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stay-midnight · 3 years ago

Text

Always Here

Changbin x Male Reader

Summary : Changbin has been noticing the way you seem to slip out from his hugs and the way you always seem reason out when the "mood" is up. He was scared that you were losing feelings for him but he heard you breaking down this one night. He was devastated to hear you crying while he was listening behind the door. He’d find a way to comfort you, thinking it was his fault.

A/N: After a month and a half of not writing, I finally completed this!! Omg, T-T hopefully is good as I thought it was because Bin Thighs. Enjoy~

W#: 1.8K Words

TW: Relationship Insecurities and Slight Angst.

Warnings/Tags: Soft Dom/Top Changbin, Bottom Male Reader, Cockwarming, Thigh Riding, Overstim, Teasing, Butt Squeezing, Whiny Reader, Cum in Shorts, Mentions of Blowjobs, Praising.

Changbin was feeling anxious about your relationship since you have been distant but he found out that you seem to cry alone when he’s not within your presence.

He sighs and decided to try confront you about said breakdown. He would also try to do whatever helps to make you feel better.

With a cake in hand, about to enter your house in the midst of a chilly night.

Changbin shook his head and steeled his mind — Preparing for the worst is something Changbin is used too.

Entering the walls of your home, silence filled the air and Changbin was bound to break it. “Love?” he calls out.

No one responded.

That is, till you walked out the hallway with a smile and heavy lidded eyes, sleepy eyes but with a bright smile. Clearly in Changbin’s point of view, you were exhausted from work.

But in truth, Insecurities seems to always gnaw at you, preventing you from getting much sleep needed.

Changbin smiled back, “Bin, why are you here?” You asked, voice hoarse and tired.

Changbin frowned but remembered to smile since that's what he was here for right now, to cheer you up. “I brought cake and we need to talk.”

Your lips twitched slightly upward at the mention of cake, “Oh let’s talk while eating then.” you said, smiling as much as you can, cause even you don't want to ruin the good atmosphere you and him have.

Changbin nods and follow you as you walk over to your dining. You noticed Changbin walking behind you and immediately clung to him with awestruck smile, “I’ve missed you even though I always see you onscreen.”

You held tight on him to which the male just laughed slyly, Changbin’s laugh felt like a calming melody as always.

Changbin’s face finally showed a true smile as you clung to him like a silly koala.

Arriving at the dining table, you started to feel nervous, this feels like a break up...

You sat down and looked at him, playing with your fingers as to calm your nerves.

He followed your movement and breathed deeply while your own breath was held, the light bulb in the room flickering along the tense atmosphere.

“So what did you want to talk about...” you trailed off, feeling your eyes starting to water. If you had not stopped speaking you were sure that your own voice would waver.

Changbin furrowed his eyebrows, thinking deeply in his next words. “So, I heard you crying last week...” He stopped speaking and observed your facial expressions, he could see surprise and a hint of fear.

You blink at him, “I— It’s not—”

Changbin got up from his seat, cutting you off mid-sentence when his foot moved towards you.

You froze and in the new few moments, felt warm hands engulfing your body. “I wanted to say sorry... If it was my fault that you were crying, I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself.” Changbin said against your ear, his voice emitting distress and guilt. You couldn't pick out a word that pops up in your head — this whole ordeal feels straight out of a romance novel when the male lead comforts the main character — but this was no fiction by any means.

“Hn, it’s not your fault... Binnie” you mumble out.

As if an big huge exclamation mark appeared on Changbin’s head, he stilled. Surprised, he mumbles out a “sorry” in return.

“I’m sorry..” he continues,

“I thought it was about our relationship and, and— I forgot to take into account that you have other loved-”

Changbin was hasty in his explanation hoping for you to not to see him as too self-centered, he assumes. Maybe a little bit too much.

You laughed heartily and kissed him while he was rambling on, shocking him and stopping the constant flow of words coming from his lips.

“It was my fault.. my insecurities got the best of me, looking at you through the tv screen, flirting or was it? I was blinded, i always thought you find the others prettier.. more handsome, better..“ Now it was your turn to ramble on, Changbin was shocked, he deemed himself as the least touchiest of the members.

Changbin listened to your rant wholeheartedly, remembering the kiss from earlier.

“—It’s just that I love you so much, I guess seeing you getting tou— Mmh!”

Changbin pressed his lips unto yours, returning the favor from earlier. Changbin lips slotted perfectly unto yours, he held your chin as you placed your palm to control balance.

Changbin's mouth curled upward as he continued kissing you, your hands now seeming antsy, grabbed into his hair — tugging on it slowly.

You missed this, he also does too. Changbin pulled you impossibly closer, your neck felt stiff at that so you pulled away and breathed deeply. “You shouldn't try to break my neck like that, Binbin~” You said, stifling back a laugh.

Changbin pouted shortly and stood up, you look at him with a dumbfounded look. Changbin chortled and went over to you.

He proceeded to lean down to your sitting level and before you knew it, he had you slung over his shoulder. Changbin had a funny look on his face and proceeded to walk you over to your room.

When your moment of realization came, you were laughing and struggling, “Binnie, put me down!” You said, playfully hitting his back with your fist.

Changbin smiled at your goofy personality and as he said earlier he wants to keep that, your bright side is his most treasured thing about you other than your body.

Changbin sat down and placed you on his lap with a smile.

You laughed and hugged him, “You didn't have to do that.. But, thank you. I’m sorry for doubting you. That doesn't make me much of a good boyfriend now doesn't it..” You whispered, still a faulty because of earlier’s talk.

Changbin warmed his looks, “No matter what you say, you’re still the best boyfriend ever and will always be.”

You leaned in for a kiss but Changbin was quick to put a finger between your lips and laughed as you huffed in annoyance. “This kiss will mark our love, okay? I’d never do anything behind your back, Y/N. And I hope you do the same...” Changbin said seriously.

You nod in assurance, Changbin chuckled and started to lean in as well, removing his finger between your lips.

Once the kiss started, you couldn't bring yourself to stop — It felt like a fever dream to finally be at ease, no more doubts and no more worrying, he loves you. As hopefully you do the same to him.

Small kisses turned to another make-out session. Then it turned into grinding into his thigh which made Changbin lick his lips when he started to felt a bulge rutting against him.

A moan poured out of your mouth as the cold denim fabric rubbed against your cotton shorts, it felt so good, and it made you dizzy as if in a daze you kept on grinding on his thigh while Changbin’s hand manage to roam to your butt, squeezing it as he whispered praises in your ears.

“So hot Y/N..”

“We haven't been able to do this in awhile love.” he whispers, his lips connecting with your neck, sucking and marking it — leaving an crimson red patch on it.

“True, it’s my fault too.” you sigh.

Changbin frowns, “It’s not.” he mumbles softly.

You look at him with a small smile before he urges you to continue what you were doing, and you did — grinding on his thigh while his hand sneaks on the back of your white shorts kneading the supple skin of your ass.

A familiar knot arose in your abdomen, heavy breathing left your lips as the feeling slowly get stronger. You panted as Changbin never pulled his hand out from the inside of your shorts keeping the warmth there.

You were close. So very close.

Changbin pulled away to look at your face of bliss and almost came in his pants at the sight of you, panting and neck bobbing.

Changbin cursed at the sight, “You look like an angel, baby.” he says out loud and that was your final straw as you came inside your shorts with a whine.

Changbin looked at the sticky mess you did on his pants and chuckled, lifting you up a small bit before slowly stripping your pants off.

You saw it as messy but Changbin was in awe of it on how your cum still sticks to your cock and how the tip has a shade of blush red — pre-cum still leaking from it.

Changbin puts his hand on your cock, jerking you off experimentally, with you wincing on the sensitive feeling.

A high-pitched whine came out of your mouth contrary to the calm and soft voiced you had when your boyfriend arrived.

“Please, fuck me Changbin.!” you begged him, grinding your bare hips down on him again as the latter threw your shorts across the room.

Changbin chuckled, “It’s late night already baby~ Would you like to cockwarm instead~?” He asked, rubbing your hips as he stilled it, stopping you from grinding.

You hum and nodded, though you wanted him to fuck you till the sun rises — tomorrow would be a pain if he did now, especially since you have work, while he will have a dance practice tomorrow morning.

Changbin placed you down on the bed with a loving smile, the soft warm touch of the blanket making you sigh in relaxation. The air around you is chilly though especially since your apartment was on the colder side of the town.

You huffed and signalled him to also remove his pants. He does so with a teasing laugh.

Changbin laid down next to you with a shirt on while his hard-on was on view — cock thick and the red tip looked delicious.

Fuck.

You wanted to suck it.

But for another time.

He raised your legs so you are spooning him, then something thick was poking your rim.

Till he finally slid it in, a yelp coming from your mouth at the sudden penetration. The stretch was dry and stung without proper lubrication. “Do you want me to get the lube?” he asks, as he continued pushing in — chasing after the warmth.

“No— Fuck, it’s okay..” you mumble out, clinging to him as he bottomed out.

It felt euphoric, you haven't done this with Changbin in atleast a month.

You missed this.

Changbin huddled you with his body, giving more warmth than you already have. Changbin sighs at how your hole is clenching around his cock.

Maybe you both should stay this position forever.

Boyfriends.

Lovers.

~ ★ ~

“Didn't you bring a cake? Where’d you leave it?” you ask with his dick still inside of you.

“Oh yeah...” he trails off, your eyebrow raising on him in question.

A moment of silence...

“If the cake goes bad you have to buy me a new one~” you said, glaring at him with a pout on your pretty lips.

“Fine, fine~ Since I love you so much~” he teases, thrusting into you softly while a moan slips out of your throat.

#kpop x male reader #stray kids x male reader #seo changbin x male reader #seo changbin #dom!skz #bottom male reader #kpop male reader #skz smut #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #skz imagines #sub male reader #changbin x male reader #skz x male reader #changbin smut #lgbtq+#gay #x male reader

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serendipitous-magic · 3 years ago

Note

What is your writing advice for young people who want to write fanfiction and original stories in the near future?

If this is just Way Too Much, skip to the end (#16). My most important piece of advice is there. I also happen to think #5 is pretty good.

-_-_-_-

1) Literally just write. Write whatever you want, and do a lot of it.

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2) You don’t have to post everything. In fact you don’t have to post anything. You can, don’t get me wrong, but it can be intimidating to sit down and think “I will now write something that other people will see and read and judge with their eyeballs.” Because that’s probably gonna lead to nerves and writer's block. Just write down the ideas that you have, the things you want to write, whatever’s in your brain that you want to explore and expand upon and make into something. And then if you want to, share it. Or don’t share it. I have plenty of half-baked ideas and documents and random story chapters and shit hidden away on my Google Drive that will never see the light of day, for a whole number of reasons. I wanted to write it but it wasn’t ~Spicy~ enough to warrant posting, or it’s only like an eighth of a good idea, or it’s like one scene with no story around it, or it’s just something incredibly self-indulgent I just wanted to write for my own enjoyment.

Point being, don’t write for other people. Don’t write so that other people can read it; write what you want, write for yourself, and then if you want to share it, do.

_-_

3) You can pretty much ignore any and all of these for fanfiction. In fact, you can ignore pretty much any rules or guidelines you want for fanfiction. Fanfic is a sandbox. You don’t have to be a “professional writer” to post fic. No one expects you to be Stephen King or Margaret Atwood. Fanfic is just for playing in a fandom and having fun. If you wanna write a 50 chapter slow burn with very little plot aside from the OTP slowly getting to know each other, and no real stakes or central conflict, I guarantee people would read that. Really, fanfiction is the Old West of writing: lawless, wild, unpredictable, and free.

However, here are the rules you must follow:

-Separate your paragraphs. (I’m sure you know this already, but I’m gonna say it anyway just in case.) Do not post one big block of text. Make a paragraph break when someone new is talking, when the characters are in a new place, when a new event occurs that changes the scene, when a chunk of time has passed, and when there’s a major change in subject.

-I know it’s obvious, but... grammar, punctuation, and capitalization. They exist to make writing easy for readers to read, and more people will read your stuff if they don’t have to stop and try to figure out what you meant.

-Use tags and labels, as is possible with whatever site you’re using. Especially if you include possibly triggering content in your story. Again, I know it’s obvious, but it’s common courtesy. Bonus: tagging the themes and content of your story helps readers find it and read it :)

-If possible, limit the use of all-caps and exclamation marks / question marks. 99% of the time, one ! or one ? will do. If you overload the page with a lot of all-caps and long rows of exclamation marks or question marks, it hampers readability.

... That’s literally all I can think of. And, like I said, it’s all pretty basic stuff. You were probably rolling your eyes like, “Uh, yeah, Gwen, I know.” But that’s literally it. You can pretty much do whatever you want in fanfic.

That being said, here’s my advice for both fanfiction and original work...

_-_

4) A quick and dirty rule for coming up with a plot, starting a story, keeping up pacing, or maintaining tension: figure out what dreams, desires, and goals are nearest and dearest to your main character’s heart (see #16). Then set up the main conflict to be directly in opposition to that goal. It doesn’t have to be in a tangible way, though it could be. But, if your main character wants more than anything to reach the ships on the southern coast of your world and sail to a new life, make sure the main conflict immediately prevents them from doing that - in fact, make sure to send them north. If your main character just wants to keep their loved ones safe, kidnap the loved ones. If your main character just wants to date their best-friend-turned-crush, make sure they think they have no chance - or, make them cocky about it, and make sure it makes Person B determined not to ever like them. You get it. Figure out what your character most wants, and then keep them from having that. Boom - your conflict now ties in with your character's motivation. It's like instant yeast for plots.

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5) If you’re anything like me, you want your first draft to be Good, despite all that advice about how the first draft doesn’t have to be good and it’s just to get words on the page, yadda yadda. And if you’re somewhat of a perfectionist (like myself), it’s easy to get stuck looking at a blank page because you don’t have The Perfect Words, and you want what you write to be Good the first time.

Here’s how I cheat that:

Instead of trying to write a Good First Draft from a blank page, hit the enter key a few times, skip a little down on the page, change your ink to red (or blue, or whatever - just something immediately identifiable as Not Black) and just thought vomit. Write whatever the hell you’re thinking, exactly as you think it. Don’t worry about it being readable, don’t worry about narrative flow for now, don’t worry about covering all the details, don’t worry about anything except either a) getting all the details of your idea out onto the page, whether that’s a lot or whether it’s just a sentence or two, or b) if you don’t have an idea yet, finding your way there.

Because this method is also very good for finding your way to ideas when you’re stuck in writer’s block.

Because of how human brains work, getting this stuff out onto the page - in all its messy, stream-of-consciousness glory - will likely spark more thoughts. As you write your original idea about the scene, it’ll likely spark more ideas. Creation begets creation. If you just start thought-vomiting your ideas onto the page, chances are you’ll think of more things as you go, and you’ll start filling out description or dialogue or tone or action or whatever, and pretty soon the scene starts writing itself.

Not sure where you’re going with the scene or which ideas you wanna use? Use a lot of ambivalent language in your “thought-vomit draft.” My pre-writing notes are chock-full of the words “maybe,” “perhaps,” and the phrases, “At some point...” and “...or something like that.” In this way, I don’t tie myself down to one idea; it’s just an idea, and I’m keeping it on the page in case I use it, but I might chuck it in the trash or change it or whatever.

And then, once your ideas for the scene (or story, or chapter, or whatever) are on the page, then go back to the top and start translating them into a “real” first draft. Use black ink, and start copy-pasting chunks of the thought-vomit up into the top part of the document and translating them into Draft 1. Separate out paragraphs where paragraph breaks should be. Add the correct punctuation and whatnot. Change “describe the lobby here - include potted plants, fancy carpet, blood stain, etc.” into an actual description of the lobby. Flesh it out, or condense, or whatever it needs. And if you’re still stuck, change back to red ink and ramble some more until you find a path that feels right, then plug that in. This keeps you from looking at a blank page, and it allows you to generate a kind of Draft 0.5, somewhere between a plan and a first draft.

You don’t have to use every idea. Like I said, jot down whatever comes to mind, put a “maybe” before or after it, and keep working. If the idea grabs you and you wanna keep expanding on it and exploring it, cool. If you just wanna jot it down so you don’t forget it and then move on, also cool. Red-ink draft / “thought-vomit draft” is your time to jump around in the timeline, add or finesse details at whatever point your brain moves to, etc. Don’t try to do it exactly in story order, because you will get tangential thoughts and ideas, and you will not remember to write them down five pages later when you finally get to taking notes on that scene. Trust me. On that note...

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6) Write everything down the moment you think of it. Seriously.

“I’ll remember it when I get around to writing that scene in a couple days / weeks / months (/years).”

You won’t.

Write it down.

Phone, journal, google docs - hell, my family regularly laughs at me for grabbing a napkin during dinner and scribbling thoughts down alongside pasta sauce stains.

And then, once you have it written down somewhere...

_-_

7) Consolidate your writing ideas in one place.

Maybe this isn’t really your style, and that’s totally chill.

Buuuut, if you’re Type-A like me - or if you tend to be somewhat unorganized and you know you’ll lose track of your writing notes if they’re scattered across multiple notebooks, journals, napkins, phone notes, etc. - having one consolidated document of notes is a life saver. I keep mine on Google Docs so I can access it, add to it, and look through it for inspiration anywhere at any time. When I have one of those Shower Thoughts that I jot down on my phone or on a napkin during dinner, I set myself a reminder on my phone to type it up in my Story Ideas document later.

(Or, if the idea I had was for a story of mine that I’ve already started planning / drafting / whatever, I put it in the document for that story instead of the Big Random Story Ideas doc. You get it.)

_-_

8) Have other ways to collect and save writing ideas, besides just writing stuff down. If you like Pinterest, make pinterest boards of your characters or stories or settings or whatever. If you’re big into playlists, make a playlist for your character / setting / story / etc. Or both. Or something else. I’m not good at drawing, but maybe you are, and maybe you like to draw your ideas. Whatever form it takes, having another way to save ideas and think about your stories is invaluable.

_-_

9) Some writers can just start writing with no idea where the story is going, and they just kind of figure it out as they go. I envy those writers. And I do that sometimes for fanfiction, where the stakes are somewhat lower and the audience is reading more for scene-to-scene enjoyment (and to see their OTP kiss) than for a Driving And Compelling Narrative.

But here’s the thing: especially if you’re just kind of starting out, writing without some sort of plan is really, really hard, and will likely lead you into a slow, meandering narrative that will likely frustrate you.

Even if you think you’re someone that just can’t write with a plan (and again, I have the highest respect for pansters out there - I don’t know how you do it, you crazy bastards, but you keep doing you) - even if you think “I can’t work with plans, they’re too prescriptive, I just want to write and see what happens -”

Try at least making the most skeletal of plans.

Even if you have no clue what 90% of the story is, yet. That’s fine. But you need to have some idea of what you’re building to, even if that’s nothing more specific than a feeling, or a turning point for your character. Even if your entire plan for everything beyond Chapter 1 is, “At some point, Charlie needs to realize that Ed was lying to her.”

This is where those Draft 0.5 notes come in handy. Because, more than likely, working on your current scene that way will spark ideas for later scenes, which you can put down at the bottom of the document and save for when they become relevant. In my experience, the line between planning ahead and making a Draft 0.5 is exceptionally thin. One can quickly turn into the other.

If you’re really, really resistant to the idea of planning ahead, that’s okay. It’s not everybody’s style. But for the love of all that is holy, write down your ideas for future scenes, even if you’re a person that doesn’t like to plan and writes only in story order, because you will not remember that idea once you get to that scene.

_-_

10) You don’t have to write in order.

Here’s the thing: I’m a person that can only do my Draft 1 in story order (meaning, chronological order). I just have to be in that flow; I need to write in story order for me to best channel where the character is at from scene to scene, both narratively and emotionally.

But my Thought Vomit Draft is another thing entirely. By using the brain hack of putting my notes in red (or another color, it doesn’t matter) and going down to the bottom of the document / page and taking notes there, and then integrating them into whatever plan I have, and then translating them into Draft 1 once I get there in the story - by doing that, I can get my good ideas onto the page (and expound upon them and let my muse carry me and ride that momentum while I’m in the moment of inspiration) without writing out of order.

Maybe that’s just me. But if you’re a person who really prefers to write in story order, that could be hugely helpful to you. It is to me.

_-_

11) Emotion and motivation will do more for your story than technicalities of plot.

If your characters really care about something, and their journey through the (shaky or weak) plot is emotionally engaging, it will be a much more compelling story than a story with a “perfect” plot and unrelatable or unmotivated characters.

If your characters care about what they’re doing, and it means something to them, and their goals and actions are driven by dreams or fears or emotions that are integral to who they are, your audience will care too. If you have a perfectly crafted plot that hits all the right beats and has high stakes and fast pacing and drama - but your characters don’t connect with what’s happening in a way that’s deeply meaningful or emotional for them? You’re gonna have a hard time engaging readers.

