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itsthemoofacewriting · 4 years

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Feel the burn

This is for day two of the ZoNami Summer-y event on Tumblr, the prompt was workout. @zonamievents

Summary: Can’t a girl get any privacy when she’s trying to workout? Rating: T

Can also be found on AO3 and FFN.

Neither of my prompts so far have even been related to summer! Hopefully, if I can get my finger out, I should be able to finish another prompt that is summer related.

Enjoy.

Sweat rolled down the middle of her back and she took a deep breath in, slowly exhaling and trying to work through the burn in her legs. It was oddly gratifying, the burn proving that she was working hard, and she ended up chasing the feeling, letting it push her further.

It was a slow day on the sea, and everyone was off doing their own thing to pass the time. Despite the slow day, Nami felt a bit restless, her normal lounger on the deck unappealing and she’d quickly decided to burn off the excess energy so she could fully relax later.

That’s how she found herself up in the crow’s nest, completely alone with only her heavy breathing filling the room. Plus, from up here she could keep an eye on the weather, the large windows giving her the perfect view.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

She almost jumped out of her skin at the sudden voice and when she turned around to view the interloper, the smug look on Zoro’s face told her that she indeed had visibly jumped.

“Quite a distance to the ceiling, but you almost made it,” he chuckled. Only his head and shoulders were visible, but the way his arms resting casually around the opening made her wonder how long he’d been there for.

She glowered at him and voiced her thought, “How long have you been there for?”

“Long enough.” He smirked at her.

That told her nothing. Two can play that game.

“Enjoying the view then?” She winked at him. “That costs, y’know.”

He shook his head at her nonsense but pulled himself the rest of the way into the room and walked over to her. “Legs further apart-” and his foot nudged her legs further apart- “Now, slowly down and then slowly back up, make your muscles work for it.” The hand on her shoulder encouraged her to go lower and let her up slowly.

He took a step back and gestured for her to carry on. His critical gaze made her feel on show and she couldn’t help looking at him for approval. He didn’t keep her waiting and nodded at her after she’d done a couple squats.

Now she felt it, the burn so much worse than before and the look on his face told her he knew it too.

“What did you plan to do after this?”

“I didn’t have a plan, just came up here to work off some energy.” She shrugged at him.

The smile that cross his face was almost cruel. “You can work out with me then.”

She wondered if she was going to end up regretting this.

She was in two minds. She regretted it almost instantly when he got out the weights but at the same time, she was actually enjoying herself. Zoro was surprisingly fun to work out with, despite her muscles begging her to stop. She’d never seen him so animated as he explained different muscle groups and low weight vs. higher reps for toning. She briefly wondered if this is what she sounded like when she spoke about navigation, she hoped so because he was enthralling.

Not only that, but he’d never touched her so much before. They were casual touches and he did them whilst he explained, encouraging her to curl her arm and his hand rested heavy on the muscle she was working out whilst he explained. Or he’d touch her to correct a mistake she’d make, ensuring she was in the correct form. It was new but it wasn’t unwelcome, and she found herself enjoying the touches. His hands were warm.

They’d only recently got together. It had been late one night, and they had been the last two on the lawn, finishing their drinks. There’d been no huge revelation or romantic confessions under the moonlight. Instead it had been two friends, casually chatting and laughing together, reminiscing over the stupid things they’d done when they first set out to sea with Luffy. Time had only strengthened their bond.

Looking back, it was probably quite intimate from outside the little bubble they were in but in that moment Nami had never felt more comfortable. Zoro had made the first move, his rough hand sweeping a piece of hair behind her ear and lingering there afterwards. She’d met his steady gaze, questioning but he never offered a verbal explanation, his eye flicking down to her lips was enough for her to connect the dots. They’d both drawn in slowly, tentatively, two magnets attracting, and the kiss had been far more tender than Nami could have ever expected from someone like Zoro.

They’d agreed shortly afterwards to explore this side of their newly formed relationship and that had been it. They hadn’t planned to kep it a secret from the crew per say, if someone were to ask, they wouldn’t deny it but neither wanted to make a grand announcement. They were still discovering how a relationship would work out between them. So far, not a lot had changed really. It had been casual, not overly thought out and Nami liked that aspect, their relationship was as easy as breathing.

