#writing fanfic

[astronomoney]

bookends, bestfriends, deadends

Pairing + WC: Jason Grace x reader, 1.6k Warnings: slow burn, once again and as always with my love Jason this is NOT canon-compliant, Jason may be a tiny bit ooc but I tired Summary: In the months between saving Hera and setting sail for New Rome, Jason finds himself making a friend Authors note: ok, y’all, here’s the deal; I took a nap and woke up with an idea, so I started writing; then I realized I needed set up, so I wrote this. Now I have a full fic that doesn’t include my original idea, so I will have to make pt: 2, but at least it’s already almost all the way written

Camp was far too busy this year; even for the off-season, it felt like there were campers everywhere. With all the bustle, it was hard to find a moment of peace. That’s why you’d taken to the woods that day. Following the path you’d walked a million times to a little outcrop of ruins not far from the beach, deep enough to not be disturbed. You’d taken a thick blanket and draped it over a vaguely couch-shaped block of stone ages ago to use as a reading nook. It was calm and peaceful and empty, usually.

This time, when you got close enough to see your little piece of peace, there was already someone there. A blonde boy with a scar on his lip sitting on your faux couch and squinting at the book in his hand. Jason Grace. Of course, you knew who he was, everyone knew of him and Piper and Leo, all working to get ready for the next great prophecy. 

Sneaking up on a former Roman soldier didn’t seem like the best plan, so you’d spoken out. “Guess this place isn’t so secret after all,” geez, what an opener.

Jason looked up with a start and got to his feet before you could say anything else. “Hi, hey, sorry, is this your spot? I wasn’t sure who’s it was, so I stayed to read some. I can go.” 

“Oh no, please, you don’t have to,” you were quick to put up your hands and stop him from leaving. You two hadn’t necessarily talked before, but he had always seemed nice at meals and campfires, if not a little awkward. “You were here first. I can leave if you want to be alone.”

Jason paused, it seemed he was actually taking you in now, noticing the book in your hand, Don Quixote as opposed to the copy of War and Peace he held. “I don’t mind company,” he offered you a small nervous smile, it was so pure you had to just stare at it for a second before responding. 

“Neither would I,” you finally said, returning the smile. You walked over and sat down tucking your legs under you and leaving plenty of room for Jason to sit on the other side. 

He joined and read next to you for what felt like both hours and minutes. Two days later, you had beaten him there, so when he arrived, you smiled and scooted to the left, giving him room again on your right. Over the next month, you crossed paths at the ruins what must have been a dozen times. There was never much conversation; it was more of a silent agreement to enjoy each other’s company, and each day, the distance between your shoulders seemed to get ever so slightly smaller. 

After a while, you got comfortable being directly next to him. Your shoulders would brush each time Jason moved to turn the page, and you couldn't help but notice how warm and strong he was. Silent meetings became small discussions about your current read, which turned into talks about other books you’d recommend to each other, which eventually morphed into a solid friendship. You would invite him to eat with your cabin since he had no one else at his. He would update you on the progress of the ship and the quest, you even got to know the other campers involved. 

Over the next few months, your lives became completely intertwined. You spent most of your day with each other. You watched him train for the quest, pushing his limits in sparring sessions until he was too exhausted to do much of anything. You would drag him out to your spot in the woods on days when he’d gotten so focused he had to be forced to take a break. You’d even tried to help him get some memories back. He would eat with you, read with you, help you with whatever chores you had around camp, anything to spend more time with together. 

He was the first person you turned to when you had something to say. He was the only one who remembered which campfire songs were your favorites or which books you’d reread depending on your mood. You cared about him so deeply, and you weren’t even sure how you’d come to feel so much in so little time. You truly hadn’t realized how much you needed him around you until you thought about just how soon he’d be leaving.

