#For once in my life I am allowing myself to work on two multi-chaps at once

[kcrabb88]

Blood Makes Noise

A QuinObi AIDS Crisis AU

Chapter 1: Dreaming Is Still How The Strong Survive

Summary: As the AIDS crisis sweeps across New York City in the late 1980s, professor, activist, and writer Obi-Wan Jinn-Kenobi finds himself with a devastating diagnosis. As he tries to make sense of things in the aftermath, he gravitates toward the friend who has been at the center of his life since childhood: Quinlan Vos. Through the tumble of letting themselves be in love, Quin's music career, and meeting a young boy who will change their lives forever, they try to keep Obi-Wan alive. Obi-Wan fights for the rights of his community and finds himself in the sights of a powerful man who is determined to ruin him. In the end, Obi-Wan must try to survive the race between the virus in his veins and the slow slog of medical discovery. With his family and a little luck on his side, he might just be one of the precious few to make it.

Positive.

HIV … positive.

“Honey?” the nurse prods as she puts one hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. She’s not scared to touch him or breathe his air.

“Yes.” Obi-Wan swallows, and the test results crumple further in his clenched and shaking fist. “I’d like to call my best friend. Can I … could I use your phone?”

He runs his thumb over the ACT UP button on his denim jacket while he waits for her to cart the phone in so he can call in private. It was one year ago today, exactly one year, when he heard Larry Kramer’s speech at the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Community Services Center.

When he heard him say AIDS was allowed to happen. It is a plague that need not have happened.

Quin was there too.

Quin.

[clawbehavior]

Hi and happy new year 🌺🌺🌺

For the wip game:

I'm really intrigued to know more about these : 3,8 and 13 (sorry for being greedy 😅)

Please

happy new year anon!

not only do i love that you asked about more than one WIP (i am greedy with you), i loooove these choices because i just updated the work that is #3, so i'm knee deep in it emotionally. it's 'everything everywhere all at once', my money lender au! i have 5-10 drafts going at any time for this story because writing a new chapter helps me simplify the plot. then i have to write that down and cross reference against the clues i already published.

eeaao is very dear to my heart because it was my second foray into fanfic writing after more than a decade and my first multi chapter work. i get a unique thrill from reader engagement with it. finishing it is going to be a life accomplishment for me because of the amount of time i've spent on it (a year) and the very real plans i made in september to discontinue it. we're all good now though, with things finally falling into place for the remaining 1.5 chaps.

i'm posting a snippet from y's take on things which is his version of eeao, made unique by the context he brings to their interactions. i love this scene so much that i actually use it as a treat, telling myself i can publish it only if i finish the main work lmao. so i'm THRILLED you asked about it anon, thank you 🥰🥰

i will reply to the other WIPs in your asks shortly but for now, enjoy the snippet under the break.

after the breakup, yohan has wet dreams like never before. he dreams of gaon. of laying him on the bed with reverant hands and tying him to it so he can't leave. of ravishing him while gaon moans and cries and begs for more. of releasing gaon at the end, only for him to climb into yohan's lap greedy for kisses and with whispered promises that he'll never leave, that he'll stay by yohan's side no matter what. because he loves yohan.

the dreams are incomprehensible without a structured timeline or form. he cooks for gaon and feeds him with his hands in some. he binds gaon's wrists together under the younger man's besotted gaze in another. they drive down an endless road at night, gaon curled into the passenger seat, his forever companion. 

only once does yohan dream something so terrible that he does something unbelievably cruel in real life to offset the feeling and leads a man to believe his family is burning alive in their home to prove a point. and the thing he dreams of is raising a family with gaon. 

he wakes up thrashing, in sweat stippled sheets twisted around his waist and legs. stumbles out of bed and into clothes and away from a home saturated with gaon's presence. for two whole weeks after that, he avoids his house. isaac picks up on this strange energy within the first week, becomes downright meddlesome by the third. yohan rebuffs his well-intentioned efforts and throws himself into his work, into the hunt, the remaining stronghold of his life because it's where gaon cannot be found. 

or so he thinks. he's just wrapped up a successful negotiation that gives him significant editorial oversight over a prominent but heavily indebted news company, and is leaving the VIP section of the club when he sees him. gaon's on the lower floor, sound and strobing lights separating him from yohan. he's sitting on a bar stool, talking to another man. being propositioned, it's obvious. the man has his hands jammed in his pockets but has leaned close, eagerly making a point and staring at gaon with a desire yohan knows well. 

how could he not? gaon looks lovely, even though he's tied up in a suit while everyone around him is in clubbing clothes. he's swirling his drink one handedly and listening with his head cocked to the side, inviting but not reciprocating. 

from his vantage point on the upper floor, yohan catalogues all this in the brief look he allows himself. then he walks straight out of the bar and to his waiting car. he'd let gaon so could live his life. without yohan. ergo, with someone else. 

yohan's many things, but what he's not is unselfaware. so he doesn't bother berating himself in the time it takes to switch his attire for a different kind of hunting outfit, black sweats and a hoodie. 

gaon's place looks the same, yohan notes from where he's hidden by the shadows across the street. it's also dark. 

which doesn't mean anything, he tells himself with a faint tinge of desperation. gaon could've gone bar hopping. but yohan remembers the closed line of his body even as let the man come too close, how gaon's wrists were concealed by two layers when he bared his skin willingly for yohan. 

maybe yohan wasn't as self aware as he told himself.

