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kim-seung-mo · 2 years ago

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ℝ𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕖 ℍ𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕞 𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕪 𝕂𝕚𝕕𝕤

♩ g/n reader, this is an elaborate joke!!!! I can't stress that enough DON'T TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY PLZ

♩♩ word count: 2k

♩♩♩ A/N: 🍒requested 32 (I'm gonna do this is bullet-points cuz a whole fic would be too much cringe…even for me)

wip list here

How it all started:

You never thought something this ridiculous and unbelievable would happen to you.

But the truth was, the whole Stray Kids were in love with you.

Don't laugh yet, I know it sounds nonsensical.

The members thought the same thing at first. No exception.

After all, who would have thought that 8 people would fall in love with the same person?

But when they thought about it, it all came to this for a reason.

You were their assistant and were basically by their side 24/7 when they had schedules.

Since their debut, you have been there for the most important moments in their lives.

You laughed with them, cried with them, and went through all the storms together.

Looking back on the journey, it seemed like you were by their side all along.

Over time, it was not impossible for them to develop feelings for you.

One could even say that it was inevitable.

You were not a very sensitive person to feelings.

Or rather, you have a relatively low self-esteem.

You might have sensed the members' feelings for you, but you didn't believe it.

After all, how could such an unbelievable thing happen to you?

This kind of thing that couldn't even happen in a Mary Sue story actually happened?

Order of confession:

Chan

The reason for putting Chan here wasn't really because he took the initiative.

Rather, it was because, if another member had confessed first, he would never confess to you ever.

He is the type of person who would give up himself and make sacrifices for the sake of the members.

If he knew that another member liked you, then he would voluntarily quit.

So, I would have to put him first.

But actually, even if he didn't know that another member liked you, he was the type of person who would confess his love relatively quickly.

After all, he doesn't like to procrastinate, and there's no point in dwelling on things that have already been established.

He confessed his love by saying, "Hey, I think we are quite suitable, do you want to try a relationship? I really like you."

Mature and unpretentious, would be very responsible, can be your dependence.

Felix

Felix is the kind of person who speaks his mind, especially when it comes to relationships and doesn't like to drag his feet.

His likes and dislikes are very obvious, and the way he shows his love and affection is very forward.

In fact, there was no need to tell you directly, just through body language he was already telling you his feelings for you.

But really, it's not hard to get him to say it, as long as the timing is right, he will definitely tell you.

You don't even need to ask him, he may come straight over one day and tell you: "Hey, I've liked you for a while, want to try it out with me? We'll definitely have lots of fun every day if we're together!"

Seungmin

Similar to Felix, the type that doesn't like to drag his feet.

If he was 100% sure that he likes you, it would be a simple matter to confess his love.

But actually, what he's probably looking forward to more than him confessing his love to you is for you to confess your love to him.

But since this is reverse harem it has to be him confessing to you.

Then our scenario might be… He realizes that you are very popular and feels that if he does not confess he will not have a chance?

After all, this puppy is very smart, do not underestimate him.

The confession line would probably be… "I like you …… Hmm? You did not hear it? Then I'll say it again, I like you. I can say it as many times as needed, as long as you're willing to listen."

Hyunjin

As I've said many times, this guy is a hopeless romantic.

What's special about Hyunjin is that I feel he really enjoys the crush aspect of it.

Of course, this is only if there are no rivals.

Once he notices that there are others who are competing with him for you, then he will start his "seduction" mode.

To put it bluntly, he is trying to get you to like him back.

This is not a difficult task, after all, he is Hwang Hyunjin.

So, after he basically confirms that you have the same feelings for him, he will confess right away.

He asked you to come to the dance studio and asked you to watch him dance.

After you ask, "Why did you ask me to come watch you dance," he will answer you, "Because my dances are only shown to the people I like."

Jisung

This guy will pretend he didn't like you for a long time.

But in fact, he may have secretly been in love with you for years.

Moreover, he fell in love at first sight.

But of course he won't tell you, if he could he wouldn't tell you for the rest of his life.

Not because he wasn't confident, he just didn't feel the need to tell you.

Until that time you guys were talking about a relationship, and you mentioned that it was time to think about getting a boyfriend.

Then he immediately looked you in the eye and asked you "Why not consider me? I am good-looking and versatile, can make you happy, will never make you sad or do anything bad. I don't have any bad habits and I love to exercise, isn't that the perfect boyfriend?"

Changbin

If he realizes that he likes you, he will definitely confess.

It's just that he needs to notice that his feelings for you are not those of a friend… And that might be a little difficult.

I mentioned in this fic that Changbin was the type that would slowly fall in love with his best friend.

Your role as their assistant suits this scenario perfectly.

He probably just felt relaxed at first with you around.

Only later did he slowly start to notice that his feelings for you was love.

After finally realizing it, (perhaps while writing a love song and realizing he was thinking all about you?) Rushing out of the studio to you, grabbing you by the shoulders and telling you in an excited tone, "Y/N! I'm in love with you!" Before you could realize what he was saying, he was already continuing on with his self-talk.

Jeongin

He knows he likes you, he's just simply afraid to tell you.

But because Minho, the biggest tsundere in the universe, is in the picture, he's not last place.

What if you don't like him? Or think of him as a child? A normal friend?

You noticed him while he was pacing in the practice room in distress.

You asked him what was bothering him, and without realizing it was you, he just blurted out what was on his mind.

"I'm worried about telling Y/N that I like them."

Then his brain stops working for a few seconds.

Then it exploded on the spot.

Minho

Minho is in last place not because he is afraid to confess his feelings to you, or because he is unsure of his feelings.

He's pretty sure of his feelings and has 120% of the guts to tell you.

He just… feels a little ashamed that he fell for you first.

Like Seungmin, he wants you to confess your feelings to him first.

Like Jisung, he will never tell you that he has liked you for a long time.

But in reality, he didn't have to tell you either.

After all, to everyone's eyes, his feelings for you were obvious.

He might think he's hiding it so successfully and that no one has found out that he likes you.

But in fact, probably everyone except you knew.

"What are you talking about? I'm looking at Y/N with strange eyes? Do you want me to dig your eyes out to confirm it?"

Their reaction after knowing that everyone likes you

Chan: "Am I in a kdrama now? But even a kdrama doesn't have a plot like this, right?"

Minho: "Who said I like you? I didn't say that, you're delusional."

Changbin: "Everyone fighting for Y/N's heart together? That sounds like fun, I'll be the absolute winner in the end anyway!"

Hyunjin: "Are you kidding Changbin hyung, I'm the one Y/N likes."

Jisung: "Why do I feel like I've seen anime like this? It's just that it's usually a group of women who likes a guy, right?"

Felix: "I'll be willing to sacrafice anything else, but I'll never sacrafice anything regarding Y/N!"

Seungmin: "Why can't all 9 of us be together?"

Jeongin: (still not over the accidental confession earlier)

Anyway… Everyone started a "battle for Y/N" to become your boyfriend! (Don't ask me why everyone can't be together like Seungmin said… It's reverse harem headcanons, not poly!skz's headcanons!)

Who is the winner at the end? Because I couldn't choose a single person… So I wrote everyone's scenario!

Chan

No one had a problem with it, and everyone felt that they really couldn't compare themselves to Chan.

All would sincerely wish you two the best, after all, everyone knows what a wonderful man Chan is.

They all firmly believe that if it is Chan, he will be able to take good care of you and be the best boyfriend.

Minho

Many people have objections… But don't dare to say.

After all, you have already chosen him, and while surprised, everyone had to accept it.

But in fact, everyone was relieved, after all, they knew that Minho was actually a very gentle person.

Changbin

Everyone showed an expression of surprise …… Including Changbin himself.

But immediately there was a look of "of course it's me, it could only be me from the beginning" on his face.

In reality, everyone knew in their hearts that choosing Changbin was the right decision.

Hyunjin

"Ah, of couse had to be Hyunjin" was everyone's reaction.

