creepy if you’re spying on yourself?” You aren’t sure if Barry is musing to himself or if he wants a genuine answer.

“I don’t know if it’s creepy, but it’s still most definitely weird,” you point out. “I don’t know why I haven’t shown up yet... I came with Iris, and she’s been here for ten minutes already.” Cisco and Caitlin walk in the front doors. Cisco gives a subtle nod in your direction, noting that he has spotted you both. Something’s not right.

“Look to your ten o’clock,” Barry says. “I just walked in the door.” And there his is, Past Barry, wearing exactly the same outfit as you remember him in. Cisco greets Past Barry and after a few minutes makes his way to the other side of the room to you guys looking concerned.

“Where am I? Why didn’t I show up?”

“Iris said she invited you earlier today, but you stayed home because of a rough day. Did you have a rough day?”

“No, I had a great first day. Shit, okay, these aren’t the circumstances we anticipated, but we’re going to make it work dammit! Barry, you’re going to need to find Past Me at home, obviously, and somehow introduce yourself.”

“How could I possibly do that without coming off as a stalker?”

“Hate to break it to you Bare, but right now, you and I are stalkers. I don’t know, deliver a pizza or something. I can’t say no to pizza. Go from there and, you know, be your beautiful, charming self.”

“And what about you?”

“Me? Well, I’m going to seduce you," you say flirtatiously with a wink.

“I guess I’m a lucky guy.” Barry goes in for a kiss and Cisco covers his eyes while making a grossed-out-twelve-year-old noise.

“Ew, yeah, okay, so what do I do?”

“Cisco, you need to distract Iris. Tell her something, anything to get her to leave. We can’t have her seeing me here while the other me is supposed to be at home." You feel like a football coach instructing your team on the game plan to win the championship. "Ready? One, two, three, break!” And like that, Barry ran out the back exit (albeit nowhere near as fast as he used to run as The Flash) and Cisco played his part very well in whatever he decided to say to Iris. It was hard to decipher her reaction because she fled the scene so quickly. Past Barry leans over the bar ordering a drink. Here goes nothing. You stride over him and rest an elbow on the bar top.

“So, you come here often?”

Part 6

72 notes · View notes

zombolouge · 7 years

Note

Ah you are too kind!

(cont) Maybe it's because I'm only at the beginning and I take things reeeally slowly, but still, it'd be nice to be able to fix this. One huge question though: how do you write from a child's perspective? For example, in the story I'm writing, Link is 10 in the first few chapters. I'm having trouble with conveying his thoughts across, since they either sound too mature or too childish. I keep saying 'his mother' whenever she does appear, and after a while it gets repetitive - but I don't think I'd use her name since Link wouldn't call her that. So how to go about writing from a third person child perspective? Thank you so much for your tips!

Ah, yes! I went through this same thing when I started writing again myself. I wrote a LOT when I was younger, then stopped for about 9 years before I came back to it. (I started writing again in 2014, seriously about a month later). Then it was like picking up a rusty bike and trying to make the wheels go. There are several things I wrote that will never see the light of day because they were terrible. But that’s all part of the process! So don’t feel bad if it all feels like a disaster at first, because it gets better. In the beginning, your main concern is to just try and write as much as possible, and to finish things. Once you get that down, you can start making things better through editing and more critical thinking. ^_^

Okay, so I can certainly share what helps when I write longer fics, though this process doesn’t always work for others. When I wrote Tearing Down the Heavens, it started as a mish-mash of scenes that I had half-written that I was stringing together. I think by like chapter ten I had already gotten overwhelmed trying to do that, and I opened a word doc and just made a list of the “important plot moments”. Over time this grew into a true, blue outline.

I don’t think I could write such longform fic without the use of an outline. Some writers can, and some writers even find that an outline completely ruins their creativity, but for me it’s a necessity. Sometimes my outline is incredibly detailed, including lines of dialogue or descriptions or notes about backstory and themes. Other times it’s not more than a line or two about a scene. For instance, the first chapter of A Hundred Years in the Making has a very detailed outline, where I wrote out almost all the dialogue between the King and Vallus. I ended up changing it as I wrote the scene around it, to make it flow better, but the base was there. In contrast, my notes for the portion where Link is traveling to the castle were vague (I actually only put “Write shit about Link’s feelings while he’s on the horse”, which is not particularly helpful notes to myself, but there you have it). I also don’t tend to flesh out the outline all at once. For instance, I may know that I want a certain thing to happen, but I don’t know how I want it to play out or any other details. So I’ll make a note in the outline that says something like “Character tries to leave, gets caught by other character” or something. Then, as the earlier chapters get written, I may add more context, so I could end up with something like this (I’ll use some of the older outlines for Facing Down the Void for this example):

“Autumn wakes up in a panic, convinced something is wrong.