this line of thought is immediately blown apart when gaon rounds the bend with his friend, cheeks flushed by alcohol and the cold. yohan crushes his cigarette under his sneaker and stares hungrily. gaon catches yoon soohyun when she stumbles -- a show, yohan thinks meanly, given how sturdy her boots are -- and pulls her into an affectionate one-armed hug, tugging her up the stairs and into his apartment. 

soohyun is my oldest and closest friend, yohan recalls as he watches the house. the bedroom light turns on. we're not romantically involved, nor have we ever been. 

platonic, yohan reminds himself. but a platonic friend could fill a sexual need just fine, albeit insufficiently. this is good, he decides. it means gaon's moving on. somewhat. and not with the stranger from the bar.

he's not fooling himself that the thought of gaon pushed up against his kitchen counter by someone else, for someone else to undo his tie inbetween laughing kisses and mess up his carefully styled hair, tug his shirt out of his trousers filled yohan with sick violence. it was the sex, but it was more than that. it was knowing how unselfconscious and uninhibited gaon was during sex. the experience opened him up in such a way that a part of him sunk into his surroundings, including the body of his lover. yohan felt it every time he left gaon, that gaon had deposited a piece of himself in yohan's hands, permanently changing them both in the process.

the lights in the bedroom go out. 

yohan swallows. 

a moment later, the living room lights turn on, a lithe frame passing near the windows before everything goes dark again. it means he hasn't moved on yet, yohan thinks, drawing his armor around himself again. but the hurt comes from deep within, a feeling breaking him apart like a tree root piercing concrete. 

yohan should've pushed him away earlier. before he got attached. he slinks into the alley and heads home, feeling worse than better.

and then one day, just as chaotically as gaon walked out of yohan's life, he walks back in.

[silverskull]

What made you start writing fanfic?

MS QUESERAONE

These asks do not always appear on my phone, and it sometimes takes me loading coal into the engine of my laptop and then navigating to tumblr dot com to find them...

I started writing (terrible) fic as a teenager back in my Stargate SG-1 days, because I fell in love with Sam and Jack, and had only recently discovered that you were allowed to imagine scenarios in your head and not just say your prayers when you went to bed at night. (I also had a brief Pokemon phase, but I’m not gonna even bold that one.) That fic all disappeared in a Blue Screen of Death home PC crash back in the day, and I gave up on investing effort into digital files until I had a more reliable backup plan. Despite that, I recently discovered (and discarded, with love) pages of A4 notes I wrote in secondary school that were actually just Harry/Hermione or Sam/Jack fic starters. Love the dedication - in fountain pen, no less! - from teenage me!

After college, cue LiveJournal! And Fringe! And community fic prompts! I loved it so much. I definitely wrote 3 solid fics for Peter and Olivia back then, but I was very at sea in real life, and I didn't keep it up. I uploaded them to AO3 in recent years, and I’m glad they’ve been saved for posterity. That show was very important to me too.

After LiveJournal died/sold out to the Russians, I gave up once again, and didn't even really read fic in any of my following fandoms. But then came The Pandemic, and Lockdowns, and lots and lots of time to rewatch my favourite shows, and my brain decided to fixate on The Rookie and Lucy and Tim. I am not sorry. I was struck with the disease and forced to stay at home and go on my little mental health 2.5km walk loops, and my mind started to suggest that I could write fic again. That I'd done it before. That the brain pictures could meld into a story, and that fic archiving (with the advent of AO3) was a lot more reliable.

So, a few lockdowns later, along came "In the Hole Together", a spec-fic for 422 that was founded on fan-detectivery and paracetamol. And when people actually got interested, I thought this was something I might be able to do.

AND THEN THERE WAS ACTUAL 422.

And "Roots Won't Keep Me Warm" was born.

I've never ever written something so long, so detailed and so intense, and it became a personal challenge as much as a dedication to the readers that were following along. The only two rules I've set for myself since then are 1) Don't try to use song lyrics as titles anymore, Sil, and 2) Always finish a multi-chap.

The way my brain operates, I can only work on one fic at a time, so I never have written WIPs hanging around (though I have many, many head-plots, and some of them are even stored as bullet points in a google doc...). I hope that the one thing I will always do is finish out a fic to its conclusion, as it is absolutely an undertaking I most appreciate in the authors I love.

I had some extra time this (northern) summer (personal reasons) to devote to ChenfordWeek and finish my second Big Long Fic ("Shadows of Deception"), but it hasn't been sustainable since then, and it makes me very, very sad. I have been so harassed and harangued with real life, that I could barely even Do Imaginations for Chenford, and - to be frank - that has been critically depressing. It always has for me, since the days of SG-1.

I love writing fic, and I hope never to turn it into a job rather than a hobby, because that has never worked out well for me in the past. That said, I have you, Ms @queseraone, to thank for getting me to sit down and face the music this Christmas/Winter/Holiday season, and actually write some new Chenford content. And it is h a r d. It is hard to do the thinking and the linking and the typing. It is hard to find the time and the will and the motivation. It is hard to have a plan and then another plan and then discard it all when you actually sit down to type. But I am really happy to be doing it. I really am. 

And I can’t wait for @chenfordsecretsanta to arrive, and to share in the joy of a whole batch of new fics in our little fandom! To have something to look forward to that is closer than February 20th. To have someone believe in me enough to persist in prodding and poking me into committing to this challenge.

So thank you. Thank you, and I love you, and I appreciate you.