It seems like everyone was prepared from the beginning that "you would choose Hyunjin".

However, Hyunjin himself was not expecting this result at all, and looked at you with wondering eyes.

Jisung

Another unexpected result, but when they thought about it, it seemed to be the right choice.

It only took about ten seconds for him to go from disbelief to taking it for granted.

There were a lot of people who were unconvinced, but you've made your choice and they're not going to fight their brother any more.

Felix

"The obvious decision, how can anyone not pick Felix?" Was the reaction of everyone.

He was the opposite of most of them, from happy at the beginning to worried later, with a lot of disbelief.

In the end, it was the other members who came together to encourage him and tell him that he would be the best person for you.

Seungmin

This was really not expected by anyone, including Seungmin himself.

He looked at you with big watery eyes and tried to find a hint of falsity in your expression, telling him that you were just kidding.

But you chose him, and there was nothing left for you to regret, and he smiled when he realized this.

Jeongin

Although this was also an outcome that no one expected, but then… He's Yang Jeongin! No one will refute it.

Except for ….. Jeongin himself. He thought you made the wrong choice and would even say it to you directly.

You had to tell him that even though his hyungs are all outstanding people, he was the one who ultimately captured your heart.

#stray kids #skz #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz reactions #stray kids reactions #skz headcanons #stray kids headcanons #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz angst #stray kids angst #skz fluff #stray kids fluff

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unstoppableforcce · 3 years ago

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dirty, pretty, beautiful

— “goddamn… I love to watch you work”

pairing: billy russo x f! street fighter! reader

masterlist | 5.2k | ko-fi

warnings: [18+], fighting, blood, blood kink (?), semi-public sex (? it’s a bar bathroom), slight choking, just overall violence (?) but enthusiastically consensual, all smut is from Billy’s POV

a/n: so maybe, I ignored every other WIP I have to write for billy russo. and yeah, this is 9000% inspired by the scene in 1x12 where billy is clearly turned on watching frank kill a man. but i really like the way this came out so I don’t even care

The warehouse had a stink to it. Musty, heady, metallic… Metallic like the remains of a handful of change against his palm. Metallic like waft of hot rain off the highest train tracks. Metallic like the taste of blood, coating his teeth, smothering his tongue until it was all he imagined he would ever taste again.

Fresh blood had a sweeter smell, a saltier smell even, but as more time passed, as the heat of the daily sunlight poured in through the windows left unboarded, as the frigid, damp night settled within the empty body of the building, the smell grew rancid. A ripe fruit passing it’s best by date, left to sit for far too long. A living liquor left to die, to rot, to stink. It was a smell he was far too familiar with, a smell that laced more of his memories than he cared to ever voice. A smell that, on his worst days, he found himself missing.

With hands heavy like weights, stuffed into his pockets to keep him anchored as the smell flooded his head, he managed his way forward towards the hum of the crowd. Hustlers worked the crowd, kids barely old enough to enlist waving hands full of crumpled bills and corralling bet after bet.

“We’ve got three fights! Three fights left until the main event!” One called.

“Place your bets and place them fast!” The next one chanted, over and over again, louder and louder each time a new wad of cash was pushed into his hands.

“This is a night you won’t want to miss.”

Clearly, the crowd agreed.

The itch of his sweater brought a new heat as he moved deeper into the crowd circled around the main cage, a cold sweat gathering at the back of his neck where the collar of his leather jacket met his skin. He knew better than to wear one of his suits to an event like this, but he still found himself missing the fond feel of the expensive fabric, the protective layer it granted him, the height it added to his already intimidating form. A few sideways stares told him he still stood out plenty on his own, but something about being dressed down struck a chord with him he didn’t like.

It was wearing a different skin, a more vulnerable skin, one that left him desperate in a way he hadn’t felt in far too long.

Billy Russo was a powerful man, but he hadn’t always been. It didn’t matter how many years it had been, he spent far too long walking on the edge, toeing a line. The group home, the bullies, the stares that followed his pretty fucking face wherever he went… one wrong move, one bad decision, and he could’ve ended up here under much different circumstances.

It could have been him in the ring, fighting for his next meal, fighting for his life.

His hand scratched at his beard as he shouldered further into the crowd for a better view, doing his best to ignore the brutal stench of violence and the unclean men surrounding him. It didn’t matter what feeling bubbled in his chest, nor what aching memories echoed in the back of his head, he was here for a reason. Recruiting discharged soldiers could only sustain their workforce for so long if special forces remnants and women remained hard to come by. When rumors started to grow, flowering up from the filthy underbelly of the city, a fighter to end all fights, he knew he had to get his offer on the table before anyone else could.

Anvil needed operatives. He had a job to do. The stench of blood and the avalanche of feelings that came with it, that was just… well, he could handle it. With or without his suit and tie.

“... El Tigre and the Mountain!”

The crowd roared for the first fight of the night.

There was a particular bias for the Mountain, which, upon laying eyes on him, made enough sense. He didn’t get the name out of irony, he towered over his opponent by a good foot, and no amount of speed on the smaller man’s part was going to make a difference. The fight lasted, violent hit after violent hit, but within a few minutes, the Mountain prevailed as expected.

Then another fight, just as brutal. Then another.

Watching men beat the shit out of each other, however, was nothing new. If he wanted unthinking violence and filthy brutality, he knew where he could get it a lot cheaper, he was here for overlooked skill, an underestimated killer. He was here for—

“The crowned royalty of chaos, the duchess of destruction, the princess of pain… the one and only…” his voice echoed across the warehouse, rumbling as the crowd grew uncontrollable. “The Queen of Combat!”

If the crowd had allowed enough space between where their rowdy bodies pressed against one another, Billy thought some of them might get on their knees and submit to you right there and then. Hell, the second he laid eyes on you, the thought even crossed his mind.

And he’d be lying if he said it didn’t linger.

The warehouse shook with unflinching loyalty, his ears defeaned by the corresponding cheers. Shoulders hit into his, shoved from behind, pushed by the guy in front of him, some of the crowd climbing up on the cage just to gain a mere inch closer to you. And yet, you made your way into the cage without sparing a glance to a single one of the aggressive animals clawing at the fencing, unphased by the noise, unflinching. Your chin lifted just above the noise and your graceful stature carried you the rest of the way in. Regal was an understatement, but, watching you as closely as everyone else, he wasn’t sure he even had the vocabulary to find a word that worked better.

Blood stained your hoodie, bruises scaled the ridges of your knuckles, and yet, he was sure that one word from you could summon an army out of the screaming crowd surrounding you. One word from you and Billy… well, the things he’d do for you.

His eyes locked on your knuckles, watching closely as you wrapped the brutalized skin away, then moved to your body as you tossed the old hoodie away. Scars and marks lined your torso—bruises left over from a fight a mere few days ago judging by the healing, scars from fights so long ago they were nearly faded, burns, cuts, slices, bumps… your skin was a war zone.

And he knew war zones. Shifting his weight from one foot to another, a hot pressure in his jeans apparent, he was sure he could lose himself in a war zone like that.

If the man who entered behind you was your opponent, it was clear there wasn’t more than a handful of souls in the whole arena who cared. There wasn’t a single clap out of beat, not one change in the roar of support aimed at you and you alone. He was bigger, sure, but if energy was anything to go by, he could be Paul fucking Bunyan and it wouldn’t have even come close to matching your unwavering support.

“Fighters, get ready.”

Your opponent took a few jumps, slapping his arms like he was Michael Phelps. You took one step forward, rolled your shoulders and leveled your stare.

There was no doubt in his mind who he considered a threat, who he considered a future asset.

“Tap out or knock out.” The kid stood between them reminded, and when neither of their deadly stares shifted, he nodded his head once, blew his whistle, and got the fuck out of the way as fast as possible.

But you… you waited.

Your opponent jumped at you, feigning left then right but not putting much strength either way, hoping for a flinch. A flinch he didn’t get. You didn’t even blink.