When in doubt, prioritize character emotion and motivation over plot. Emotion is what drives story.

This power is highly exploitable. (Just look at pulp novels and shitty but entertaining movies.) You can even use it to glaze over plot holes or reinvigorate a limp narrative. Use it that way sparingly, though. It’s a band-aid, not a surgery.

_-_

12) Evil villains are hard to write - mostly because there are very few truly evil people in the world. (There are a few. Billionaires and several big name politicians come to mind.) But by and large, there aren’t that many evil people. There are plenty of bad people, but bad people have some good in them, somewhere in there. Trying to write an evil villain is hard, because they often turn very cartoony.

Here’s a tip: it’s much easier to write antagonists who aren’t evil. Even if they’re bad people. Of course, there’s no reason you can’t write a villain that’s just truly evil - a serial killer, or an abuser, or a billionaire, or someone who legit just wants to hurt people or blow up the earth or stay in control of an oppressed population, or whatever. But chances are, it’s gonna be really hard to make them feel real, and even harder to create a plot around them that doesn’t feel forced or contrived.

Instead, try writing an antagonist / villain whose motivations and goals directly clash with your protagonist’s - but not because they want to take over the world or see people suffer. Write an antagonist who’s chaotic good, but whose perception of the situation is completely opposite from your hero’s. Write an antagonist whose only desire is to save people, and who will do anything to achieve that goal - anything. Write an antagonist who believes in the letter of the law, and will hinder and oppose the hero’s methods even if they agree with the hero’s motivation. Write an antagonist who got in way over their head and did some things they regret, and now they don’t know how to get out, and they’re doing their best but whatever they set in motion is too powerful for them to stop now.

Write villains who are human. Write a killer who thought they were doing the right thing by taking their victim out of the equation, who vomits at the sight of the body and sobs over the grave they dig. Write a government leader who truly believes she’s doing what’s best for her people in the long-term, even if it might hurt them in the short term, and is willing to endure the hatred and belligerence of the masses if it means securing what she thinks is a better future for her people. Write a teenage bully that thinks they’re the one being picked on by the world, and they’re just fighting back, standing their ground. Write a scientist who will break any code of ethics and hurt anyone he needs to - in order to bring back his baby sister from the grave, because he promised her he’d protect her and he failed. Write an antagonist who is selfish and self-centered and capricious - because in order to survive they had to look out for Number One, and that habit ain’t about to break anytime soon.

Write villains who aren’t even villains. Write antagonists who oppose the hero because of moral differences. Write antagonists who are trying to do the right thing. Write antagonists who treat the heroes with kindness and dignity and respect and gentleness.

They don’t have to be good. They don’t have to be Misunderstood Sweethearts who “deserve” a redemption arc. They can be cruel and nasty and dismissive and callous and violent and etc. etc.

Just hesitate before you make them Evil-with-a-capital-E. Because evil is hard to write, and honestly, boring to read. Flawed human beings with goals and motivations that directly oppose the main characters’ are much easier to write and much more interesting to read.

Ask why. Why is your villain trying to take over the world? What does that even mean? Are they trying to create a Star-Trek-like post-capitalism utopia, but they know that won’t happen in a million lifetimes, so they’re trying to do it by force? Are they actually super in favor of human rights, but they got very impatient waiting for the world to do anything about poverty and war, so they decided to take it into their own hands? Are they determined to fix the world - no matter the cost? Are they terrified and overwhelmed, but committed to see it through to the end? Or - maybe they’re just doing it on a dare. Maybe they don’t really give a shit about world domination, they were just a mediocre rich white guy who decided to fuck around and find out, and now he’s kind of curious how far he can take this thing. And now he’s kind of an internationally-wanted criminal, so he’s kind of stuck living on his hidden private island in his multi-billion dollar secret base, strapping lasers to sharks’ heads for the hell of it. Gross, selfish, uncaring, and dangerous? For sure. Evil? Depends on your definition. See, now we’re getting somewhere.

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13) It’s tempting to let the plot control the characters. It’s easy to drop your characters into a situation and see how they react. But here’s the thing: that doesn’t drive plot. In fact, it bogs down pacing. Instead, try to build you plot off of your characters’ actions and decisions. Let your character build their own situation. Not to say it should go they way they wanted it to go; in fact, usually, their grand plans should go to hell very quickly. But having the characters take action and make decisions, and letting the plot develop based on that, is much easier to make compelling than making a rigid series of events and then trying to herd your characters into them.

_-_

14) Having trouble justifying a character’s actions? Consider having them make the opposite decision, or having them approach the situation in a different way. For example: you need your character to go meet the bad guy, for plot reasons, even though there’s no way it’s not a trap. If the character goes, readers are gonna be groaning with their head in their hands, because c’mon man, that was really fucking stupid. But he’s gotta go, because the plot needs that. Two ways you might handle this: a) He knows it’s probably a trap. He decides not to go. The plot conspires to get him near the villain anyway. Or, b) He knows it’s a trap. But he needs to go, for (insert reasons here). So, he approaches it in an unexpected way. He brings backup, recruiting a side character we met earlier in the story. Or he arrives on the back of a dragon, because ain’t nobody gonna fuck with a dude on a dragon. Or he goes - early, and ambushes the villain. It may work, it may not. He may get himself kidnapped anyway. But it moves the plot along without having Stupid Hero Syndrome.

_-_

15) This is a legit piece of advice: if all of this sounds overwhelming, literally just ignore it and write what you want. For real. Writing should be fun, and every single writer operates differently. If you’re sitting here like “I’m getting stressed just reading this,” just flip me a good-natured bird and get on with your life. I promise I won’t take it personally. Same goes for literally any other writing advice you see. Lots of rules and guidelines can very quickly make anything thoroughly un-fun. Just write. If you’re passionate about it and you do it for long enough, you’ll start figuring out the tips and tricks on your own.

_-_

16) Here’s the best piece of advice I can give you: know your characters. More importantly, know what’s important to them. Build their personality and decisions off of that, and build your plot off of their decisions.

I see a lot of character building sheets that ask a shit-ton of questions like “What’s their most prized possession?” “Do they like their family?” “What’s their favorite food?”

And while these are good questions, my problem with this type of character building is that if you start there, with the little stuff, you’re building on nothing. IMO, to make a truly strong character (not strong like Inner Strength, strong like effective), you need a strong foundation.

Here are the things you must know about your character:

a) What are their greatest fears / deepest insecurities? And I don’t mean “wasps” or “heights.” I mean the deep shit. I mean fears like “living a meaningless life,” or “turning out just like their parents,” or “that no one will ever love them,” or “being powerless.” You may say, “But they’re really scared of wasps! They fall into a wasp nest when they were little and got stung so much they almost died!” Great! That’s a fantastic bit of backstory. They should absolutely be afraid of wasps, and that should absolutely be an impediment later in the story. But dig deeper. What about that event actually scarred them? Was it the helplessness? Stumbling around, swatting at the air, not being able to do a single thing to stop what was happening to them? Was it that they were alone, and no matter how loud they screamed, no one was coming? Was it the bodily horror of feeling themself turn into an inhuman creature as they swelled up from the stings, unable to move their fingers or face normally anymore?

And don’t forget insecurities, because those factor in, too. Are they deeply insecure about their identity? Do they believe, deep down, that they’re ugly? Did they grow up poor and they’ve always been really touchy about that? Why? Dig deep. Figure out what really, really bothers them.

b) What are their hopes and dreams? What do they truly want out of life? What do they consider the most valuable to their experience here in this thing called life? Is it the freedom to forge their own path and be independent? Is it the approval of their family or peers? Is it a home? Is it knowledge, or understanding? Spiritual fulfillment? Is it deeply important to them that they contribute to their community, or protect those they love? What do they need in order to feel truly and deeply fulfilled in life?

Figure out those two things (each one encompasses several things, btw, you don’t have to stop at just one for each), and then use that to inform how they behave and the types of decisions they make within the story.

It also informs character behavior and personality.

Let’s say we have a character who’s afraid of helplessness. They’re probably gonna be the person that always wants to do something, try something, no matter how hopeless the situation seems. They’d despise just sitting and waiting, probably, because it makes them feel powerless. They might even be the person that makes rash decisions and acts impulsively and puts themself in danger unnecessarily, because in their mind it’s better than being at the mercy of fate. This is one way you could use a character’s personality to inform their decisions, which in turn helps to inform plot.

Or, let’s say we have a character whose greatest fear is being left behind or forgotten. We may have a chatterbox on our hands. They might be obnoxious. They might love the spotlight, constantly vying for attention no matter the situation, because deep down they’re so afraid that they’d be forgotten otherwise. Or, it may go the opposite way. They may be so afraid of people leaving them that they’re terrified of bothering people. They don’t want to do anything that could annoy people, anything that might give people a reason to leave them. They might be exceedingly polite, quiet, accommodating. A push-over, really.

These are two nearly opposite types of personalities, both stemming from the same core fear/insecurity. You can go a lot of different ways with it. But if you build on that strong foundation, you’ll have a strong character, and a stronger plot.

Likewise, the structure of your story can and should inform the design of these character traits. If you need your characters to team up near the end, it may be impactful if you give your main character a deep fear of commitment, an insecurity about being unwanted or left behind, and make them highly value independence and freedom. That could make their team-up for the final battle very meaningful. Conversely, you can use your character’s deepest fears and desires to help design the plot. Is your character deeply insecure about voicing their opinions or taking a stand, because of trauma they faced in the past? Make them face that. Build that into the climactic third act. Give them the big inspirational speech where they stand up and talk about what they believe to be important, what they think the group should do. And then design that character arc to run through the story, giving you more handholds and stepping stones, more pieces of foundation on which to design the plot.

In this way, character should inform story as much as story informs character. It’s a feedback loop.

Bonus: if you build your character and your plot off of each other in this way, it automatically starts to build in the foundations of that emotional investment I mentioned earlier. If your character’s decisions are based on what they most want and do not want in life, you basically have your character motivation and stakes pre-built.

Note: you need to know these things about your villain, too.

-_-_-

I’m genuinely sorry about the length of this, lmao. But you did ask.

Best of luck!

Edit: I forgot an important one:

17) Start when the scene starts and end when the scene ends.

What do I mean by that?

If your notes say “Danny asks Nicole out after school and majorly flubs it,” start the scene when Danny approaches Nicole after school. Better yet, cold-open the scene on “I was wondering if, you know, you’d wanna. You know. Hang out some time?”

Don’t start that morning when Danny goes to school, unless you’re gonna cover the school day in like one or two sentences. Don’t spend whole paragraphs going through the school day, unless it’s to cover other plot points first (in which case apply these same guidelines there), or if the paragraphs are there for a specific reason, like to illustrate how stressed he is and how it seems like every little thing is going wrong. Even then, trim the fat as much as possible. Expounding and describing everything Moment-to-moment is for the meat of the scenes, not the leading-up-to and coming-away-from.

Here’s my rule of thumb: study how and when movies cut from scene to scene. Movies have exceptionally strict, limited time for storytelling; they’re excellent examples of starting a scene when the plot point starts and ending when it’s over. If you can’t picture a movie showing everything you showed, start the scene later and end it earlier.

#asks #anon #writing advice #writing tips #writing #fanfic writing #fanfiction #character creation #plot development #character development #my advice #original writing

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scapegrace74-blog · 4 years ago

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Ginger Snap, Chapter 5

A/N Know what this fic needs? More Geillis. No really, I think you guys are going to like where I’m going with this. Just bear with me. Only one more chapter to go after this one, plus an epilogue. Thanks for coming on the journey with me! With due credit to Sia, this chapter’s title is Fire, Meet Gasoline.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

Geillis Duncan drove much the way she approached life, which was to say without much regard for rules and at white-knuckle speed. I gripped her Range Rover’s leather cushion and swallowed any exclamations of dismay as we ricocheted through Edinburgh’s late afternoon traffic. When we finally slid into an underground parking spot and emerged into the bustling festivity of the Princes Street Christmas Market, I felt the tension of imminent disaster abandon my shoulders.

“Where to first, then?” Geillis asked, looking far too animated by the prospect of accompanying someone while they did their Christmas shopping.

Geillis and I had kept in touch and met for coffee a few times over the past months. When I explained that I wouldn’t be taking any more cooking classes at Ginger Snap because Jamie was giving me at-home lessons, her reaction was a moonbeam grin.

“Look at ye, wee vixen! I ne’er wouldha thought ye had it in ya, Claire. Tho I canna say as I blame ye.”

No matter how much I protested that I was together with Frank and that my relationship with Jamie was purely professional, she refused to believe me. The ongoing absence of a ring from my left hand didn’t help.

“Now,” Geillis exclaimed once we’d taken in the sights and sounds of the market, “let’s have a keek at yer list. Where should we start?”

I pulled out my phone and opened the Notes app. As she read, my friend’s nose wrinkled in confusion.

“Trouser socks, shoe stays, Moleskine notebook, Rive Gauche... who are ye shopping for, yer grandparents?”

“No,” I protested. “The first three are for Frank. The perfume is for me.”

When I explained that Frank had made a list of the items he would like to give me for Christmas, Geillis grew incensed.

“Ye mean he has ye doin’ his gift buying fer him? Tha’s the least romantic thing I’ve e’er heard. Do ye even like Rive Gauche, Claire? And dinna lie tae me, fer I can read yer feelings all o’er yer face.”

Truthfully, I didn’t much care for the flowery scent. My personal taste ran more towards woodsy or herbaceous aromas. But it was Frank’s favourite, and it pleased me to please him. Or it had. I was beginning to wonder when it would be my turn to please myself.

“Right,” Geillis interrupted my thoughts. “Marks and Sparks will do jes fine for yer wee granny list. And then you and I are going shopping fer yer real gift.”

Geillis was a force to be reckoned with in a retail environment. She navigated like a guided missile from one department to the next. Twenty minutes later, we were back on the pavement, which glistened with the colourful reflections of decorations strung above.

“Your car is the other way,” I explained as Geillis turned left.

“Aye, tis, but our destination is right o’er here. House of Fraser. See? Tis practically calling yer name, Claire.”

Inside the venerable old building was an astonishing multi-tiered arcade reaching over five stories to a massive skylit ceiling. The central space was dominated by a fifteen metre-high Christmas tree (a Fraser fir, of course) and every archway of every arcade was dripping with lights. The impression was like stepping into a Fabergé egg.

Geillis dragged me, slack-jawed, towards the ladies’ wear section. Circling the racks like a hawk on the wind, she eyed my body, sizing me up quite literally, then thrust several pieces into my hands.

“Geillis,” I hissed, wary of the sales staff hovering nearby, no doubt smelling an excessive commission in the offing. “I don’t need a new outfit. And I certainly don’t need,” I shook the garments in question, “something like this. Wherever would I wear it?”

“Well, fer starters, ye’d wear it tae dinner t’night. I dinna wish tae offend ye, Claire, but I canna in good conscience allow ye tae set foot in the Timberyard dressed fer a job interview as a primary school teacher.”

With that she shoved me in the direction of the changing rooms. Deciding to humour her, I was unbuttoning my top when two lacy bits of nothing came flying over the door.

“Start wi’ these. And dinna think I willna notice if ye’re no’ wearing them!”

I stripped down to my panties, bemusedly wondering how she knew my exact bra size.

Upon seeing me exit the dressing room in her choice of clothing, Geillis let out a squeal of delight. She insisted I rip out the tags and leave the store wearing my new outfit, declaring it was her Christmas gift to me.

I felt tremendously self-conscious as we walked towards the restaurant. The aubergine velvet jeans clung to my legs in an unfamiliar way and the black turtleneck, while technically not revealing, hinted at kink with its many heavy zippers and fastenings. Together with my unruly hair, unstraightened for once, I felt like another woman entirely. I didn’t recognize her, but I felt like she might be someone I’d like to get to know.

The Timberyard was a modern restaurant in a rugged old warehouse, not far from the farmer’s market I’d visited with Jamie. We were joined there by several of Geillis’ friends, and we ate, drank and laughed until my sides were sore.

As I wobbled to the loo, I noticed the bartender following me with an appreciative gaze. It had been a long time since a man had looked at me that way, and it gave me a guilty thrill.

We left the restaurant just before midnight. I pulled Geillis into an impulsive hug.

“Wha’ was that for, hen?” she asked.

“Nothing. Everything. Just, thank you for being you, Geil.”

“Och, tis my pleasure, lass. I only want tae see ye happy. Now, what do ye say to a digestif?”

After only a slight protest on my part, the two of us piled into an Uber. Our destination was another restaurant, this time in a converted whisky warehouse by the harbour in Leith. It was well past last sitting, but when I mentioned this to Geillis she explained away my concern.

“I ken the owner, who’s also the chef. Tis a popular spot fer locals in the restaurant scene tae meet after they close up fer a few drinks afore heading home tae their beds.”

Inside, the walls were rough stone, supported in places by industrial metal beams. The kitchen was open to the main dining area, and I grinned as I thought of Frank’s strong opinion on the matter. Near the back of the room, lit by dim naked bulbs and the glow from several open fireplaces, was a huge square table surrounded by nearly twenty chairs upholstered in bright yellow plaid. Around the table was gathered a motley assortment of men and women, all talking and laughing and sipping on a variety of drinks. And in their midst, his copper hair shining in the firelight, sat Jamie.

A shout went up from the table as Geillis approached. I hung back, tugging at the hem of my new turtleneck as though I could stretch it to cover my arse. Besides Jamie, I recognized Jenny, Angus and Murtagh, but I only had eyes for the big ginger chef. He sat at one corner, probably in deference to his long legs which were stretched out before him, wrapped in black denim. A black leather jacket hung over the chair behind him. He looked dangerous. It was a very good look for him.

Dragging me by the elbow, Geillis nudged and bumped Angus to one side despite his vulgar protests, then practically pushed me down into the chair directly next to the chef. With a smug smile of satisfaction, she then retired to the opposite side of the table.

I looked anywhere but directly at Jamie, but I could feel his butane eyes on me. I was certain he would scorch right through my outer layers and down to where Geillis’ choice in lingerie burned against my tender skin. The noise from the rest of the table faded away.

“Ye look bonnie t’night, Arsonist.” His voice was low and gruff and it sent a quickening through my veins.

“Thank you, Jamie. It was Geillis’ Christmas gift to me, and I feel, well... let’s just say it isn’t my usual look.”

“It suits ye, I think.” He reached out and lightly touched the silver tab of a zipper that ended near my wrist, setting it swinging. I swallowed and looked frantically around. Several open bottles of liquor stood nearby. Grabbing the nearest one, I poured myself a generous serving and knocked it back, all in one go. I tried to steady my breathing.

“Look, Jamie...”

Just then a blond man in chef’s whites called to Jamie from across the table. An exchange involving a lot of Scottish cursing and an off-colour reference to someone’s lobster pot ensued. I tried to convince myself I needed to leave. It was late, I was half-drunk, and whatever I intended to say to Jamie should definitely wait for another moment. Maybe never.

A hand on my thigh broke my preoccupation.

“Sorry, Arsonist, ye were sayin’ something?”

I wet my lips, frantically trying to recall anything but the feeling of Jamie’s strong fingers, stroking me through the velvet of my jeans.

“I...”

At that moment, the woman on Jamie’s far side broke into song. The rest of the table cheered and clapped along, and it was impossible to hear anything except the concussive pounding of my heart against my eardrums.

Jamie grabbed my clammy hand.

“Come wi’ me,” he instructed, grabbing our outerwear and pulling me towards the door. Geillis watched our departure with all the excitement of a child on Christmas morning.

Outside the air was dense and cold, a briny slap after the stuffy warmth of the restaurant. Jamie obviously had a destination in mind, and we walked hand-in-hand along the cobbled streets for several minutes before finally emerging at the port. A jetty struck out into the inky sea, and it was there that we ended up. Besides a few gulls and the winking of a nearby lighthouse, we were all alone. The sodium street lights caught Jamie’s curls and made them burn.

“Forgive me, Arsonist. I couldna hear myself think in there. Tho, come tae think of it, tis no’ much better now.” Rather than release me, as he spoke Jamie stroked my hand, running calloused fingers over each vein and every knuckle. I don’t think he even realized he was doing it, but it stole every thought from my head.

“No ring,” he remarked, stroking the finger in question.

“No,” I whispered in response.

And then it burst out of me, like a tidal wave of feeling that I never saw coming. I told him everything. My childhood roaming the globe with my uncle, pre-occupied and rootless, dreaming of stability. Meeting Frank at Harvard, and realizing that he represented all the things that my life to date had lacked: structure, security, a solid foundation, a home. And how it took moving to Scotland and coming into contact with a group of near-strangers to make me realize that the price I had paid for that stability was higher than I’d ever imagined. I’d given up my dream of becoming a doctor. I’d become so lost in Frank’s vision of who I should be that I’d almost lost sight of who I actually was.

By the time the flood of words left me, I was in Jamie’s arms, crying into his leather jacket. He hushed me with quiet murmurs and languorous stroking of my hair, as one would a child who has woken from a nightmare.