Of course, he would go back to Camp Jupiter; you knew that. This was never meant to be permanent; you were sure he missed his old life, his old friends, his old home. But part of you, somewhere in the deepest, most selfish part of your heart, wanted him to stay. You wanted him to forget about Rome, and Jupiter, and the quest. You wanted him to stay here with the strawberry fields and the books and the beach and with you. You wanted him to forget his sense of duty to a place that never cared and stay with someone who would give their whole heart away just to see him be happy for a moment longer. It was a feeling that filled you with guilt every time it crossed your mind.

It had occupied your thoughts nearly the entire day when Jason came to your cabin that evening. He knocked on the door until one of your siblings answered, and they called you over, muttering something about stupid and lovesick and so annoying that you hadn’t totally caught. 

You stepped onto the porch and closed the cabin door, leaving Jason and you alone in the dim light of the setting son. He was handsome as ever, a fact that you had resolved not to dwell on; plenty of people found their closest friends to be stunningly beautiful, it wasn’t a big deal. 

In fact, it was totally normal for someone to notice exactly when their best friend had skipped their usual haircut and started letting the military style grow or how their eyes exploded with color when the sun hit them just right. And, of course, there was no deeper reason for why you would pick up on every scrape or bruise he’d gotten from training. You were just hyper-observant, never mind that it only applied to one person.

As you took him in, scanning for the weariness you so often saw and he so often dismissed, you noticed more than anything how nervous he was. “What’s up?”

“Hey, um, I just wanted to, well.” He took a deep breath and let his words spill out a mile a minute. He told you that the Argo II would be ready to fly any day now. He told you how they were going to find Percy and how the first place they were going to check was New Rome. He brought up his old life, a life he wanted to remember, a life he thought he would remember when he got back there. These were all things you’d know and that filled you with dread, but you let him talk without interrupting. His rambling soon turned to a topic you haven’t expected, it turned to you. He told you how important you were to him, how much you’d helped him adjust to life at camp, and how much he appreciated everything you’d done for him. 

As he went on and on, you felt your heart begin to pound. The way he was talking lit a spark inside your gut, and the borderline desperation in his voice made you dare to hope. The emotion in his eyes made you think maybe, just maybe, he felt the same kind of connection that you felt with him. You could tell it was going somewhere important, somewhere that made him nervous and hopefully at the exact same time.

“I guess I just realized while we were planning in the bunker,” he began to close in on his point. “How important you are to me, and I can’t imagine what it’d be like without you. You can say no of course, it’s a lot to ask of anyone but,” he took another breath. “Do you want to come with me to New Rome?”

That wasn’t exactly what you were expecting. The funny feeling in your gut shifted and morphed, flashing through disappointment for a brief moment. As Jason waited for an answer, you had to process exactly what he’d asked. Going back to New Rome meant he was going back to his old life, a fact you were all too aware of, but now, maybe you didn’t have to lose him to it. He still wanted you by his side. He still wanted you to be a part of his life.

“Yes,” you finally replied. “Yes, of course, I’ll go,” you watch the relief wash over him, his nerves visibly dispersing as one of the widest smiles you’d ever seen etched itself across his face. 

In the next moment, he wrapped his arms around you. It was a bone-crushing hug that squeezed the air from your lungs, and you wrapped your own arms around him as tightly as you could. “You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he whispered to you as you tried to stop your heart from exploding. This wasn’t how you wanted it, but at least for now, this would be enough.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

There's pt1 :) part two is almost done already because I wrote most of it before I even started all this, but what I can say, the keyboard got away from me. let me know if any of y'all want to be tagged in pt2 or in my general Jason taglist.

[brucewaynehater101]

"Very good writing, as always."

Fuck. I'm literally crying. Someone wrote that on one of my fics, and I am actually crying.