You just waited.

And when he opened up his left side in frustration after a series of perfectly blocked hits, you turned it on. He couldn’t even get his hands up fast enough.

It wasn’t like he was some nobody they pulled out of the gutter to have you fight tonight, he was clearly a skilled fighter of his own, it just didn’t matter in comparison. You were quick, controlled, deliberate. Two punches for every one of his. Perfectly placed to have him grunting and groaning while his landed with nothing more than a hiss or blink.

If he thought his sweater was suffocating him before, god, he had no idea what he was getting himself into.

He could feel the hum of his heart, and the sudden staccato everytime your fist connected with a crack. He could feel his pulse beating through every inch of his body, from his temples to his toes and every throbbing inch in between. Another hit, he could see the blood coating the wraps across your knuckles. Another hit, he could see the crimson staining your teeth.

He wanted a taste—no, he needed one.

A hit to the ribs had your opponent crinkling, a jab to the face had him spinning. A kick to the knee buckled him over, a knee to the chin sent his teeth up into his brain. As blood splattered up your bare thigh, your opponent collapsed to the concrete.

Knock out.

Even if he wasn’t truly out, he knew better than to move, his eyes already swelling shut, his unscarred skin bruised and bloodied.

The crowd went wild, but Billy couldn’t hear. He watched you swipe your wrapped hand against your chin, wiping away the blood from your lips, and he swore his mind short-circuited as his blood rerouted elsewhere. You were fucking gorgeous, you were delicious, you were his new religion, you were… Royalty.

A Queen.

Fuck, he was hard.

With your hand lifted in victory, the crowd reached a volume Billy hadn’t even thought possible, and when you ripped your hand away and moved back for your discarded sweats, the crowd again tried to swarm you. To touch you, to feel your power, to feel you up. He just watched. He’d catch you when you came back out, showered, with cash in your hand. In his experience, people were much more open to recruitment when they weren’t being verbally and sexually harassed by hoards of disgusting men with filthy leering stares.

It took about an hour, stood outside in the back alley where the late night wind beat him up with freezing gust after freezing gust, but when you came out, you were alone. That alone made it worth it.

Shouldering open the heavy metal door dressed in fresh sweats hanging loose off your hot muscles, you made it a whole two steps before you caught sight of where he lingered in your peripheral and nearly jumped out of your skin. “Staking out this door is a good way to get the shit beat out of you, you know.”

The cool bite in your tone hit even harder than the wind, but neither did anything to cool him down. In fact, his smirk only grew as you raised your chin in a stubborn challenge.

“Don’t worry, I come in peace.” He defended, lifting his hands where they held in his jacket pockets for the warmest show of surrender he could muster.

“Not interested.”

He took a careful step forward, eyes holding your piercing stare. “You haven’t even heard my offer.”

“Don’t have to.” The bag hanging over your shoulder shifted as the wind whipped by once more, and you quickly moved it down your arm as the weight found one of your more grueling injuries stretching the length of your collarbone. If he hadn’t been looking so closely, maybe you could have hidden your shrug, but he saw it all, he wanted to see it all, even as you argued back. “Whatever it is, I don’t need it in my life.”

Your feet found two more steps away before he pulled you back with his sly smile and slimier argument. “Just one drink.”

It’s not frustration that stops you this time, it’s curiosity, one brow raised as your arms cross over your chest. “Are you serious?”

For the first time, he doesn’t have an answer. For the first time, that perfect exterior cracks, his brow furrowing and his mouth left open. “What—“

“I mean…” your laugh shook him out of it, the sound something rough and throaty. “Seriously? I thought for sure you were here to recruit me for something, with this whole pretty boy soldier off-duty look you’ve got going on but no… you want to get a drink? Seriously? You waited out here for an hour in the cold because you want to fuck me?”

He cleared his throat as his stare and smirk absconded, was it really that obvious? Did he really even care if it was?

Business Billy, he reminded himself chastely.

Cutting the distance between the two of you in half, he extended his hand for a shake he knew he’d never get once his mouth opened. “Billy Russo,” he introduced.

Your smirk fell in the same second

“That Anvil guy?”

His hand pulled back and his disposition shifted to the only defense it knew, a cocky smirk and casual shrug. “My reputation precedes me, huh?”

“You take good people who get out and you toss them right back in.” The cold bite had vacated your tone entirely, and what replaced it, the heat of your righteous indignation, reignited the fire he felt when you were fighting. A match strike. A sharp cut against a stick of flint.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten it before, but coming from you… well, he just couldn’t turn his cheek to it. “I help those who can’t get back on their feet—“

“You help them get back to the hell that messed them up in the first place, you mean. How charitable.” The sarcasm was a slap to the face, and still, he couldn’t find it in himself to take a step back.

“At least I take care of my people, I pay better, I—“

Your scoff echoed around the empty alley, bouncing off the dumpsters and brick walls, reverberating in his ears until it was all he could hear. “Yeah? And just how much is a life worth to you?”

His jaw clenched. “More than the government, sweetheart.”

“That’s not really saying much, is it?”

He let loose a sigh, a breath of tension he didn’t even know he was holding as his shoulder twitched and his stare found anything to look at that wasn’t you. What was he supposed to say? What argument could he voice back? You had a point. Hell, he could see a younger version of himself making the same argument back when things first got bad over there, back when he first thought about getting out.

The sentiment was respectable, and your stubborn tenacity was nothing to scoff at, but this wasn’t about heart.

Some people just don’t make it out. Some people can’t. Why was he so wrong for offering them a path back, what was so immoral about offering the opportunity for them to profit off of what they were previously exploited for? If he didn’t do it, then someone else would. And at least… at least he cared. At least he knew what it felt like to come back home and not have a home waiting for you, to have blood on your hands so violently red that you can’t go back into the real world without people noticing.

Your knuckles, scarred and scabbing, told him that you knew too. You found your way back to the fighting, just like the ones he recruited to work for him. Were you really so different?

And still, a part of him knew that voicing that question, in that way, was a good way to get beat up.

His eyes found yours again as his hands lifted and fell back down to his sides, defeated. “You’re right, but it’s just the way things are. Not all of us come home and end up underground fighting royalty.”

Your head shook as you muffled your rough laughter. “It’s not as glamorous as it looks.”

“Nothing ever is.”

Now it was your stare that redirected, eyes dropping to your feet before you let them scale their way back up the rocky terrain of his dressed down form. Worn boots, dark jeans, tight sweater, leather jacket, and that face. That pretty face. Exhaustion buried in the bags beneath his eyes, frustration laced in the furrow of his brow, a familiarity in the darkness of his eyes, a void of everything you remembered, skilled violence and inescapable grief, a void so familiar, a void you could lose yourself in.

It was late. It was cold. And you were alone. You were always alone.

You had made worse choices.

Sucking your bottom lip in tight between the bite of your teeth and slowly letting it out, you cocked your head to the side and began working on the last of your stubborn defenses. “If I say yes to the drink, is it just going to be more of this recruitment talk?”

His head twisted into a similar quirk, his smirk slowly gaining back its traction on his lips as he took you in with a similar once over. He inched one hesitant step forward, and when you didn’t shy away from the renewed heat of his attention, he took another. “Well I mean… I guess it depends.”

“On what?”

“On how much talking we do.”

—

It had been a while since he last had bathroom sex.

His boots stuck to the filthy linoleum floor, making every shift of his footing an extra effort. The shitty fluorescent light overhead flickered in and out with an infuriating lack of rhythm, blinding one second and pathetically inadequate to see you beneath him the next. But as his fingers gripped tighter around the flesh of your thighs, pushing you down into the cool porcelain of the sink he had you sat on, he had to admit that you were right. For everything it was, at least the sink was clean.

“So…” The burn was exactly what he remembered it to be, the cheap liquor clawing at his throat as he forced the shot down, chasing it with a quick swig of the even cheaper beer you had ordered for him. “This is your bar of choice?”

