#fanfiction writer

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

If you allow me, I request also a mafia AU hurt/comfort please and thank you and love you <3

You're so sweet! 🥰 Hope you enjoy the Mafia boys and their rather unhinged version of hurt/comfort. 🖤

My gasoline

Words: 981

Rated: E

Tags: Mafia AU; Mob boss Dick Harrington; Hitman Eddie Munson; Intrigue; Secret relationship; Mutual obsession; Explicit sexual content; Handjobs; Nudity; Rough sex; Child abuse; Blood and violence

Notes: Previous part | Part 1

In the end, the decision that alters the course of Eddie’s life is made a lot faster than he thought. It comes, as all of the choices that have brought him to this moment, in the shape of Steve Harrington.

Eddie is in Dick’s office, tasked with retrieving a stack of documents for a negotiation the boss has going on downstairs, when the door flies open and the boy comes storming in, face oddly blank but eyes blazing.

“Your father's in a meeting,” Eddie says, carefully neutral. They don't talk to each other on official turf. As far as Dick is aware, they don't even know each other. “If you wish, I can forward him a-”

“Shut up and fuck me,” Steve growls, slipping a warm, slick tongue past his teeth.

Eddie hisses in protest as his back collides with a shelf and some books clatter to the ground. Steve doesn’t pay him any mind, just grabs one of his hands and shoves it down the front of his gym shorts. He's not wearing anything underneath, and well, what can Eddie say? He's always been a weak man, especially when it comes to Steve.

A few minutes pass like this. Eddie slowly stroking Steve to hardness, sucking and biting at every bit of skin he can reach, until the boy is bucking and squirming in his hold. Steve moans, the sound ringing off the walls in the silent office, and Eddie squeezes his base warningly.

“Hush, honey,” he admonishes. “As much as I like making you scream, your old man's right down the stairs. Keep your voice down.”

When tries to capture that sweet mouth for another kiss, Steve bites down on his bottom lip. Eddie swears and pulls back, tasting copper on his tongue.

“Screw my dad,” Steve snaps, fingernails leaving angry welts on the skin of Eddie’s hips as he yanks on his pants. “I said fuck me. What's wrong, are you scared of him or are you too stupid to-”

Eddie spins him around in one fluid motion, trapping his wrists behind his back and bending him over the massive hardwood desk.

“That how you want it, sweetheart?” he snarls into Steve's ear, pinning him down with his own weight and pulling his shorts down one-handed. “Be my fucking guest.”

The desk rattles as he rolls his hips, grinding his clothed cock against warm, naked skin.

Steve gasps.

And Eddie stops.

Because that sound had nothing to do with passion or arousal. That sound was only pain.

“What’s wrong?” he asks before he can think better of it, vision already alight with the first crawling tendrils of red. Steve freezes, briefly, but then he makes an impatient sound and starts to struggle in his hold.

“Nothing,” he snaps, trying to push back to seek friction, neck bending in that delicious, long arch that’s just begging to be put in a collar and leash. “C’mon, what are you waiting for, just take-”

Eddie whirls him back around. Steve yelps and loses his balance, but Eddie doesn’t pause, just pushes him down into the office chair and pulls up his shirt.

“No, stop,” Steve says, but it’s too late. Eddie has already seen it.

For a few moments, the office is dead silent, bar for the ticking of the clock on the wall and the voices wafting in from downstairs. When Eddie speaks, his voice is nothing more than a gravelly rumble.

“Who?” His hand traces the mottled patchwork of yellow and purple bruises on Steve's stomach. “Who did this?”

“Eddie-” Steve starts to say, and makes to stand from the chair. Eddie pushes him back down.

“No. Who?”

Steve sighs, long and exhausted.

“Who do you think?” he asks, and Eddie feels something heavy and cold settle in his chest. “He doesn't go for my face, usually. Gotta keep up appearances, huh?”

He laughs, a dry and humorless thing, but it dies in his throat quick as it started when he sees the look on Eddie’s face.

“I’m going to kill him,” Eddie mutters. His fingertips hover over the bruised skin, shaking with barely restrained rage. The crimson tendrils are threatening to swallow his vision and his knife feels warm and tantalizing where it is hidden in the hilt of his boot. “I’m gonna cut out his fucking-”

“No.” He’s taken the first step towards the door already when Steve’s hand on his wrist makes him pause. “I don't want him killed.”

Eddie whips around, mouth twisted on a snarl, ready to argue … but then he sees the look on Steve's face.

“What do you want, darling?” he breathes. His knees hit the floor with soft thud as he sinks down by Steve’s feet. “Just say the word.”

Steve’s voice is sweet as he speaks, but his eyes are dark and intense.

“I want him destroyed. I want to make him watch while everything he owns goes up in flames. I want him to spend the rest of his pathetic little life crawling in the dirt, knowing what he had and what he lost. Will you do that for me?”

The grin that pulls at Eddie’s lips is painful in its intensity, almost as painful as his adoration for this boy. That same fire he felt licking at his heart the day he first saw him, that has only ever gotten stronger and is now ready to consume everything in its path.

Steve smiles, sweet and lethal like poisoned honey, as Eddie takes his hand and presses a reverent kiss to his knuckles.

“You know I'd do anything for you, sweetheart,” Eddie purrs. “But that? I don't think there's anything in the world I'd do more gladly.”

Steve cups his face with his free hand, pulling him in for a kiss, and the feeling is like a match touching gasoline. Eddie closes his eyes and welcomes the flames.

More celebration ficlets

[morallygreyintrovert]

They say to write what you know. What I know: 1. Childhood trauma 2. Being forced to grow up way too soon 3. Physically and emotionally unavailable parents who you’ll never be good enough for 4. Crippling self esteem that leads to abandonment issues 5. Chronic anxiety and depression from constantly living in fight and flight mode.