💖

[bettsfic]

You may have answered this before, but what happened your experience been like writing for/getting traffic to fics for dead or old fandoms? Eg breaking bad or the secret history. I always find myself thinking it’s not worth writing for an old fandom even if i have ideas but i’ve never actually done it so idk if that’s accurate

i love writing for small/old fandoms and rare pairs. my westworld fic is the only one in the caleb/dolores tag somehow, even though i shipped it so hard it launched me into breaking bad. i spent nearly all of last year hopping around in old/nonexistent fandoms and i had a really great time. if you look at the comments on my small fandom fics, they’re amazing. they’re so thoughtful and insightful and personal. i really love them. 

i’m not going to sit here and tell you traffic doesn’t matter. it matters to all of us to some degree, although possibly in different ways and for different reasons. it’s hard not to see traffic as a metric of belonging. you put yourself into something, you give it a platform, and perhaps its reception allows you to feel accepted or loved, or less alone, or briefly reassured that your existence has meaning. there’s nothing wrong with that. there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be seen. 

when i started writing fic, traffic and comments meant everything to me. i was absolutely in it for the attention, because i’d never received good attention before. i’d been accused all my life of “attention-seeking behavior” like it was a bad thing, like the solution to that often destructive behavior was to just ignore me until i suddenly grew a sense of self-acceptance and existential security all on my own, like getting mad at a plant for dying without any sunlight. a plant can only stretch toward a window so far.

my relationship with traffic was not a healthy one. for a long time i couldn’t separate myself from the work, so negative comments hurt me and positive comments defined me. i mistakenly believed that people who liked my writing liked me, when that’s the very opposite of the purpose of pseudonymous community writing. it took me a long, long time to realize and accept that nothing is about me. but that’s probably a post for another time.

after a few years of writing and posting fic, and attending workshops and receiving good mentorship, a very unexpected thing happened: i got enough attention. i didn’t think it was possible. i thought i’d just spend my life wanting more and more and never being satisfied. i couldn’t conceive of what “enough” of anything looked like. enough time, enough money, enough love. some of us spend so much of our lives hungry that we don’t know what fullness feels like. we don’t know what it means to be able to bear moments of emptiness because we know the things we need will always be in our reach. many of us, maybe even most of us, do not know what it means to trust that all our needs will be met on any given day, at any given time. 

something similar happened with sleep. i’d lived most of my life in a state of extreme sleep deficiency. waking up was the hardest part of every day of my life. then when i was 23 i was finally in a position where i could sleep as much as i needed to. for months i slept for 10 to 12 hours a day, and then slowly as i made up for all those lost hours of sleep, it slipped down to 9 and then 8. i fell asleep when i was tired; i woke up when i was ready. i let myself nap, but i found that i no longer needed to. i’d never known a life without fatigue, and then finally i was awake.

once i’d received enough attention, i started to see everything differently. whenever i wrote something, i started seeing it, not in terms of fearing its failure, but readying for its potential success. because i’ve found success is much, much harder to deal with than failure. once you separate yourself from failure, once you don’t let it affect your self-perception, success becomes terrifying. i have never met a single person who is emotionally prepared for the harrowing fallout of success. 

whenever i post anything, a tweet, a text post, a fic, i ask myself, “what if this goes viral?” what happens if i post a multi-chap fic in a new fandom that ends up becoming the next juggernaut? what happens if that fic gets 10k kudos and a thousand comments? 

a viral tweet or post eats up your activity feed for days. you don’t get anything for it, except every once in a while you might see yourself on a buzzfeed listicle. once, a student showed me a screencap of one of my own tweets that she’d seen on facebook. writing a popular fic is fun but it’s also, for me anyway, overwhelming, because i don’t see writing fic as a content/consumer situation. i see myself as a member of a community, and when you’re placed too high on a pedestal, you’re no longer a member of that community. you’re a content creator. it’s the difference between telling a story to your friends over drinks and acting on stage. when you’re done telling the story to your friends, they speak back to you. when you bow at the end of a play, all you can hear is applause. both are good things, but conflating the two is a bad idea. you’ll never be happy if you’re seeking applause but getting conversation, and you’ll never be happy if you’re seeking conversation but getting applause.

there are plenty of people well-suited to entertaining, who thrive on popularity and strive for fame. i’ve learned that i am not one of them. nor am i one of those people with a billion sock accounts, who hates attention so much they drop fics anonymously, or maybe don’t post them at all. i’m in a place where no matter what i post, i’m content with the reception i get. if i post a fic that gets 10 kudos and 2 comments, i’m grateful to those people who kudosed and commented. if i post the kind of wip that, when it updates, people tweet “X JUST UPDATED” and drop everything they’re doing to read it, and each chapter gets 50-100 comments, i’m grateful for that too. it’s very fun, waking up to lots of excited and kind comments. either way, i’m doing the work i enjoy: helping people, or myself, feel something, or escape, or believe in love and kindness and beauty if they’re in a dark enough place to doubt it. to me it doesn’t matter if that’s for me and two other people, or two thousand, or twenty thousand. it’s all good and worthwhile work to be doing.

[coolbeansbuddyofmine]

Fic Writer Tag

thank u for tagging me @sunsoothed (i was just writing sherlock au bc free time for once amidst college stuff when u tagged me) 

Name: um call me ro, that’s aytt. otherwise i go by coolbeans too!