There had been six shots, three for each of you to start with, but you smirked around your final shot and he couldn’t even think ahead to his second. “Is that judgement I hear?”

He could feel his shoulder tick as he corrected with a slow drawl, “curiosity.”

“There are worse bars.”

“There are better ones too—“ His hand caught yours as you reached for one of his two remaining shots, his fingers wrapping carefully around yours. “Do you mind?”

You tried to pull back but his grip didn’t budge.

“You didn’t seem interested,” you fought, following his eyes as they dipped down to your busted lips. Again, you tried your hand. Again, he refused to let go.

“I’m plenty interested.”

You could feel his grip loosen, but this time, you let him hold it there. If anything, you leaned into it. Reaching with your other hand, you brought your bottle to your mouth and wasted no time licking up the remnants of your sip left behind across your bottom lip. Again, his stare followed, his nose scrunching as something deep in his chest began to burn. Again, you leaned into it, close enough for his cologne to overtake any of the thousand other smells swirling around the packed bar.

“Actually,” setting your beer back down, your unoccupied hand found the inseam of his jeans, his legs perched open on his stool with you sat between them. “I like this bar because the bathrooms are the cleanest.”

Picking up his next shot, he couldn't help the twist of his brow nor the uptick of his heart rate as your fingers teased higher. “The bathrooms?”

“Yeah…” your casual tone betrayed the tension pulled taut between the two of you. Every point of contact had him burning. Your hand in his, a candle flame he couldn’t stop drifting his hand over even as it burned. Your hand inching on his thigh, a creeping flame following a line of detcord towards explosion. Your stare, a rumbling volcanic heat mere seconds away from erupting. The rowdy crowd surrounding the two of you was nothing, the stuttering breath fleeing your chest all he could hear.

He leaned in, his brow still furrowed in confusion.

You leaned closer, pulling your hand from his thigh to take his last shot for him. “You ever been fucked over a filthy sink, Marine?”

He prided himself on his composure, in battle and in bed, but fuck, with two fingers inside you feeling you clench around him and his head buried deep in the crook of your neck inhaling the harsh stench of industrial soap trying it’s best to cover the smell of blood, he could feel himself skirting dangerously close to an edge he wasn’t ready to fall off of yet. His dick wasn’t even out of his pants and still, when he thrust a third finger into you and saw your brutalized knuckles wrapped around his bicep, nails digging through the thick fabric of his sweater, his name falling wrecked from your lips, he very nearly lost it.

“Russo— Fuck—”

“You like that?” He challenged breathlessly back, biting down hard on your battle bruised shoulder to keep it together as you grew closer and closer to the same edge. The light flickered and his stare shifted back up towards your face. A Queen brought to a trembling mess, teeth piercing the already torn center of your beaten lip. “Yeah, you do, don’t you?”

“Shut up.” The whine that accompanied your words betrayed the cut of them and his smirk only grew.

His lips scaled the scarred terrain of your shoulders, climbing up the bruised battlefield of your neck, nipping at every inch you offered him with your head thrown back against the steamed up mirror. “Shut me up.”

Your chuckle intercepted your heaving breath, the hot pants hitting his skin and flushing his cheek. “Yeah?” You challenged, your words ghosting over his lips as he drew ever closer. The cut of your nails dug into his arm pulled back, your grip settling comfortably around his throat instead as you inhaled his violent groan. “Make me cum.”

He fought against your vice-like grip as you squeezed tighter and tighter, stealing a singular kiss from your lips. “Yes, Ma’am.”

These were his cheapest jeans anyways.

Dropping slowly to his knees, his neck pulled from your grasp and his mouth found your ready and weeping heat. With one lick, your thighs closed around his ears, one suck of your clit between his lips and one of your calloused hands found his hair while the other gripped tight to the sink for any hope of stability.

“Billy—”

His fingers had worked you too close to the edge already, it didn’t take long before his fingers, still deep inside you, found the right spot and the burning pressure of his mouth on your clit had you soaring. The beating pump of your blood filled your head, the thumping echo all you could hear as your vision began flickering in time with the ancient fluorescent over head. You could feel him moaning into you, your stubborn grip holding tight to his previously pristine head of hair, dragging you closer as your screams no doubt echoed around the small bathroom.

Maybe the music and the boisterous crowd outside in the bar would be loud enough to cover the sounds. Maybe not. He couldn’t care less.

All he cared about as he fought his way back to his feet was the lazy pull of your hand in his hair. All he could ever imagine caring about for the remainder of his lifetime was the effortless drag of your tongue over his chin and lips, collecting the remains of your orgasm before sucking him in for the longest kiss of the night. Loose. Languid. Luxurious.

“Was that up to your standards, your highness…” he murmured with a smirk along the side of your mouth, his hands scraping down to your thighs, dragging himself closer.

Your grip found itself again in his hair, tugging tight. “Take your pants off.”

“Ask nicely.”

He felt the warmth of your scoff against his cheek, but you agreed in the only way you knew how, your hand not buried in his hair dropping to the bulge in his jeans. “Please…” your lips pressed once to his chin, then to his neck, soothing the crescent mark your own nails had left. One kiss, then another, and before he could reach his hand to his own belt to comply, you bit into the mark and deepened the color. “Take your fucking pants off.”

His lips twisted into a snarl, but he had his belt off and his pants open in record time.

The condom in his wallet was only supposed to be a backup, but he had never been more grateful for his disgustingly hopeful thinking than he was to find it exactly where he had remembered it being wedged between the folds of leather. And as you pulled him out of his boxerbriefs and rolled it on with a few lazy pumps, your satisfied smirk told him you were equally grateful.

Still, your fought. “It’s not expired, is it?”

“God, I hate you.” He swore back, but his heart left halfway through the words, his chest deflating, a nearly whimpering moan leaving his lips as he pushed into your soaking folds. “I fucking—“

Your hips rolled as he seated himself fully within you and again, his breathing stuttered. If he thought he was close before, this was just embarrassing.

He remembered the ruthless violence of your fight, the blood running from your nose and staining your teeth, the strong pull between your shoulders as you landed hit after hit. He gripped tight to one of your thighs with one hand and flattened his other palm to the mirror behind your head as his pace picked up. He remembered the echoing crack as you landed your final blows, the utter brutality that oozed from you as you moved from one hit to the next. He dragged your hips closer, he pulled you flush against his chest, muffling your cries into his sweater.

He remembered your knuckles and every groan they elicited. He kissed your jaw, unable to stop himself from thinking of how many you had broken.

The rough drag of him inside of you was taunting, the feel of him so full yet your climax still dancing out of reach. It was too much and too good all at once. Too little and too overwhelming in the same breath.

“Billy—“ your broken sob tore through his chest with a heat he didn’t even recognize, a burn so heavenly he swore a sunburst sliced through him. “Fuck— Russo, yes—“

Every muscle in your body tightened around him, squeezing him, clawing at him, destroying his composure. He tried to draw it out, he tried to fight back from the edge, but your moans turned to music and his head emptied out. “I—“

“Come on,” you cooed, your words slurring as you forced his lips back to yours. He was melting, the heat was too much, searing his insides, charring his heart and fuck… he was melting into you. “That’s it.”

His nose scrunched, his teeth baring, a guttural snarl escaping his fiery chest as he powered himself even further into you. Again and again and again and— “Shit…”

You whimpered as his hips stuttered, you whined as he fell still.

“Shit…” he repeated, trying one last languid thrust as he found his way back down from his blinding high. “That was… fuck…”

“Yeah,” you muster just enough breath for a chuckle. “Yeah it was.”

He barely had enough time to catch his breath before you were pushing him back on unsteady legs, he barely managed to catch himself on the neighboring stall before you hopped down of the sink. He wanted to laugh at your sudden urgency, make some kind of joke, or pull you close and disregard it entirely, but he still couldn’t breathe. His hair fell in his face, his sweater rucked up around his waist and his dick barely soft—

He was a mess. A wrecked mess without the words to stop you. You already had your pants back on by the time he had the condom tied off in the trash, you were fixing yourself in the mirror before he even found a hold on his belt.