- Solas is trying to leave, she races through the cold night air to find him and confronts him. He is hurt, miserable to be back around her and torn about what he must do, so he is cold to her. His attitude breaks through her calm, and she starts to cry as she yells at him, demanding to know why he’s leaving again. She doesn’t understand, he doesn’t want her to, but the sound of her voice breaks his heart. He turns and makes his confession, kissing her even though he knows its the worst thing that he could do. She is stunned, and finally lets him go as she processes thing.”

That eventually turned into a pretty complex scene that I wrote very early on and edited several times before it was published.

The reason why I find outlines necessary is that I have trouble writing something if I don’t know where it’s going. I need to have at least a general idea of what I’m building to, or it takes me about 8 times longer to write a chapter. It helps me do proper foreshadowing, and it helps me understand character motivations and growth arcs better. For instance, in As Bright as the Stars, I knew that Saeyoung was going to lie to try and hurt Nicky from the get-go. I had been setting that betrayal up from the start of chapter one. If that moment had been a surprise, however, if I hadn’t planned it, then it wouldn’t have the proper groundwork laid before it. Twists and turns in the plot are what make a story gripping, BUT, they can’t come from nowhere. Your reader should look at surprises and say “I did not see that coming, but I should have”, not feel like it came completely out of left field. You should be able to point to your previous chapters and say “see, there is the proof that this could happen”. Otherwise the shock is cheap, and people tend to lose interest.

Outline will help you map out events, get foreshadowing in place (important for pretty much all types of stories, including things like slow burns), and understand the characters better. Because when you outline, you are forced to think “what would this character do in this situation”, which then makes you think about the character and think about how they react to things and how they think. Although your story is still going to throw you curve balls, and you shouldn’t be afraid to change an outline when needed. In As Bright as the Stars, I didn’t realize that Vanderwood was going to be such a huge part of it at first until I wrote her first chapter and realized “oh shit I have feelings about this character that need to be told”. I then paused writing the story and worked on my outline to expand it to include this new revelation. So things will still happen that weren’t planned, but at least you have good starting points to handle them better.

I’ll be honest, though, part of my process is pretty much nonstop consideration. If I am not actively writing, I am usually thinking about writing, or thinking about characters, or word choice, or themes. I’ve written entire scenes in my head on my morning commute and then hurriedly outlined them once I arrived at work. I’ve spent actual hours thinking about something a character did and trying to figure out WHY they did it, to understand that character. So don’t feel bad if a good chunk of your “writing time” is just sitting around and thinking about it, because you have to work those things out at some point before the words will start to come.

Flow!! Okay, so one of the best things for flow is reading it out loud. You will, in fact, feel like a moron reading your own work out loud to yourself, especially at first. But hearing the words spoken into your ears will trigger different processes in your brain than just reading them. This can often highlight points where there are problems, or where the word order doesn’t work. This goes double for actual dialogue, which should be read out loud until you feel like you have become the characters. If a scene feels weird, it’s usually because your making a character say or do something that doesn’t feel like something they should say or do, which will throw everything off.

Another thing that I find helpful for both flow in general and dialogue is to map out a scene in very specific, very bland details. (ESPECIALLY FOR ACTION OR SMUT, THIS MAKES THOSE SCENES SO MUCH EASIER). So I would open up my outline, or an empty doc, and write something like this:

“Character A (Jeffrey) opens the door.

Sees Character B (Heather) arranging matches.

Jeffrey: Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware...(pauses, curious) What are you doing?

Heather glares. “I’m arranging matches.”

Jeffrey: “Oh.” (pause) “Why?”

Heather (upset): Because it’s what Sebastian would have wanted!”

Jeffrey closes the door slowly.”

I can then look at that outline and turn it into a scene because I have enough notes to go off of, and I know what’s supposed to be happening at any given time, so it lets me focus more on the descriptions rather than the ideas. I wrote up a quick example scene based on that outline (it is rushed, so forgive me if it isn’t a masterpiece XD)

“Jeffrey placed his hand on the cold door handle, already feeling the weight of the other room bearing down on his shoulders before he had even turned the brass. The house was quiet, and the room was quiet, but he was certain that there was unhappiness beyond the threshold. Still, it was a door, and what purpose would doors have were they not meant to be opened? He twisted his palm, pulling the knob along with it, and pushed the wooden boards forward to reveal the room beyond.

He was surprised to see Heather within, standing in front of a table with one hand on her half-cocked hips. She didn’t look up as he blinked at her, taking in the silent scene with all the dignity that he could muster in such a situation. The house was silent, so he had presumed that it was empty. His error had been the source of his ominous premonitions, knowing that the room had held misery without knowing why. Heather’s presence had that effect on them all lately.