So this new development was welcomed.

She liked his touch, more so than she’d ever admit to him.

“Straighten your arm,” his hand burned against her forearm, and she tried to look like she was focusing. She could always blame the flush on the work out. “That’s it.”

And it appeared he liked touching her just as much.

The casual touches were starting to turn not so casual, when his hand lingered against her skin and a small smile pulled at his lips. The last touch wasn’t as clinical as they had been in the beginning as his thumb swept across her skin.

A hand on her shoulder.

Then on her elbow.

And finally resting on the dip in her waist and much closer than he really needed to be.

Now she knows for sure he isn’t focusing any more, her waist had nothing to do with the small weight in her hand.

She quirked a brow at him when he stared down at her, but he ignored it.

“So your aversion to clothes carries over to working out too?” He asked, his other hand plucking the strap of her sports bra. He was definitely touching her more.

“It’s a sports bra and shorts,” she said shortly, eyebrow quirked. “Besides, you’re wearing less than I am!”

He was only wearing a pair of shorts, that were thankfully longer and looser than her pair. She didn’t know whether she’d be able to deal with that. His bare torso wasn’t anything new, he frequently went around topless and she suspected it was because he hadn’t done his washing. She didn’t complain though, his chest was something she spent a lot of time secretly looking at. From the long diagonal scar to the hard muscles and tan skin, he was quite a sight. Not that she’d tell him, he didn’t need a bigger ego than he already had.

“Like what you see?” An infuriating smirk on his face that matched his tone and told her he knew exactly what she was thinking. Big ego, indeed.

“It’s weird seeing your stomach exposed, almost feels like I should look away,” she teased, prodding at his belly button with her free hand.

He caught her hand and rolled his eye. “You’ve seen me without my haramaki.”

“Not recently, was starting to wonder if you’d asked Chopper to stitch it to you.”

“Luckily for you, I haven’t.”

She had nothing to say to that, so she snorted and hoped she wasn’t being obvious.

The hand on her waist felt heavy and the way he was looking at her made her stomach flip. Not it nerves but in excitement. She was suddenly reminded of their first kiss on the deck that night and when he leaned down, she wondered what kind of kiss this would be.

It was firm. She could tell he was surer of himself than he was that night, there was no hesitation as their lips moved together. She hummed, enjoying the feeling and his hand moved from her waist to take the small weight from her hand to let it drop to the metal floor. With her hand now free, she ran it up his arm slowly, feeling the muscles underneath and then thread it into his hair to bring him in closer. It was his turn to groan, and he released her other hand, so both of his could sit on the soft skin of her waist.

She wasn’t entirely sure how they went from working out to making out, but she wasn’t going to figure it out now when his tongue swept along her bottom lip. It made her thoughts scatter.

Between that night on the deck and now, they’d kissed a couple of times but nothing like this. They’d been short and brief, in-between whatever they were doing but this was something else completely. She found herself leaning into it and enjoying the man before her.

When their tongues met, she moaned. He tasted of sake and whilst it wasn’t usually her first choice of beverage, it was so him that she found herself chasing the taste. They pulled apart to breathe, but it wasn’t for long as their lips met back together, open mouthed-kisses now urgent.

It was warm before when they were both working out, but now the room felt scorching and she pressed herself up against him, tugging at his hair insistently. His hands dragged up and down her body, smoothing over hips to her waist to the sides of her breasts before going back down. His hands felt rough against her skin and it was only making her more desperate.

The last straw seemed to be when she bit his lip and tugged slightly. His hands stopped travelling up and down her body, instead settling on her behind to give a rough squeeze and he started walking her backwards towards one of the walls but that didn’t stop their frantic kisses.

When they broke apart again, she murmured hot against his lips, “Not complaining about the lack of clothes now I see.”

He paused, trying to focus on what she was saying. “It has its advantages.” His hands disappearing underneath the shorts to play with the lace of her underwear.

Their short trip across the crow’s nest came to an end when he pushed her up against the wall, their bodies now pressed as tightly together as possible. His hands burnt a trail to her thighs, squeezing the delicate skin to make her gasp before lifting them to wrap around his waist.