Fandoms I Write For (and i’m willing to write for): well i used to write for mcu - tasertricks (also willing to write for yonvers and samxbucky) otherwise gee, i’ll write for anything really. mcu, inception, hp, pjo, b99, parks and rec, asoue, sherlock, miraculous, the mummy, addams family, ouat, nhie, potc, stranger things, lots of animes, honestly i have so many wips (fun fact: all my wips and completed/published amount to around 750k in my fanfic folder, so :\)

in terms of kdramas, recently i’ve written for vincenzo and nevertheless but i’ll write for suspicious partner, school 2017, hotel del luna, her private life, it’s okay to not be okay

Two-Shot: well my only two-shot as of right now is cassano’s eleven but only 1 chapter has been published so far (the second chapter is something i’m working on i want to yeet it out soon, so i can work on my other multichaps and brain rot)

Most Popular Multi-Chapter: it’s a tie between the hogwarts au and sherlock au - sherlock has more hits and kudoses, but hogwarts has more subscriptions. plus if u consider the differences in number of words and chaps, hogwarts would be marginally more popular. i love numbers - sue me. 

sherlock au linked here!

hogwarts au linked here!

Actual Worst Part of Writing: am i allowed to say the actual writing? i have carpal tunnel so the typing is the actual worst in terms of writing and typing - ugh. i know exactly what i want to write and type, and it’s all in the brain cell but the typing is the worst

How You Choose Your Chapter Titles: oh damn - well i choose most of my title titles via song lyrics (yes i am basic trash) but for chapter’s it can be songs, poetry, or just a brief few words that summarize the whole chapter nicely

Do You Outline: oh yes, very much so. it’s like motivation so i know exactly how much i have to write before i can edit and yeet. it also helps my betas bc they know exactly what i plan on writing

Ideas I Probably Won't Get Around to, but Wouldn't It Be Nice: god, see, i have ideas and then my brain will not shut up till i write. it’s a problem. every idea i’ve had for every fandom i’ve had is something i’ve ended up writing for (sometimes i dont publish bc it’s genuine shit but it’s self indulgent so i keep it for myself). often i have ideas inspired by real life (bc my friends are whack and i find myself living in sitcom/romcom/mystery and so i want to write about it but i will not bc too many irl people know my ao3 and i dont want to publicize it further)

Callouts @ Me: pls write more imagery and feelings - i’m a captain holt robot, and feelings are difficult. my feelings box is broken most of the times. 

Best Writing Trait: god, i’ve been told i’m good at descriptions and action? sometimes my world building in my numerous aus isn’t complete shit. also i can do fluff well, and angst feelings when i try. a lovely friend of mine said i have two modes: fluff or angst and they are right. unfortunately for people, both modes do include smut. 

Spicy Tangential Opinions: i think that people are too butthurt about fanfic and fiction in general, don’t take it so seriously - leave people alone, if it’s not hurting you then it’s aytt (i mean like ships, and tropes). we’re all allowed to have personal preferences but don’t herald your opinions as being the only one a person’s allowed to have. if it’s not your cup of tea, don’t write/read it. (this is me at all the kinkshamers lmaooo)

i think a good example of this would be james joyce’s letters to his wife. like a lot of people had criticism for his writing after seeing the filth he wrote to his wife (fair warning, this is extremely nsfw here) and like he’s a great write - he inspires me, and i say this filth and catholicism and all. 

gee this was fun whovie!! i liked the procrastination, gonna go do uni shit now bc ugh :(((

tagging: @reigemerystuff @can-u-like-stop @thelastoneofitskind @yasmini24 @toobadforthefacts

[misssunflowersandsangria]

Work in Progress Wednesday

Creators: work on or post something from your WIP. This is your weekly reminder to get something down on paper (real or virtual). It’s also a chance to share your progress with your followers and give them a sneak peek of what’s to come!

Fans: leave a comment on an unfinished fic and let the writer know how much you love it. Reblog an artist’s sketch and let them know you can’t wait to see the final product. Send someone an ask cheering them on!

Feel free to repost this image!

 *

**

Hello all!  I’ve been feeling...well I’m not too sure honestly.  Writing has been a little weird these last few months weeks so I wanted to use this just as a way to motivate myself a little with what I’ve already come up with and hopefully, it will push me to write/finish some of those WIPs.  Be gentle these are still really rough ... and if I do get around to writing them I might change some stuff around...

There are so many different stories that I’ve started that I might never finish so I wanted them to live somewhere.  

There’s a few ShikaTema, SaiIno and one ChoKarui (also some starts to my Lemonade Series so be aware of titles/notes)

**I’ll update this as new ideas come about.  They will appear first in the post. 

Previews after the cut. 

Knots (Part 3 of “Ties that Bind Series”- ShikaTema, Suna Sibs)

“I’m worried, she’s really sick.”

“Maybe it's like ya know.  That time of the month.”  Kankuro’s voice dropped to a whisper. 

“You idiot.  You absolute moron.”  Temari's voice shot back through the layers of blankets. 

“I think she's okay.”

“Temari, are you okay?”  Gaara asked carefully.  

She nodded her head.  “I’m fine.  Everything is just fine.  Why do you ask?”

“Well you’ve been locked in your room for days now.  You haven’t snapped at anyone or called me stupid.  We’re getting concerned.”

She sighed, taking a deep breath seeing the worry clear in their eyes.

“Shikamaru proposed.”

Their expressions brightened.   “Temari! That’s great, congratulations!”

“We should be celebrating.”  Kankurou stared at his sister curiously.  Gaara was right.  Something was wrong.  “Why isn’t Nara here?”

“I couldn’t say yes.”

Their eyes shot wide open. “Temari?”

“Shikamaru needs to be in Konoha and I couldn’t leave you two and Suna.  Who am I if i’m not Temari of the Desert?”  She knew that she made the right decision.  She couldn’t just leave her brothers and Suna because of something as trivial as love right?  This was the right thing to do.  She assured herself but then why did her heart feel like it was tied up in knots?