I stepped out of his embrace and rubbed my sleeve across my face. I must have looked an absolute mess, but he still watched me with those earnest, patient eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I began, “I don’t know what...”

“Claire,” he interrupted. I’d never before realized just how many consonants were in my given name. “Ye dinna need tae apologize tae me. But ye may want tae consider an apology tae yerself.” At my raised eyebrow, he continued.

“I’m no’ the kind of man tae tell another what they should and shouldna do. But ye strike me as someone who’s made decisions fer the right reasons, yet ended up in the wrong place.” Here he paused, as though carefully weighing his words. “There’s no sin in changin’ yer mind, Arsonist. Tis very well tae be hungry, so long as ye ken what ye hunger for.”

“And what do you hunger for, James Fraser?” The provocative words had left my lips before I had the chance to censor them. His answer came in the form of a blistering look that left no doubt as to its meaning. Then he gathered himself, banking the fire I’d unconsciously ignited.

“Many things. Regular, ordinary things, mostly. My family’s health and happiness. A faster bike. My own restaurant.”

“Like Tom’s there?” I asked, gesturing towards the harbour.

“Och, Tom is a braw chef, and worthy o’ every accolade tha’s been showered upon him. But the hospitality scene in Edinburgh is cut-throat, an’ suitable locations cost a fortune. Nah, Jenny and I want tae buy back our childhood home in the Highlands. Tis called Lallybroch, and when our Da passed, our Mam sold it tae her brother. We’d turn it inta a country inn, wi’ Jenny running the lodging side o’ things and I the dining. Tha’s the dream anyway,” he ended with a shrug.

I rested my hand on his forearm. “That sounds like a wonderful plan, Jamie.”

Before he could reply, an enormous yawn burst from my lungs.

“Time tae get ye home tae yer bed, Arsonist,” Jamie grinned. “Come, I’ll give ye a ride.”

“Wait, haven’t you been drinking?” I inquired as we walked back down the jetty.

“Three years sober,” he explained with no hint of embarrassment. “I went somewhere pretty dark after my Mam died, an’ it took a near-fatal crash tae scare me straight.” His eyes squinted in a poor approximation of a wink as he added, “Besides, there are better ways tae chase a rush than in the bottom of a bottle.”

“Such as?” I asked brazenly.

Which was how I found myself on the back on a black motorcycle, my arms twined around Jamie’s waist. Rather than take me directly home, he steered us north, following the coast. It was very late, with hardly another vehicle about. We merged onto the motorway, and Jamie picked up speed. My thighs tightened around his lean hips, the vibration of the motor beneath us shivering up my spine. As we emerged beneath the hastate lights of the Queensferry Bridge, I stretched my arms wide, icy air ripping against the sleeves of my jacket. I laughed, although no-one could hear me. I yelled, and only the wind yelled back. I was flying.

***

It was nearly dawn when Jamie pulled up in front of my flat. My legs thrummed, my eyes were dry with fatigue, and my heart ached, but I felt better than I could ever remember. I handed Jamie back his spare helmet and shook out my curls. He watched me in that half-sleepy, half-vigilant way of his that I now recognized as desire.

“I don’t know what I could ever say to thank you, Jamie.”

“Ye needn’t say anything at all, Arsonist. Nae matter what ye decide, it has been my very great honour tae get tae know you.”

Without another word, he kick-started the engine and drove off into the early morning mist.

“Goodbye,” I whispered to his vanishing shadow.

***

The lamp above the couch was lit, and Frank lay still beneath its glow. I realized he had fallen asleep waiting for me to come home. Instead of regret, what I felt in that moment was pity.

The sound of my jacket being unzipped woke him. He blinked in confusion and then in shock.

“I’m very sorry if you were worried,” I began.

“Worried? Do you have any idea what time it is? My God, Claire, I don’t know what to make of you these days. You’ve never behaved irresponsibly before, and now you’re out at all hours and you’re wearing,” he gestured wildly with his hand at my new outfit which I had, quite honestly, forgotten I was wearing. “And your hair, Claire!” he finished, as though the manic state of my curls was definitive evidence of my fall from grace. Despite my exhaustion, I stood tall.

“Frank, we need to talk.”

#my writing #outlander #ginger snap

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thighhighsanti · 5 years ago

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sweet but psycho XIII

< previous chapter masterlist >

summary: Today there is a meeting with all the remaining mafia groups in town, nothing that could possibly go wrong here.. Right?

word count: 7k

pairing: multiple members of EXO x fem!reader

tags/warnings: (these will mostly be the same for the entire series) Mafia AU, any kind of weapon, mayor character death, mention of blood, angst, mention of loss, descriptive death and fighting, smut in future chapters, kidnapping, stealing, hacking, Stockholm syndrome. mention of BTS , NCT and GOT7

read on archive

Your name: submit What is this?

A few days had passed, and my life had started to fall into a rhythm. The days had started to become the same: wake up, eat breakfast with the boys, work in the garden, eat lunch, fill up spare time with something else, eat dinner, go upstairs, shower and go to bed.

Usually the “fill up spare time” was the only thing different, sometimes I’d read a book. Other times I’d watch a movie or play a video game with one of the available boys, which usually were either Baekhyun, Jongdae or Sehun but the others never actually give me some proper privacy. Right now I was watching a movie with Sehun and Jongin as we all lounged on one of the couches.

Junmyeon tried to be with me as much as possible but his work was keeping him busy, which was notably frustrating him. I could tell he was getting less sleep and becoming exhausted. Yixing saw it too and he was getting more worried every day. Of course Jun told us he was fine but Yixing knew otherwise and had been telling him to take it slow.

Of course Minseok left after breakfast to go to “work” and didn’t come home until after I showered, so he also wasn’t much of entertainment to me. Kris.. well, Kris was still the same. He was busy and he had just come back from a short trip to China. Lu and Tao were still there and I was starting to miss Luhan’s sassy comments.

I was avoiding Chanyeol like he was the plaque and things with Kyungsoo went back to how things used to be, which meant we weren’t really talking.

A few days ago Sehun had given me my phone back so I could use it again but I still hadn’t received any new messages from my mystery guy, or at least I thought he was a guy. Earlier today Junmyeon had told me that there would be people over, important people apparently and he had kindly asked me to stay clear from them. But I think the both of us knew I had other plans, just to get on his nerves a little.

Minseok had given me a list of the people that would be showing up, so I could recognize their faces and talk to them if needed. You know, just in case..

Only a few minutes had passed when the first one arrived, and from what Baekhyun had told me earlier he was the leader from a mafia group down south, but I couldn’t quite remember his or the group’s name. His dark grey hair was the first thing I noticed when he walked through the big doors and the second thing was his stern expression. Jongdae walked in front of him to lead him to wherever he needed to be, which I assumed was the meeting room. I had been in there a few times, but all were not very pleasant as I was there when Junmyeon told me about that stupid ‘contract’.

As Jongdae walked past us I noticed the guy behind him looking around and the moment he passed the couch his eyes fell on me. He seemed surprised for a moment before returning his face back to the front as he followed Jongdae. I moved to stand up from my seat as I grabbed my cup from the table to get something to drink.

When I heard a new voice coming from the door my eyes quickly turned in its direction. There were two man standing at the door and one of them spoke to the other in a language I couldn’t quite understand, but I knew it was directed at me as both of their eyes were on me.

‘Oh come on Yuta, that’s no way to talk about a lady’ the other replied as they started walking towards us. ‘Please excuse him, he can be quite.. forward’ as the words left his mouth they stopped in front of me. The man extended his hand to me before smiling, ‘my name is Johnny, again please excuse my colleague Yuta for his behaviour, we are your guests after all’.

I placed my hand in his palm, expecting him to shake it. But instead he brought my hand up to his lips and pressed his lips to the top of my hand. Jongin made a groaning noise behind me, and I heard him get up from the couch as he moved to stand behind me. ‘She’s not interested Johnny, just take Yuta and follow Taeyong’ Jongin spoke from behind me as Johnny looked up from his kiss and smirked at the man behind me. ‘You and I both know I like a challenge’ his words only seemed to add more fuel to the fire as I felt Jongin slide past me.

Before he could speak up however I removed my hand from Johnny’s grasp and wrapped it around Jongin’s arm. His eyes met mine before he let out a deep sigh and shook his head, but stayed next to me. Yuta gave the other man a small tap to the back of his head before the two of them walked after their boss.

‘It’s always the same with those guys from NCT, best stay away from them Y/N, you are better off with us then that you are with them’ Sehun softly spoke from the couch which caused me to turn around.

‘And why is that?’ I asked while raising my eyebrow at him. ‘Because those guys mostly work in human trafficking and prostitution, any woman that gets involved with any of them ends up in one of the two options’ he answered before his eyes turned to follow both boys down the hall.

‘Oh please it’s not always those two options, there’s also a third option’ another voice from behind us spoke. Two more guys stood there as one gave us a soft smile. ‘Death’ the other guy replied, this made the first one sigh and look at him. ‘That’s not what I meant Lucas-’ he spoke before turning back to us.

‘You know what never mind. Anyway, we haven’t met before, I’m-’ he started but I cut him off by extending my hand to him. ‘Mark, it’s nice to meet you’ I smiled at him as he seemed surprised by me knowing his name.

He let out a short laugh before taking my hand and shaking it, ‘and it is nice to finally meet you too miss Y/L/N, I’ve heard quite a lot about you’ he admitted before letting go of my hand. ‘And I must admit, it’s nice to meet someone that does their research’ Mark laughed before stepping aside to let the other, Lucas, introduce himself.

‘My name is Lucas, and Mark is right, the stories speak the truth’ he smiled before shaking my hand and looking directly into my eyes. ‘And what do these stories say?’ I heard Sehun ask as he got up from the couch and walked over to the four of us.

‘Just that she is gorgeous’ Lucas smirked before I noticed someone sneaking up behind him, and this face I did recognize. ‘And that Junmyeon is a very lucky guy’ Jackson whispered into Lucas’s ear, who visibly jumped before turning around to look at the source. ‘Wow, they even invited the snake, guess it is our time to go’ Lucas spoke to Mark before the other nodded and they both left without another word, but both made sure to give me a small bow while walking away.

‘A snake huh?’ I questioned Jackson, who only smiled wider and shrugged. ‘I gather information.. For anyone that pays the right amount, which means sometimes I give information on crews that just paid me for information. So they tend to be.. cautious with what they say around me’ Jackson finished before straightening his back.

‘But anyway, enough about me. It’s been a while since I’ve last seen you, how have you been princess?’ his smooth voice made me laugh a bit before smiling back at him. ‘I’ve been well, how about you?’ I asked him as to which he nodded, telling me he was doing good too. I purposely ignored his nickname for me, but I could tell it annoyed Jongin. But with what Jackson told me earlier, I’m sure a lot of people were cautious around him as he must know quite a lot about them.

‘What are you doing here by the way, I thought this was like a “gang meeting”’ I spoke, making sure to put the exclamation marks on. Jackson let out a small laugh before nodding, ‘I suppose it is a gang meeting, but what would a gang be without information?’.

‘Hmm true, would you like something to drink?’ he nodded at my question before I lead him into the kitchen, leaving Jongin and Sehun behind us. I tried offering him a beer, but instead he smiled at me again before asking for a water instead. ‘Still got a meeting to attend to’ he spoke as I grabbed two glasses of water before pulling out two chairs.

I sat down at the head of the table as Jackson took the closest seat, making sure he could still look into the room. ‘How are they treating you? Really?’ Jackson made sure to whisper that last part as he looked at me, and I could tell that his worry was genuine. Did he know how I got here?

‘They’re treating me just fine Jackson-’ I started but was cut off by him putting down his glass and speaking once more. ‘I know how you got here Y/N, I know they won’t let you leave but you are not quite their prisoner. So don’t lie to me and tell me, are you ok?’. My mouth ran dry as I let my eyes move towards the living room before turning back to look at the man in front of me.

Jackson grabbed my hand from the table and placed it in between his hands as he waited for an answer. ‘Honestly, you have nothing to worry about at the moment and besides-’ I admitted as I slowly pulled my hand from his grasp and gently placed it on top of his hands. ‘I know how to handle myself’ I tapped his hands a few times before letting them go and dropping them to rest on my legs.

‘I’m sure you know, but if you ever need help. You know where to find me’ he leaned in a little as he softly spoke the words and moved to sit straight.

‘I see the Bangtan Boys are also invited to the party’ Jackson spoke suddenly, with by far one of the fakest smiles I have ever seen. ‘You can hardly describe this as a party’ I heard a familiar voice speak, a small smile placed itself on my face as I turned around to greet them. Hoseok was the one to speak and therefore he was already looking in our direction. When his eyes met mine his face immediately lit up and he almost skipped over to the two of us.

‘Y/N! It’s good to see you again!’ he exclaimed before allowing me to get off the chair before he pulled me into a tight hug. The mention of my name seemed to gather the others attention, as they all turned to look at us. ‘Y/N?’ Namjoon softly spoke before also walking towards us.

‘So you are alive?’ Yoongi snorted causing me to nod and before I could make a comment Jackson spoke up. ‘You know these guys?’ his questions was turned to me as I turned to look at the other boys. ‘Of course, I used to work at one of their clubs’, of course this was a plain lie but I had never told the others boys about my other profession and I wasn’t planning on ever telling them.

Jin was the first one to notice as he spoke with a bright smile, ‘best bartender we’ve ever had, what a loss it was when you left’. Namjoon gave him a short look before nodding along and also offering me and Jackson a smile. ‘But of course very understandable, you wanted to open your own place’ as the words left his mouth I, unknown to the man next to me, raised a brow at him.

‘Well this has been great really, but I better get going inside’ Jackson got up from his chair before placing a hand on my shoulder, ‘if you need me, you know where to find me’. Before leaving he gave me a small smirk and a wink and the other boys a cold look.

When he was just out of reach I softly spoke up, ‘how did you know I had my own bar?’ I asked Namjoon as he just let out a small snicker. ‘What, you really think that after I found out who you were I wasn’t going to let them look into you?’ he nodded his head to the others as Jimin smiled at me before giving me a small wave.

‘I didn’t look into you’ I replied as he smiled again, ‘I have nothing to hide’.

‘Well frankly I do, and they don’t know about.. All of that, and I’d like to keep it that way’ Namjoon nodded in affirmation before taking a moment to look around. ‘But now that we see you again, I’d like to call in that favour you still owe me’ his smile told me he was up to no good as his eyes met mine again.

As I was about to make a comment I suddenly remembered what he was referring to. A while ago I had asked Namjoon for information about who was following me, which ended up being Junmyeon of course. He had never actually been able to give me the information but he was right, he did hold up he end of the deal in a way. Which was more than enough for a mafia boss.

‘And what might that be?’ as I asked Namjoon the question he gave the room another look before taking a seat in Jackson’s earlier spot. ‘A source told us EXO is planning on hitting one of our warehouses soon, but we don’t know which one. I’m asking you to find out which one it is and tell me. I’m not expecting you to keep spying on them, I’d just like to know about that one operation’ he explained to me and it wasn’t until he had finished talking that I noticed the other boys had already gone to go inside the “meeting room”.

‘Is that all?’.

‘That is all’ he confirmed before got up from his chair, gave me a small smile and followed the rest of his crew inside.

After Namjoon had left, it didn’t take long before the last group arrived. They barely spared me a look as they simply walked past me and entered the room and just as they did, the door closed behind them.

As I was about to sink back into my seat on the couch I left a tap on my shoulder. I looked up to see Jongin offering me a smirk, ‘wanna go and listen to what they are saying in there?’ I matched his smirk and nodded. He held his hand out for me and after placing my hand in his he pulled me off the couch and along with him.

But he didn’t go into the office, or even anywhere remotely close to it. Instead we went past it and quickly up the stairs to.. Sehun’s room? Jongin opened the door and pulled me inside before putting me in a chair behind Sehun and closing the door. He locked it, just in case, before sitting down next to Sehun. ‘What is she doing here? You know Junmyeon won’t be happy about this’ a familiar voice spoke. I turned to look around the room to see we were not alone, Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Jongdae were also here.

‘So let’s not tell him’ Jongin shrugged before turning to give the others a look. Baekhyun and Jongdae just nodded as Chanyeol crossed his arms over his chest before looking towards me. My eyes never met his as I looked towards the other two. ‘He wanted her to join the meetings someday anyway, this would be a good way to start’ Baekhyun spoke as Jongdae just looked at the screen.

I decided to follow his gaze and looked at the screen, on the big screen the entire meeting room was being portrayed. The camera was apparently situated right above the door as it gave a clear view of whatever was going on. Surrounding the bigger screen were multiple smaller ones and they gave us a clear view of the whole house, or well most of it.

As I looked at the screen my eyes followed all the groups sitting at the table, closest to the door was GOT7 as they had been the last ones to arrive you could tell they had the bad seats. It took me by surprise to see their faces, considering I had done a few jobs for them but all were discussed over the phone. Next to them were the remaining members of EXO, Kyungsoo, Minseok, Kris and Yixing, as Luhan and Tao were still on the trip and would be gone for a few more days.

At the head of the table was obviously Junmyeon and right on his side were Bangtan, next to them the few members of NCT and finally.. Jackson.. He seemed to most casual out of all of them too, giving zero shits about his seat or anything else for that matter.

My eyes remained on the screen as I spoke ‘When did Minseok get back? I didn’t see him enter the office, or the house..’, ‘Oh he’s been here a while actually, 2 hours I’d say, he entered through the back door’ Jongdae spoke as I let out a short sigh. Why didn’t he come see me before the meeting, it’s not like I was busy.

As the men in the office conversed and made plans about whatever I looked through the files Sehun had on everyone in the groups present, which was the same file Minseok had given me earlier. I didn’t really look much into BTS, as I had worked with them many times before, so NCT and GOT7 held my attention at this point. I wasn’t sure who the voice was I’d been speaking with on the phone but I assumed it was the leader of GOT7. Why they called themselves those names still made no sense to me either, but I didn’t expect it ever would.

NCT was a big group, and all worked in many departments, but it was true that a lot of their work consisted of human trafficking or prostitution. Apparently they got people and trained them into fitting into a certain department and if you didn’t make the cut, you’d end up somewhere in a ditch.

It was quite weird to see them like this to be honest, considering they seemed so nice, they didn’t look like killers at all. With the other groups they all had this “look” that could just scream danger, but with them it was different. They seemed to only want to draw you in and that was probably the exact look they were going for.

There still wasn’t much to read about GOT7, even to the others groups these guys were new and quite a mystery. They weren’t sure what they wanted, only that they weren’t much for getting their hands dirty. So the file even mentioned it was possible they worked with hired assassins and of course one of those.. Would be me.

There was a lot of information on Jackson, but none of it seemed to be important or relevant. It was just simple history. He wasn’t linked to a group and he didn’t seem to have any associates, he really just was a hired snitch.. Or informant, as he liked to be called.

‘What about that girl in your house? Y/N? Is she your new pet?’ the words pulled my attention back to the screen as I listened along. Lucas, being the one who had spoken, sat back as he crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes remained on Junmyeon who shook his head. ‘She is none of your concern’ he stated before turning his back to them, a sigh he was getting annoyed.

‘Didn’t you boys say you needed new.. Recruits? Maybe this Y/N could help you out’ the one to speak was I believe.. Jinyoung, from GOT7. He sat back in his chair as the Mark across him shrugged. ‘Of course we always need new recruits, however Y/N doesn’t really seem to fit the kind we’re looking for. We’re quite picky you see.. Your latest girl however, fits that picture just fine. Maybe you could set us up sometime?’ he smirked to his rival, before Jinyoung could react however Johnny butted in.

‘I am curious about this Y/N though, does she happen to be in a relationship? I’m still looking for one that fits my needs and I think she fits that picture just fine’ he leaned forward to put his elbows on the table and right before Junmyeon could turn around in rage Minseok stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder.

‘I’m going to have to disappoint you, she’s already fitting my needs just fine’ as the words left his mouth I noticed everyone in this room side-eying me. A cold shiver moved its way down my spine as I repeated his words in my head. Was I just some toy to you? I noticed I wasn’t the only one affected by his words, Kris and Yixing both snapped their heads in the direction of Minseok before looking towards the camera. ‘Wait your needs? I thought she was Junmyeon’s girlfriend’ Lucas laughed and I could Kris let out a sigh.

‘I’d like to keep her for the time being, but once I’m done with her I’ll be sure to send her your way’ Minseok smirked, completely ignoring Lucas’s comment, and as he spoke I could hear Chanyeol scoff behind me. Jin seemed to awkwardly look away and Jackson even looked straight up at the camera. Did they know I was listening? I could almost feel Jackson’s eyes on me as he looked at the camera for a few more seconds before looking back towards Junmyeon, who seemed to straighten his back before turning back to the group.