“You know, I know some bars with nicer bathrooms.” He finally fought, catching your attention as he fed the tongue of his belt back through. “Better beer too—“

A battering knock sounded on the door, making both of you jump. “Can you two hurry it the fuck up! Some of us have to pee!”

Neither of you two could hold yourselves back from laughing at that, breathless or not, even Billy felt a subtle heat rise to his cheeks. Not for getting caught—no, surely that was inevitable in a place this packed—but because he really didn’t care, because he wanted nothing more than to do it again.

You had to feel the same, that had to be as good for you as it was for him, god it was better than good. If you wanted him on his knees, he would beg. If you wanted to wreck his shit, he’d say ‘yes, please’—

You pressed a firm hand to his chest, forcing him back to the stall wall. Your lips hovered over his, so close, he could taste your breath. “This won’t happen again, pretty boy.”

His head quirked with a glare, your hand keeping him in place as he fought towards your lips. “No?”

“No.” Your lips grazed his as they formed around the word but it wasn’t enough.

“That’s a maybe then?”

“No, it’s not.” He could feel your pulse, the beat of your chest pounding against his as you keep him just close enough and still too far away. He could feel the lie as you made it.

His smirk only grew as his lips touched yours. “Well, if we’re not having sex, you should just come work for me.”

You hand slammed him back but he just laughed.

“Not fucking likely, Russo.”

He surged against your grip for one last kiss before you pulled back. “Well,” he sighed, slumping back against the wall and finally accepting his defeat. “I know where to find you, at least.”

Even your stubborn tenacity couldn’t hide your smirk as you unlocked the door. “Maybe so.”

That wasn’t a no.

#billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #billy russo #dirty pretty beautiful tag #the punisher

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lyndiscealin · 3 years ago

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WIP Game

@knickknacksandallthat I am picking this right up ;)

So here is my kandreil Bodyguard AU and Hitman AU WIP

Of course everyone who wants can hereby see themselves as tagged.

Kevin Day was one of the most famous people in the world. Combined with his history with a Yakuza branch, this made him the most likely target for a hit. Good thing that he was able to afford the best and the best was Andrew Minyard.

Andrew had a history as a hitman himself so he knew most of the tricks. After one Agent David Wymack recruited him for the FBI, Andrew had quickly risen in ranks. It had been an injury that forced him to quit and to go into security. For over five years now he protected Kevin from all threats imaginable together with his team.

Renee Walker was his second in command. He had known her since his days as a hitman.

Matt Boyd was his communication specialist, talking to suspects or people who were still indecisive if they should pull the trigger or not.

Danielle Wilds was his ears and eyes. She was good at being everywhere at once without being seen. She reported every movement back to him, so he was able to pull the strings in the background and be the last shield between threats and Kevin. He wasn’t very fond of her, but she did good work, without her, the heart of the team would be missing.

Seth Gordon was his man for the difficult stuff. Confronting threats head on, being the leader of the security teams that secured and scouted places a hitman or sniper could place themselves. He was hot headed, but also the best for the job. Never more reckless than allowed, even if it often was a very thin line.

Allison Reynolds had been a direct part of his team once, as his specialist for booby traps, but she had decided to move on at some point and was now an informant for him out of the upper society. If she ever wanted to come back he could use her for gathering intelligence, it was the only thing she seemed better at than blowing things up. As it stood now, though, the Moriyamas weren’t able to even think about making a move without her knowing.

With Andrew in the middle of them, as some kind of mastermind, they were the best security team in the world and Andrew would rather die than let anyone harm Kevin.

Right now Andrew stood right behind Kevin, while he gave some boring speech. It was good that Andrew wasn’t supposed to listen to, his eyes scanning the crowd and the buildings around them instead.

“We found it”, Seth reported through the intercoms. “They even left behind the rifle. You were right, Minyard, as always. Never thought someone would try to shoot from that angle and from this distance.”

Andrew only gave a hum to that.

“Good work!”, Renee chimed in.

“Stay hidden, for a few minutes, Gordon. I will tell you when you can come back.”, Dan commanded.

“The other teams report the places they checked clear. I think we are done for now.”, Matt answered.

“Stay alert. Kevin is not safe until he is back in his apartment.”, Andrew warned.

“Wait, Allison is calling me, give me a minute.”

Andrew knew Allison wouldn’t call, if it wasn’t something important, so he confirmed Dan’s request, waiting.

“Kevin’s PR Manager just got fired for allowing someone to publish Kevin’s yearly donations to charity. The PR team will do damage control, but we will have to do a lot of background checks in the weeks to come.”

Andrew sighed. Apart from his team, he was surrounded by incompetent idiots. Of course no one knew that Kevin donated most of his money to the mafia, but there was a strict rule to never disclose information about his finances.

A few miles away, Nathaniel Wesninski cursed out Andrew Minyard to hell and back. This should have been an easy hit. Of course he heard how many failed before, but his plan had been perfect. No one but him would have been able to do that shot. How the fuck had they found him?

This was a giant problem and he would never underestimate that midget again.

#aftg #wips #andrew minyard #kevin day #danielle wilds #matt boyd #seth gordon #nathaniel wesninski #neil josten #all for the game #bodyguard!au #hitman!au #established kandrew #kandreil

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katierosefun · 3 years ago

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Good morning! Could I ask 🍰 or 👻 for the fanfic ask? Thank you!

thank you for the ask!! // from these asks

🍰 Name one of your fave comfort fics (doesn’t have to be your all time fave).

oh geez, one of my fave comfort fics? but i have so many...but okay, i'll go with some of my comfort fics that i've been able to read lately, all of them a little underrated which makes me kinda mad, considering how gorgeously written they all are:

if i'm lost, then how can i find myself? by @renegadeontherunn: which is just. so good. so many killer lines that made me screech. but it's about obi-wan and his time on tatooine. it's a very introspective piece, and when you read introspective pieces, they can be a little slow, but this fic was so vivid and rich in detail and imagery, so i personally loved it.

misfits and mishaps by @curse-of-men: a very light, fluffy fic that made me laugh a lot harder than i have in a good long while. lots of wonderful banter as anakin, obi-wan, and rex try to prepare a cake for ahsoka's birthday. honestly, there needs to be a lot more baking shenanigans with our tcw fam, and this fic delivered. it had me giggling one second and then "aww"ing to another, which...good.

the thing about falling by @kckenobi: there's a good handful of fics written about obi-wan and satine's year on the run, but not enough. so we're lucky that kasey got to write one, because this was beautifully written and. angsty but not overwhelmingly so, again with really wonderful imagery and vivid scenes.

relic by @giggles-and-freckles: honestly? i can't remember the last time i read a fic about sith obi-wan that actually made me genuinely so pleased, but. this was one of those fics. there was something just lovely about seeing obi-wan be obi-wan but just a little...slanted. but gloriously so, especially seeing his banter with anakin. def. a fave.

there are,,,,many, many more comfort fics i have, some of them which i didn't mention because i either think they're pretty well-read amongst fandom and also, if i named all my fave comfort fics, we'd be here forever, so i'll just also dump in my bookmarks tag, because i def. have my comfort fics saved there too!