*

**

Candles (SaiIno-One Shot)

The concept of birthdays had always been foreign to Sai.  He’d never learned the actual date of his birth and never realized that such days were cause for celebration.  So much of his past and the circumstances by which he’d become part of the Root were shrouded in darkness.  The one person that could tell him when his actual birthday was, was dead.

 There were little events that were celebrated in the Foundation.  Completion of missions, not dying on said missions were the two events in which he could remember “celebrating.”  Other than that there was little else that would be cause for celebration.

Once he started becoming more a part of the village he learned early on that birthdays were actually important milestones.  Whether they were small, intimate gatherings of close family and friends or large, elaborate events, birthdays were something to celebrate.  They were time markers and allowed the celebrant to reflect on all their past experiences and look forward to all the wonderful experiences that lie ahead.  Perhaps that was why birthdays were never celebrated.  No one in the Root had a clear memory of their past.  Each mission could be life or death so it was foolish to believe that there was a future to look forward to.  

Still, as he began to settle actual roots, and the path in which he wanted to walk a birthday seemed like an important element to have.  Everyone had a birthday, he deserved one too.  The actual date though was to be determined.  There were few actual dates that held any value so selecting a random one out of the year was difficult.  It also seemed strange to arbitrarily pick a date as well. 

“Ino?  I have a request.”

“Of course Sai, anything.”

“Would you mind sharing your birthday with me?”

“What?”

“I don’t know when my actual birthday is.  Such things weren’t considered important.  One day I’d like to find out but for now if you don’t mind I’d like to share my birthday with you.  It’s not something that we need to announce or even really recognize but I’d like to have a date, a number that I can put down.  I feel like the day I met you I was reborn in a sense.  That my real life started.  I can  understand if you don’t-”

*

**

Stolen (Multi Chap AU ShikaTema ):

Shikamaru watched her closely and saw the shift in her eyes.  Where she’d been terrified initially he noticed a kind of calm and peace.  He released the shadow binds around her wrists but sent more to surround her creating a maze of shadows and lines. 

“Don’t fear the shadows Temari.  Learn to dance amongst them.”

Temari with focused eyes and a determined spirit moved gracefully between the lines.  She landed in pockets of light and moved swiftly before she could become trapped.  He watched on enchanted as she leaped and moved effortlessly avoiding what he threw at her.  It was as though she was floating, gliding in the wind above the darkness.

*

**

Runways (Model AU ShikaTema):

Unrestrained raged swirled in Shikamaru’s normally soft brown eyes as he held Temari’s shaking body.  His glare was heavy on the cowering figure trembling on the floor. 

“My family will bury you.  I will make sure that you never work in this industry again.”

Temari was taken aback by the ice in his voice and all she wanted was for this night to be over and for life to return to normal. “Shikamaru...”  Temari’s voice quivered in a frighteningly unfamiliar way and his protective hold tightened.

“I’m sorry-” 

In spite of himself, Shikamaru laughed off the worthless attempt to quell his anger.  “It’s far too late for apologies.  I suggest that you leave now. That you make it so that no one remembers your name or face because by the time that I’m done you will wish that you never crossed a Nara.”

*

**

Stalemate (Mafia AU, ShikaTema)

Shikamaru’s midnight eyes surveyed the crash of sweaty bodies moving and pulsating to a heavy beat. He took a long drag of his cigarette overwhelmed by the sheer number of people and heavy bass. It wasn’t often that he made the trek out here often depending on his associates to check on their businesses.  His father told him though that it was important for the king to be seen by his people.  

For a while, his family had to operate in the shadows.  That was no longer the case.  The Naras, Akimichis, and Yamanaka’s ruled this area.  Government officials, police officers anyone who had “power” were all on their payroll.  Very few things happened in this city without them knowing.  Everyone knew who they were and they no longer tried to hide it.  

When he was younger he’d complained constantly that this was a drag. He never wanted to become the head of the Nara crime family.  It wasn’t his choice, it was his destiny.  Still, he grew into the role and had accomplished more than they’d ever dreamed. 

He didn’t delight in the benefits of being an infamous crime boss. The club was far too loud. The women who threw themselves at him were too troublesome. 

His eyes continued to scan the room before they fell upon one person his heart began to beat wildly. From where he stood he could tell she was a striking blonde but there was something different.  Something was drawing him towards her.  He studied her for a while.  Becoming increasingly frustrated as she flirted and smiled at the club patrons.  His hands clutched painfully around the balcony railing as he tried to keep his anger in check. 

He called his security detail over.

“The blonde bartender, bring her to my office.”

“Yes sir.” 

*

**

Protective Instincts (Mafia AU, SaiIno, Mafia Princess Ino, Bodyguard Sai *same universe as “Stalemate” ^)

The tension in the back of the SUV was suffocating.  The air heavy, anger rolling off of the man sitting next to her. 

“Sai...I-”  Ino began before being cut off.  

“Don’t, I’m barely holding it together right now.  I just need a minute.”

A beat of silence passed. “Are you mad at me?”  She pouted and despite how angry and upset he was Sai shook his head.  

“No, I could never be mad at you.  I’m mad at your actions and the stupid risks you take but no, never at you.”  

Satisfied with his response and sensing that he was calmer Ino crawled into his lap settling her head against his chest.

He knew that he should push her away.  It wasn’t necessarily appropriate for her to be this familiar with him but she melted so perfectly against him. He felt whole when she was in his arms. 

“I’m sorry Sai, I should have told you.  I just wanted a regular fun, night out.”

“But you’re not a regular person.  You put yourself at risk.”

“Sai, it’s one of our clubs, nothing was going to happen.”