‘Oh I bet she is. Doesn’t she have the most perfect lips, I know a few ways to put them to good use’ Johnny only continued riling both boys up before their leader, Taeyong raised his hand. ‘That’s enough John, if you’re that desperate this isn’t the right address’. Johnny only nodded before sitting back in his seat, making sure to keep his eyes on Minseok.

‘Maybe you should learn to control your boys a bit better-’ Junmyeon’s hard gaze was on Taeyong before he turned to the rest of the table. ‘-I’ve had enough of all of you for today, you know where the exit is’.

To my surprise Johnny’s words didn’t affect me that much, sure I was annoyed but I was used to comments like this at the bar. I was more focused on Minseok, I was going to slap that smile off his pretty face the first moment I see him. With that exact intention I got up from my chair and placed the file back on the table near Sehun.

‘Y/N, wait’ I heard a voice behind me speak, but I wasn’t listening anymore. I had to go talk to Minseok, I had to either make him explain or beat his ass. There was a small voice in the back of my head telling me he was lying, that he was only saying those things to make the others move on and to not make me a target. Of course if they knew we were “a thing” they’d try to hurt me, but I couldn’t help but wonder.. Which was why I was currently stomping down the hall, with Chanyeol running after me.

I felt his hand grab my shoulder as he made me stop walking and pushed me against the wall, his strong grip keeping me in place. ‘Hey listen, I’m trying to talk to you-’ he started explaining as I slapped his chest and tried to create more space between us. ‘I know and I don’t want to hear it, I just need to go and beat the shit out of him’ I muttered while evading eye contact.

Chanyeol released my left shoulder, making sure to keep his other arm steady to prevent me from running away, as he lifted his hand up to cup my chin in his hand. He moved his hand to make me look at him before letting out a deep sigh. ‘Just hear me out, I know I may not seem like the biggest fan of you and Minseok together.. But you and I both know that whatever he said in there was bullshit’ Chanyeol’s voice softened as he felt me relax against the wall a little.

‘Look-’ he let out another sigh followed by a short groan as he looked into the hallway leading back to Sehun’s room, Baekhyun and Jongin were both walking towards us as Chanyeol turned his gaze back to me. ‘I know we’ve had our differences and I know you may not.. Like me like that. But just trust me on this, Minseok cares about you. Hell he was probably only saying those things because he is fucking jealous and possessive. If you wanna take a little revenge you know where to find me of course-’ as he spoke the last words gave him another short shove as he just winked at me before straightening up. ‘But seriously, you have nothing to worry about’ he spoke more serious and louder this time as I noticed that Jongin and Baekhyun had caught up with the both of us.

‘If you want to kick his ass however, hit me up’ Jongin smiled at me causing me to let out a short laugh. ‘See there’s that smile’ Baekhyun let out a genuine laugh as he patted the top of my head, allowing Chanyeol to take a step back and give me more space.

‘I am going to beat his ass blue, but first I’m going to punch Johnny’ I stated as Jongin nodded and started walking ahead of me. The four of us walked to the elevator in silence before stepping inside and allowing the door to close. Baekhyun pressed the button to go down as I turned to Jongin again, ‘Will Junmyeon get in trouble if I punch Johnny?’. He smiled at my concern before shaking his head, ‘he’ll probably give you a medal. I could tell he was dying to do the same’.

‘Oh and did you see Kris his face, those eyes just screamed murder’ Baekhyun clapped his hands together at the idea of a fight before looking over his shoulder to me. ‘We’ll back you up if it comes to a fight, but beware of Yuta. He will try and assist Johnny, and these guys aren’t afraid to hit a woman’ he advised me as I nodded at his words.

‘Neither were we when we were told to snatch her of the streets a few weeks ago’ Chanyeol muttered the words as Baekhyun shrugged and turned to look back at the door. I could tell it still bothered Chan, so for a short moment I grabbed his hand that was closest to the wall and gave it a short but firm squeeze. None of the others would be able to see it but I noticed Chan looking down at his hand before returning the short squeeze.

I let go of his hand as the doors opened, and as I looked past them I saw that BTS were just leaving the building. Jackson’s voice could still be heard from inside the office, so I slid through Chanyeol and Baekhyun as I started walking towards the noise.

Before I could however reach the door someone else opened it. Taeyong came walking through the door before noticing me standing next to it. He raised his eyebrow at me as he held the door open for the rest of the boys to walk out. Mark was the first to walk through and I heard him mutter something under his breath as he walked past me.

Lucas, Johnny and Yuta came walking through and the moment Johnny saw us he let out a short laugh. ‘Hey there you are’, he smiled at me before clasping his hands together. Taeyong and I kept eye contact as Johnny starting talking to me, I didn’t even listen to what he was saying as I kept my eyes on his boss. He tilted his head a little before I could see a small smile start to form on his lips, he knew why I was there. With that in mind I balled my hand into a fist and brought it up to hit Johnny in the face.

Lucas let out a laugh as Johnny stumbled back before bringing his hand up to his face. For the first time I let my eyes meet his as he moved towards me. He reached his hand up to return the favour, his hand wasn’t balled into a fist like mine, he was going to use the back of his hand to hit me. Which only made it easier for me to predict where to hit him next, fights like this weren’t that difficult.

My right hand reached up to grab his wrist as I used my left fist to punch into his stomach. This was also the moment Jongin decided to step in as he moved Johnny away from me. Yuta seemed to take this as his moment as he took two big steps towards me.

He never got the chance to reach me however as someone stepped in front of him. Taeyong raised his hand to wave Yuta off as he looked down at me. ‘Oh come on, it’s not like she doesn’t deserve it’ he exclaimed before allowing Mark and Lucas to walk him to the exit.

‘You heard what he said about you, yet he is your only target’ Taeyong spoke to me as he referred to me hitting Johnny. ‘Oh don’t worry, Minseok will be next’ I assured him as a small smile came across his features. ‘Oh I’m sure, that was a good punch. I doubt you are the innocent girl they are portraying you to be. If you ever get sick of being around these guys, call me, I’d be happy to give you a good spot among us’ he spoke softer this time, making sure only I had heard him as he handed me a card.

It was a business card, written on it was his name and number, no address or anything else. Without saying anything I put the card in my back pocket as I nodded at him. He gave me another smile before turning around and following the rest of his men out the door.

‘You have to teach me that move’ Jackson’s familiar voice spoke as he came walking through the doors. I let out a short laugh before he wrapped an arm around me and pulled me into his side. It wasn’t long however before he leaned down to my ear and whispered in it, ‘I like to think that you and I are friends, and I am known to take care of my friends. I’m sure that you were listening to what they were saying in there and I can’t stand the thought of you being treated like that. So if you ever want to.. Escape, you have my number’.

He leaned back up as he noticed Chanyeol looking at him, so he gave me another smile before letting me go. ‘I don’t have it actually’ I muttered to him as to which he just shook his head. ‘Check your phone, I’m sure you’ll find it’ he offered me a wink before waving at Chanyeol as he started walking towards the door.

‘Well that went well didn’t it?’ a voice asked as GOT7 now came walking through the door. ‘It went better than expected’ another voice spoke and this one I actually recognized, I had heard it before.. But where?

Realization struck me as I remained in place, this voice.. This was the voice from the phone, whenever I talked to GOT7 on the phone this was the voice that talked back. So than this had to be the leader of the group. His eyes met mine before he stopped in front of me. ‘Oh there you are, we haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Jaebum, but please call me JB it’s much easier’ he spoke as he held his hand out for me.

I offered him my hand before introducing myself, ‘Y/N’ he repeated my name as he kept his gaze on me. ‘Have we met before?’ he suddenly asked as he raised his eyebrow at me, causing the others to also turn to look at me. ‘I hope not’ I admitted causing the ones who I recognized as Mark and Jinyoung to snicker.

‘Yeah that’d probably be for the better’ JB spoke, moving on from the subject. ‘Anyhow, I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again. I’m looking forward to that moment’ he offered me a short nod before also he and the others walked to the door.

‘Don’t forget your mission’ I heard Baekhyun whisper in my ear as I looked over my shoulder to roll my eyes at him. ‘You are only here to see me hit someone aren’t you?’ I asked him, to which he just shrugged and nodded. ‘What can I say, I love violence’.

‘You’re despicable’ Chanyeol sighed before holding the door open for me.

As I walked in to the office Yixing was the first to notice me and he was quick to stand up and tap Junmyeon’s shoulder before nodding his head in my direction. As Junmyeon turned to look at me Minseok and Kris followed suit. Kyungsoo didn’t seem all to bothered as he just sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

I continued the not too long walk to the rest of the boys as Kris sighed and moved to stand in front of Junmyeon, thinking I’d go for him first. ‘You heard?’ I could tell Minseok was worried as the words left his mouth and I nodded at them. ‘Then you know I only said it to protect you’ he explained as I let out a short laugh.

‘Oh really, protect me from what, from those guys? How would they even be able to take me, I’m surrounded by three bodyguards EVERYWHERE I GO!’ the last words caused Minseok to go silent for a moment. ‘I told you they are for your own good’ Junmyeon spoke as he moved away from Kris to walk towards me.

‘No, they are for YOUR own good. Because you are too much of an egotistical asshole to see that you’re killing me by keeping me here!’ This caused his mood to turn around as he stopped in front of me and grabbed my chin. ‘I’ve had enough of you for today, go to your room-’ his voice held no emotion as he now turned to Chanyeol, ‘-and make sure she stays there’.

I put both hands against his chest as I pushed him away from me. ‘No, you are NOT LOCKING ME BACK IN THERE. I’m fucking leaving’ I cursed at him to which he just let out a short laugh. ‘Try me’ as soon as the words left his mouth I turned around and pushed Chanyeol away before running to the door.

I heard him curse under his breath before steadying himself and also running to the door. Maybe Jackson hadn’t left yet, maybe he was still here. ‘Y/N, you know the gate is locked so why try?’ Chanyeol called out to me and I could tell he wasn’t running as fast as he normally would. He was taller than me anyway so he could easily catch me, but it was like he knew he’d win anyway. As I slipped through the big door leading into the garden however, I felt a surge of happiness flash over me.

Jackson indeed still was here and he was currently talking to the members of GOT7 as they stood in front of the gate. They however, still were on our side as I ran past the open door and straight towards them. Chanyeol was also quick to notice them as I heard him curse again and pick up his pace. ‘Jackson!’ as he heard his name being called he turned to look at me and opened his arms for me to run into them.

‘Don’t you dare you little-’ whoever it was, he was quick to cut himself off as we both saw JB grab his gun from the holster on his leg and aim it at whoever else was behind me. ‘That’s close enough’ JB spoke as the other members started either pulling their guns from their holsters or aiming it towards them.

I let myself run into Jackson’s arms as he quickly closed them around my frame pulling me further into his embrace. ‘What happened?’ he asked before moving his hand over my hair. ‘He won’t let me leave, he’s going to lock me up into my room again’ I spoke the words into his chest just loud enough for Mark and JB, who were standing next to him, to hear.

‘C’mon JB give me back the girl’ a familiar voice spoke causing me to look up from Jackson’s chest. ‘Use my fucking name douchebag!’ I called out to Junmyeon who just let out a sigh. Minseok, Kris, Baekhyun, Jongin and Kyungsoo had also gotten outside at this point. Beside Minseok and Junmyeon everyone had their guns aiming at the man opposite them. ‘You seem very keen on getting her back, so I assume she isn’t just your.. plaything?’ JB asked and I felt him place a hand on my back.

‘Are you really willing to start a war over that?’ Junmyeon asked and I looked over to JB who just looked at me and shrugged. ‘I’m not sure, are you willing to start a war for her?’ JB returned the question as we both turned our faces to Junmyeon. He seemed to think about the question before he answered it, ‘Yes, yes I would’. His answer caught both of us by surprise but I only felt Jackson tighten his grip on me more.

‘I suppose you are more important to him than you anticipated kitten’ Mark spoke with a smug look on his face before turning to his leader. ‘They won’t just let us walk out of here with her, what do you want to do?’ Mark spoke in a hushed tone, making sure only his team and I could hear him.

‘How about we don’t create a bloodbath today-’ Jackson suddenly spoke, causing me to look up at him. Did he just say we? ‘Princess, I know this isn’t ideal but I need you to hear me out’ his voice was hushed as he let out a short sigh. ‘Stay with them for a while, they obviously won’t hurt you. Yes it will be shit but I promise you I will find a way to get you out of here, I just need some time. Gain their trust for as much as you can, and I will contact you when I’m ready’ he shorty moved his gaze up to JB before looking back down at me.

‘Now I’m going to push you back to them, but before that I need you to hit me’ his lips tugged into a little smirk as he straightened his back. ‘Listen, there’s not much I can do with you for the time being. Because frankly he’s right, you’re just a little-’ he wasn’t able to finish his sentence however as I brought my hand up and slapped him across the face.

On que Jackson pushed me back towards Chanyeol, who was quick to lower his gun and wrap his fingers around my arm firmly pulling me closer towards him. Because he was still putting his gun back in its holster his hold on me wasn’t too tight, and I used this to pull my arm out of his grasp and walk past him. ‘Happy now?’ I made my voice sound a bit sadder as I walked past Junmyeon, who stayed silent as he watched me walk back inside the building.

Yixing, who had remained inside the building this entire time, let his eyes follow me before walking with me to the stairs. ‘Here, come with me to my office’ he spoke in a soft voice as I nodded and followed him up the stairs.

As he opened the door to his office he motioned for me to sit down, ‘let me take a look at your arm, I know Chanyeol’s grip can be quite.. Harsh’ he hesitated while watching me sit down in the chair. I rolled my sleeve up to show him the already forming bruise on my arm, you could see Chanyeol’s hand clearly on my skin as Yixing let out a deep sigh. ‘I’m sorry this happened to you’ his voice came out as nothing but a whisper as he walked to a small cooler and grabbed a pack of ice out of it.

‘Don’t be, it’s my own fault’ I huffed, referring to what happened earlier. ‘I meant for you being here in the first place’ he admitted before pressing the ice pack to my skin. I flinched at the cold before looking up at Yixing, who kept his eyes on my arm.

It was only when I put my hand on his that he looked at me, his expression still somewhat sad. ‘That’s not your fault either’ my smile was genuine as he nodded at me before returning a soft smile. ‘Thank you’. I let Yixing put a balm on my arm before the door slammed open and a fuming Junmyeon came walking in.

Please hurry Jackson, I don’t know how much longer I can take this.

#exo imagine #exo mafia au #mafia au #exo #exo smut #junmyeon imagine #kris imagine #luhan imagine #minseok imagine #yixing imagine #baekhyun imagine #kyungsoo imagine #tao imagine #chanyeol imagine #jongdae imagine #jongin imagine #sehun imagine #sweet but psycho

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daffietjuh · 5 years ago

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Fic Writer Ask

Tagged by @acomebackstory which is soooo sweet of you! I feel like such an insignificant little munchkin between some of the talent in this fandom, it’s so sweet of you to think of me!

Author Name:

On AO3, I’m SuchASeeweedBrain. It’s from the good ol’ days in which I was obsessed with the Percy Jackson books, Tbh, I still love them.

Fandoms You Write For:

I wrote some stuff for Shadowhunters/ Malec. I’ve written like, two? stories for Teen Wolf, and now (holy crap I just checked this and) 12 stories for Roswell.

Where Do You Post

I tend to post to AO3 and then link that on my Tumblr.

Most Popular Multi Chapter Story

This Slope is Treacherous My hockey AU of almost 90.000 words.

Favorite Story You Wrote

Oh that’s a hard one.

I loved writing Treacherous it was such an amazing experience and one I learned so much from. It was my first (real) multichapter for Malex and I just love how by the end of it I really felt like I knew this version of the characters and I still miss writing that one sometimes.

Also Son of a Traitor which was such an indulgent fic for me, I wrote it because I wanted to read it and I did actually like how I build that fic.

Story You Were Nervous to Post

All of them? I still get hella nervous every time I post/update things, but one I am/was particularly nervous about is the one I am posting the final chapter of today! Speeding Towards Disaster I really wasn’t sure how this would be received and I’m so thrilled about how awesome the response has been.

How Do You Pick Your Titles

I really don’t have a specific way of choosing titles. For some I go with song lyrics, for others I just come up with something that fits it. Others literally just tell you what you’re getting into.

Do You Outline

Kind of? For multichapters I have to at least have certain story beats I want to hit, but I’m not a massive planner. Generally once I get into it, I’ll make notes for future chapters that can just be stuff I need to remember or things I want to happen or need to happen. They usually involve lots of exclamation marks and captials. But I also just kind of let the story take me where it wants to go.

How Many of Your Stories Are Complete

On AO3, almost all of them! I’m hella proud of that because there’s about fifteen hundred half-ideas and two page starts to fics in my files, but the ones I’ve posted are all finished, or well, they will be once I post the final chapter of Speeding today!

In-Progress

I’ve got a few things I’m working on a little more actively. I’m planning on writing another part for Love At First Sass. Which is pure fluff. I said we needed more fluff in this fandom, so I decided to start writing it myself.

Also, I’ve been playing around with an Alex-focussed story about his time in the Air Force, but I’m not sure if I can get that to a point where I’ll want to post it somewhere.

Also I want to write a Supernatural crossover because every legit fandom needs a Supernatural crossover. I’ve got the story in my head, I just need to write it down.

Coming Soon

Well, today I’m posting the last chapter of Speeding and after that I’ll do the Supernatural crossover probably.

Do You Accept Prompts

Sure! I’ve never really written off a promt specifically send to me, so I have no idea if I’d be any good at it, but if anyone wants to send me a prompt, feel free. Also if there’s anything you want to see from an existing fic that I didn’t include in the original work, feel free to ask about that too.

Upcoming Story You’re the Most Excited For

There’s a few other idea’s I’m playing around with, so it’s mostly just figuring out what my next one will be. I do love the idea of that Alex-centric fic I mentioned above, but that depends on if anyone wants to read it.

Tag Five Fanfic Authors to Answer These Questions

Oh dear. I have no idea who’s done this already, I’ll just tag some folks and if they’ve done this already they can just ignore me.

@pastelwitchling @permetstu and I don’t know who else who hasn’t done this already.... If anyone else wants to do this, just pretend I tagged you! I’m real tired and my brain can’t think of anything but “I must finish my fic” so yeah, I’m off!

#fic writer ask #tagged #sometimes i write things

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soopranatural · 7 years ago

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Who I was looking for -Part 7

Summary: Even after you started wearing cuffs, the words are engraved in your mind as well as your wrist. You know you're not destined for love as soon as you learn how to read. How could you? When the words "Sorry, you're not who I was looking for" are written in black ink on your skin.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: angst, pining, insecurity, etc

Words: 497

A/N: sorry this one's so short but I've just unstuck myself from writer's block, also school has been kicking me in the shin.

Marsterlist

Mobile Masterlist

Part 6 Series Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

When you tell Anna you got a promotion she freaks out, congratulating you and showing her support via several consecutive exclamation marks.

It's going fairly well, like Tony said, you haven't had any trouble adjusting to your new job. You still talk to Marina on the second floor, and sometimes you bring her coffee or pastries. She always has honey flavored hard candy from the jar on her desk for you. You're not friends, exactly, but she's nice and you talk sometimes. Your favorite coworker, you could say.

You think it's strange, how you'd been working here for months and you hadn't seen Bucky even once until that fateful day when you discovered he was your soulmate. But now you seemed to encounter him everywhere. You'd seen more of him in the last week than you had in the six months since you started working at the tower.

Sometimes he would be roaming the hallways when you came in the morning, hurriedly going from one place to another on your lunch break, leaving the tower at the same time as you in the afternoon.You see him everywhere suddenly.

He hasn't said a word, but sometimes you wave at him and he smiles back. A small, private smile that sends your heart lurching in your chest.

Today is different, you're taking some copies down to the first floor when you see him come down the hallway, he's heading towards the elevator and he looks hurried, so you hold the doors open for him. Bucky comes in quickly, panting and smiling his thanks. He shoves his hands into his pockets as usual and you shift in place, picking at your leather cuff.

You know you shouldn't speak to him, that it's better if he doesn't know you, but god you want to say something, the air inside the elevator is dense and uncomfortable and the pressure on your chest is rising by the second. It shouldn't be like this, it's not supposed to be like this with your soulmate of all people.

"Hello" he says, then grimaces. You turn your head quickly to look at him and smile. It's been a few seconds since he got in, and a little late to say hi, but you wave at him anyway.

"I've seen you more often" he continues, rocking slightly and looking anywhere but at you.

"Yeah" you say proudly "I've been promoted."

"Oh?" He finally looks at you, his smile is warmer and you can physically feel your expression melting into one of adoration without your consent. The elevator doors open with a ding and you stand up straight.

Bucky jumps, startled, like he hadn't expecting that to happen, he suddenly looks lost. He stutters for a moment, eyes flitting in all directions before he pats you on the back distractedly. "Congrats" he says, just before he practically flies out the elevator and leaves the building, disappearing from your sight.

Your back feels warm where he touched you.