He cleared his throat, wishing that he could be a thousand miles away from this position at precisely this moment. “Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware...” his words trailed off, flat and lame in the deadened air as she shifted, moving just enough so that he could see the stack of matches on the table before her. She lifted one in her long fingers, the tip of the match the same ruby color that was smeared across her fingernails. She held it aloft, inspecting it for something, judging its character like a redheaded soldier that had been stripped and homogenized before being shipped off to war. She then took it and placed it atop a second stack of matches, piled in a tower that shuddered with the weight of the new addition. “What are you doing?”

She narrowed her eyes into a sullen glare as she looked at him, clicking her tongue before offering the obvious. “I’m arranging matches.”

“Oh.” he nodded, a compulsory action, as though this made perfect sense. He should have left it, should have mumbled some apology and retreated from the room, but his damnable sense of curiosity burned too brightly in the back of his throat to clamp down on the question before it came tumbling out. “Why?”

She rounded on him, her hands clamping into furious fists that stuck to her sides, the matches in the tower tumbling across the table in careless disarray. “Because it’s what Sebastian would have wanted!” Her voice wavered between madness and grief, and he winced at the force of it, seeing the tears that he had unleashed. It was too much, too great a burden to bear in this moment, on this day. He felt sorry for her, sorry enough to furrow his brow in a voiceless apology that would do less to disturb the fraught air than words would. He felt sorry, but not sorry enough to reach an olive branch across the divide between them. Instead he backed out of the room, shutting the door with the slow deliberation of someone who knows he could have been a better person if he had just left it open. Her cries of frustration followed him out, and he knew that he was a terrible man.”

I think I spent about ten minutes on that little scene, and that was mostly because I had the blueprint of that outline to go off of. I knew what the characters were doing, and I had notes about when it was important for them to feel a certain way, so it was easy to create a bunch of flowery prose around it (well, not EASY, but certainly easier than if I had just tried to plop it out onto the page from nothing). Now, I usually write out all my dialogue in this manner before writing the full scene, ESPECIALLY important dialogue or dialogue involving more than 2 characters. Just write it out like a script, with the name of the character followed by what they said, and that’s it. Maybe a note or two of what they did or how they said it, but only if it’s really important. What this does is let you focus on what they’re saying and if it fits their character, without getting bogged down in irrelevant descriptions or worrying if you’ve used the word “said” too many times. It also makes it easier to read out loud to yourself to check how it sounds. The dialogue should always be able to flow and sound good on its own, with the rest of the text removed. If it doesn’t, then there’s a disconnect in the way they are speaking that will interrupt the flow of the whole scene.

Okay, now on to your more specific question. Writing children!

So one important thing to remember is that children are not stupid, nor do they think in baby talk (or talk that way). They also don’t tend to think of themselves as juvenile, because in their minds they already know enough to be basically an adult. This is especially true for a 10 year old, who usually wants to be out in the world experiencing things on their own, unless they’ve experienced something in their past that would dictate otherwise. They think they know everything, and that parents are just being dumb when they restrict them or make them follow rules.

One thing about writing children is that they tend to be a bit more literal than adults. You won’t get a kid saying a lot of cutesy babytalk, but you will get them being point blank enough that it can be adorable or comical. It is also important, when writing a POV from a child’s perspective, that they will be lacking certain knowledge or ways of expressing things, but they won’t know that. So, for instance, if I were to write the scene of Link from Ocarina of time seeing Ganon taking off with Princess Zelda (just before she throws the Ocarina), I might try something like:

“He saw the horse thundering across the bridge, massive and domineering. He couldn’t quite see who was riding it, but he felt a sickening feeling in his stomach all the same. Anyone who rode a horse that mean couldn’t have been a good person.

His fear was confirmed when the rider yanked the reins of the beast, causing it to rear up above Link’s head. He felt like an ant, hapless and waiting to be crushed under the foot of something dark and nameless. The horse returned to all fours, flaring its nostrils, and Link could see that man - Ganondorf - was astride the saddle, Zelda clutched in his metal-clad arms. The Gerudo smirked, and it made the feeling in Link’s stomach coil and writhe like a snake. A furious snake that was trying to flee from the scene, trying to force the person around it to move away, but Link stayed rooted to the spot, his feet as still as tree trunks. He could have gone his whole life without seeing something so evil as Ganondorf smiling, the glint in his eyes like poe-fire. It made him feel small and insignificant, a spec of dust in a whirlpool. It made him feel sick, and if he had been able to move he might have turned and wretched into the grass beneath his boots.

Ganondorf dug his heels into the horse’s ribs, and then everything happened in a flash. The horse surged forward, straight towards where Link was standing, and he had to leap out of the way to avoid being trampled. He felt something big and heavy bump into him as he was in the air, and the breath disappeared out of his lungs with a short wheeze. He hit the ground, and he thought he heard someone yell his name as he blinked, trying to clear the daze. Everything felt fuzzy, like reality had become a vague humming sound in his ears and nothing more. The sound of hoof beats turned from thunder to drums, and then faded slowly as the horse galloped away. Link tried to breathe, unable to keep himself from trembling as he did so.