“I can’t take that chance, Princess.  I knew that I shouldn't have taken the night off.  The person on your guard tonight is fucking dead.”

Her eyes widened feeling guilt crash over her.  She still had to learn that her decisions had very real consequences.  “Sai, no.  Please, it’s not his fault.  I snuck out.  I manipulated and orchestrated the whole thing.  Please don’t take it out on him.”

“Ino.”

She forced his gaze to meet hers.  “I’ll deal with my dad if it gets to him. Please.”

“Fuck, fine.  He and I are going to have a talk for sure but that will be all.  I promise.”

Ino sighed in relief knowing that he’d keep his promise.  “Thank you.”

“Why did you take tonight off?  It’s not like you.”

He took a deep breath his fingers pushing back stray hairs away from her eyes.  “I just needed a break, Beautiful.  Clearly, it didn’t last long.  I can’t take my eyes off of you for a second.”

She relaxed into his chest.  “I like your eyes on me.”

*

**

Obscura (NSFW SaiIno- Lemonade Series) -Idea courtesy of @ promptmaker 

Sai grinned as Ino moved into the next pose. She was a natural in front of the camera and seeing that smile always made him happy. 

He’d purchased the camera recently as an attempt to explore a new artistic medium. Especially now that he had memories worth capturing. Ino happily volunteered to be his subject. He was thankful that after this he’d have a whole set of photos of his Light. 

“Great job Beautiful these look incredible.” He complimented her drawing her into a kiss. 

“Thank you, Sai.”  She paused for a minute before her eyes lifted back to his a playful look in those baby blues. 

“I have an idea for a for pictures if you don’t mind.” 

He nodded excitedly about the prospect. He enjoyed any time that they shared together.  “Of course not Beautiful, whatever you’d like.  Let me just adjust these lights.” 

When he turned back around he was surprised to see that she’d removed her top and was now leaning forward her breasts heavy and exposed.  A mischievous smile across her lips.  

“Fuck.”  He breathed.  So she wanted those kinds of pictures.

*

**

Main Course (NSFW ChoKarui- Lemonade Series -Idea courtesy of @ promptmaker

“I made you all your favorite food and this is what you want to do instead.”  Karui teased Chouji her honey eyes glowing with anticipation.  

Chouji grinned as his mouth descended over her delicate neck.  “I think that you’re mistaken Sweetheart.  You are by far my favorite thing to eat.”  She could feel his grin against her skin.  

“Besides, if you didn’t want this to happen you would know better than to make yourself look so appetizing.”  He countered his hands grazing over the skin that the apron left exposed.

Goosebumps erupted over her skin her breathing coming out in short pants.  “Well, perhaps we should have dessert first.”

*

**

So that’s what we’ve got folks.  Actually even just making this post is inspiring me to finish/write!  Are there any that you’re interested in reading?  thank you for getting this far and for supporting me. 

[caffeinated-mendes]

Failed Mission - Peter Parker & OC - Chapter 1

masterlist

previous work

synopsis:  Eliza Brooks, an eighteen-year-old Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and friend to Tony Stark is given a mission after Tony's death: Attend Midtown Tech and keep an eye on Peter Parker. With the use of her mysterious powers, Eliza had never slipped up on her assignment. That is until Peter's life is in danger, and she has to save him. The cost of her exposing her identity could very nearly mean the end of her mission, and the ending of her chance to become an Avenger.

word count: 2.5 k

a/n: Hi everyone :) Here's a new fic for you all with an OC of mine that I've created with the help of my friend @fallinallincurls <3 I loved Peter so much that I had to make a multi-chap fic for him! Anyway, I see this as Post Endgame, but a few months before FFH. Hope you all enjoy <3 comments likes, and reblogs are always appreciated!

warnings: none

*if you prefer, you can read this on my ao3 instead of here

“Can anyone tell me the answer to number twenty-seven?” Mrs. Codds asked, to which the class silently responded. “Anyone?” Eliza didn’t raise her hand, even though she knew the solution to the problem. Her eyes were trained on the figure in front of her. His leg was bouncing nervously in his desk, watching the clock that taunted them at the front of the room.

Eliza fiddled with her pen, waiting for someone to be called on without their asking. “Ms. Brooks?” Her eyes shot up to the board, examining the problem.

“Uh, thirty-two.” 

“That’s incorrect. Anyone else?” Mrs. Codds’ narrowed eyes found her next target, Michelle Jones.

Eliza raised her hand, but spoke without being called on, “Mrs. Codds? Isn’t it thirty-two, though? X equals fifteen, and the square root of sixteen plus y, which is thirteen, equals thirty-two.” With a bit of fright, she pushed her long hair behind her ear.

Mrs. Codds examined the board once again, “I suppose you’re right, Eliza. My mistake. Thank you.” Heads turned to her, including MJ, who mouthed ‘thanks.’ She nodded, moving her gaze back to the board.

“Everybody was so surprised that Mrs. Codds didn’t scream at you or something. She usually rages if anyone speaks out.” MJ said, clutching her book to her chest as Eliza took her bag from her locker. 

She chuckled, “I know, I was surprised too. By the way, I can’t hang out today. I’ve got work.” Eliza turned to look around, “But you could invite someone to partner with you in AcDec.”

MJ’s ears turned red, “Eli, no. It’s not gonna happen.”

“He’s cute, though! I know you like him.” Eliza grinned, pulling her navy blue backpack onto her shoulders. MJ pulled on the strings of her hoodie, shaking her head and looking at the ground. “Alright, I won’t terrorize you anymore. See you tomorrow. Oh, and don’t forget, we’re studying on Sunday.”