Part 8

Remember to leave feedback!! (Hearing what you think about it helps me improve and also makes me super happy)

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#who I was looking for #a thing that i wrote #Bucky angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader angst #bucky x reader soulmate au #bucky x reader #angst #flangst #soulmate #soulmate au #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #reader insert #reader inserts #marvel reader insert #marvel x reader

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cococrazies · 7 years ago

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Lovestruck Series Review: Gangsters in Love (Season 7)

Personal playing order: Chance - Aurora - Ash - Yoshimitsu

Warning! Minor spoilers for all routes ahead, as well as CGs under the cut.

Chance: I was about to call this another filler-y season until I got to the last episode -- and holy shit, that cliffhanger. Up to that point though, this story really did feel like filler -- sweet, super-fluffy filler, but nevertheless. As a fan of Chance I enjoyed it, but it doesn’t have anything new to reel you in if you didn’t like him already.

If you do have prior interest in it, however, there are plenty of cute family moments with the gang and steamy Chance/MC scenes to go around. (On a related note, I’m surprised that after seven -- well, technically six -- seasons worth of smut the writer(s) still manage to pull off believable sexual tension and sizzling chemistry so well without it getting boring.) Also, no constant exclamation marks during action scenes was a definite plus for me.

Aurora: Oh god. How dare. If I didn’t hate HRH of Sore Losers Queenie before, I sure do now.

So. This season was intense. At least for someone who’s very invested in MC’s and Aurora’s family -- although even without that, the story has enough tension and well-paced action to still keep you on the edge of your seat. Aurora’s writer(s) also continue to cultivate their talent to write antagonists that do their jobs in making your blood boil. (The hint of a more multifaceted aspect to Queenie’s character was interesting though, even if I spent the majority of this season wanting to throttle her through the screen.)

But still, the thing that left the greatest impact this season was still the emotional factor of it all, especially when you compare the development in characters like Daisy from previous seasons. One thing I really like about Aurora’s stories in general is that each season seems to emphasize the growth of our main characters from the preceding one, so you really get the sense of how they develop over time.

That aspect in particular shines through here in both the little and big things -- Aurora’s run-in with a casual ex from the past, for example, or the telltale familiarity of Aurora/MC fighting for their lives in the gambling scene again: but this time not for their own sakes or the gang’s, but for their daughters, and how that makes all the difference. Overall, just a great season, and another must-read for Aurora fans (especially if you’ve played S6).

Ash: This season was kind of similar to Chance’s in the sense that it feels pretty filler-y (but without Chance’s mind-blowing ending); but since I’m not as crazy about Ash, I wasn’t as interested. Nevertheless, not a bad read, and I appreciated that we didn’t simply get Kingpin x2 and Queenie x2 as this season’s antagonists again. (Although, why do you keep making the unromanceable villains so hot, Lovestruck? D: Now I wish there was a route for our new sociopath here.)

While the actual execution of said villain felt a bit... comedic at times (I literally laughed out loud at the mental image of a modern yakuza assassin throwing shuriken in the middle of Roppongi Station), the action throughout was pretty good. Although I’m personally neutral to the story myself, I can imagine Ash fans enjoying it, much I like did with Chance’s.

Yoshimitsu: This route was the one I looked forward to the most for this season, since it was the best fit for its Japanese theme. I was expecting more family fluff with Sayuri and Yui, maybe further insight on how the yakuza world works via the Yamamori clan; I hoped to at least get a glimpse of how Tora and Sumire would handle assimilating with their supposed roots.

(Given how much emphasis Yoshimitsu’s route puts on his Japanese heritage, I thought it’d be interesting to see how Tora and Sumire -- who are less fanatic about their roots, cursed artifacts notwithstanding -- would handle that culture shock. Even more so since I myself have some similar firsthand experience.)

But instead this turned out to be my least favorite story of the season. Not only do we get none of the above -- the entire execution didn’t feel much different to Chance’s or Ash’s routes, with their facing off against Ryuji on their own through plot-magical coincidence -- there seemed to be so many unnecessary dramatics. You’d think that after all their near-death experiences (...and full-time careers as gangsters?) it would take more than a random dude trying to steal a jewel from them to continually send MC/Yoshimitsu into deep-seated angst over their ruined vacation, but nope. (I’m not even going to comment on the Pokémon-battle narration at this point.)

Seeing Shinobu again was more of a positive surprise, although I suppose in retrospect that it’s not entirely groundbreaking, what with Yoyo’s recurring route themes of formerly-crossed-yakuza-coming-back-for-revenge. His sudden turnaround after one motivational post-battle speech was also pretty cliché. With the finale seeming to hint at him becoming a semi-fixed side-character in the next season, I’m hoping he’ll become a little more interesting by then... or that we finally get to see more of Sayuri and Yui, at least.

Final character ranking: Aurora = Chance > Ash > Yoshimitsu

Updates are going to slow down a bit after this, I’m so busy I’ve been stuck on even my waifu Mackenzie’s route for three going on four entire days now :( But when I do update, To Love & Protect is next on the roster. You can follow my tag #coco reviews lovestruck for more reviews of Lovestruck games, or check out the ones I’ve done so far on this list.

#coco reviews lovestruck #gangsters in love #chance valentine #aurora james #ash winters #yoshimitsu valentine #voltage usa #amemix #lovestruck #oelvn #mobile otome #otome review

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heynells-blog1 · 6 years ago

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May Money Diaries // Oh hello $5 Adidas Athleisure Top

For the month of May, I’ll be recording my weekly expenses and sharing them as my “May Money Diaries” (here’s Money Diary 1, Money Diary 2, and Money Diary 3). Inspired by the “Money Diary” series on Refinery 29 and The Luxe Strategist, I thought it would be interesting to see how I hold up against my budget and long-term financial goals. I think I’m quite disciplined with my spending, but I ocassionally have slip-ups - these usually occur around food (eating out with friends) and coffee shops.

Low Waste Food Haul #2 - In an effort to be plastic-free, I’ve been using reusable cotton produce bags instead of plastic bags. No one has questioned me about their use. The only reaction I got last week was the cashier raising their eyebrows at the bags.

I changed my morning routine on and went early to the Union Square Greenmarket. After dropping off my food scraps, I bought 3 sweet potatoes, radishes, and carrots as extra sides for this week and next week’s meal prep. I wanted to buy more, but I didn’t want to carry too much with me as I had a full day of babysitting and I wouldn’t get home till 8:30pm.

There was an opportunity for me to save $2.75 on subway transportation. I could have walked from Chinatown to Greenwich Village for my evening kickboxing class. But it was extremely humid, and I was slightly tired from babysitting. I didn’t want to tire myself more and not have enough energy for kickboxing class; so I decided to conserve my energy and take the subway. I’m glad I did that because I felt more energetic during this week’s kickboxing class compared to last week’s class.

I went about my usual Tuesday routine - working out at home, babysitting, working from home, and eating at home - and spent $0 because no spend days are my favourite days.

I did not intend to spend $2.75, but I ended up having a food shortage due to the vegan burger patties (which my mom bought at the store, eventhough I didn’t ask her to) getting spoiled. I bought chayote, grapefruit, and sweet potatoes (because you can never have enough sweet potatoes, and they were only 99 cents per pound - score).

I was surprised at how little I paid for my food haul at the Williamsburg grocery store. I expected to spend $5, but I realize that I always gravitate towards produce that’s marked down because those are the deals I’ve been waiting for.

Since I knew I was attending an artivism panel in the evening, I packed dinner. Whenever I attend public events, I’m always concerned that there won’t be vegan food options. I’m a picky eater and also particular about the timing of my dinner; so I prefer packing my own food/snacks versus putting my faith that the event will have vegan options. In my experience of organizing and attending panels, most serve appetizers/snacks - and I was right for this event. I was grateful I packed dinner and ate it before the event began.

The first half of Thursday was stressful due to a babysitting incident and an intense lunch discussion with my mom, so I spoiled myself in the afternoon with a pot of rose green tea. I could have saved $2 by ordering it to-go. But, I didn’t do that because I would get less tea for the price I was paying. Also, the owners know me now and give me free hot water refills for my tea pot.

After babysitting my Chinatown kids, I explored some grocery stores near their apartment. I got great deals on lemons, pears, peppers - all marked down.

Fridays = eating out with friend(s) day. I was excited to eat out because it offered a nice break from meal prepping.

Lunch was at peacefood: a vegan kitchen & bakery, and my friend and I ordered a spicy cesar chicken salad. I was planning to get their soup of the day ($5.95), but I wasn’t wooed by their carrot and pasnip puree soup. I knew that soup mix wouldn’t fill me up because it’s not high in protein. At least the spicy cesar chicken salad offers a decent amount of protein, fat, and carbs at a reasonable price of $12 and something cents (it says $15 above because + tip).

We couldn’t end our meal without dessert, so I took my friend to Union Square Greenmarket to introduce her to Body & Soul Bakery. I got a sunflower seed double chocolate chip cookie, while my friend bought a double chocolate muffin. Oozing with chocolate dessert in our hands, we went to look for a seat. My friend accidentally smeared some melted chocolate on her dress, and that dictated our next stop - second-hand clothing stores.

In New York City, two well-known thrift/second hand stores are Beacon’s Closet and Buffalo Exchange. My friend and I first went to Beacon’s Closet because it was closer to Union Square Park. We didn’t find anything there, so we headed to Buffalo Exchange.

I didn’t plan to buy anything at Buffalo Exchange, but Lady Luck felt differently. I found an Adidas blue athleisure top (still with its store tag) for $10, in my size; but its final price was $5 because it was on sale! The amount of self-control it’s taking me to not use a million exclamation marks right now is the same amount of disciplne I exerted to not scream in the cashier’s face. I love buying multi-purpose and high quality clothes at low, low prices.

After Buffalo Exchange, I walked my friend back to Union Square and we parted ways. I went to The Strand because I wanted to buy a book by Octavia Butler, but then I walked out with an ECOlunchbox stainless steel container. What happened? While wandering the cook book section, my eyes fell on the ECOlunchbox containers tucked away on a small shelf. Without thinking, I moved towards the containers, opened the sample, gave it a detailed inspection, and then I lined up at the check-out counter.

I’m not someone who makes spontaneous purchases, though how I spent my money this Friday presents me that way. My thought process behind buying the ECOlunchbox container looked like this:

I actually need it because the plastic containers I have at home (which I’ve had for 4-5 years) have scratches, nicks, and a little bit of discoloration which makes them not good to use

Buying this ECOlunchbox container at The Strand would generate less waste because ordering it online would mean extra packaging (e.g. plastic and paper) for mailing, along with the pollution produced in delivering the package to my apartment in Jersey City

Also, ordering it online would include an additional payment of $5-$10 for shipping, which is something I’d prefer to save

I was confident and excited purchasing the ECOlunchbox because it’s an investment for my low waste | zero waste journey. I had a goofy smile on my face as I handed my credit card to the person behind the counter.

I ended the day with dinner at Red Bamboo with one of my best friends. We ordered lots of food as we updated each other on over two months of activities. With this friend, she pays for dinner while I pay for dessert; but that night, I paid the 20% tip. We didn’t get dessert because we were full from our main dishes.

Something that I look forward to about the weekends is that my parents pay for lunch, so I only need to prepare breakfast and dinner. They also surprised my brother and me by taking us to see Solo: A Star Wars Story.

I’m surprised that I spent less than $100 this week, because I thought that my two instances of eating out and shopping would cause me to go over $100. I’m mentally high-fiving myself for staying under this week’s budget and discovering great deals.

My grocery spending was small this week because I bought the right amount of produce as side additions for this week’s meals and to last for this upcoming week. I also made sure to buy produce that was on sale.

I honestly smile when I think about how much I spent on shopping this week because I know I saved money on both items. I paid $5 for a $30 Adidas athleisure top. I paid $29.34 for a $35.00 ECOlunchbox container (this is an estimate I calculated based on buying it online). Saving approximately $30 on shopping makes batgirl ridiculously happy about this week’s purchases.

I’d love to hear your thoughts/comments on this Money Diary and my May Money Diaries series - ask me anything. Next weekend’s blog post will be my last May Money Diary.

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donteattheappleshook · 8 years ago

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Stone Hearts Chapter 2/15

Chapter 1

Ao3 FF

I’m so sorry about how long it took for this chapter to happen. I’d like to say that the next update will be faster but I’ve learned not to make promises I can’t keep :P

A huge thank you to my lovely beta @lenfaz for all her advice and comments and for putting up with my constant questions and overuse of exclamation points!

Also @saviorandacaptain asked to be tagged in this. If anyone else wants to be tagged in updates please let me know!

Trigger warning: this chapter contains a brief reference to past self harm.So without further ado…

Chapter 2

Rated M

They’ve barely made it back from the cemetery before she has him pressed up against her bedroom door, her mouth on his and her hands roaming – touching him everywhere, anywhere she can reach. He’s alive. He’s actually alive and he’s here. Emma is frantic, barely registering Killian’s soft ‘umf’ as his back collides with the door behind him. Her fingers fumble with the zipper of his jacket. He’s still wearing the outfit he donned when he became the Dark One – when he died as the Dark One – and she needs to get it off of him. She needs to erase the memory of it ever happening, of seeing him like that.

“Emma, w-” he starts to say as her lips trail down his jaw to his neck, practically shoving the jacket off his shoulders, but she cuts him off with another kiss, this one no less frantic than the last, all teeth and tongue and desperation. She knows they should slow down, that they should wait. He must be exhausted – she’s exhausted – but she can’t. She lost him. God, she lost him twice in the span of a few days. Finding him in the Underworld only to have him ripped away from her again in that damn elevator… she needs to know he’s really back this time. She needs to feel him – feel his skin under her hands, feel him around her, inside of her – needs him to fill the void left by his death. The one that won’t go away even as she holds him and presses against him now.

“Emma,” he says again, tearing his mouth away from hers. His hand comes up to cradle her face, his thumb stroking soothing lines across her cheekbone. For the first time since they got home Emma stops moving. Her hand frozen where it rests over his heart. She can feel it beating and while it should be reassuring, all she can feel is a growing dread that it could stop at any moment.

“I just –” she can’t finish the sentence. Doesn’t know how – how to explain the overwhelming grief she’s been feeling since that night by the lake, the grief she can’t shake no matter how many times she reminds herself that it’s over – he’s here. He’s right here. “I need you,” she finishes, fingers bunching the material of his shirt and holding tight. She’s never been good with words but when she raises her eyes to his she knows that he understands. She sees his expression soften, empathy and kindness replacing confusion and concern. He nods.

“Okay, love.” Emma nearly sobs as he wraps his hooked arm around her waist, steadying her. “Okay.” He brings his mouth down over hers, softer than her kisses, slower and filled with a different kind of desperation. He ducks down slightly to lift her and her hand finally leaves its place over his heart as she wraps herself around him and allows herself to be carried over to the bed, the panic slowly subsiding under his reverent touches.

He seats himself on the bed, settling her in his lap as she forces her breathing to slow, mimicking his touches, their pace and their gentleness, until she no longer feels that her heart is going to burst out of her chest from the pain of everything she’s lost. Her fingers go to the buttons of his shirt, opening them one by one until she can push it off his shoulders and look at him – here, alive, with all his scars and his strengths. She lets her hands trace the scars that cover so much of his body – the ones she’s gotten to know so well since she met him. The thick, crescent shaped one that follows the curve of his shoulder, the thin white line that slashes down across his collarbone, the particularly painful jagged one that follows his rib.

Her hand pauses, throat tightening as she reaches a new one – an angry red mark that slices down along the left side of his abdomen. The one she gave him. Something seizes around her heart as she’s assaulted with memories of that night – of running him through with Excalibur, of ending his life. Something settles in her chest but it doesn’t feel like a weight. It feels hollow – an empty piece of her that’s calling out to him – for a piece of his heart to fill it, a heart she doesn’t deserve. She killed him. She killed her true love and now –

“Stop it, love,” he murmurs. She can’t. The grief is crawling its way back, filling that empty space. His hand comes up to cover hers. “I know what you’re doing,” he says. “Stop it. It wasn’t your fault.”

A sound somewhere between a scoff and a sob breaks through from her chest. “It kind of was,” she says her voice hoarse and choked.

“Emma,” he tries but she won’t look at him. “Emma.” He sighs and takes her hand, bringing it up to a scar on his right side, near his kidney. “This one? I got it on my first mission with the Royal Navy. I went out with all the arrogance and foolishness of a young lad and was knocked down to size within minutes. If Liam hadn’t been there…. Well, either way, it taught me the importance of mastering my craft and made me the swordsman I am today.” He slides their hands until they settle on one on the inside of his forearm. “This one,” he pauses, swallows heavily and she can tell whatever he’s about to say is still painful for him. “It was after Liam died, when I no longer felt that life was worth living without him.” Emma’s eyes snap up to his, his words hitting her like a blow to the chest.

“Killian….”

“But then I thought of what my brother would think and that he would want me to survive. So instead I decided to continue on and keep his memory alive by living my life the way he always did – as a man of honour.” He gives her a small smirk. “I may have slipped up a few times but I like to think I did him justice.”

Killian’s hand tightens over hers at the small watery smile she offers back and he slides their hands across to the large scar that slices down his side from underarm to hip. “This one I received in a raid when I put myself between Milah and a coward who attacked her turned back. And this one,” he continues, bringing her hand to a small white mark on the curve of his jaw, one that looks like what might have once been the imprint of a ring, “Milah gave me this one afterwards for doing something so stupid.” She can tell he’s quoting her and it brings a fond smile to her face, remembering the woman she met in the Underworld, a woman she could easily picture doing just that.

“I don’t regret any of them, Swan. In some way each scar made me who I am today. And this one,” he places her hand over his newest mark and covers it with his own, “is no different. That night was the first time in my life I ever truly felt like a hero. The first time in a long time I did something so completely selfless. Of course I did it for you,” he starts and Emma tries to pull her hand away but he holds fast. “But I also did it for your family, for Henry and David and Snow and Robin… hell, even for Regina. I did it for the people I care about, because it was the right thing to do. And this scar,” he looks her in the eye then and she can see how much he believes what he’s saying, knows that he’s not just trying to appease her guilt. “It reminds me of the man I’ve become – one that Liam and Milah and my Swan could be proud of.

And it’s all because of you. So please don’t tear yourself up over it. I couldn’t bear it.”

Tears are flowing freely down her face by the time he finishes his speech and Emma can’t think of anything to say to express everything she feels so instead she kisses him, long and deep, pouring everything she feels into the movement of her lips on his and the brush of her tongue against his own.

“I love you,” she says when they part, pouring as much raw emotion as she can into those three insignificant sounding words. He looks at her then, with so much awe and adoration written across his face that it makes her heart jump.

“I love you,” he tells her. And she knows it’s true. She can see it plainly in the way he gazes at her, like he can’t believe that he’s found her – that they’ve found each other – that they really get this. After all these years, little orphan Emma, a girl that meant nothing to anyone, is loved by a man who loves more fiercely and more unselfishly than anyone she’s ever met. This isn’t the happily ever after she always dreamed of – it’s so much better.

She kisses him again, long and lazy. When they finally break apart she rests her forehead against his for a moment, her thumb tracing the scar on his cheek.

“How did you get this one?” she asks, genuinely curious. He clears his throat uncomfortably.

“That one’s… not important.”

She leans back to look at him and she can tell its embarrassment not guilt or shame or fear that’s making him uncomfortable – always so easy to read – and a smile pulls at the corner of her mouth.

“How did you get it?” she presses.

He sighs. “Any chance you’ll let this go if I refuse to tell you?”

“No.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes. “I was sixteen and watching Liam and all the other men on the ship shave. They could all boast full beards and I couldn’t yet grow a single hair on my chin but I thought I should give it a try… to fit in.”

A laugh bubbles out of her chest as she imagines an awkward, teenage Killian, barely older than Henry is now, copying everything his older brother did. As she giggles at his pouting face, it hits her suddenly that this is most carefree she’s felt since before Camelot. So she lets it take over, shaking her frame until she’s doubled over in his lap and there are new, happier tears running down her cheeks. Killian rolls his eyes before flipping them over so that she lands flat on her back, still giggling.

“Are you quite done?” he asks but there’s no bite to his words, a small chuckle escaping him as well. She nods, biting her lip against the laughter bubbling just below the surface. “Good,” he says, both of them smiling through the kiss he leans down to press against her lips. Her arms come around his back and when he moves his lips to her neck, grinding his hips into the cradle of her open thighs she lets out a moan, her nails scraping down his back. He raises his head with a low groan.

“Careful, love.” He says with a mischievous smirk. “You’re going to give me new stories to tell” Emma returns his grin, completely and incandescently happy.

“Good.”

***

Jesus her head hurt. Like really hurt. Like every hangover from every night of bad decisions she’d ever had rolled into one. Emma squeezed her eyes shut against the bright lights that were trying to force their way through her eyelids. She let out a groan, not ready to wake up yet.