“Zoro-” Even she didn’t know what the end of that sentence was, but she had to say something. Everything felt too good and she hoped her strangled sentence conveyed that.

It must have when his lips started to make a path from her lips, down to her jaw to settle at her neck in a spot that sent heat between her legs.

“Nami-san~!”

And it all came to a crashing halt at the cheery voice coming from the entrance of the crow’s nest. It was soon followed by a strangled sound and they both turned in time to see Sanji’s smile melt into a horrified expression.

She could only imagine how they both looked; half dressed, Zoro’s body caging her up against the wall, flushed and definitely not working out.

Apparently, that was all too much for Sanji as his foot slipped on the ladder in his surprise and with a loud, “Oh shit!” He disappeared from view. The mop of blonde hair plummeting from the crow’s nest and soon after a massive crash was heard as Sanji fell to the deck below.

Zoro was muttering angrily under his breath into her neck before letting her down and taking a step away. She couldn’t blame him, even she was disappointed, it was just starting to get good.

Walking over towards the entrance of the crow’s nest, they both peered down to see Sanji still on the floor. Miraculously, he’d saved the drink he’d been holding for her.

But the loud crash had brought out the rest of the crew to investigate what was going on and, one by one, they turned to look up at Zoro and Nami peering down at them.

“Well, that’s one way for them to find out.”

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Heavily inspired from the drawings released of Nami and Robin working out in their Stampede outfits and it spiralled from there. I love the idea of Nami and Zoro working out together and how out of control it would obviously get.

Once again, please forgive any spelling errors.

Thanks for reading.

#ZoroNamiWeek2020 #ZoNami #ZoNa #Swordgust #ZoroNami #opfanfic #opwriting #One Piece #Zoro #Nami

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justira · 7 years

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STORY STARTERS MEME

Rules: List the first lines of your last 15 stories. See if there are any patterns. Then tag 10 of your favourite authors!

@petite-neko tagged me, and I have never been tagged for anything before in my life. But, uh, sure, let’s do this!

I definitely do not know 10 writers on tumblr because I am very terrible at doing The Tumblrs and also I mostly talk to artists on here? But why not, let’s tag my partner in crime @sevdrag; @wordsdear, who I know writes; and @kaizokunohime, who doesn’t write prose but does write story ideas/prompts, and I’d like to see how those do with this meme.

I have no idea what is meant by “first lines” here? The first sentence? The first block of text until whitespace? idek, I tried to keep it reasonable. This is in reverse chrono order, so first story is most recent.

1. Acclimating

[One Piece — Law/Luffy, Law & Strawhats — E, 31.3K ]

Law probably should have seen this coming. It wasn't his splintered self-worth that made him avoid things like this (and what business of anyone's was it, anyway, if he lived for Cora-san's memory? He'd been living on borrowed time for over a decade, and every step he'd taken since then had drawn him closer to a confrontation he expected (hoped) he wouldn't survive). But his utter lack of interest in making himself likable because there was nothing much to like certainly helped cut down on complications. Or, it usually did. The standard rules did not seem to apply to Strawhat. Black Leg had warned him, although, all things considered, that shouldn't have been necessary.

2. A Slow and Vicious Hemorrhage

[BBC Sherlock / Hannibal Movies — Holmes/Watson — M, 5.5K, WIP]

The air gets heavier, down here, cooler and tinged with inescapable subterranean damp. John breathes it in, steadily; it doesn't particularly unnerve him. It reeks of institution and he's had practice enough with those. It's not calming, precisely, but it's familiar. It's all familiar. It's all fine.

It is.

His hand tightens on the two case files. It doesn't stop the tremor, but he rubs his thumb across the labels, the rough reality of them, already thoroughly ragged from the flicks and scrapes and polishing and various pointless attritions of dozens of fingers, despite the very recent dates stamped on both of them. Two dates, two names. Neither name belongs to Sherlock Holmes.