👻 What is one WIP you think you may never pick back up?

lmaoooo, probably this one that i haven't updated since 2018? i think it was something about.......anakin and ahsoka being stupid in a variety of different situations. i think it was supposed to be a 5+1 fic, but i lost steam, and i was also a freshman in college, so i was still adjusting to college life and severely underestimated how much i actually cared about the fic. that, and i don't think too many people were reading it anyways, so...it happens. but i'm pretty convinced i'll finish all my other wips lol

#answered #i just.#guys you can't just ask me to choose ONE fic #because my brain goes 'nonononoo but i have to include as many people as i cannnn'#and then i realize 'oh dear i've mentioned quite a few fics'#'UHHHH WAIT LET ME DROP IN MY BOOKMARKS BECAUSE I HAVE MORE FICS YOU SHOULD READ'#most of them are tcw/star wars related #some of them are other fandoms but that's a pretty small percentage #gosh i was tempted to drop a school 2013 comfort fic but then i was like #'wait caroline. you're like. the only one who watched school 2013 in this godforsaken year of 2021.'#me: [sad sounds]

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alexthedrummerboy · 4 years ago

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first line challenge

tagged by @moony221b and @ruzek-halstead to share the first line from my last 20 works!!

rules: list the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!), see if there are any patterns, choose your favourite opening line, then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

so my past 20 fics aren’t all jatp so i’m going to do first line from all my jatp fics, then a few from my jatp wips, and if i still have space (which i will), i’ll do the most recent couple fics on my ao3!!

idk who to tag so i’ll just say if you’re reading this and wanna do it, go ahead!

1. piss off your parents (date me to scare them)

"Shit."

2. i can get by the days just fine (but the nights)

There was only one problem with working the graveyard shift at Covington Coffee Roasters. It wasn't the lack of sleep (Alex was used to that by now) and it wasn't the customers either. He could deal with the occasional stroppy suburban mom - he'd had to live with one for the first 17 years of his life.

3. i need to forget you

The studio is cold when Alex walks in. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised, it’s barely five in the morning and everyone is asleep.

4. darkest before the dawn

It starts when he’s seven. He’d invited Bobby over to his house after school to play, not knowing that his dad had come home from work early. They’re sitting at the dining table, drawing with Alex’s new 36 pack of crayons when he hears it.

5. crash into me

Alex was good at many things.

6. pretty boy

The sound of Willie’s laugh is quickly becoming Alex’s favourite sound in the world. There’s something about the way it bounces and shines - there’s not a creature on earth that could resist that laugh, he thinks.

7. loml

“Julie?”

8. untitled rival soccer teams au (WIP) - honestly this might be my favourite but i think i’m biased ‘cause it’s my newest baby

It was a well-known fact, or rather an indisputable law, that the Los Felix High Phantoms and the Belmont High Tigers did not mix. In fact if Alex were to even suggest something involving the Tigers that didn’t have to do with ‘toilet paper’ and varying degrees of legality, Luke would no doubt throw a temper tantrum.

9. untitled bobby daddy au (WIP)

None of them expect it - that much is clear. They all just stand there… staring at it, wondering if it’ll just magically go away.

10. untitled teachers!willex au (WIP)

Alex straightened his tie in the mirror, wrinkling his nose. It was perfectly tied and he knew that; he’d known how to tie a perfect Windsor knot ever since he was nine-years-old (his father had insisted on him learning how to tie his own ties for church every Sunday). His shirt had been washed and ironed two days ago too, out of nervous anticipation. There wasn’t a stain, wrinkle, or stray hair in sight.

the remaining 10 of my most recent fics are glee fdsjkfsdjl so i’ll put them under the cut if anyone wants to read them but if not, have a nice day!!

11. a pinch of salt

The year was 2015. ‘Babs! The Barbra Streisand Musical’ had just opened at the Lunt-Fontanne on Broadway, starring Rachel Berry in the title role as Barbra Streisand. The buzz around the show was unmistakable. Unfortunately for the entire cast, Babs closed after just 32 performances, leaving hundreds wondering… what happened to Rachel Berry? Well folks, we have finally gotten an answer.

12. hold you up

Kurt Hummel was a good cheerleader. No, scratch that, Kurt Hummel was an excellent cheerleader. He was smart and strong and flexible, damn it. He definitely wasn't the type of cheerleader who got so distracted to the point of personal injury.

13. android blaine

I think you're cute, my name is Blaine and I work at the computer store.

14. tangled in the sheets

Blaine is three years old when his big sister Rachel brings home a friend for the first time. Her friend's name is Kurt and he's in Rachel's second grade class with her and he is perfect. Well... as perfect as a three-year-old can comprehend.

15. bd_anderson responded to your question sticker

When the feature gets introduced, Kurt doesn't think much of it. It's a sticker that you can put on your Instagram story, prompting followers to type in a message in the little box that he can read and post. Kurt sees it and forgets about it almost immediately. He doesn't use his story for much other than live-posting about The Bachelor and promoting his new posts.

16. when are you gonna sing for me?

The name 'One Three Hill' has been on the forefront of the music scene since the band's first album in 2015. Their debut single 'Underestimate Me' skyrocketed to number 1 in the pop punk charts, solidifying their place as frontrunners in the competitive and cutthroat music industry. The band's most recent album, 'Clueless', was released in 2018 to wildly positive reviews but since then, fans have been left wanting more. Well, the public was not disappointed.

17. i scraped my knee falling for you

"Mr. Anderson, I-I'm so, so sorry!"

18. coffee flavoured kisses

Kurt Hummel had heard the words 'I'm breaking up with you' three times in his life. All three times, Blaine Anderson was there with a cup of coffee and a kind smile.

19. between the lines

Blaine had never expected his life to turn out this way, working at his parent's book shop instead of performing on a Broadway stage. He didn't particularly mind it, though. His parents paid him alright (nepotism, he thinks) and he got to play his playlist quietly over the speakers most days, so it definitely could've been worse.

20. tug at my heartstrings

He isn’t usually there. That was the first thing Kurt thought when he saw the man playing the violin while walking home after work.

#britney plays games

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melien · 3 years ago

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VII and XXXI for whatever you want! also, hope your day is going well :)

7. whats the biggest risk you’ve taken with your story? did it pay off?

Answered here, but I guess another risk I took was stopping posting legacies and instead focusing more on character development, photoshoots, edits etc. It's becoming pretty tiring to do the same thing for years, and I already had a lot of characters who really needed more attention from me (and it brings me more feels to focus on the old beloved ones instead of constantly having the flow of new ones and not being inspired enough for them)

Also, dabbling in TS4 is a bit of a risk - I used to underestimate it before, but it's pretty good for recreations and quick photoshoots, and it runs way smoother than TS3 and is awesome for dress-ups and edits. And, to be fair, I doubt I'm going to post any different sims in TS4 - it's all the same stuff, just in another game (I personally like seeing people having multiple versions of their sims in different games). I aspire to have followers who follow me for my characters and not strictly for the game I post, and a lot of other people have been playing TS4 (some even completely switched to it), so I convinced myself it's completely okay if I post both games and try out something new for me.

31. drop some random trivia about your story

So I guess I'll just talk about how it all came to be, in case anyone's confused😅 My blog might be a bit of a mess right now, but there's a simple explanation to my two universes.

Universe #1 - doesn't have a set name yet, but I call it multi-legacy verse so far, because it connects my legacies. It all started with me wanting to do a cas legacy with the Fletchers (my first and oldest one), where I'd basically post heir/spouse duos and talk about their new storylines that evolved from the old ideas. But I understood it's all way more complicated than it seems, because apart from the main heir line, there are so many side characters and sub-branches. Besides, I thought of expanding my spare lines and giving them kids because it could be a bunch of fun, and also giving relatives to some sims. With time, I added sims from my other old legacies (their revamped versions) to the tree, and there's still a lot to do in terms of this. So now it's slightly out of control😅

Right now, I have ~160 characters on that tree and counting. It actually brings me a lot of fun to work on every generation, think of their story and who will be connected with whom in which way (it's usually quite awesome to have gens with a lot of characters and develop their relationships, nothing can top the feeling of some friendly or romantic or other type of ship clicking, or some plot clicking due to the character's surroundings). I also set a purpose to write a bio for all the important characters. Obviously, I doubt I'll ever post most of these stories, as many of them sound pretty ambitious (idk, maybe the most promising ones, we'll see how long I can go without writing), but thinking of them fills me with so much joy and ideas, and this is what matters the most. Also, any questions about this or any particular characters are welcome.