[cobaltaugustao3]

My constant struggle when writing PWP

[heywriters]

pls write oc x canon character fiction I don't understand how that's cringe or why cringe is even a word we've affixed to fanfic in the first place

also sometimes the canon character needs a perfect partner written for them bc canon refuses to so yes write away

[skyrim-forever]

idk if this has been done but

[iridescentmemoria]

[winksasleeplesseye]

writing, in theory: fun

writing, in practice: [unintelligible noises] [sobs] [maniacal laughter] [screams]

[athena-theunicorn]

Fanfic authors love comments! We don't care how long it is! We don't care if its just nonsense! We don't care if its an in depth review or a single word! We love engagement! We love fanarts! We love that our work inspires you! We love to see what you create through our works! We love you recommending our stuff! We love kudos! We love votes! We love bookmarks! We love subs! We love you, and I don't think you know how much you truly mean to us! We would move mountains for you!

[deancaskiss]

to all the fic writers out there- whether you get 5 notes or 500 notes, 1 kudo or 1k kudos, no comments or 20 comments- please know how appreciated and amazing you are! fandoms are forever grateful for the continued stories and adventures, and none of that would be possible without you. thank you fic writers, we love you!

[atlas-affogato]

Me forcing characters to communicate and talk about their issues

[azrielgreen]

I think a lot of what makes fanfiction so magical is writers taking the time to explore tiny elements that were imagined into existence in the source material and then abandoned. It's the deep dive into that t-shirt, the forgotten gift, the nickname, the spare key, the anger they swallowed down, the trauma they supressed, the love they denied, the story that wasn't mainstream enough to make it. It's the little things getting their moment to shine and I fucking love that and I will fight for it always.

[occasional-musings]

After voting, do you mind reblogging so the sample size could increase as well? Thank you so much.

[missviviii]

a/n: shsusbsihsw i can’t— this idea has been plaguing my mind 😭

.

“A Duel For Your Hand.”

warning(s): swearing

summary: mizu knew you ever since she was a child. you two were friends, and she grew feelings for you. one day, you had to move. until one day, you saw her again, and complained to her about how your father was marrying you off to some noble.

mizu x fem!childhood crush!reader

——————————————————————————

Long ago, when you were just a young lady, you befriended a child just your age. An outcast, but you still talked to her. Your father was a swordsman, and one that has received a blade from Master Eiji. Your father respected Eiji, often times still visiting the old man for memories and to train with him.

You were never really close to your father, but you were close to Eiji. Often times, when your father was away for business, you’d be staying with Eiji and helping alongside him here and there.

One day, you ran all the way to Master Eiji’s place to show him something cool that your father had given you. You opened the door, only to find another child around your age, a little bit shorter, holding large iron tongs while Eiji was doing his thing.

“Master Eiji, guess what my papa got me!—“ You looked over at the other child, who was staring at you very closely and almost surprised. What’s a pretty, young lady like you doing here? You were dressed nice and seemed to be far too delicate to be around sharp blades.

Eiji held up his finger, then motioned for the child to hand him the tongs. “I see you have ran all the way from your home to show me…let me guess, another hair pin?” You eagerly nodded, running over to his side and squealing about the gift your father had given you after he had returned home from whatever business he had.

“So..who are you?” You curiously asked as you turned around to face the child, who was still looking at you in awe. You noticed her blue eyes, which seemed to be so clear and mesmerizing. They were like the color of the water—so blue and pretty.. Noticing that she was staring, she cleared her throat.

“M-Mizu. Uh, I’m just staying here..” Mizu said as she scratched the back of her neck. Oh god, was she falling for you already? Well, why wouldn’t anyone—you’re so pretty and you look like an angel in her eyes.

Days turned into months. Then months turned into years. Each time that you could go down to Master Eiji’s place, you’d always be a ball of sunshine with something to talk about. Whether if it’s some hair pin your father gave to you, or a new skill you learned, you’d always talk about it to Mizu. That was until you had to move away.

Here you are, mumbling and grumbling in the cold weather while stomping your feet in the snow. Now you were a grown woman, and one that was forced to learn all the arts of being a ‘perfect wife’. You threw the charms in your hair and the hairpins to the ground, frustrated that your father had set you up with a dumb, old nobleman. You had to excuse yourself from the room and immediately ran outside to attempt to calm yourself.