“She’s awake.” Emma’s eyes snapped open at the voice. She immediately regretted the decision as the florescent lights on the ceiling sent a fresh shot of pain through her forehead. She knew that voice though. It was David. David! Oh thank god! He was alive! Emma thought as memories from the night before came flooding back to her. Had it been the night before? She could remember the explosion, could remember seeing David lying there unmoving, but then… nothing. But he was here. Had they gotten away? She scanned the room for her dad, relief flooding her when she saw him looking no worse for wear. He stood, tall and imposing as ever, looking off at someone on the other side of the room.

“Dad!” she urged him. “What happened? Where are Henry and Ruby? Did they –” her words were cut short when David turned to face her and her heart fell into her stomach. His expression was blank, cold, empty – no light behind the usually bright blue eyes she’d come to rely and depend on over the years. She could feel the blood rushing through her veins, cold as ice, heart pounding. She was going to be sick. They got him. They got David.

Panic set in. If they had David that meant they had her. Who else did they get? Henry. Where was Henry? Adrenaline raging through her, she tried to leap to her feet, to get the hell out of here, to find Henry but she was thrown back onto the bed, her arms pulling her back.

“What the hell?” Emma looked down, finally taking in her surroundings and her situation. She was handcuffed. Both wrists tied to either side of what looked like a hospital bed. She waved a hand in an attempt to free herself but nothing happened. “What the hell.” she repeated, turning her hand over. Why wasn’t her magic working? Then she saw the cuff. One of those anti-magic things that came in real handy when trying to subdue Storybrooke’s latest villain but seeing it on her own wrist sent a fresh wave of dread through her. They had her. She was trapped and she was powerless.

“Don’t fret, dearie! The handcuffs are only a precautionary measure!” Emma’s head whipped around to see the figure approaching her. Gold. Only, not Gold – Rumpelstiltskin. Emma had only ever seen him like this twice in her life, once in the Enchanted Forest and for months when he’d been swirling around in her head, tormenting her.

Emma sat up on her knees as best she could with her arms trapped at her sides, trying to look brave, intimidating even. “Then take them off,” she demanded. Gold let out a childlike giggle and Emma’s stomach turned.

“Not yet, Miss Swan!” He leaned in as though he were sharing a secret. “Though I like your courage!” He turned to the side, posing with his arms up like he was reciting something. “Watch out boys! This one’s got moxie!” he let out another giggle at his performance and then leaned in close again. “You and I have some business to discuss first.”

Yeah right. Like she was gonna make another fucking deal with the Dark One. Not in this lifetime.

“I don’t want any of your fucking deals, Gold. Now let me out of here.” Emma did her best to keep her voice level, squaring her shoulders, but she knew it was a long shot.

“Oh, you’re hardly in a position to make deals, dearie! Shall I catch you up on what you’ve missed so far?” Emma only glared at him and he smiled in that menacingly joyful way of his. “We found you and dear old daddy,” he started, wrapping an arm around David. Her father didn’t move or even acknowledge anything that was happening. He was like a zombie, a corpse. It was appropriate, that’s what he was now. He may as well be dead. “And Prince Charming here has valiantly decided to join our ranks,” Gold continued, bringing a hand to his heart and making a swooning gesture. “But you, well, you’re the real prize dearie! We’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

Of course. Of fucking course they were. She was the Savior which meant she was always at the top of everyone’s kill-or-curse-first list. But Gold hadn’t mentioned Henry. That meant there was a chance he got away. She didn’t give a shit what they did to her if she was being honest. Not at this point. She’d lost everyone. David was the last and if Henry was with Ruby he’d be safe. Safer than he’d be with her – especially now that she knew they’d been hunting her. This whole time, she’d been putting her son in more danger than he needed to be and that thought felt like a punch in the gut. Henry was better off without her. Maybe he always had been. Being the Savior never brought anything but danger and death to the people around her. It was better that she was alone.

“Whatever you’re going to do to me, just get it over with,” she told Gold, not having the heart to keep fighting anymore.

“Do to you?” Gold said in disbelief. “We’re not going to do anything to you!” he laughed it off as if it was ridiculous, as if he and his current master hadn’t already wiped out most of the town. “No, this is about what you’re going to do for the King,” he explained.

“I’m not doing anything for him!” Emma snapped. Rumple let out a peel of melodic laughter.

“Oh, but you will!” he promised. “You see, Miss Swan, what we need… is your heart,” he jabbed a clawed finger into the center of her chest. He loomed over her, tall and menacing despite his small frame, a dark, unhinged smile curling his lips and exposing his pointed teeth and for the first time Emma saw why he had been able to instil fear in the hearts of so many for so long. He reeked of power and strength, darkness oozing out of every pore and she could feel that darkness creeping into her own soul, snuffing out the light. He was terrifying.

“My heart?” she choked.

“Oh yes, dearie. The heart that belongs to the product of true love… well, that’s some powerful magic indeed.”

“But, it’s –” she started.

“Yes I know!” he interrupted, snapping back into his carefree persona so fast it made her head spin. “The Savior’s heart is non-removable. Protected by the power of true love and so on and so forth,” he mocked. “But every spell has a loophole!” he added gleefully. “And you’re going to figure out what yours is!”

“Me?” How was she going to figure it out? Gold had centuries of knowledge – hell, even Regina had a few decades on her. She was still getting the hang of controlling her magic.

“Yes, you see something as dramatic as breaking a spell of true love demands light magic, something the Dark One doesn’t have access too,” he explained in his rhythmic, sing-song voice. “And Regina,” he paused, shrugging. “Well we cursed her before we realized we needed the light magic and as you know ‘magic is feeling’ – no emotions, no magic!”

“You want me to rip my own heart out and hand it over to you?” Was he out of his fucking mind? Like, more so than normal?

“It’s your heart, dearie! You have to figure it out! In all of my plentiful research that’s the one clause that keeps reappearing. Each spell is different but only the one it’s cast on can break it!” he continued unfazed. “Now,” he waved a hand and the handcuffs that held her prisoner vanished. “Charming here will escort you to your room.”

Right on cue, David stepped forward and grabbed hold of her arm and Emma flinched away. It was her father’s hand, the same callouses and scars earned over years of work on a farm and then of fighting with a sword. The same strong fingers and warm palm she’d felt wrapped around her shoulder or cradling her head when she really just needed her dad, when no one else really seemed to understand what she needed in a moment of uncertainty – but somehow he always did. But his grip was harsh, bruising even, as his fingers wrapped the whole way around her arm like a vice. It was aggressive, painful. She’d been grabbed like this before, by foster parents who wanted nothing to do with her, people who saw her as a paycheck and never looked at her with love or even compassion but rather with distaste, as a problem. Her father had never touched her like that, would never dream of it and Emma felt bile rise in the back of her throat.

“No!” she practically shouted, trying to jerk her arm away from this thing – this heartless, empty creature that was posing as her father – but his grip held firm and Emma swung her free hand around to swipe at his face. She landed a solid blow before he caught her other wrist. Emma roared in anger, struggling until she managed to free one hand and started swinging again. Despite the fire raging through her own blood, the imposter remained unfazed, barely flinching as she fought him, only reacting robotically and it only enraged her more! Feel something! She wanted to scream. Anything. Get angry. Even anger was an emotion.

He swung his fist around so quickly Emma didn’t see it coming, the force of it knocking her right off the bed and onto the hard tile floor and Emma froze in shock as she landed, tasting blood in her mouth. She looked up into its cold, dead eyes. She was going to kill this thing. She got to her feet with rage-filled scream, lunging towards him, when suddenly her body was frozen.

“That’s quite enough of that, dearie,” she heard Rumple’s bored voice behind her. Emma tried to move but it was useless. Whatever spell he’d thrown at her kept her fixed in place. “Charming, why don’t you show our guest what’s behind curtain number one?” he lilted.

Again, not-David moved automatically, walking over to the hospital bed next to her own and drawing back the curtain. Emma’s heart sank. Her entire world crashing down around her. No. Anything but that. He was supposed to be safe.

“Henry.” Her voice was barely a whisper, broken and whimpering. Henry lay unmoving, tucked under the sheets and the scratchy hospital blanket. For all appearances he could have just been sleeping – face relaxed and unblemished like the countless other times she’d tucked him in and said goodnight when he was younger. But here… if they had him here that could only mean he was in danger. God, was he even breathing? Tears burned her unblinking eyes as she fought with every ounce of her strength to try take the few steps that separated her from her son. But Gold’s magic was stronger.

“Now then, will you do as you’re told?” he asked and Emma’s heart sank again. Leverage. They were going to use her son as fucking leverage. The King had better hope she never finds him because she would kill him if she did and she’d do it slowly. “I assure you, he’s quite alive,” Rumple interrupted her thoughts. “And still as much himself as you left him… Only asleep for the time being.” Emma swallowed, a small wave of relief flooding over her at the confirmation that he was alive.

“Okay,” she answered under her breath.

“What was that, dearie?”

“Okay,” she repeated louder, not even having the strength left to snap at him. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t hurt him.”

Gold let out a maniacal chuckle. “Charming, take the young prince to his room,” he ordered and Henry was hoisted up over the other man’s shoulder and carried out into the hall. “Oh, and send in my puppet would you?” Gold called after him.

Emma didn’t think her heart could take any more and now she wasn’t even able to talk to Henry, to be sure he was okay, to explain why she was doing what she knew he would be against – what he would try to stop her from doing. He’d want her to fight, not to let them use him against her, to be a hero, to do the right thing – everything he believed in. But right now, in this moment she wasn’t a hero, or the Savior, or anything else that Henry would want her to be. She was a mother. His mother. And she would do anything to keep him safe.

“Gold,” she pleaded. “Please, I know you’re being controlled – I know how powerful the pull of the dagger is. But he’s your grandson. This is Henry. Neal’s son.” She saw him flinch the slightest bit at her words. It was a low blow but she needed to get through to him. “Let him go. Please. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll –”

“Ah, there he is!” Gold interrupted her. “Hello, puppet.”

Everything stopped. For a long moment Emma wasn’t sure she even breathed. She couldn’t remember how. After all this time… months of not knowing what had happened to him, not knowing if he was alive or dead, if he’d managed to escape or if… He was here. He was really here and for one small fleeting second Emma’s heart felt like it could finally beat again.

Killian.

And then he turned his cold, expressionless eyes on hers and the last bit of hope and light that lived in Emma Swan flickered out. She fell to her knees, unable to hold herself up under the pain any longer. Those eyes, the ones that always looked at her with so much emotion, with so much love, always unable to hide how he was feeling as it painted itself so clearly across his face, looked at her with no recognition and Emma felt more alone now than she ever had in her life. She curled in on herself, wrapping her arms around her stomach as she desperately tried to hold herself together – hold on to some piece of herself, some piece of him. Nothing, not losing him to death (twice), not his cruel words as the Dark One, not saying goodbye to him forever in the Underworld had hurt nearly as much as seeing the love of her life look at her as though she meant nothing to him.

“Oh, I do love a good twist!” Rumple jeered, twisting the knife in her heart just a little bit more. “Now, take Miss Swan to her room.” Killian took a step towards her and she reared her head up, jerking back.

“No!” she shouted. She couldn’t have him touch her. Not this empty version of him. She couldn’t take it. She’d suffered too much pain for one person today. Killian froze and looked at Gold who gave a quick shrug and a nod and Killian dropped his outstretched arm. She tried not to think of how much Killian would hate the idea of being under someone’s control, under Gold’s control. He’d told her once about how it had ripped him apart to be a slave once again when Gold had his heart – told her stories of his time on Silver’s ship and the things the Captain and the crew made him do, curled around her as she stroked his hair and laid kisses on his chest. This would kill him. Maybe it was for the best that he wasn’t here anymore to know what was happening to him.

Emma struggled to her feet, worried that Gold would grow impatient and she’d have to suffer the touch of the ghost of the man she loved. Once she was standing, Killian turned and headed out the door and she followed behind him, shoulders heavy, feet shuffling.

“Good boy,” she heard Gold trill behind her. “And, Miss Swan, I’ll be seeing you soon!” Emma shot him a glare for Killian’s memory and he erupted into a fit of giggles.

The walk through the winding halls of the hospital felt like the longest Emma had ever taken – longer than any walk from a social worker’s van to the front door of her latest foster home, longer than the walk from the courtroom to the bailiff’s office with the words ‘guilty’ ringing in her ears, longer than the walk from the doors of a Boston prison to a little yellow bug that reminded her of everything that had been taken away from her.

Walking behind Killian Jones, not being able to touch him or speak to him or hold his hand in this moment when she needed his unwavering support and love and devotion more than ever before was killing her. She’d lost everything. Her parents, her friends – Henry was alive but if they ever got through this… he would hate her for what she’d done, for giving up, for giving in. He’d leave, she’d lose him too. And though it meant everything that he was still alive, having him walk away from her wouldn’t hurt any less.

She kept her pace a few steps behind his own. Close enough that he wouldn’t notice and think she was trying to get away but far enough that she wouldn’t find herself surrounded in everything that was Killian – his smell, the heat that always seemed to radiate off of him, the steady clunk of his boots with each stride against the linoleum floor, the shuffle of his jacket against the damn vest he always wore – that he was still wearing. He still smelled the same, like lazy mornings spent in bed, confessions of love and discrete touches whispered in large crowds, curling up in front of the fireplace listening to his stories. Like sun and salt and wind and leather.

She wondered if he’d still feel the same, if his skin would still be fiery hot under her touch regardless of snow or sunshine or rain, if his palms would still be rough and calloused with soft and sure fingertips. She wondered if he’d still flinch if she touched that spot on his neck, right below his ear, where she knew he was a bit ticklish but where she also knew she could drive him crazy if she put her mouth on it.

No. He wouldn’t.

The man in front of her wasn’t Killian – not anymore. Killian was gone. Killian was dead. He was really dead this time – no Underworld to drag him back from, no true love’s kiss to save him. This curse was unbreakable. She’d lost him forever. The great love story of Emma Swan and Killian Jones was over before it even got the chance to begin. She was torturing herself trying to believe any differently. She had to be strong. She had to forget about him and focus on Henry, on getting out of here, on getting him safe. But as her steps faltered just the smallest fraction she found herself wrapped up in him once again and what strength she had was overrun by grief and pain and loss. She hadn’t been able to save him. She hadn’t saved anyone. How could she save Henry? She’d lost every battle so far. She’d been right all those years ago. Emma Swan was no Savior.

They finally stopped in front of one of the cells in the psych ward. He opened a door and waited, obviously assuming she would get the point and just walk in on her own – no words, no gestures just cold silence. When she thought about it, he hadn’t spoken a word in the entire time she’d been around him – had Gold done something to him? Taken his voice away as part of some sick pleasure he was getting out of having the pirate as his play thing? The thought made her stomach turn. It struck her then that she hadn’t heard his voice in over two months and Emma wondered if it would it sound the same. Would it curl around her name the way it always had, since the day they met? She doubted it. So much of his voice came from his emotions, wrapped up in strong feelings, good or bad. He was always so prolific. It was jarring to see him like this now – silent, no witty comment or words of support. She didn’t want to hear him speak devoid of everything that made him sound like Killian – didn’t want to hear this imposter steal his voice but not his words.

Stop it. She told herself. It’s not him. He’s gone. Deal with it.

Emma walked into the cell that was usually reserved for Storybrooke’s biggest baddies and turned to watch the door slam shut. She listened to his footsteps as they echoed across the tiled floor, retreating until not a sound could be heard in the vast, empty halls of Storybrooke General. She was alone. Trapped. Helpless. She wanted to scream, bang on the door, demand to be set free, try the bars at the window, fucking Shawshank her way out of this damn prison cell. But she was so tired. She was just so tired. Of everything. Of the loss, of the pain, of the heartbreak – of trying. Trying and failing. Emma Swan was alone. And she was lost.

She sat herself on the thin mattress, laying on her side and curling her legs up into her chest. And for the first time in a long time, a lost girl cried herself to sleep.

#cs fanfic #captain swan fanficion #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #captain swan #cs #ouat fanfic

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writing-in-riverdale · 8 years ago

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how to praise writers & influence your favourite fics

okay so ive seen many posts about this matter and then i saw this massive post from a lovely blog that ill link below if i find it again. but anyways ive seen a lot of writers, including myself post about reminding our readers to leave feedback on fics, which i think is freaking great!!

writers deserve all the love they can get. the likes, reblogs, comments, messages, these are the lifeblood of writers. they give us proof that people are reading, that they’re enjoying, and that they want more. it helps us know that we don’t suck and fuels us to continue producing for you guys

i know that maybe some of you readers don’t know what to say. maybe you’re new to Tumblr, new to reading fan fiction, shy, or just not sure how to say what you want to say. and that’s okay.

let me just start off by saying that no matter how popular the blog or how cool you think they are, everyone loves a compliment. if you’re worried about sounding silly or bothering people, let me assure you- a message will make your writer do a happy dance (depending on the writer, they may actually get up and dance. i know that i have. many many times)

heres the basic ways of communicating with writers on Tumblr:

likes & kudos- these are great, they’re the high-fives in this world. they are the “hey, nice” nod.

reblogs - even better, because they mean exposure. more people see the story and that makes us really happy. a reblog with a comment is amazing, especially one that entices others to read. there make a writer’s day.

comments & messages- these are the thing that keeps us going, majority of us will have anon turned on- and if we don’t, just let us know you want a private reply. (if your writer has anon off, it probably means they’ve been getting hate and deserve extra love.)

recommendations - recs are like coming in to work to find someone baked your favorite cake and left it on your desk. they make your writer feel so loved and valued beyond your imagination

so, that’s all good, but what do you actually SAY to writers? It doesn’t have to be much or take a lot of time. like seriously a simple “This is great/funny/hot!” is wonderful. “Best fic I’ve read this week!“ “Funny as hell and cute too.” "You have to read this, it’s awesome!“ "I can’t wait for more of this.” "I hope you keep going!“ theses are great in reblogs and in messages.

what is even better is the specific feedback god we live for that specific feedback, because it tells us what readers liked and what they didn’t.

want to influence our next fic? tell us what you liked about this one and I bet you it will keep showing up! specific feedback is just telling the writer what you liked. It doesn’t have to be long or complicated, either. (But if you write a lot, we will love you so much.)

was there a character you liked? talk about them: "I love how you wrote X” “Y was so funny!” "OMG I wanted to STRANGLE Q!“ "You can really feel X’s frustration.” "Y has so much depth, they’re a really well-rounded character.“ "R says so much with so few words, it’s amazing.”

what about a part or line you enjoyed? "That bit in the park- LOVE IT.“ "I have never read a better description of a cup of tea.” "The way you wrote about his fear, that was heartbreaking.“ Was there a part that made you feel something? Happy, sad, angry? "That last sentence killed me, he’s so broken.” "I wanted to jump around when they finally kissed!“ "This chapter was so tense, my heart was pounding by the end.”

did the characters or plot or setting remind you of your life? "I live in Brussels, that’s just how that street looks.“ "When Y talked about R, I knew exactly how he felt.” "You captured that lost, aimless feeling perfectly; I’ve so been there.“

are there unanswered questions? mention how much you want the answers. "I can’t wait to find out what’s in the basket!” "That was a cliffhanger ending, wow.“ "How is she going to explain THAT?” (some writers are touchy about predicting, though, so stay away from “I bet he’ll throw that letter out.” or “X is clearly coming back.”)

a few other closing notes: be enthusiastic if that’s your style, go crazy with exclamation marks, smileys, caps! tell a writer if you’re rereading their work or just stumble across their page and binge read all of their stuff- very little makes us happier than knowing our writing has the staying power for a second, third, sixth, tenth read.

did a reread give you a new insight or feeling about the fic? tell us! we will be so excited to hear & remember, recommendations are wonderful- putting up a random post tagging your favorite writers or fics you’re enjoying will show the writers that they’re writing is more than a flash in the opan and they’ll get some new readers too!

we can’t do this writing thing without you guys. so thank you so much! without readers, we’re just talking to ourselves. we love and appreciate you for reading- but we need to know you’re doing it. we need feedback like we need air. don’t let your favorite writers suffocate!

#imagines #fanfiction #writers #feedback #riverdale imagines

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obsessed-withthe-hales · 8 years ago

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The Article

50 Reasons To Have Sex #4 - Your friend told you about a new position

Author’s Note: I had so much fun with this! I really hope you guys like it, so let me know :) It turned out way longer than I thought haha! Enjoy!!!

Also, here is the link to the article that I’m referring to. It’s actually quite interesting! I recommend you give it a glance ;)

Warnings: Language; smut (duh); cute, fluffy awkwardness

50 Reasons Tags: @openly-panda, @angels-secrets, @logancola, @wolfshifter4life, @palaiasaurus64, @lipstickstainsandwerewolfchains, @melanie451, @hardladyheart

*******************************************************************************************

“Oh, my God,” I mumbled to myself, scrolling through the article with intrigue. My attention was so focused that I didn’t even hear the door of the loft slide open. “That does not look comfortable.”