3. Swimming Lessons

[Final Fantasy X — Auron/Braska/Jecht — T, 1K ]

Auron sputtered as Jecht dunked him under the water again. He came up for air, gasping, to hear Braska rebuke Jecht. "Jecht, he can't swim." Braska's tone was just this side of sharp, showing that Jecht was testing his patience; good, as he had surely tested Auron's. Auron clawed his hair out of his face where it had escaped his tail. Jecht was already too far away to shove. Braska floated over to him, touched his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

4. This Stolen Interstice

[Dragon Age: Origins — Duncan/Teagan — M, 8K]

The Grey Warden came during the harvest. The field Teagan was working was cradled in one of Rainesfere's rolling valleys; trees rose high on all sides, crowning the surrounding hills and wind-murmuring to each other as the harvesters worked. The air was thick with dust and chaff and the smell of fallen leaves, just edging into cold. That hint of crispness settled pleasantly on Teagan's skin as he worked amidst the slice and whisper of sickles and threshing, the barking of dogs weaving through the rhythmic sounds — no laughing children, not during the harvest, as all but babes were put to work at some task or another. He found one such child suddenly in his path — Rogher's youngest. Deliah? That must be it.

"What is it, Deliah?" Teagan wiped his brow as he stood, stretched his back.

"There's a man to see you," the girl mumbled, shy before her bann. "Mama says he's a Grey Warden."

The words spilled a chill down his back, much harsher than the gentle bite in the air. Darkspawn, here?

5. The Storm That Sweeps So Quiet

[Final Fantasy Tactics — Alma/Tietra — T, 1.2K]

Alma's spine aches. She has been bowed over this tome for entirely too long. Study is normally a pleasure, particularly the histories or the great tales of the Church, but this day she set aside to get through an endless dissertation on courtly graces. Studious as Alma may normally be, her heart is not in this. Today, the floor is distractingly hard beneath her folded skirts, even with the spare cushion. Her bodice itches unreasonably. Behind her, Tietra's quiet breathing and quieter warmth brush down Alma's back; she had persuaded her friend to take the window seat and regrets it not one bit, discomfort or no. It's not Tietra's fault that Lord Haverell's text drones so. Outside, the sunshine drips between tumultuous clouds; the air is heavy and moist, and the clouds tower high. It is not a day for study, not at all.

She runs her finger down the rich vellum of the page and listens to its smooth whisper. Behind her, she hears Tietra shift, the soft sigh of fabric and the rougher-edged rasp of pages rubbing together. Well, if Tietra feels it too...

6. So let it out and let it in

[Supernatural — Castiel & Mary, Castiel & Dean, Castiel & Sam — G, 5.1K]

"Jay Bird Family Special," the waitress announces, clear and cheery above the lunchtime clinks and conversation buzzing through the diner. She tips Mary a wink. Mary grins back as Heather sets the giant platter in front of her, gently intercepting baby Dean's hand going straight for the steak. "Your man running late?"

"Course not!" John pops up behind Heather. He's breathless under a thin sheen of sweat, his face all smiles and engine grease, and Mary could not want to touch that handsome curve of jaw more.

Instead, she puts a mild growl of threat in her voice, not even trying to cover the laughter crowding up alongside it. "If you think you're getting those paws anywhere near my food or my son—"

7. And Under Sky, the Shelter

[Final Fantasy Tactics — Ramza & Rapha, Marach, Mustadio, Agrias — G, 1.4K]

The hill cups gently around a lee; pebbles gather in the shadow where the wind abandoned them, making for a stony bed, but it will serve well enough for their purposes. Ramza, at least, is tired enough to collapse where he stands. He watches Agrias survey the site and thinks dully about what to do if it does not meet her standards of defensibility. It is well that she nods in approval, as he had not managed to think of any alternatives. The weariness runs too deep in his bones, leeching at thought, at care. It frightens him, distantly. So many have ceased to care, it seems. He rouses himself with a shake that feels like trying to shift mountains.

Tired to numbness or no, camp must be made, the birds cared for. The birds and — his teeth tug at his lip as his glance lands on Rapha and Marach, hovering at the edges of the group — the people. The tasks have been long apportioned, but in their ever growing and shrinking company, they reassign the routine often enough. It is just that he is too tired tonight to think on it.