Oh and yeah, I finally feel comfortable enough to show the tree! Still a huge WIP and many things are subject to change, but so far I'm proud of how it's going. I may also create a separate post about it later.

Universe #2 - Rickverse. Unlike the huge multi-legacy tree, it's focused on one generation. Basically, it's a story about young romance, friendship and stuff like this. What's special about it is that these characters have been my ocs since I was 11. I wrote about them throughout my teenage years, but then my love for them sort of faded. However, last year I recreated a few of them sims out of boredom and understood that they absolutely deserve a new life and a more developed story. Like in the previous case, I doubt I'll fully write it because there's still a lot to consider, but I'm glad to talk about them, post their photoshoots, and maybe do mini-stories (one AU is currently in development).

Thanks, sweetie! ❤️

#text post #replies

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malmuses · 4 years ago

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Hello Mal, how are you doing? I hope things have gotten better for you on the real life side of things. I'm going through some rough times too, so at least the company is good! I wanted to start by saying that your fics have single handedly gotten me through the most turbulent transition period of my life. I'm almost completely finished with your works on AO3 and your storytelling... *many many many chef kisses*. You are easily one of my favorite writers. I love your writing style, ...1/2

...2/2 your characterization, and how well thought out each story is. Each fic is like a decadent treat for my brain. I was curious, as a fellow writer, what your writing process is like. I've tried a few different methods but was wondering what works best for you! I hope the rest of your 2020 is full of peace and love. Also, I apologize in advance for the spam of comments you are about to receive on AO3. I finally have enough spoons for it!

I’m pasting these into one so I can put the answer in one place! (Tumblr is so awkward sometimes.) Sorry to hear you’ve been going through rough times too! There’s a lot of it going around this year, so I think we have plenty of company. In fact, I think the whole world just needs to lower its expectations and standards this year. Woke up? There’s the first gold star of the day. It's only up from here. I’m so glad that you’ve been enjoying my stories and so flattered that you say they’ve helped you so much...*insert feelings gif* I always tell myself when I write something: It’s okay if not everyone likes it. It’s okay if some people hate it. Nothing is for everyone. I just want one person to *love it*. Then I’m totally at peace. Now, if that person is just me? If I’m the only one that loves it? That’s also cool. Each story comes from a different place. My long-winded point, though, was that you basically just validated the existence of my entire catalog of fics so far, so thank you xD Your question about my writing process though - I’m happy to answer. But of course, first, I have to insert the usual disclaimer that as with most creative endeavors, there is no ‘right’ way to do it. I’m sure you know that, but sometimes I think people underestimate the depth of that truth. Each person has their own unique way of doing things. The struggle is sometimes finding the particular way, or combination of ways, that work for you. There’s definitely no harm in sharing what works for me though, in case anyone else can take anything from it. I’m someone who writes multiple things at once. Some people can’t do this or don’t want to, which I totally understand. For me, this is how I (mostly) avoid any kind of writers' block. If I’m stuck somewhere, I switch projects for a day or two. I do usually still have one main project I’m working on, but I usually have at least three others, often at various stages of the writing process. This keeps me in more of a flow state so I keep going with things, and allows me to write every day. It’s a habit. Now, I’m not saying breaks are bad, and everyone should write every day. I just find that for me, breaks should be deliberate. They should be true, chosen breaks, not because I just...drifted into one.

As you can probably tell from all that, I’m very much a planner and outliner. I outline...a lot. I’d be happy to talk more about my particular outlining process on Tumblr someday if anyone wanted. But, basically, I start with a general idea, then break it down into different story beats, so I can see if there’s something missing or too much of one thing. Then I fill in the gaps, then start breaking each overall ‘part’ of the plot into scenes, etc. Chapters come last. In terms of numbers (I get asked this one a lot), it does not matter how long your chapters are. What matters is that the chapter length feels right for the pacing of the fic, in my opinion, and I really think that is something that just comes with practice and knowing your own writing. Shitty advice maybe, but just the truth as I see it. A lot of it comes down to practice and finding what works for you.

Once I have an outline, I generally write linearly. Some people can jump around a lot. That’s a bit of a last resort for me if I’m stuck on something, or alternately if a scene steams into my head fully formed I will write it...with the understanding that I will probably have to change chunks of it when I reach it. It’s just the way it goes.

Now, when I say I outline in detail (there are literal spreadsheets) that doesn’t mean that I magically only write exactly what’s in the outline and I stick to it. An outline can be a guide, not a rule. Sometimes stories take you places, and generally, I find it's better to listen to what the story wants. If my story starts going somewhere else or introduces something I don’t expect, I often revisit my outline and think, “Okay, how can I work in this new thing so that it follows the plotlines and arcs I already have? Am I adding to what I have or just distracting from it?” Most often those answers are obvious to me, but sometimes it’s good to ask someone else. A friend, a trusted beta. (I could talk a whole lot about betas and how that works for me, too, in addition to outlining).

I pretty much zero draft my fics. By that, I mean that I will start writing, and I won’t go back and do very much editing until the end. I will, each writing session, go back and read what I wrote the day before. Get into the zone. And sure, I’ll fix something if it jumps out at me - but that isn’t the purpose at that point, and most things won’t jump out, because it's too fresh. My brain knows what I meant, so it autocorrects for me.

Leading into editing, it’s a two-step process for me. Once my zero draft is finished, I go back to the beginning and go through. This is where most of my developmental editing happens. (Another thing that probably needs more detail...different types of editing.) Once I’ve done that (usually during that pass, I’ve added words) I then put the fic aside. For as long as possible. At least a month, if I can swing that. (Bang deadlines sometimes cause issues if it's a fic for a bang, but I try).

Once that time has passed, I can come back to it with fresh eyes. I’ll see the mistakes much more easily, then. This is where more intensive line edits happen, where SPAG happens, where I insert anything I made note of during my first pass if I needed to foreshadow anything more, that kind of thing.

For a WIP, I do these edits chapter by chapter as it posts. For a Bang fic, obvious I have to do it all in one go. Due to the way I write, if you see me start posting a fic -- that fic is already finished, or in rarer instances (for work that was more time-sensitive) partway through the second draft or so. Oneshots are a little different (and I’ve had some oneshots that turned into chaptered fics of their own accord) in that they are just shorter and less intensive and often only have one main plot thread, so they’re a lot easier to do. I can get one drafted, edited and posted within a few days usually, depending on length.

How much do I write? Depends on the day. I have a high-stress finance job, two kids, and write a mixture of original fiction and fanfic stuff. So sometimes it's more than others. Bad day? Maybe 1,000 words. Good, average day? 3-6k. High pressure? Well, last year's DCBB I wrote in just under three days. It was 25k at that point. I have no tips for speed beyond learning to type fast, LOL!

Okay. I’ve probably bored you, and anyone else who had to scroll past all this, to tears. This is way too long. But even so, more specific questions, I’m happy to answer.

Good luck! Best advice? Just write. Write. Write. "Write a million words, then throw them away” is a changeable quote attributed to several authors but all it comes down to is...practice. Find your own vice and way of doing it. In a million words time, you will be a different writer than you are now, guaranteed.

Mal <3

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directionoftime · 4 years ago

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Turns Out, I Write Stuff

Well, after a long time hiding in fanfic (and then not writing it) and an even longer time not quiiiiiite getting* fantasy, I've decide to do A Thing. The Thing being to write stuff in a blog post. (And yes, I'll need a week to recover from this.) But the other things I've been doing is writing original fiction: novels!

For those who know me from FFN/AO3, you know I like my stories loooooooong!

But, all things considered, I'm rather new to the fantasy genre (I guess Naruto counts as fantasy, but does fan-fic????) and I've had a blast world and character building, I know I drew a lot from the fan-fic approach. Exposition? Never heard of her!

To the WIPs:

Sauvarin: As a blacksmith, playing with fire is her jam, but does she have to poke that many ghosts bears? To be fair to her, even the bears keep well away from the weird shit in The Woods, so... who else has she got to annoy?