Zelda had been right. That man was a terrible man.”

So, in this little snippet, I tried to keep things more simplistic than I normally would have. I avoid phrases that are overly flowery, and get to the point a bit quicker. I also avoid saying “Link was terrified”, because a 10 year old might not have the experience to know what terror feels like. They also may not want to ADMIT they are scared, especially not in the moment when adrenaline is high. Instead, I went for describing what he feels, so that the reader gets the idea. Additionally, when he gets hit, I made it more vague. If Link were an adult, I would have changed “He felt something big and heavy bump into him as he was in the air, and the breath disappeared out of his lungs with a short wheeze. He hit the ground, and he thought he heard someone yell his name as he blinked, trying to clear the daze. Everything felt fuzzy, like reality had become a vague humming sound in his ears and nothing more.“ to “He felt a blunt object slam into his side, just below his ribs, driving the breath out out of his lungs on impact. Shock rolled through him as his dodge carried him into the ground, the princess yelling his name as the horse retreated. He was dazed from the blow, and as he floundered on the ground he tried to shake away the humming buzz that was affecting the clarity of the world around him.” The difference here is that Link would have known he was hit by something, and where, and he would have had the words and understanding to know that he was in shock from the blow, and been able to take better effort to try and restore himself.

Okay, so on to your final question, about what Link calls his mother...you’ll want to avoid using all forms of the name, because that would sound weird. If you feel like he would call her “mother”, than you should stick to that. If you feel like it’s getting repetitive, you can try changing up sentence structure to add variety, but be careful you don’t do it too much. Depending on the scene, you may not need to continue listing her, and just revert to “she”.

For example:

“Link’s mother smiled, as warm as the sun above them. “Come, sit with me.” she pat the grass beside her, and he ambled up the hill to join her. She was still smiling, and he tried not to look sullen. He must have failed, because she folded her hands in her lap, giving him a knowing look. “You’ve been bickering with your father again, haven’t you?”

“No.” he sounded like a spoiled brat even to himself, and rolled his eyes as he gave into her ability to know everything he was thinking before he had to say a word. “He’s just...he’s so...”

“Stubborn?” She quirked her eyebrow skyward, and he laughed and nodded, feeling the anger in his chest dissipate as she brushed his hair off of his brow. “He can certainly be...firm. You know that he means well, don’t you?”

So, in that, I only had to mention “mother” once, but you still knew exactly who I was talking about (I think, at least lol). There are also other ways to indicate things, but you definitely want to avoid things like switching from “mom” to “mommy” to “mother”. In this instance, “Mother” is the stand-in for her name, so you would treat it as such. You ALSO wouldn’t switch to her actual name if you’re in Link’s POV, because he wouldn’t think of her that way.

Oh boy, I rambled for waaaaay too long. Hopefully this helped??? Haha, I am very sorry that this is so terribly verbose, I got carried away.

If you have follow-up questions, feel free to let me know. And if anybody else has different questions, you can also feel free to let me know. ^_^ And of course, this is not a hard-and-fast rulebook. These are just the things that work for ME, which may not be helpful to anyone else. Everyone’s process is different, so don’t feel too frustrated if you try this stuff out and it is utterly useless XD

Thank you so much for thinking of me, and I hope that at least some of this is usable to help you get your story written!!!!

#zom gets asked #writing advice #I rambled I'm very sorry #anon friends #Anonymous

4 notes · View notes

lesbrarians · 7 years

Text

Junkrat/Roadhog:: Origins Ch. 16

This is the penultimate chapter! The final chapter should be posted sometime on Monday night. I feel that I should warn you guys about this chapter, tho -- there is a scene that, while it is consensual, cannnn be read as dubcon so proceed with caution if that's something that disturbs you (I promise it turns out fine, if that helps)!

Title: Origins

Characters: Junkrat, Roadhog

Rating: R

Summary: The origins of Junkrat and Roadhog. Junkrat finds a mysterious treasure in the nuclear wasteland of the Australian Outback and quickly finds himself a target. When a hitman is sent to kill him, he convinces the man to become his personal bodyguard in exchange for half the spoils. Their ensuing crime spree could be legendary – if they can get over the initial bad blood between them. Can also be found on AO3 if you prefer reading it there!

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen

---

For the first time since arriving at prison, Junkrat felt at ease. Beginning work on his new bombs relaxed him. Home was where he could build explosives, after all.

He twisted off one of the metal fingers on his mechanical arm to expose the screwdriver beneath it. He’d added screwdriver heads to the last joints of his internal skeleton for added functionality, and it was proving incredibly useful when he was without his usual tools. He unscrewed the back of the radio and selected the wires that he would attach to one of his D batteries before screwing it back together. He went back to grinding the flammable powder off of the match heads. He’d converted the pipe into a container by fixing a scrap of blanket around one end with a piece of elastic from the wristband of his jumpsuit.