“Hey, babe,” Derek’s deep voice said, making me jump and look up at him with wide. He chuckled at my reaction, raising a brow and strolling over to the couch where I was perched. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. What’re you reading that’s got you so dead to the world?”

“Oh, it’s just an article that Lydia sent me. Pretty interesting actually,” I told him, turning back to my phone.

“What’s it about?” Derek plopped next to me, slinging an arm over my shoulders and tilting his head to try and see the small screen.

“Uh...sex positions.”

“Oh, really? Anything catching your eye?” he asked playfully, a devilish smirk forming on those gorgeous lips. I grinned and chanced a glance over at him.

“There are a few things that I think we could try out sometime,” I said, throwing him a smirk of my own. “But some of these....they don’t even look fun.” I scrolled through, stopping with an exclamation of surprise when I found one, showing Derek the picture. “Like this one! The ‘butter churner’. My neck and back would cramp for weeks!”

“Oh, God,” he replied with a grimace, taking the phone from my hand to study it closer. “That does look awful.” Derek scrolled through slowly, shaking his head at some of the positions the article had to offer. “The ‘wheelbarrow’ doesn’t look too bad...”

“Der, my arms are not strong enough for that. Oh, but there’s a seated variation! That probably wouldn’t be...too terrible,” I said, squinting my eyes in an effort to try to get a better look. I hummed in curiosity, making Derek chuckle. “Hey! The ‘couch surfer’ looks like it could be fun!”

“I like the ‘mountain climber’,” Derek pointed to it with a smirk before looking over at me, his gaze traveling from my eyes down to my lips, sending a spark up my spine. “I could get a work out in and get off at the same time with that one.”

Laughing loudly, I placed my hand on his thigh, squeezing it playfully before leaning my head on his shoulder as we continued to read.

“Oh, my God,” I exclaimed, snatching the phone away from him. “Wouldn’t that...I don’t know, like- break you?” I showed him the illustration of the ‘snow angel’, a position in which Derek would lay over me facing the opposite way like in a sixty-nine, but instead of oral sex, we would be having actual sex.

“Christ,” Derek muttered, a pained expression on his face. “We are never doing that. I don’t even know how- how it would work.”

With a dual shutter, we quickly scrolled past, taking a mental note to never even bring that up. Once we reached the end, I let out a hum and Derek stretched, dropping a kiss to the top of my head.

“You should save this article. Like bookmark it or something on your phone. So we can come back to it and maybe try a few of these out sometime.”

“Okay,” I replied softly as Derek got up and headed for the kitchen, but I stayed where I was, staring at my phone and pursing my lips as if in deep thought. The sounds of clanking dishes and running water played in the background, but I didn’t pay much attention. No, I was preoccupied with other things. “Hey, Der?”

“Hm?”

“What if we, uh- try one out...now?” I asked tentatively, peeking over at him from where I still sat on the couch.

“Like...right now?” Derek kinked an eyebrow in question, his green eyes widening just the smallest bit. Biting my lip, I gave a gentle nod, prompting him into action. Abandoning the sandwich he had made, Derek was suddenly across the room and cupping my face, his mouth molding to mine.

I let out a small gasp of surprise before returning the kiss, threading my arms around his neck to pull him closer. He groaned, breaking away for just a moment to hop over the back of the couch. The corners of my lips twitched up as he attached his mouth back to mine, gently urging me to lay back on the cushions so he could crawl over my body.

Derek began trailing kisses across my jaw, nipping at the flesh playfully. The breath of air brought thought back into my head momentarily and I started to giggle, pushing lightly on his broad chest.

“Der, wait,” I chuckled, earning a growl of protest that only entertained me further. “We didn’t pick one.”

He pecked my lips one more time before flopping on the couch next to me. I pulled my phone back out, opening up the article once again and scrolling through.

“Okay, so. We should probably start with something simple, right? Not too crazy, but still hot,” I said, earning a nod of agreement.

“What about that one?” he suggested, pointing to the first position on the list. I laughed and shook my head.

“You just wanna get this show on the road.”

“Can you blame me?” He let out a low growl, pressing his lips to the side of my neck, one hand snaking under my shirt.

“Alright, alright,” I giggled. “Not that one. It’s too simple.”

“Oh, the ‘stairway to Heaven’ looks fun.”

“It does,” I agreed. “But there’s a draft this time of year and sex isn’t good when you’re cold. But-” I paused, showing him my top pick with a devilish grin. “I think this could be a good time.”

“So, we just...turn it on? And sit on it?” Derek asked, staring intently at the washing machine in front of us. I nodded, pursing my lips in thought.

“Yeah. I guess the spin cycle is supposed to be good? But we can’t just let it run with nothing in it.” He eyed me for a moment, already knowing what I was thinking.

“Y/N-”

“I’ll be right back!” I exclaimed, running toward the bedroom to grab the dirty laundry that I knew was waiting to be washed. I could feel Derek’s eyes on my naked form as I retreated, laughter echoing down the hall. When I returned, he was smiling, holding open the washing machine lid for me.

Once the clothes were loaded and the device was started, we stared at it some more.

“Should we, I don’t know, put a towel down?”

“Wouldn’t that make it too slippery?” I asked, biting my lip nervously.

“My ass is going to stick to the metal,” Derek replied, raising his brows at me.

“Better than falling off and cracking your head on the corner or something. Come on, wolf boy, hop up there!”

I watched carefully as Derek got up on the machine, taking a moment to situate himself before motioning for me to join him. I drew my lip between my teeth in anticipation, no longer sure that this was a good idea. Once I stepped into his reach, Derek picked me up as if I weighed nothing, plopping me on his lap and letting me scoot around until I felt secure.

“Alright,” I breathed, the vibrations already making their way through my body. “And now we just...have sex.”

“Right. Sex. So uh, let’s get started, I guess.” With that, Derek wrapped an arm around my waist to keep me from falling off of him and turned my head with the other in order to kiss me. It was deep and passionate, sends waves of heat straight to my core. Before I knew it, I was moaning into his mouth every now and then, our tongues tasting each other with fervor.

His hand trailed down from my cheek, caressing until he reached my breast. Cupping it in his calloused palm, I couldn’t help but whimper when he flicked his thumb over my nipple, bringing it to a hard peak. Derek continued his ministrations for awhile, getting me all worked up, then proceeded to snake down my side, over my thigh where he lingered, massaging and squeezing gently, carefully moving to the inner portion, my legs automatically parting for him.

“So wet,” he mumbled against my mouth as he ran a finger through my folds. He was right, I was practically soaked, probably drenching his thighs underneath me. His slow, deliberate actions mixed with the vibrations from the washer had rendered me a puddle of jello, completely at his mercy. Derek circled my clit slowly a few times, making me shudder, before running his fingers down ever so gently to my entrance. He teased me until I was practically begging for more, more, anything.

Pushing two fingers into me, Derek took his time curling and thrusting them, driving me absolutely insane. I hooked my legs around his, giving him space to work, my knees resting just on the outside of his. His lips had found their way to my neck, sucking dark marks into the skin and biting just the way he knew drove me wild. My breathing was shallow, hands clutching him to hold on for the ride, hips trying desperately to buck into his hand but not able to with his strong grip on me.

I came with a shout, the tremors quaking all the way through me so intensely that I couldn’t tell what was shaking from my orgasm or the spin cycle. Derek worked me through it the whole time, whispering sweet nothings and words of praise in my ear, his touches gentle and light until I practically begged him to stop because I was too sensitive.

“Fuck,” I sighed, finally coming down from the intense rush. I could feel his cock throbbing against the small of my back, weeping at the tip and in need of attention. Derek hummed against my shoulder, raining feathery kisses over the skin and making me shiver.

“That was hot,” he mumbled, moving up to tug on my earlobe. I smiled seductively, turning into his hold and pressing a lingering kiss to his mouth.

“You gonna fuck me now?” I asked, eager and ready for him. He growled in response, gripping my hips tightly to lift me up. After some maneuvering, we were finally able to figure out how to make this work.

Then Derek was buried deep inside of me, his dick pressing against spots I swear he had never reached before, and I had to take a moment to compose myself. Once I let him know I was ready, we started to move, first just grinding my hips back against his in small circles.

“Shit, Y/N,” he whispered in my ear, his warm breath causing goosebumps to break out over my skin. I gasped at the feeling of it all, the vibrations doing wondrous things for my oversensitive clit, sending shock waves to the bundle of nerves without actually stimulating too much since there was no direct contact.

Derek began to shallowly move me up and down on his length, creating the perfect sensations to drive us each completely mad with arousal. The coil in my stomach was rapidly tightening, threatening to break loose at any moment. My nails dug into the flesh of Derek’s thighs and I cried out loudly, not able to control the moans and pleas falling from my lips.

My back arched as I came, clenching around Derek’s cock over and over again as my eyes practically rolled back in my head. I shook and trembled, toes curling and all. He was right behind me, the feel of my climax triggering his own. Derek groaned as he spilled into me, burying his face between my shoulder blades.

Slowly, we each came down, breathing returning to somewhat normal and the sweat on our skin starting to dry. I couldn’t help but giggle when I turned to kiss him again, satisfaction running through my veins. Derek grinned and returned the action before helping me down carefully, making sure that my wobbly legs were able to support me.

“Wow,” I breathed, starting at the washing machine with a newfound fondness. A groan rang through the air and Derek peeled himself away from the appliance slowly, rubbing his ass once he was standing next to me.

“My butt is numb,” he grumbled. “But it was definitely worth it.”

#derek hale #derek hale smut #derek hale imagine #teen wolf #teen wolf blog #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf imagine #tw #writing #ask #request #imagine #50 reasons to have sex #smut #washing machine sex #cute #funny

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darkhymns-fic · 8 years ago

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Murder with a Side of Lies (Ch. 4)

Another new pocky-eating witness takes the stand, providing both Papyrus and Undyne a real challenge... As well as a chance for the great detective to show off his T.V. show trivia!

Fandom: Undertale Characters: Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Mettaton, Sans Rating: PG Chapters: 4/8 Mirror Links: AO3, FF.net Notes: The sequel to Kidnappings in the Early Evening by Sky. A fusion of detective noir fiction and courtroom drama! All stories, art, etc., related to this main story will be under the tag #undertale noir. (chrono)

Suggested courtroom music!

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter

A Dame a Dozen

After another round of honorable flexing, Aaron appeared to be quite content. The audience settled, the judge snoozed, and the prosecutor posed. Of course, this is the norm for court cases, so I don’t really need to be telling you this, do I, notepad?

Sans yawned. “court’s in session.”

Despite an unhappy reunion with some old pals, Undyne refused to let it get her down. Arms crossed, lips splayed in a fang-filled grin, confidence swelled in her chest and burst into mine.

Well… that was how we felt at the time at least. I wish I could say we never lost that feeling.

“You dorky detectives proud of yourselves, hm?” Mettaton mused.

Undyne let out a hearty laugh. “Of course! We can take on anything you throw at us!”

A noise which could only be described as pure pleasure passed through the prosecutor’s pipes. “Oh my, I do so hope that’s true, but alas, I fear otherwise!”

At the time, we had simply waved him off. While I always respected and looked up to Mettaton as a great performer, Undyne and I had an unbreakable bond of friendship! Just what could he possibly do to slow us down?

“Darling, darling, don’t be shy, you can come out now!” Mettaton murmured, motioning mildly.

“I-I-I’m coming, s-s-sorry.”

Undyne recognized that stutter instantly. Her confidence shattered.

“H-h-hi Undyne…” Alphys mumbled, attempting to make eye contact but only managing to stare at her yellow feet. “S-sorry.”

I certainly wasn’t ready for that either! Alphys wore her usual purple and black overalls filled to the brim with Mettaton flair. Although, something was off since I had last seen her. Her scales were paler than I remembered, like something had drained the color right out. Even when no one spoke, she winced in pain, rubbing her temples.

“Now now, don’t apologize, darling!” Mettaton cooed. “Please, do tell the court your name and occupation!”

The scientist appeared as if she had to think on this one. “I-I-I’m Dr. Alphys,” she stuttered. Much like Undyne, Alphys had a vice of her own. Unable to handle the pressure, she dug out a small box of candy sticks labeled ‘Pocky’ from her pockets, placing one of the chocolate sticks in her mouth. “I-I’m a scientist, obviously. I c-c-created Mettaton and he was k-k-kind enough to give me a job when he became a s-s-star.”

“Yes! And it’s a fabulous job, isn’t it? Could you ever ask for more?” Mettaton added, bathing in Alphys’ praise. “Tell the people how much you love it!”

Another wince. She held her eyes closed tight for a moment, shaking her head as if she were dizzy. “I-I do love it, y-yes…”

“Objection!” Undyne roared, slamming a fist into our desk. The outburst startled Alphys, causing her to sporadically eat her candy even faster. “Don’t force Alphys to praise you!”

“I-i-it’s all right, Undyne, really,” she tried to say, but no one was listening.

“Forcing praise? Me?” With a dignified twirl the rascally robot faced his audience. “How can I force anyone to love me when they already do?” He held out his arms and basked in their uproarious applause. I had to try my darndest not to join in! It looked like so much fun! But Undyne would probably get mad if I did.

A vein pulsed across my fishy friend’s forehead, threatening to burst! Scary! Splinters of wood exploded in every direction as she pounded her fist harder and harder into the desk. “You worthless trash bin! You’re completely blinded by that fat ego of yours! You don’t care how she feels at all!”

I frowned. Ironically, it seems I was the only one paying attention to Alphys at this point. The poor girl wanted to be anywhere else but in the middle of this. “G-g-guys…”

Another wagging finger as Mettaton reflected the insults away effortlessly. “Hmm? Some nerve calling me a trash bin when you still have spaghetti stuck to your hair.” He laughed. “Or is that just your natural hair color? Week-old spaghetti?”

Her eyelid twitched, and her lip oozed frightening dark stuff from grinding her fangs too hard. I tried my best to soothe her rage. “UNDYNE, THAT’S NOT SO BAD! I LOVE SPAGHETTI!” That only seemed to enrage her further.

She turned her head to face me and that lone eye of hers burned brighter than a gasoline fire. For once, I found myself speechless.

Fart fart fart. PPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFAAAAAAAART!

The room went completely silent. Mettaton’s lights went out, Undyne’s rage was replaced with an inexplicable confusion, and the audience was absolutely dazed.

“heh, good ol’ whoopee cushion,” Sans laughed contently, holding his gavel above the rubber toy. “i don’t want this trial turning into a big ‘ol stinker, (heh) ok, fellas? how about we let alphys speak instead of fighting over her.”

Normally, I’d be incredibly angry at my brother for being so childish! But, that was incredibly effective! Even I couldn’t get control over Undyne! Her fiery hatred was doused once she saw her girlfriend gnawing down those candy sticks faster than a beaver hyped up on coffee.

Of course, this didn’t mean Undyne was going to apologize any time soon! “Yeah. You’re right,” she said solemnly, crossing her arms.

“GREAT JOB, YOUR MAJESTY!” I gave a thumbs-up to my bro, who in turn got me a wink back.

“Your Honor,” Undyne corrected.

“HONORABLE, YOU MEAN. I AM HONORABLE, YES I AGREE!”

“No, I mean – ngah, forget it.” She sighed. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Agreed.” The boxy bot bowed brilliantly. “Alphys, darling, if you could tell us what you know?”

Alphys let out a startled ‘meep’ once the attention was finally back on her, scattering her precious candy sticks across the floor. “O-oh, yes. Of c-c-course!” She pulled out a piece of paper with a big-headed big-eyed human on the top corner. “I-I did an analysis on the d-d-dust once the dogi brought it to me last night. According to my t-t-tests, Burgerpants’ estimated time of death should be very close to 8:30 PM.”

“HOLD IT!” I shouted, causing Alphys to jump in shock and scramble for her paper. “WOULD YOU MIND TELLING US HOW YOUR TESTS CAME TO THIS CONCLUSION MS. ALPHYS?”

Gasps and wheezes blew out of her lungs as she attempted to correct her breathing. “Y-y-yes. R-r-right.”

Undyne was concerned. “Hey, Pap, mind trying not to yell so much? She looks a bit more nervous than usual.”

I nodded. I’d try my best at least?!

Deep breaths. Alphys nodded to herself and continued, “T-t-to put it simply, I test the dust’s t-t-t-temperature. Based on how warm or cold it is; I can p-p-pretty much accurately find out the monster’s time of death. When I received B-B-Burgerpants’ dust later that night, I noticed straight away how w-w-warm it still was. He c-c-clearly had fallen down quite recently.”

“INTERESTING!” I mused. Undyne glared. I coughed and tried to clear my non-existent throat. (It’s very therapeutic even if I don’t have one!) “Interesting. What about the rain? Wouldn’t that have messed up your calculations?” Boy, I had to really really strain my voice just to keep it this low!

She shook her head. “I a-a-accounted for the rain, don’t worry. Even with all that, it was still quite w-w-warm.”

“To add on to that,” Mettaton interrupted, tossing a handful of glamorous glitter our way. “Catty was found with the burgers and the dust of our dearly deceased at almost exactly 8:30 PM as well.”

The judge was laying his skull on his arms, looking drowsy. “that’s some pretty hot evidence against the defendant.” Gah! Puns aside, he was right!

Another wag of the finger. “Oh, but that’s not all, darlings! My sweet Alphys also witnessed the deceased’s final hours!”

My eyes bulged out of their sockets at what felt like a terrible blow to our defense. Nyeh! Not that I was afraid or anything!

Alphys was positively shoveling that pocky down her throat, sweat dripping from every angle I could imagine. “Y-y-y-yes, it’s t-t-t-true. I w-w-w-was at w-w-work at the time and I s-s-saw Burgerpants l-l-l-leave at 8:00 PM. H-h-he even said he was g-g-g-g-going to meet Catty.”

“I can corroborate that,” Mettaton chimed in. “As his wonderful boss, he gladly told me that he was going to see a friend that night! I didn’t see him leave, however, but luckily I can always count on my darling Alphys!”

“HANG ON!” I yelled again, before remembering to use my quiet voice. “What’s your relationship with the victim? What was his job?”

Mettaton’s lights animated into a bright red exclamation mark. “Oh my, how silly of me! I should have mentioned this before! Burgerpants was a dear dear employee of mine. He worked in the fast food department of MTT studios. He absolutely loved his job and loved me with all his heart!” He placed a hand against his ‘forehead’ and made like he was going to faint. “Oh, my dear sweet Burgerpants! How I miss thee!”

Call me crazy, but I don’t think he missed thee at all!

This was quite the evidence they had against Catty! I must admit, I was floundering a bit behind the desk. Undyne was lost in thought, however, moving her cigarette carelessly between her lips.

“Ms. Alphys,” I said through strained tones. “You’re sure you saw Burgerpants that night?”

Her glasses fogged up and her breathing intensified again. I wasn’t even loud! That shouldn’t have startled her! “Y-y-yep! 8:00 PM! For s-s-sure!” She tried to give me a confident smile, but it kind of just unnerved me.

Mettaton motioned with what appeared to be a nod. “Alphys was scheduled to work till 8:00 PM that night as well, so you can be sure she’s telling the truth.”

This didn’t seem right! Alphys was extra nervous, even for her! Could she be lying about when she last saw Burgerpants? Why would she lie? Even if she was, how could I possibly prove it?

I looked over to Undyne for assistance. Who would know more about Alphys than her girlfriend, of course! But she remained strangely quiet, staring ahead, deep in thought again. “UNDYNE!” I whisper-yelled, breaking her out of the trance. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS?”

She frowned, unable to keep eye contact with me. “I might. But…”

“BUT WHAT? THE UNDYNE I KNOW WOULD NEVER HESITATE!”

A few blinks. Undyne kept her voice low. “I don’t know. Alphys is already so stressed, you know? She looks sick with it even. I don’t want to embarrass her or anything,” she sighed. “Like I did with Dogamy and Dogaressa.”

Ah, of course. Undyne was a fierce warrior, but she’d never hurt her friends! On purpose, that is. Well, maybe a little on purpose, but usually only with physical violence.

“CATTY IS DEPENDING ON US, THOUGH!” I argued. “WE PROMISED WE’D HELP HER! YOU DON’T WANT SOMEONE TO GET FALSELY ACCUSED IF YOU KNOW SOMETHING, RIGHT? IMAGINE IF I GAVE SOMEONE A PLATE OF SPAGHETTI AND I KNEW IT WASN’T ABSOLUTELY DELICIOUS! THAT WOULD BE WRONG!”

She thought on that for a moment. “I’m not so sure about that analogy, but I guess you’re right.” Undyne clenched her fist. “Justice needs to be delivered.” Just like my delicious spaghetti! Justghetti! Oh! I’m keeping that one!

“Tick, tock, darlings!” Mettaton mimed a watch on his hand. “Or have you finally given up?”