FEATURES: Sword lesbians! (Love interest: a local bootlegger in a town under prohibition) A scientist who just went to Live In The Woods because FUCK bureaucracy. Ghosts (magical ghosts). There's magic in that there music. Very ANGY magical cat made of metal (who may or may not be under the control of a certain nearby "cave"). The world is diverse and so is this story, no TERFs allowed in my fantasy lands! Just remember: life and death are transitory states - and the taiga remembers all who enter it.

BOTTOM LINE: we're all people, and the value of community should never be underestimated.

STATUS: complete! A short ~100K. Currently would love some beta-reader input (on a reciprocal basis, of course!) I’ve been “writing” this since 2014, when I thrashed out a version for NaNoWriMo and only recently came back to flesh out an old story I loved.

NOTES: dithers on the line of sci-fi, set future-earth with a lot of refs to space/tech and a whole bunch of chaotic scientists trying to understand this havoc-riddled world they once called the earth. Assumption this “magic” can be scienced.

And We Were Given Trees: Imagine dressing up as you local deity to get the magic-police off your back, who think you're One Of Them, only... for your actual god to show up and ask but a single, earnest question: Am I a joke to you?

FEATURES: Ma-ma-ma-magic. Classes of magic. (This magic can be faked, who knew? Probably the same people who think Rube Goldberg machines can be put to good use). Dark woods containing Aesthetique Castle. Sexy god lady - and she's not bound by your hetero-normative agenda, Carol. The superstitious are as cruel as they are easy to fool. Frightening, really, how quickly a simple message get diluted by greed.

BOTTOM LINE: surface level alterations are no substitute for meaningful, intentional change.

STATUS: about 2k in?? Again, would love some early feedback, since this is a very heavy world-build story, much more hard-fantasy than S, so at the moment, unsure how steep the learning curve should be (??)

NOTES: provisional title so far. This is currently same-universe as Sauvarin, but a completely different cast of characters/area of the world/period in time, but might change, planning a bit of a "universe" series, of different characters/setting/stages of change, showing the magic systems at different levels of "evolution".

I'm not much a part of the writeblr community yet, but I would love to get more involved. So here is an attempt on my part! I would love to offer some beta-reading/critiques to any who are looking, or join up with any existing beta-circles. I am currently half-way through an MA in creative writing myself but FUCK this pandemic is a pain in my ass. As I’m sure it has been for everyone!

Many thanks to @writeblrfantasy for offering so many great links and a friendly welcome. Hello @inky-duchess, thanks to you, too, for the welcome! And to @pens-swords-stuff for such useful writeblr advice on your blog.

I extend my “hellos” to @magic-is-something-we-create and @stardustspiral, I’m sure there are plenty more in the community I hope to meet soon.

Gosh, I’ve been here five minutes and you’re all so friendly! ^_ ^ Damn motivation is a helluva drug!

*By which I mean reading a lot of old fantasy where the only interesting thing about it was weird-looking people and cool lands, of male characters getting endless perfection and female characters getting to be a pair of boobs on legs but no sense of characters or arcs or development. I know that stuff was out there but young me didn't know how to find it.

#writeblr #fantasy #writeblr fantasy #long post

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mjmnorwood · 5 years ago

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[I.D. A header image of two pencils on a yellow background, with title reading ‘Making Fantasy Worlds Feel Real’. End I.D.]

I love reading books where the author has crafted a world so believable that you feel like you’re really there, and over the years I’ve spotted a few techniques that I think really help elicit this feeling in readers. The title says fantasy worlds, because that’s what I have most experience with, but these tricks should work just as well for sci-fi!

1. When there’s an opportunity to be specific, be so.

The devil is in the details, and so are worldbuilding opportunities! I find that being specific is a great way to make a world feel realistic, and get across the tone of a story. You could just say your characters are having breakfast, but mentioning what they’re eating can really add to the scene. Perhaps they’re having porridge, which conveys a sense of normalcy, or maybe they’re eating Sustainagrain!™ which suggests a corporate-led sci-fi setting. Details can also show information about a character without outright stating it. You can just have a character gathering herbs, but if you specify that they’re collecting rosemary and thyme it suggests they’re going to cook, whereas saying they’re gathering feverfew suggests medical use.

The great thing about this technique is it makes things feel more realistic without adding much to your word count!

2. Use language to bring your world to life.

Story-specific slang can make a world feel so rich. Sometimes, a character’s background means it makes sense for them to speak formally, but if all your characters speak this way it can draw attention to the fact that they’re literary creations. For characters whose backgrounds involve growing up in more informal environments, the casual nature of slang feels very realistic.

Another facet of this is idioms, which are incredibly useful both for making dialogue feel natural, and giving details about worldbuilding. As an example, in my WIP one character tells another that they’re ‘looking greyer than a monk’s habit’, which conveys both the fact that the character looks unwell, and that monks wear grey in this world. It’s a small detail, but as we covered in the point above, small details can be great for realism.

Making up slang and idioms that don’t feel forced can take a bit of practice. For an example of where this is incredibly well-done I recommend Tamora Pierce’s Beka Cooper books. The slang and idioms felt so natural that after I read the books I unconsciously started using some of them in real life!

3. Don’t let your world be static; give it a history.

Sometimes it makes thematic sense for a world to be unchanging, but for the majority of cases this isn’t so. Giving your world a history that characters can casually refer to makes it seem like it exists outside of the book—it was there before the reader opened the first page, and will continue to be there after they’ve read the last line. This is especially effective if historical events have directly shaped the way the world and characters are now. Big, important events are great for this, but don’t underestimate the power of small changes. Little things like, for example, if guild regulations have recently been revised, show that the plot isn’t the only thing that drives change in this world, and that its people, places, and institutions don’t just exist to serve the story.

For a stellar example of a believable history, I recommend reading Lois McMaster Bujold’s Vorkosigan Saga. I know Bujold’s work has cropped up in a lot of my posts, but that’s because 1. I’m rereading the vorkosiverse right now, so it’s on my mind, and 2. she is very good. The history in her books feels so real that I have strong emotional responses to historical tragedies, despite knowing they’re fictional.

4. If something exists in the real world, consider using that rather than a fantasy version.

This is very much my opinion (even more so than the other points), but I feel that readers are more likely to engage with the fantastical aspects of a story if they know that the other details of the world do exist in reality (or could conceivably exist). I ran into this with my WIP—I needed a poison with very specific properties, so I made one up. However, when I was redrafting I decided to look into the matter a bit more, and found an obscure real-world poison that had almost everything I needed for the plot to make sense. I decided to use this as I felt it would be fairer to readers if they had at least a chance of figuring out the poison—a slim chance, but not inconceivable for a reader with an interest in toxicology. If I had used my fantasy poison, they would have had no chance at all.

I recommend Michelle Paver’s Chronicles of Ancient Darkness as a good example of this. Don’t be put off by the melodramatic series name, these are fantastic books. They feature mages, spirits, and demons, but Paver uses real-world survival techniques to make the lives of her hunter-gatherer characters feel grounded in reality.

Final note: Believability isn’t the be-all-and-end-all of good fantasy worldbuilding. A lot of authors don’t worry about realism and still write brilliant books, e.g. Patricia C. Wrede’s Enchanted Forest Chronicles are built on playing around with fairytale tropes. There are also authors like Terry Pratchett, who are somewhere in between—a lot of Pratchett’s characters/plots/worldbuilding are built on narrative causality rather than realism, but many of the details he includes are very realistic (like his descriptions of how food is supplied to Ankh-Morpork).

I hope you find these tricks as useful as I do, regardless of how realistic you want your world to be.

Like this post? Follow for more writerly content! It’ll be lovely to have you along :D

#writing advice #writing tips #writing help #writeblr #worldbuilding #fantasy #science fiction #scifi #writing #writers #writers on tumblr #writeblr community #writblr #fiction analysis #lois mcmaster bujold #tamora pierce #original

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