“Po-lice!” the block’s sentry shouted from his cell, and he hissed, stuffing his supplies in an empty cereal box. He really needed a better hiding spot, but hopefully he would be out of the joint before it became a necessity.

The footsteps of the correctional officer stopped outside his cell. “Fawkes! You’ve got a visitor.”

Confused, Junkrat turned to Thatcher, then pointed at his own chest. “What, me?”

“Who the fuck else? Is there anyone else by that name in this cell that I should know about? Hands out.”

The door to his cell slid open, and Junkrat dutifully let himself be shackled and led to the visiting room. It resembled a metal box, with a sheet of glass separating inmates from the visiting party. Ava was sitting at the desk that straddled both sides of the room. Junkrat sat down on his side and picked up the phone to speak with her through the glass.

“Doc? Why ya visitin’ me -- not that I’m complainin’, but I woulda thought you’d visit Roadhog first.”

“Yeah, I asked for him, but get this, they said I’m not on his list of approved visitors! I told them they could go stuff it, but they wouldn’t budge, so here I am.”

Junkrat blinked at her. “What, do they know the both of ya were in the Australian Liberation Front?”

Ava gave a delicate shrug. “Beats me. Either they have a bone to pick with him, or they know we have a shady history together and don’t want me seeing him. So I’m here to visit my good friend Junkrat instead! Thought you might want to talk to someone on the outside after, you know, losing everything you worked for.”

“Yeah, about that--” Junkrat started, then paused as Ava’s eyes darted upward. He followed her gaze to the security camera fixated on them. Ava tapped the side of her nose with her finger. Junkrat had no idea what the gesture signified. He carried on, being mindful of his words now that he realized that they were being recorded. “What they do with all my shit anyway?”

“Evidence, probably,” Ava said. “Last I heard, there was a big storage unit in their impound lot where they keep the big guns.”

“Impound lot?” Junkrat repeated. He’d never heard the term before in the Outback, but it sounded significant.

“Yeah, where they keep all the vehicles they confiscate from people like you.”

This got Junkrat’s attention. “So what, would Roadhog’s bike be there?”

“Probably.”

“So ya can’t take it then? Even though yer practically his next of kin and all.”

Ava’s eyes twinkled. “I would if I legally could, but the police wouldn’t like that. It doesn’t work that way and is, in fact, frowned upon in this establishment.”

Junkrat grinned at her through the glass barrier. “I see,” he said knowingly. If he was reading the room right, he had the impression that she would get it back for the two of them. “So if we were to ever get outta this shithole someday, we wouldn’t be able to get it back?”

“Probably not. But you’re in here for life, remember? I don’t think Judge Knowles would have mercy on you. So you’re just gonna have to get used to life on the inside without your bike. Sorry, pal.”

“Eh, I’ll get used to it. Maybe.”

They chatted idly about their life partners, both romantic and criminal, until the CO banged on the door and announced that their visitation time was almost up.

“So, when am I gonna see you again?” Ava propped her chin on her hand and winked. “Let’s talk plans.”

Junkrat considered the amount of time he needed to finish cobbling together his varied weapons. “Two weeks, maybe? Let’s aim for the thirtieth.”

“I’ll see you then.” Ava placed her hand on the glass, and Junkrat mirrored her. It was like they were shaking hands, sharing a secret plan.

It had been a good talk, but after the stress of trying to carefully communicate plans without being explicit, Junkrat needed a drink. The closest thing he had was coffee, so when he got back to his cell, he heated up some water in the microwave and made himself a mug of instant coffee, immediately followed by another, then one more for good measure. If he could finish the canister soon, he could make good use of it.

He was practically vibrating by the time their recreational hour rolled around. He’d had coffee maybe once or twice in his life, and he hadn’t realized how wonderful it was. Even this instant mess tasted delicious to him. Maybe when he got out, he’d get some real coffee from a real place. He’d heard flat whites were top notch.

He bolted out of the cell when the doors slid open, full of jittery energy. “Roadhog!” he shouted when he caught sight of him. “My tubby friend!” He slung an arm around Roadhog’s waist and poked his tattoo. For the first time, Roadhog actually didn’t hit him as a result, a fact which delighted him. “Mate, I’m fuckin’ wired, didya know coffee was so good? Y’ve been holdin’ out on me, I coulda been havin’ coffee at those fine dining establishments we went to on the outs!”

Roadhog looked down at him. “Who gave you coffee?”

Junkrat laughed and pointed at himself. “Me! I gave me coffee!”

“Can you also take it from you?”