“Damn, angry much?” A voice spoke out from behind you. You turned around, your first instinct was to throw one of your hairpins at the person. But they caught it with two fingers, just inches away from their eyes behind those tinted glasses. The person smirked, pulling down the tinted glasses to reveal their blue eyes. “My god, is this the treatment I get when I finally find you again?”

That voice. It was Mizu! Absolutely delighted, you immediately gasped and ran over to her, immediately tackling her into the snow while hugging her tightly. She chuckled, hand on your back while you wrapped your arms around her waist while wailing. “I missed you so much! Oh my god, you can’t believe the bullshit my father is putting me through!” Mizu only smiled, sitting up against a tree while you sat in front of her, complaining and wailing about how your father’s trying to marry you off to some man! That part made her a tad bit pissed off. A beautiful woman like yourself being married off to someone certainly not worth your time? Fuck no. Is she going to duel this guy to perhaps steal you away instead? Yep.

“Seems like you want out of this, right?” She said after you finally stopped complaining, now just curled up beside her and leaning against her arm. You nodded immediately. You now just noticed she has grown. You used to be taller, but now she’s the taller one! And my god are her hands—wait, are you growing feelings again? “I want to see this man. I’m going to kill him, you’re not marrying some snobby asshole today.”

Much to your annoyance, Mizu had fought her way through your guards and marched on into the estate with ease. You followed after her, trying to get the guards to stand down but they won’t and Mizu ends up knocking a few of them off. More mess for the cleaners to deal with. Until she kicks down the door to the room your father and that suitor was in. “My god, this is the guy? You couldn’t even find a suitable man for your daughter?” Mizu groaned, rubbing her temples in annoyance before she pointed her blade at the guy. “I want to duel you. For her hand, of course. Don’t worry, your loss will be swift and it won’t hurt all that much considering how you have no real talent.”

“You? Some beggar boy against me? Princess, do you have any idea how stupid you are?!” The man yelled, standing up and kicking over the table. Your father glared at you, also yelling at you how unladylike it is so choose white trash over a real man.

Ah, that ticked Mizu off, and you already had a feeling this guy was about to get his ass whooped.

Nothing better than to sit on a rock in your backyard, watching in amusement how your drunk, clearly reeking of alcohol and a snobbish piece of trash of a suitor was holding a sword against Mizu. Mizu stood there, circling the man carefully while her blade was pointed right at him, waiting for him to strike.

One, two, three You counted down, and Mizu strikes just as you hit three. You watched very intently, leaning forward as Mizu absolutely decimated that poor man. “Beat his ass!” You loudly yelled to cheer on Mizu, in which you received a slap on the back of your head by your father, who wasn’t at all happy. Mizu glanced over at you and smirked, determined to win your hand in marriage.

“Got you,” Mizu casually said as she swung her leg out and tripped the man, making him fall face first into the snow while the tip of her blade rests right beside his head. He groaned in pain as his body collided into the snow and grunted, yelling about how Mizu was no man, but a monster from hell.

“You did it! I mean, of course you did!” You loudly shouted as you ran over to her side, pulling her into a big hug while she wrapped one arm around your waist. You looked up at her, finding a small smile on her lips before she kissed your forehead.

“You’re mine now, Princess.”

——————————————————————————

a/n: sishwjsibesjhsbs

[thefirstpotatoe]

I have a theory So i keep seeing fanfiction writers say people commenting on their works gives them such a dopamine rush that it spurs them to keep writing.

By that logic, if i were to comment on a fanfic that hasn’t been updated in over a decade, could i commit a feat of real life necromancy and revive a fic back from the dead or am i just delirious on copium?