“We’ll never give up,” Undyne grinned, eye flaring with a magical light. “Alphys.”

The mousy lizard flinched at that. “Y-y-yes, Undyne?”

My fishy friend calmly placed her palm down on the battered desk. “You say you saw Burgerpants leave work at 8:00 PM last night. Sunday, wasn’t it?”

Pant. Wheeze. Alphys was sweating more bullets than a machine gun. “Y-y-yep! Sunday at 8:00 PM!”

“I have a hard time believing that.” Undyne’s eye was sharper than her spears.

Alphys laughed, but it was a high-pitched laughter. “W-w-why would you think that?”

Her words were slow. Deliberate. “Game of Bones. I know you’ve heard of it. It airs new episodes every Sunday at 8:00 PM.”

Oh! Game of Bones! I loved that show! It was about skeletons living in medieval times, fighting for a chance to sit on the Bone Throne! The show is filled with betrayal, twists, and steamy romances! I never miss it myself.

Judging by Alphys’ reaction, she appeared to be quite the fan, too! Her eyes lit up for but a moment at the mention of the name, ready to gush. “S-s-sure! I l-like Game of Bones! S-so what?”

Undyne frowned and pointed an accusing spear her way. “I watch it with you every week! You’d never miss even a second of it, no matter what!”

Wowie! What a twisting attack! But, this didn’t have the effect on Alphys that I thought it would! She didn’t get nervous at all! In fact, her face crinkled up in what looked to be anger.

A pocky stick in her grip crumbled to dust in her claws. “Y-yeah?! W-w-what do you know! You weren’t with me t-t-this week!”

I don’t think Undyne was ready for that either. The counter attack nearly knocked her off her feet, leaving her stunned. Now that I think about it, Sunday night was the time Undyne was sad and missing from work. I guess she was avoiding Alphys during that time as well.

A fit of loud clapping brought all our attentions back to Mettaton who’s lights blinked with distraught. “There’s a problem with your little theory, darling. First of all,” he held up one finger. “Alphys would never ditch work like that!” He held up two fingers. “Second of all, why wouldn’t she just record the show to watch later?”

Alphys was nodded angrily, chomping into her pocky with an aggression that could only be matched by her girlfriend. “Y-y-yeah!”

A flick of the wrist, so lax and so simple, and their attacks were deflected. Undyne’s grin was wild, untamed, as if she were in the heat of real battle. “If I’m understanding correctly, you should have had no time to watch Game of Bones yet, right Alphys? You must have been working with Mettaton on those tests non-stop.”

Metal screeched and hissed inside his chassis. “Of course she was working with me, darling,” the words were spit out like battery acid. “Alphys is a hard worker and would do anything for me. The only shows that could possibly make her slack off would be my own!”

Alphys nodded, but her anger had tensed. Her armor cracked. Clear to all, especially Undyne. “I-I-I was planning to watch it after the trial was over!”

Mettaton’s lights blinked way too brightly. His glitter-filled gloves gripped and grappled his desk with such a grievous force. “Exactly, darling, and there’s no way you could prove she watched it!” He cheered and posed for the audience, but it was stiff and angry. Undyne had gotten under his plated skin.

Undyne’s words were as smooth as water, as still as a light brook in the forest. “You’re gonna have to try a little harder than THAT.”

A short circuit. A skull and cross bones animated itself over Mettaton’s body, blinking blood red. No one was supposed to outdo him! No one could steal the show from him! “You! You’re just bluffing! A cheap bluff, too! No one should be falling for this amateur act!” Wowie! I think steam was literally whistling out of his body?

His words were nothing but a cool breeze to her. In fact, Undyne appeared to enjoy it. “Oh, Papyrus!” she called out politely.

Oh yeah! I’m here! Wowie, I was so enthralled in their battle, I completely forgot! “YES, UNDYNE?”

She faced me, but her eye was locked on Alphys. “Can you tell me what your favorite part of Game of Bones was last night?”

Before I could even think to speak, a shrill “S-S-stop! Spoilers!” rang out. If I had any ears, I’m sure they would be ringing after that.

Alphys fell right into Undyne’s trap, and both knew it all too well. Still, neither planned to give up. Mettaton, however, was left out, and furious about that fact.

“But, I need to prove a point here, Alphys,” Undyne cooed almost sarcastically. “A few spoilers to prove you’re not lying in a court of law shouldn’t be so bad, right?”

“yeah, considering this is a murder case and all, i’d say a few show details wouldn’t spoil the case,” Sans added. “i’ll allow it.”

Mettaton’s fingers twitched and clenched at the edge of his desk, ready to throw the entire thing in a fit of anger. “Alphys, darling,” his voice was spiking and crackling. “It’s just some stupid show. I’m not even in it! It can’t be that important!”

The pocky must have been consumed by the pound at this point. In her haste, she bit her finger on accident and screeched. “F-f-fine! I-it’s just a d-d-dumb show! I-I don’t care!”

I could swear that Undyne had a heroic wind blowing through her hair somehow. “Go, ahead, Papyrus! Tell us about some of your favorite scenes last night!” The wind stopped howling for a moment. “But, uh, a bit quietly please. For Alphys.”

Oh boy! Well, there was so much! Where to even start? Game of Bones was one of my favorite shows!

“It was all so perfect!” I started, really trying to contain my voice. Even just those words caused Alphys to cringe, but I haven’t the foggiest idea what was so wrong with that. “Tybia Boneister was great! Sure, he was small, but using his intellect and cunning, he was able to escape out of all sorts of sticky situations!”

“yeah, that guy’s my favorite.” Sans winked.

“Oh, and then there was Jon Bone!” I went on, remembering. “He got into some antics with a girl skeleton and she kept saying ‘You know something, Jon Bone? I really like you!’ Boy, was that funny!”

Alphys was breathing heavily. Her glasses were completely fogged up now, keeping her eyes hidden from all of us.

“I know it’s hard to believe, that I, The Great Papyrus, might weep, but when Bonesis sacrificed his favorite toy so that he could win the baseball game…” I sniffled. Just thinking about it gets me feeling like jelly! “I cried! The writing was so beautiful! To think he still lost that game… I was so sad!”

Alphys held up a finger like she was about to halt me. She mumbled something to herself and shook her head. Mumbled a few more words. Shook her head more. She nodded. Was she having an argument with herself? I hoped she was okay. Undyne urged me to keep going, but I was starting to fear for Alphys’ safety.

“Then there was this part with Sir Bony Stan! Oh! We finally got to see him use his mythical karate chop slams!” I mimicked the fight to the best of my ability, and it was amazing, of course. Everyone was impressed. “The end of it though…” I know I was given the okay to spoil it, but I didn’t want to. “Well, let’s just say it was a great fight and ended perfectly!”

Something cracked. Eh? Glass crunching? Or the sawing of wood? What was-

“NO! NO! NO, NO NO! IT WAS SO STUPID!” the voice screamed. Alphys?! “It was completely different in the manga! Sir Bony Stan was the best karate fighter in the entire Game of Bones universe! How did he get beaten by a bunch of fat untrained rich guys like that?”

I faltered. “W-WELL HE WAS SURROUNDED--”

Alphys slammed a claw down on the podium, breaking it in half. “Surrounded?! So what!? The greatest karate master shouldn’t have gotten into a situation where he was surrounded!” Her words exploded out of her lungs clearly and passionately. “In the manga, he was able to get SIX homeruns in a row, without even using a bat! Just by using his karate alone!”

“O-OH. W-WELL I DIDN’T READ THE MANGA SO--”

Alphys huffed. “Of course you didn’t read the manga! I could crush my glasses on the floor and I’d still be able to see you didn’t read the manga!”

“I-I DIDN’T--”

The scientist didn’t stop there. “Ugh! Bonesis would never sacrifice his favorite toy either! That’s not canon at all! It was so dumb! He loved that toy! In the manga at least, but clearly the show doesn’t care about its plot anymore if last night’s episode is anything to go on!”

The rants went on for about five or ten minutes. I chose to leave that part out because Alphys started using some language that I refuse to repeat! Even Undyne looked a little scared, but also proud?

Once she had gone through the entire episode in extraordinary detail and told us why parts of it were terrible, the little lizard finally returned to her original form. The silence was so thick and uncomfortable I could taste it. Tasted like instant noodles?

Mettaton had shut down during the rant. His lights slowly flickered back to life once he realized the torture was over. “Alphys,” Mettaton mumbled meagerly. He reached out towards the heavens as if the gods themselves unfairly tortured his soul. “Alphys, darling, you’ve killed me.”

Well, that was a bit overdramatic, even for Mettaton! But, was he really acting anymore?

“S-s-sorry…” Alphys stuttered out through heaving breaths, rubbing her temples. The poor girl drifted back and forth in a woozy rhythm, leaning against the splintered and battered podium. “I-I… I shouldn’t have lied to you, Undyne.” The fishy girl frowned. “Or to you, Mettaton.” The confident computer blinked silently. “I s-s-shouldn’t have lied to anyone.”

The room was still. Neither side could find what to say. Only Alphys could continue. “I-I’ve been so stressed lately.” She kept her eyes to the ground. “I-I’ve had more work on the side than just for you, Mettaton.” He didn’t pose, he didn’t reply in a sassy tone, he simply listened. “And I knew Undyne was going through a t-t-tough time too. I-I didn’t want to be selfish. I wanted to be s-strong for everyone.”

“Alphys,” Undyne said reflexively.

“No, no,” Alphys shook her head. “I-I won’t pretend it was a good excuse to lie. My testimony should be inadmissible.” She sighed heavily. “If I’m going to be c-c-completely honest here, I don’t even know if the time of death is correct. I haven’t b-been able to rest enough, and my temperature readings just weren’t making sense.” She finally looked over to Mettaton. “I’m s-sorry. I really m-messed this up.”

A strange thing happened then.

“No, darling, I’m sorry.” Mettaton apologizing? I’ve never even seen him do that in a TV show! “I’ve overworked you and I’ve taken you for granted, haven’t I?” His voice was soothing, sweet. Real, even. “Without you, I wouldn’t even exist. I should have listened to you, I should have noticed you were struggling, but I have a hard time focusing on anything but myself, I suppose. I know it won’t mean much now, but I’m going to give you a few days off.”

Alphys must have been expecting backlash. She was surprised, but relieved to hear those words. “T-that would be really nice. Thank you, Mettaton.”

Such a touching moment! My bony heart wanted to burst! “Awwww!” the audience and I murmured in unison. Rose in hand, spotlight sparkling, Mettaton’s chassis blinked with a bright red heart over his screen. He basked in their praise a little too much.

“while i’m really glad we finally learned what’s up with the doc,” Sans chuckled. I don’t get it! “with the testimony being inadmissible and all, we’re gonna need some more evidence to prove catty meowled the victim.”

Yes! Things were going in our favor again! I just hope something doesn’t pop up at the last second and –

“Hold it! (Yeah, hold it!)” barked a couple of voices. Aw, geez. “We’ve found some new evidence at the crime scene! (Yeah, see! We’re good dogs!!)”

Tongues lolling and muzzles panting, the dogi couple scampered up onto the court stage, overshadowing Alphys’ meager form quite easily. They were running in circles, their tails wagging every which way.

Sans called them over. “what’d ya find?” he asked.

The dogi were too excitable and couldn’t stand still.

“sit,” Sans ordered casually, but with a hint of sternness.

Dogamy sat almost instantly. Dogaressa was a bit shocked but then realized she’d probably be out of a treat if she didn’t follow suit, so she sat too.

“drop it.”

They handed it over to Aaron the bailiff who handed it over to Sans.

“good dogs.”

At the sound of praise, the dogi immediately lost control of their enthusiasm again, hopping around and doing circles with each other all while still nuzzling and licking.

Mettaton was quite interested. “Well? Don’t keep us in suspense! What is it?”

Sans held the evidence in his phalanges casually, flipping the tiny pink thing through his bony fingers. The light of his eyes focused and stared. “ain’t got a clue,” he shrugged.

“It’s a nail! (A nail from that cat!)” the dogi barked. “We found it at the crime scene! (It’s pink! We had someone else check!)” Dogaressa growled her last words out, clearly not wanting to admit or remind anyone about their color-blindness.

Aww, it really was pink this time. Catty certainly seems the type to have pink nails, too. This couldn’t be good.

Sans looked over the evidence one last time. It was incredibly shiny, gaudy even. “yeah, does appear to be a nail, doesn’t it…” his words vanished as he became lost in thought.

Mettaton managed to clap his hands together quite loudly. “Y-your Honor!” A stutter? “If I might make a suggestion! I think we should take a thirty-minute break to analyze this new evidence and see where to go from here!”

Sans nodded, and suddenly the new evidence couldn’t be less important to him. With a flick of a wrist, he tossed it aside. “sure, why not? i could use another nap. any objections?” He looked our way.

As much as it pained me to not scream another loud ‘objection’ at the top of my magical lungs, I had to keep my cool! “NO OBJECTIONS, YOUR MAJESTY!”

“cool. meet back in a half-hour or whatever,” he yawned, placing his sleepy skull down into his arms.

Just what could this new evidence mean? Sure, the dogi claimed it was Catty’s but I had a strange feeling about it. Undyne agreed with me. Even Mettaton was particularly panicky!

Oh! Where did Alphys go?

She must have left when no one was looking.

#undertale #papyrus #undyne #alphys #mettaton #sans #fanfiction #multi chapter #undertale noir #sky's fics

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dontjudgemeimawriter · 3 years ago

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When to Give Constructive Criticism: Fitting it to the draft

I’ve gotten pretty good at giving constructive criticism (I think), and I felt like I should lay out some advice.

If you’re a decently experienced writer, you can kinda tell what kind of draft it is by looking at it. There are different kinds of drafts you might be looking at. Knowing what type of writing and writer this is is will help. If you, for example, give to amateur writer who doens’t super know what they’re doing but has just started to get excited a deeply constructive critique, it can kill their excitement. But if you give me, a decently experienced writer, some generic “It was great, you have great ideas” then I’m going to be frustrated, especially if I’m looking for something constructive.

When NOT to be constructive

>When this is obviously a beginner.

You can tell when they’re a beginner. Maybe they don’t start a new paragraph with dialogue. Maybe they put exclamation marks in their narration. Maybe the first scene is a loner teen girl getting ready for her day and you feel like some band is about to adopt them. I can usually tell right away just by the voice, and that’s something I can’t pinpoint, but I can feel it, and as soon as I feel it I can spot other problems.

I say don’t be constructive here. Even if they want to know what you really think. Tbh, I try to avoid even getting to the point of giving feedback on these, just because it’s difficult for me to read, but sometimes it’s an assignment in your creative writing class or you already said you would because you’re The Writer Friend.

Here’s what you do for a beginner: avoid any line edits-- there will be too much. Instead, find the good things-- there will probably be something that’s a good idea, something that’s interesting. Some decent story idea that is currently trapped in beginner writing. Find it and pull it out, find things to like about it. And then ask questions! Encourage them to explore the answers-- word it like “I love this idea, you’ve made me curious about this. Are you going to explore the answer in future chapters?” Never suggest that it should have been there already-- it’s hard as a beginner to take feedback as constructive and instead it can feel like you did it wrong.

The only thing a beginner can do wrong is stop writing. You job is to encourage and validate them, and by finding a good idea and asking questions about it, they can be driven to write further.

(This could backfire in that they keep asking you for feedback further on.)

>When it’s obviously raw writing

Usually this won’t come up with people asking for feedback. For me this happens in a discord I’m in where after a sprint we post excerpts of it. It’s harder to tell here-- some people’s freewriting can sound VERY professional-- but context will help. If it’s posted on tumblr it may be tagged as something or indicated somewhere (If it’s just posted on tumblr, they probably don’t want constructive criticism anyway).

Raw writing is messy, but that doesn't mean you can’t be proud of it. Critiquing raw writing is useless. The only criticism I ever give to something like that is, if I’m friendly with the person, “Let yourself be messy when you’re drafting this sounds way too eloquent for a draft.”

Show excitement here! Show intrigue! Find things that draw you in, that make you wonder what’s going on, that make you interested in reading more. If there’s not a plot thing or a character, find something in the writing-- but don’t prioritize that. Style is not important in raw writing, though if it jumps out at you, go ahead and compliment!

>When it’s writing that the writer has no intention of writing the rest of

They might be answering a prompt or just going off their mind. If something’s confusing maybe point that out, but don’t be too critical-- it’s not supposed to be A Thing.

It’s good to show intrigue here or interest in story events, and if you think it has a lot of potential go ahead and encourage more. But the best thing to focus on here actually is style-- even if it’s raw. Their voice and style will be carried into other projects, not necessarily that plot. If you know this person and their other writing, it might be good to say like “The description is really good here, I’d like to see more of that in [their current] project].” But in general, things you like are best here.

>When they share it because they’re excited not because they want feedback

“Hey! I wrote a thing!”

Love it! Again, find something to like. They aren’t asking for feedback, just validation.

Perhaps once you read and say what you like about it, ask if they want more in-depth feedback.

>When it’s already published

No point in constructive feedback here, they can’t do anything about it. If you think they can take it you may be able to say what you didn’t like-- big things, not nitpicking-- but if not, just say things you liked about it (Even if you’re lying) and move on.

When giving Constructive Criticism

The different stages of drafts correspond to what type of criticism you’re giving. Are you a beta reader, an editor, or a proofreader?

>Beta

Ignore grammatical and spelling errors, unless you’re confused by the mistake. Ignore confusing or badly worded sentences, unless you missed something, in which case, it’s not “Fix this sentence like this to make more sense” it’s “Did I get this right? [restate what’s happening]”

Pay most attention to emotions while reading, things the author did well, moments you felt were slow. Critique when there’s plot holes or character inconsistencies or the character is flat or the description goes on to long (I got bored reading all this). And of course, if you’re sensitivity reading, pay attention to that in a critical way-- good idea to, even if you think something is okay, point out if it’s a bit iffy, why you thin it’s okay but also why someone might disagree).

Read like a reader, judge it based on how you’d judge a book you pick up for fun, with the ability to live-comment your reactions, and do so! If something surprises you, comment it, if you have a prediction, add it. But if something was too obvious, also say so. Pay attention to your feelings while reading and word it accordingly, rather than as instruction.

>Editor

Assuming you’re not a professional editor, in which case do your job. But if this is a later draft and they want you to give them real harsh feedback so they can fix it up:

Grammatical/spelling errors: I think it’s fine to point these out, but it’s not your job to look for them, and if there’s a bunch, I encourage one note (This paragraph is in present tense instead of past; Proper punctuation is to have a comma at the end of dialogue that’s tagged; etc) rather than fixing every one.

Do point out confusing sentences and suggest ways to clarify.

For the most part, reactions aren’t your job here, but channel those into advice/compliments. Look at why it’s happening-- instead of “Oooh I’m really nervous!” say “You’ve done a great job building suspense here!” or instead of “I got bored reading this exposition,” maybe “simplify the explanation here”

Point out character inconsistencies and plot holes, and actively look for them. Reread it a few times to figure it out, and bring in some analysis. Suggest subtle changes they could make, metaphors that may help, if the narration needs to be closer. Ask why they made certain choices and what they’d need to do to make those effective.

>Proofreader

Usually this isn’t your job unless specifically asked. It can be annoying, no matter your level of experience, to open feedback and see nothing but typo corrections. This is low priority until the final draft.

If you are asked to proofread though, read carefully, point out grammatical errors and typos. Reactions and large scale plot edits aren’t your concern-- if they’re really bad you may want to say “You might want to look at this plot element,” but it’s not your job to tear that apart-- you may want to ask them if they want you to, but then you become an editor, not proofreader.

>Incomplete drafts

Incompletes require a separate category, just because you can’t do the same thing. You can’t find plot holes and it may be hard to find character inconsistencies. You can, though, point out things that are interesting, things that are flat, and plenty of other things to criticize.

Them giving you an incomplete draft, though, likely means that they are looking for some validation, but they want to know if it has potential. Some people can take you telling them it has none, but that’s not usually the case. All stories have potential, I think, but that doesn’t always mean the writer will be good at it at first.

Do everything you might do as a beta, or even an editor, but instead of anything being wrong, it’s something to fix in the future, as they keep writing. Point out things that may trip them up now-- maybe a plot hole can be patched as they write-- and plot threads they should follow.

One note, though, is it’s okay to point out when they have a scene or tidbit that doesn’t add anything, but you never know if it will in the future, and imo, it’s okay to have some useless stuff in a first draft, especially if it’s a wip. Saying you didn’t see the point tot he scene can be helpful if they thought it did, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it has no place there.

On a closing note, something to keep in mind when receiving feedback

Something that took me a while to learn, something I have to remind myself, is that no matter what, a draft is okay. The critique I get doesn’t mean I should have done it like that in the first place, all it means is that I can improve it later. being a good writer isn’t about having a perfect first draft, and critiques are not evidence of being bad at it.

#constructive criticism #feedback #writing feedback #editing #beta reading #advice #long post

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