“Now, why would I go and do a daft thing like that? I bought it, fair and square, I should get to drink it! I mean, I had to buy it, it woulda been suss if I just got the creamer by itself. Didya know you can set coffee creamer on fire? All that powdered fat? Massively flammable!”

“Lower your voice.” Roadhog shook his head. Junkrat continued nattering away about his grandiose plans until Roadhog finally interrupted, “How was Ava?”

Junkrat forced himself to stop grinning maniacally and sober up a little. “Good, best as I could tell. She wanted to see ya but they wouldn’t let her.”

Roadhog sighed. “I figured. They probably suspect she was my partner back in the day.”

Junkrat knew the term didn’t have to be romantic -- he’d quipped that his cellie was supposed to be his life partner -- but after hearing Ava refer to her wife as her partner, the phrasing piqued his curiosity. “What kinda partner?” he asked.

Roadhog tilted his head at him. “In crime,” he clarified, stating it as if it was perfectly obvious. “Neither of us could be interested in anything more.”

“Ah.” Junkrat considered the implications of this statement and found that he liked them. It made it easier for him to reconcile the thoughts he’d been having about his bodyguard. “Anyways, we talked about, ah, ‘plans...’” He crooked his fingers into quotation marks and elbowed Roadhog’s side. “In code!” he hastened to add when Roadhog’s chin jerked up.

“Neither of you are subtle people.” Roadhog groaned. “You are incapable of acting discreetly.”

“It’s fine, really! We were careful, cross me heart.”

“Recreation hour is over,” a tinny voice rang out through the loudspeaker above them. “All inmates return to your cell for count.”

“I’ll fish ya a note about dates,” Junkrat rushed to tell Roadhog before they had to separate. “The thirtieth, I’ll write it all down!”

Junkrat returned to his cell and stood next to Thatcher while the CO made his rounds to ensure everyone was accounted for.

The cell doors closed. The CO who did the count left the block. The moment the thick metal door clicked shut behind the officer, Thatcher jumped on Junkrat.

Warning bells flared in Junkrat’s mind, and he automatically shouted, “Roadho--” before Thatcher clapped a hand over his mouth and wrestled him to the ground.

“Junkrat?” Roadhog sounded concerned, and there was an ominous rattle of a cell door.

“Tell him you’re fine, or I will kill you right here, right now,” Thatcher hissed in Junkrat’s ear. The tip of a sharp piece of metal dug into his side, reinforcing the threat.

Junkrat swallowed. “S’nothin’,” he called out, forcing his voice to sound casual. “False alarm.”

Thatcher derisively patted his cheek, but it was more of a slap. “Good boy. Now… where the fuck is it?” he snarled, grabbing a fistful of Junkrat’s hair and shoving his face into the floor.

“Wh-- where’s what?” Junkrat gasped. For once, he wasn’t being flippant, the fact that he had stolen something valuable from his cellmate had already left his mind.

Thatcher yanked his head up and cracked it against the concrete floor, and he saw stars. “Don’t play dumb with me, you piece of shit -- the cigarettes! You’re the only one who knew where they were!”

“Oh-- oh shit, those things. Listen, listen mate, I got a good explanation for that.” Thatcher pulled his head up off the ground, and Junkrat cowered with a wince and covered his head in anticipation.

“Explain.”

Junkrat’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Okay, so I really needed some things from the workshop that I can’t get meself, for obvious reasons, so I had to pay for it. And I don’t have nothin’ worth those goods, but you did, and it was just sittin’ there unused, so...” Okay, so maybe it wasn’t a good explanation after all.

Thatcher’s grip on his hair tightened. “That’s it? That’s your good explanation?”

“I, uh, heh… retract that statement.”

Thatcher exhaled, nostrils flaring. “So here’s the way I see it,” he said, his level voice brimming with barely contained rage. “There’s two options. Either I kill you, or you get me my cigarettes back and I don’t pound you into a bloody pulp. Decisions, decisions. On the one hand, I get the satisfaction of snuffing out your worthless little thief life. On the other, I get my goddamn ciggies back.”

“Can I place a vote for the latter?” Junkrat tentatively suggested.

Thatcher pushed off of him with a violent shove. “One day,” he said ominously. “Get them back to me by tomorrow night, or you’re dead meat, Rat.”

Junkrat nodded furiously. “One day,” he echoed.

A note whipped under the door to their cell, attached to Roadhog’s fishing line. It presumably was Roadhog confirming that Junkrat was, in fact, fine, but he didn’t get a chance to read it and find out. Thatcher snapped it up before he could get to it and stuffed it in his mouth.

Junkrat watched as Thatcher chewed and swallowed, never taking his eyes off of him. He shivered. He’d eaten a lot of questionable things in his life, but he’d yet to taste paper.

He made a mental note never to fuck with Thatcher or his belongings again.

---

“Are you okay?” was the first thing Roadhog said the next day during their social hour.