MJ nodded, “I won’t. See you!”

Eliza hurried her way down the halls of Midtown Tech, her black vans making squeaking sounds on the tile. Turning to look into the window of the library, she saw Peter Parker, MJ, and the rest of the team reading their textbooks. She took out her phone, and called the latest number, walking out the doors of her school. The day was a bitter, cold February day. Eliza had to pull up her hood to not shiver on the spot. “Hello?” A man’s voice answered the phone.

“Hey, Happy. Just the daily report. Peter’s fine. He’s at practice right now, so I’ll be going out later today. You know, the usual.”

“Alright. Thanks for letting me know, Eliza.” He sounded relieved, like Peter would never catch a break.

“Of course. Have a good day.”

“You too. You still coming over to Pepper’s tomorrow for dinner?”

Eliza pounded on the steps to the railway, responding, “Yep. See you.”

“Bye, Eli.”

She hung up, pushing her way into the crowded train. Eliza didn’t know how much longer she could keep the whole thing up. The whole routine of high school didn’t suit her. She longed for the days of training with her mentor. Somehow, she thought that training to be a spy was easier than being a high school student.

Perched up on the roof of a building, Eliza watched as a blue and red figure swung through the borough of Queens: the beloved Spider-Man. She had to hop rooftop to rooftop just to keep up with him. Luckily, her suit helped her jump farther, but landing always hurt. The flexible black and navy blue material let her move swiftly in the shadows, though it didn’t matter. Just one thought, and she could become invisible. She watched as Spider-Man made his way into a bank that was screaming with alarms.

Willing herself to turn invisible, she jumped down onto the steps of the bank. The best part of not being seen was people not noticing you. The worst part was having to maneuver your way through, as nobody could move out of the way for you.

Checking her surroundings, she quietly opened the door a sliver and slipped through. This was the worst part of the job. Watching Peter defeat the bad guys, and not being able to help. A woman at the counter trembled at gunpoint, a masked man clamping his hand over her mouth. Two other goons raided the available containers behind them. As if right on cue, Peter screamed, “Hey! Don’t you have other people to rob? I mean not like you should rob them-” He cut himself off, shooting a spider web to grab the gun in his hand. The action made the man angrier, but before he could do anything, Peter ran, jumping onto the counter and swinging his legs into the man’s side. He doubled over in pain, but as Peter stood over him, he didn’t see that the man’s big, beefy buddies were right behind him.

Eliza wanted to scream, tell Peter to watch out, but she knew better. She watched in horror as one of them hit Peter in the head with a bat, knocking him to the ground. Peter didn’t get up. She couldn��t stand there anymore, so she ran for the two of them, pulling a gun from her belt. Thankfully, whatever she held became invisible too, so she didn’t have to worry about people seeing a floating gun. Making two shots, she hit them both in their legs, not wanting to kill. 

Her fingers trembled. She hadn’t done anything like that for real, and hadn’t shot her gun in months. The woman at the counter shrieked. Seeing two men get shot from nowhere was justifiably scary. Eliza jumped over the counter, seeing that Peter was breathing, and conscious. It seemed like he had just woken up. Eliza didn’t think of the consequences as she hoisted Peter up, still invisible. “Whoa! Who’s pulling me?” He grabbed for her, and Eliza was too late to move, as he’d gripped her wrist. “Show yourself! He looked not in her eyes, as he couldn’t see her, but at her neck. Eliza had a couple inches on him.

Eliza knew she’d failed. She lost her grip on her invisibility, and soon she was fully visible. Peter still wouldn’t know it was her. She had a mask on, not unlike Peter’s, but it was black with three stripes of blue on each side. The eyeholes were shaped like upturned rectangles, an almost clear mesh. His spidey-eyes widened. “Eliza?”

Eliza’s breath hitched. Peter didn’t know her. She never spoke to him. Calmly, she replied, “I don’t know who you’re talking about. Let’s get out of here. The police are on their way.” She shook her hand from Peter’s grip, and started running out of the bank, Peter on her tail. They made their way into a dark alley, lit only by a flickering streetlight. 

“Are you sure you’re not Eliza? Because you sound like her too. Wait, why am I asking you that? You know who you are.” Peter caught up to her. Eliza tried to turn away, walk in the other direction, but then, Peter pulled on her mask, taking it off. Her long, blonde hair cascaded around her face. “It is you.” He didn’t say anything else. 

“How’d you know it was me, Peter?” Eliza’s heart sunk. She failed her mission. At least it meant she got to go home.

Peter almost choked, “How’d you know- I mean, I’m not Peter-” Eliza pulled Peter’s mask off to reveal his terrified face. “Uh- your eyes. They’re blue. Just not a normal blue, it’s like a weird blue. I don’t know why. When you showed up a few months ago to school, and the teacher introduced you to the class, your eyes glowed. I don’t know if everyone else saw it, but I did when you looked at me. Then they went back to normal. They glowed so bright when I grabbed your arm that it went through your mask.”

Eliza looked down. “Peter, I’m not allowed to tell you this, but I failed my mission anyway. I’ve been keeping an eye on you since you went back to school, after, well, you know-”

“Since the blip ended?”

“Yeah. Tony found me, kinda like he found you. I was fifteen, it was right after, um, Sokovia. I blipped too, so I’m only eighteen now. But it was eight years ago. When I blipped back, Fury gave me a mission. He told me that Tony intended it for me when he was gone. I’ve been reporting back to Happy, giving him updates. I follow you when you go out into the city.” Eliza looked down at her feet. 