[bellaxisworld]

february 18, @jegulus-microfic prompt: pet. word count: 764

Regulus wants the record to show that he was trying his damn hardest to focus, he really was, but James Potter simply made it impossible. Regulus did not possibly have it in his faculties to focus on whatever passage they were going over when James leaned up against the stone wall with such a classy look about him, pressed shirt and clean lines and polished shoes. He looked competent, and edible, and Regulus was just admiring instead of paying attention. His brown curls had a golden highlight in them and they were messy but styled, swooping across his forehead and Regulus wanted to touch, touch, touch—

“Can I touch your hair?” slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it and he wanted to disappear. Regulus thought he might decompose at a rapid rate and crumble away into dust at this very moment, going, going, gone. He was a goner. 

James had been flirting with Regulus for a couple weeks during their study sessions, and Regulus was losing his patience. 

“My hair?” James looked up, amused. His eyebrows were lifted and he had a crooked and lovely smile on his lips. He leaned the slightest fraction towards Regulus, and Regulus felt his heart rate skyrocket. 

“Mhmm,” Regulus hummed, feeling dumb with the eager want that coursed through him from James’ proximity. James was close, so close Regulus could smell him, and he was weak. 

James smiled fully, dropping the book onto a chair and getting closer, hand set against the stone beside Regulus’ head. James had half-caged Regulus in, and he towered over him. Regulus was barely breathing. 

“You want to pet me?” James whispered. 

Regulus blushed furiously and spluttered, “Your—your hair—”

James shrugged. “Same thing. You want to pet my hair?” 

His eyes were big and brown and welcoming as he looked down at Regulus. Regulus found himself nodding despite himself. 

“Go ahead, sweetheart. You can pet my hair,” James said, sweet words dripping like honey all over Regulus. 

Regulus tentatively reached up to drag his fingers through James’ hair, and he was slightly awed, feeling the soft locks on his fingertips. He pushed further and scratched lightly at James’ scalp, and James let his eyes fall shut, leaning into the feeling. Regulus lifted his other hand to his hair and pulled lightly, and James opened his eyes, watching Regulus closely. 

“James,” Regulus breathed. Their breaths mingled in the space between, faces close. 

“Regulus,” James murmured, and the sound of his name on James’ lips sent a shock through him.

"Kiss me, kiss me please—” James pulled him in by his waist and caught him in a fierce kiss, mouths claiming and desperate. He felt like he was being devoured and eaten and torn apart by James Potter, and he was putty in his hands. He let James lead and take and give, and he ate up every bit of James that he was granted. James lightly pushed him up against the wall and he made a noise of surprise into his mouth that James swallowed up, mouth taking and taking and taking. 

James broke off from his lips to press kisses to his cheek, across his jaw, down his neck. Regulus was seeing stars, loose and relaxed in James’ arms, never feeling more free than when James was in control. 

“Reg, fuck—you’re so pretty, love, I’ve wanted to kiss your pretty face for weeks,” James mumbled as he trailed kisses down his neck. 

Regulus was smiling up at the ceiling, documenting every moment of heaven he was experiencing. Kissing like this was a form of worship and he was at the disposal of a sacred man. 

“I’ve wanted you, James—god—the whole time,” he admitted, hands scrabbling to feel every part of James he could reach. 

James chuckled. “I know, love. You blush real pretty when I catch you looking.”

Regulus made an embarrassed noise that broke off into a moan when James returned to his lips, holding him and pressing close. 

They kissed and kissed and kissed, and Regulus realized he could never grow tired of this between them. He would bow and worship and kiss James for an eternity. 

They broke apart for breath, and Regulus said, “maybe we should find other study partners if all we’re going to do is kiss.” 

James smiled and pecked his cheek. “But that’s the best part of studying.” 

James wasn’t wrong. Regulus nodded, he couldn’t fight that logic, and pulled James back in for more.

They did eventually find other study partners, but they didn’t stop finding new and more ways to kiss. 

part of a collection of microfics on ao3(18/29): february, i'm yours

[iridescentmemoria]