“Yeah, yeah, m’fine,” Junkrat muttered, brushing away the concern. His eyes flitted around the room in search of Belmont; he only had one hour to retrieve the stolen cigarettes, and he couldn’t waste it talking to Roadhog, as much as he would’ve liked to. “Just a lil’ spat between cellies, nothin’ happened.”

Roadhog looked him up and down. “Well, you don’t look hurt,” he finally said.

“Toldya I was fine.” Junkrat finally spotted Belmont slipping into the shower area. “Listen, I’ll be back in a jiff, gotta go talk to this bloke for a sec.”

Junkrat made a beeline for the showers. Belmont was in the back of the room, running the shower at full blast and filling the room with steam that made sweat trickle down the back of Junkrat’s neck. The crinkled black pack was in his hand, and he tapped out one of the cigarettes.

Junkrat took a deep breath and sidled up to Belmont. "Hey, Belmont... y'know those durries I gave ya?” He nodded at the pack. “Y'haven't smoked 'em all yet, have ya?"

Belmont looked up at him. "Why you asking?"

Junkrat grimaced. "I'm gonna be needin' 'em back." He anxiously twisted the fabric of his jumpsuit while Belmont stared at him for several long, suspicious moments.

"A deal's a deal," he said. "I don't have any use for those pipes I gave you, so I'm not trading back, if that's what you're on about."

"Well, good, 'cause I wasn't plannin' on givin' back the pipes either."

Belmont narrowed his eyes at him. "Let me get this straight. You want the cigs back. But you're not willing to give me anything in exchange, not even a useless piece of pipe? Why the fuck should I make that deal?"

It was a good point. "Come on, I'll give ya somethin' if ya swap back, honest."

Belmont folded his arms across his chest. "What's on the table?"

Junkrat struggled to think of something that he was willing to part with that he wasn't planning on using as a weapon. "I've got some extra wires, I can rig ya up a lighter?"

The look Belmont gave him was positively contemptuous. "What fuckin' good is a lighter if I have no cigs to light up?"

Junkrat bit his lip. "Fair point. Whaddya want, then? Gimme some suggestions."

A slow smile spread across Belmont's face, and that should have been Junkrat's clue to back out before things got ugly. "I can think of one way you can pay me back."

"Yeah, sure, anything!" Junkrat said, relieved.

Belmont began unbuttoning his jumpsuit.

Oh, no.

“On your knees, Fawkes.”

“Junkrat.” He didn't know what it said about him that his first objection was to not being called the proper name, but his second objection was hot on its heels. “Wait, ya don't mean--”

“I mean, you talk too much, and I'm kindly requesting you put that big mouth to better use.”

Junkrat wet his lips, his brain rapidly cycling through his options. No matter how he swung it, it looked like it came down to the same thing: either give head or get his head bashed in by his cellmate. “Fine,” he finally agreed. “But I won’t be happy about it.”

“I don’t care whether you’re happy about it, I just care about you doing it. Like I said: on your knees.”

Junkrat grumbled, but he obeyed and knelt down in front of Belmont. He fumbled uncertainly with the jumpsuit before tentatively taking his head between his lips. He closed his eyes as he bobbed up and down. Maybe it would be better if he could imagine it was somebody else.

Junkrat held out his palm to request payment and was grateful when he felt the cigarette pack pressed into his hand. He was less pleased when Belmont gripped the back of his head and forced him down, keeping him from pulling away now that he had gotten what he wanted. Caught off guard, Junkrat gagged a little.

He was trying to relax when Belmont came, shooting down his throat, and all he could think was Thank god, because it meant he could stop degrading himself.

All at once, Junkrat was shoved aside, and Belmont was pinned against the shower wall by one massive hand.

“What did I say?” Roadhog growled, and the abject anger in his voice frightened even Junkrat -- the only other time that he’d heard such rage from Roadhog was in the bottle shop, when he’d made the offhand comment about “fire never hurting anyone.”

“He-- he’s yours, I know! But he agreed!” Belmont gasped, trying to cover himself back up, as if he was afraid Roadhog would cut off some of the more sensitive parts of his anatomy. “He said yes, I didn’t make him to do anything!”

Roadhog didn’t let go. He simply turned his head to look at Junkrat, whose stomach plummeted. From his position on the floor, Roadhog looked bigger and scarier than ever, but it wasn’t his imposing figure that filled Junkrat with fear, but the knowledge that Roadhog thought he wanted this. Of all the compromising positions for Roadhog to catch him in, having a near-stranger’s cock down his throat was the worst.

"...Yes," he admitted, voice unnaturally small and quiet. He didn't know why he had told the truth, that he had consented, when he could have lied to save face in front of Roadhog and get Belmont permanently out of the picture. There was just something about Roadhog that made him want to be honest for once in his life, even when it meant confessing to whatever awful thing he had done.