Peter’s face looked disappointed. “Oh.”

“What?” Eliza looked back up at him. Peter played with her mask in his hands. The scene must’ve looked weird. The two of them, holding each other’s masks.

“Well, it’s just that, I thought Mr. Stark thought that I could take care of myself now.” Peter looked up at Eliza, shrugging. His brown eyes looked sad.

Eliza hung her hands, “I’m sure he did. I think he just wanted to have me make sure you were safe. In a way, I was supposed to be the big sister you never had. At least, that’s how Pepper put it.”

Peter nodded, holding out her mask. She took it, and gave him his. “I think this means my mission’s over.”

He looked away, then back at her, “Maybe we can convince Happy to let you stay. He doesn’t have to tell Fury. You could join me, the media wouldn’t know, because you can turn invisible!”

“That might work.” Eliza started to think that she wanted to stay in New York a little bit longer, “Also, I’m not just invisible. I can turn into other animals, too.”

Peter’s eyes widened, “No way! Turn into… a monkey!” He grinned expectantly.

“How about I do something a little more convenient?” Eliza laughed.

“Yeah, okay.”

Eliza felt the familiar sensation encapsulate her body. It was like your entire body was falling asleep, but intensified, as the pins-and-needles feeling grew stronger, her vision changed, and suddenly, Peter got much taller. Her suit, designed to only appear in her human form, was gone. Peter spun around.

“Where’d you go? Eliza?” Eliza scuttled up Peter’s leg, all the way to his hand. She saw him look down. “Ugh. Of course you’re a spider. Deja vu. Can you turn back now?” Eliza hopped off his hand and landed back on the ground. She envisioned herself as herself, a human, and was enclosed in the prickly feeling again. She flexed her fingers, looking back at Peter.

Eliza grinned, “Uh, weird question, but out of all the situations I might’ve had to save you from, how’d you let it be a bank heist?”It seemed too easy for him. Peter didn’t fail like that. Eliza knew that he’d been in much higher-stake situations. 

As if reading her mind, Peter replied with a red tint to his face, “I have a fifth sense, it’s kinda like I can feel what's going on around me. Stupid to say after I didn’t realize two guys were behind me with a bat, but you were distracting me, I think. I didn’t know it was you at the time, of course, but I felt this weird power. It pounded through the room, and it distracted me.”

“I guess you can sense me, too. Have you felt it this whole time?” Eliza lifted her hair into a makeshift ponytail, and put her mask over her head. Peter put his on, too.

Peter shrugged, “Well, sort of. Just not that strong. I had a feeling like someone had their eyes on me everywhere I went in the city.” Eliza nodded. 

“Well, if I get sent back home, I’d like to make this a night to remember. Wanna fight crime as a team?” Eliza laughed.

Peter shook his head, “We’ll ask Happy to let you stay. I know it’ll work. But sure, let’s do it!” Eliza took this as a cue to change, morphing her body into a creature that could jump easily from building to building.

Looking down at her now, Peter’s spidey-eyes widened, “A monkey! Sweet!”

“Hey, Penis Parker! Did your face always look that stupid?” Flash taunted from behind Peter and Eliza. Peter pushed his face further into his locker, biting his lip.

Eliza, on the other hand, was not the quiet type. “Flash, why don’t you quit taunting Peter so you don’t have to keep hiding your insecurities? I think it’d be a better look on you.” Kids laughed and turned to face her from their lockers, watching as Flash choked on his words. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Eliza slammed Peter’s locker for dramatic effect, making him jump.  “Let’s go, Peter. The trash in here stinks.” This was responded by a chorus of laughter from their classmates. Peter pushed his way through to catch up to Eliza, hiding a smile. Flash was left sputtering behind them.

“That was amazing, but you didn’t need to do that. You know I’m not supposed to draw attention.” Peter shouldered his bag as they climbed up the staircase. Last night, the two of them bonded pretty well, beating up thieves and returning stolen items. It felt like Eliza had already known Peter forever. It was a shame she couldn’t stay with him much longer. She was going to tell Happy tonight, at dinner with Pepper and Morgan. 

Eliza shrugged, “It’s not like anyone is gonna suspect me of anything.” Eliza’s phone buzzed. It was MJ, asking if she was coming to class. Eliza responded, Yep, I just finished telling Flash off to the entire hallway. She pushed her phone in her back pocket, “Sorry, that was MJ.”

“MJ? I didn’t know you were friends with her, she’s really cool.” Peter said this in a high pitched voice, looking at Eliza and then in front of him.

“Isn’t the AcDec team going on a Europe trip this summer?”

Peter cleared his throat, his voice a little deeper this time, “Yeah, I’m hoping I’ll be able to actually relax on that trip.”

“That’s understandable. I mean,” Eliza lowered her voice, “I’m not really an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., but I still kinda get it.”

Peter smiled, his voice hushed too, “I have a feeling you’re gonna be more than an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. Maybe an Avenger. I mean, we’re kinda down on members.” He looked towards their history class with glassy eyes.

“Thanks for the encouragement.”

“Remember, I’m not letting you leave yet.” With that, Peter walked into their class and found his seat, turning his attention to the girl in front of him. Eliza smirked. It was only obvious that Peter liked her. Ah, to be oblivious to shared love!

Eliza found her seat on the opposite side of the classroom. She looked up at the board, and her heart sank. In big messy handwriting at the top of the chalkboard was written The Sokovia Accords. Eliza put her head down on her desk, and closed her eyes. A voice went through her head, a familiar ghost of her past. It’s okay. Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out. Breathe in. Hold it. 

Breathe out.