8. There the Bones of Us May Lie

[Final Fantasy XII — Ashe/Balthier — T, 2.5K]

The hollow starlight sinks into ashen softness before her as she boards the Strahl; the hungry roar of the Cataract is hushed, made muted and metallic. It is like sinking into water, reversed. The quiet is the same, the sense of distance, but as she ascends there is no persistent buoyancy, no insistent upward press. Weight seems to sink down on her instead, settling deeper about her shoulders like a mantle.

It's familiar.

The silence of the ship eats her sigh, giving back nothing. And that, too is familiar — comforting, even, to have no wraiths answering those unmeant nighttime summons. The Occuria's illusion of Rasler is shattered, and Vaan isn't here to haunt her either, sleeping below with the others; Ashe is alone if not exactly unfettered. It is beyond her, just now, to judge whether that is better, and that is, in any case, irrelevant. There is little point in dwelling on it, now.

9. Best Hand

[Ace Attorney — Apollo & Trucy, Phoenix — G, 0.5K]

Apollo eyed the backs of Mr. Wright's cards. Wright kept them low, hands resting easy and relaxed on the table — Trucy was just the opposite, her fan of cards held up in front of her face, casting conspiratorial glances over the top. Hiding her smile. Trucy had something; Apollo'd figured that much out. Not as good as his own hand, though, he was sure of it.

(Now if only...)

He looked back at Wright. Nothing to see. Nothing to sense; bracelet quiet and loose on his wrist. (Damn! It's not just that he used Trucy for the games, he's impossible to read anyway!) Apollo resisted gritting his teeth.

10. Eclipse

[Final Fantasy IV — Kain/Cecil, Kain/Rosa, Cecil/Rosa, Kain/Cecil/Rosa — G, 1.5K]

In the old forgotten passageways beneath Baron Castle the walls exhale ghosts like vaporous winter breath: a fine spice on a hunt for treasure, harmless old haunts that feather around them as they creep down the halls with their stolen torch, their voices a nervous-laughing titter of echoes.

When the revenant comes Kain's blood freezes and he sees the panicked bloom of Rosa's untutored magic, shielding them; Kain's lips parting in awe and breathlessness as they flee.

But as they tumble back down the halls, to light and safety and a likely spanking, it is Cecil who clutches his hand.

11. Where Memory Rests

[Thief: Deadly Shadows — Garrett, The Shalebridge Cradle — G, 2.3K]

Thick exhales of steam crowd the night air, damp on your skin, as you make your way through the noise and shadows of the City. Grit has gathered close to the walls where you walk, giving the soft sound of your steps a rougher edge. Your fingers trail where a gas arrow once crystallized: a pipe carrying hot air hisses quietly at the leak. Magic lies thick in the air since the Final Glyph, dispersed and unformed. You can feel it in your hand. It washes across the red new scar like warm breath, like the air trickling from the pipe. The elemental crystals form faster, now, and someone harvested this one before you.

It doesn't matter. You have other things on your mind tonight.

And besides, you can always get it back.

12. the silent fulcrum in the interstice

[Kingdom Hearts — Kairi & Riku & Sora, Kairi & Naminé — G, 1.2K]

It begins with her hands: she plunges them into the place where earth meets sea meets sky. The light falls fragile across the grains, soft contrast to their coarse texture against her palms, her bare knees. The damp sand is heavy in her palms and something stirs in her as she pauses, hands suspended, full of infinite possibilities: This is how worlds are created, she thinks. Memories, falling like sand, like stars, like snow (where does she remember snow from?); she pauses, hands suspended, full of infinite worlds.

She can't remember the last time she did this, or maybe she never stopped: this is where she sat and stitched together a star, a promise; this is where she stood and watched the horizon and waited, or tried to remember what she was waiting for. The sand is heavy in her hands, and she wonders if this is any different, or if it is all reconstruction and remembering.

This is how worlds are created, and she sinks her fingers into the sand.

13. Same As It Never Was (cowritten with @sevdrag)

[Final Fantasy VIII — Rinoa/Squall, Laguna/Squall, Quistis/Rinoa, Kiros/Laguna, Quistis/Rinoa/Squall — E, 72K, WIP]

“I’m sorry, Commander, sir,” the waiter said over Squall's shoulder, “but we don’t have that particular vintage — our sincere apologies. Can I recommend another bottle — on the house, of course?”