Roadhog released Belmont and started walking away. Seized by panic, Junkrat scrambled to his feet and chased after him, cigarettes in hand. "Wait, Roadhog! I didn't-- I mean, I did say yes, but I didn't want it, promise--"

"I don't care what you do with other people," Roadhog said levelly. "It's none of my business. Just tell me next time before I try to kill someone for taking advantage of you."

"There won't be a next time! Roadhog, it was just -- it was a business thing, see--"

The familiar, disembodied voice crackled over the loudspeaker. "Recreation hour is over. All inmates return to your cells for count."

Junkrat didn't budge. He touched Roadhog's arm. "Mate, ya gotta believe me, I didn't go askin' for this--"

"Get back to your cell before the CO catches you." Roadhog pulled his arm away from him and headed back to Cell 23. Junkrat watched him go, helpless and despondent and filled with self-loathing like he'd never felt before.

The door that separated their unit from the main prison hallway beeped. Jolted back into reality, he hurried back to his cell before two COs stepped through. Junkrat tossed the cigarettes at Thatcher, who stuffed them beneath his mattress. They stood at attention, backs rigid, as the correctional officer walked past each cell and counted everyone, his partner at the ready in case any prisoners had any funny ideas about attacking them.

“All clear!” The CO shouted, and the doors to the cells slid shut with a resounding clang.

The minute the two officers left, Junkrat dove for his pencil and paper.

Thatcher dug the cigarettes out from under his mattress and scooped out his brick hidey hole. “Good. Don’t ever even think about stealing from me again, understood?”

"Yeah, 'course," Junkrat muttered, distracted. He tapped the pencil against the floor as he tried to figure out how to word his letter to Roadhog. He was acutely distressed; he needed Roadhog to know that he had no feelings, sexual or otherwise, for Belmont, and that he wasn't the kind of person who would suck dick for no reason.

"Roadhog," he wrote. "Mate. Listen, here's the deal. I've been getting some weapon parts, ya know how it is. And I’m making some bombs, see? But I needed some pipes. Don’t got nothing worth trading, so I did a stupid thing and traded Thatcher’s ciggies to Belmont. He didn't take kindly to that, so I had to get em back from Belmont. Which meant sucking his dick. I swear, I only did it cuz I don't want Thatcher to kill me. The only d--" He scribbled out that phrase before it got too far, because wow, that was certainly a thought he was experiencing, that the only dick he'd want to suck would be Roadhog's. He rubbed his face with his hands. What was happening to him?

"It don't mean nothing, honest. I'm not the kinda bloke what goes around blowing people all the time. I mean, you know me. He ain't me type, he's too small. I told ya I like em big, right? Pretty sure I did, but me memory ain't the best." He gnawed on the end of his pencil, worried about how best to proceed. "Thanks for sticking up for me. Ya always got my back. Don't be mad at me, yeah?" He didn't know if that last bit sounded desperate or not, but frankly, he was a little desperate. He couldn't handle the thought of Roadhog judging him.

"P.S." he added, "Destroy this letter. Flush it or eat it or something. That's a thing hogs do, right?" He gave a small, guilty giggle. He was trying to bring some levity to the mood, but it was a serious request, there was far too much incriminating information in his note.

He looked over the letter. It was probably riddled with spelling errors, as the only words he was 100% sure he knew how to spell correctly were the ones he learned from assembly manuals, which were how he taught himself how to read in the first place. Still, Roadhog was sure to get the gist of it. He tied the note to his fishing line and cast it over to Roadhog's cell. He couldn't feel anything for a long moment, and he tried waggling the string in case Roadhog hadn't noticed it. He was about ready to reel it back in, crestfallen, when he finally felt the note being detached. He waited anxiously for Roadhog to read it and, with any luck, reply. When he felt a tug on his string, he pulled it back through the narrow space of his cell door.

"You're an idiot,” Junkrat read. “That’s it?” he called out. He'd come to realise that Roadhog calling him an idiot was more often than not a term of endearment. Once upon a time, it had been a proper insult, but as of late, there was more affection to malice in his voice every time he called Junkrat an idiot. Still, it didn’t sufficiently answer whether Roadhog was angry over the whole incident.

“Turn the paper over,” Roadhog replied from two cells down.

Junkrat flipped the page over. “But I'm not mad." He exhaled in relief. He was glad he hadn't irreparably fucked things up with Roadhog, and that he -- hopefully -- wasn't being judged for going along with Belmont's terms of payment. There was still the pressing matter of the fact that he had nearly expressed a desire to blow Roadhog, but that was a thought that he would deal with some other time, because that was a tangle of emotions that he was not prepared to sort through.

#junkrat #roadhog #roadrat #overwatch #nanowrimo 2016 #origins #my fanfiction

7 notes · View notes