Squall tried not to grit his teeth— too hard, anyway, because they were already grinding a little at the waiter’s placating, admiring, sorry-to-your-famous-personage-please-be-kind tone. He glanced up. Rinoa was smiling at him, that smile of hers that carried beaming wattage like a Thundaga to the chest, and even though it still made his heart skip a beat he could read in it what neither of them was saying: her hesitation playing across her face, the tense strain of her smile even as his own lips quirked back in response.

“Not a problem,” he said, aware that his voice was gruff and sounded irritated; maybe everyone would assume he was aggravated about the wine.

14. Coward Heart

[Final Fantasy X — Auron & Braska & JechtI — G, 3.6K]

The caves cast light back at them, fractured reflections and the rock's own native glow: the water was still and star-littered, pinpricks of light beneath a surface so motionless that Auron could barely tell where water ended and the pressing dark of the caverns began. All the light should have illumed the air, but the icy breath of the place seemed nearly solid, swallowing the light before it could reveal more than it hid. Auron had drawn his sword long ago, its rasp loud and echo-inhaled. Even the fiends glowed, here, great gelid flans with galaxies glittering inside them, dissolving into pyreflies like gentle novas.

Auron's gaze slid to Braska. In the gloaming, Braska's eyes seemed wide and white, his robes silver-edged black, all the careful distinctions of colour — red, for mourning; purple, for hope; blue, for seas and skies — lost in the half-light. Jecht was a suffocated flame beside him, the leaping fish on his sarong like the empty spaces between licks of fire as he shrugged off the wool-lined jacket Braska had finally convinced him to wear.

15. Disconnect

[Final Fantasy VIII / Kingdom Hearts — Maleficent & Squall — G, 3.7K]

He opens his eyes to the sight of water falling up. The spray coats his face, his clothes— he tries to sit up and make sure Lionheart is dry in its sheath and realizes that everything, everywhere, hurts.

(Rinoa.)

He makes it to his feet, checks on Lionheart. The gunblade survived the trip, maybe in better shape than Squall had. He flexes his hands, staring at them. They still feel numb. (Did it hurt you like this? Your magic?) His spells are gone, eaten up by the trip from Traverse Town. He hadn't counted on this exhaustion. (Yeah, and Cid had said it was impossible and called me an idiot. Whatever.)

It doesn't matter. He heaves himself away from the rocks he'd been leaning on, and starts climbing.

Analysis, I guess?

Okay well the immediate thing I notice is that I used the word "interstice" twice in this set of titles and that's just mortifying.

Decent mix of fandoms! 14 fandoms counting crossovers, although 8 were Final Fantasy of some kind.

I counted 6 past tense intros (though one of those fics switches to present tense halfway through, which is 15K words past the opening lines), and 9 present tense ones. That's a 2:3 ratio of past to present, and I actually had never realized I wrote in present tense this much. In the grand scheme of fiction writing, past tense is heavily more common so I guess this sample puts me in the... minority? I find present tense more immediate. I rarely actively CONSIDER which tense to use, I just start writing in whatever FEELS right for the idea. The first story where I actively considered tense was "Acclimating", the most recent story on here. Whoops >.>

Also I don't tend to open with dialogue. For short fics (less than 10K) I tend to write mostly in order, and I find writing dialogue difficult, so I tend to kind of "settle in" with a story by writing description first, and only after I'm properly settled try some dialogue. There were only 4 stories with dialogue in the opening lines here, and only 2 that actually had dialogue as the first thing in the story.

Fewer em dashes than I expected, as I know I overuse those. But not, apparently, in the opening lines. I wait until the reader is settled in/committed before pulling that shit on them.

I seem to vary between starting in the middle of things vs. doing a bit of setup. I couldn't really pin numbers to this one, as it's a bit more nebulous. For example the very first sentence of "This Stolen Interstice" (that word again, shoot me now) is in medias res, but then I back up to a bit of scene-setting. So who even knows!

Anyway, this was a fun exercise!

#gpoy #asks #my stuff #my fic

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