I don’t want to brag but I feel my particular skill set makes me a pretty knowledgeable Supernatural fanfiction writer

Dean Winchester core 🪛

[jasminesjournal]

Platonic relationship with Arthur Morgan...

Say you're a bit chaotic. Say you get into trouble just like anyone else in the gang. Say he's such a good friend that for some reason he just has to keep you out of trouble.

You're a good kid, he just has to keep you from dying out of your own idiocy.

I swear he's rough and tough but such a teddy bear.

You crying? He'll have no idea what to say but he'll be there next to you.

He'll like all of your ideas just because he thinks you're swell but if it's a weird one then there will be a pretty funny intreaction.

"You want to do what?"

"Pet it."

"Pet it?"

"Pet it."

"Are you mentally alright?"

"No."

"Well, then," he says with a chuckle. "Pet that damn raccoon."

Protect you with his life.

Even against raccoons you pet.

He's helping you with some raccoon scratches you got, cleaning them which are on your face.

"Oh my gosh!" You panic. "Am I going to die? Am I going to die of cat scratch fever?" "These are raccoon scratches, miss/mister."

"Well, they look like cats!" "You'll be fine."

I swear he finds your antics with petting wild animals to be amusing and infuriating all at the same time. He just lets you do it because without you being chaotic he doesn't know you.

But seriously, don't let it get out of hand because he will freak out eventually.

Little note, I take requests! Got a character? I will either write them or not, it depends on if I know them/like them. Having never written them isn't an issue for me. My rules are pretty chill, just send one through and if I can't write it I'll let you know. No ghosting!

[remarcely]

Bruce Wayne wakes up in the past, five months after Jason Todd died, and spends most days sat beside the grave because he never found out exactly when Jason had come back and he wanted to be there to save him when he did.

From an outside perspective, everyone is extremely concerned.

[w1ng3dw01f]

Fellas, fellas

Why on earth are you BUYING PHYSICAL BOOKBOUND COPIES OF FANFICTION????

ACTUALLY WHY ARE YOU EVEN BOOKBINDING FANFICTION TO SELL?!?!?!

IF ANY OF YOU DO EITHER OF THESE THINGS, GET OUT!! I AM NEVER SPEAKING TO YOU AGAIN.

In all seriousness though, authors on AO3 have begun to pull their works off of the site to avoid getting sued by people stealing their works to make a pretty bound book for profit. Entire accounts could be shut down as well.

Listen, I’m all for saving favorite works by printing them out and putting them in a binder, or learning how to make a bookbound copy yourself and/or assembling one with a pre-made and purchased fancy binding for a fanfic FOR YOURSELF or AS A GIFT to someone, but making bindings with and putting fanfiction in it TO SELL is where I draw the line.

Literally the entire point of AO3 is that you can read it FOR FREE.

It is DISRESPECTFUL for people to make money off of hardbound copies because guess what, the original creators of these fics get nothing. We are literally only writing fanfiction for our own pleasure.

Buying and selling book-bound fanfiction is also ILLEGAL YOU DUMB SHITS. People who are selling content while claiming to be a book binder is a misconception of their services. Book binders make the covers and all that, not the actual content of the book. Selling fanfiction is also an immediate violation of copyright law / Creative Commons licenses. The original fan work will get erased from the internet.

Fanfiction is already a legal grey zone since they are works being written about are protected by copyright. Copyright holders can in fact go after writers as well as the person who sold the fanfiction.

This also goes for people who steal fanart and, claim it as theirs, and put a price on it.

Don’t make it worse.

rest assured, we can still write our fanfics and make our art.

Buying a binding for you to assemble onto your own fanfiction or fanfiction you printed for PERSONAL USE is fine.

HOWEVER,

Bookbinding fanfiction for profit is literally ruining things for everyone. DON’T.

If I see any of them on Etsy, I swear to god-

[cobaltaugustao3]

My constant struggle when writing PWP

[itsmrvlxh50]

I love how we say "PROTECT THIS CHARACTER AT ALL COSTS" and then we go and hurt them like they have never been hurt before

[strawberrywinter4]

Just found out today that my friend posts fanfiction as well.

She told me, nervously, that she posts her writing. And I was like oh! me too!

And her eyes lit up, I’m saying, LIT. UP.

She was like… what do you write?

I was like… fanfiction.

And she was like girl…

ME TOO!

I asked where she posts her writing.

She whispered “Ao3.”

Girl…

ME TOO.

The duration of our conversation included giggling and talking about our fandoms like maniacs.

The best feeling is when you’re able to invite a friend into your secret world of fandoms and fanfiction.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Hello, hello! Congrats to the milestone! For the festivity may I wish for a fic with 1/A; 2/Canon- adjasond; 3/Hurt/Comfort and 4 is up to you. If it fits your jam, would be an outsider pov be possible? 👀

Thank you so much for the ask, I definitely gave myself some feels writing this one! I've never done a Wayne POV before, but I'm quite happy with how it turned out. 🥲

Your first warden

Words: 999

Rated: T

Tags: POV Wayne Munson; Good uncle Wayne Munson; Child neglect; Child abuse; Alcohol abuse; Drowning; Referenced parental death; Eddie had a shitty childhood; Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Hurt Eddie Munson; Recovery; Caretaker Steve Harrington; Hurt/comfort

The first time Eddie almost died, he was two years old. 

Al had insisted on bringing him along for that fishing trip. A proper men's day out, he'd said. Of course Al’s idea of a proper men's day out was hitting the booze the second they arrived. By the time Wayne heard him snore, little Ed had already wandered off. 

He found him floating face down between the reeds a few yards away. The water lillies and the pretty lights rippling on the surface must've drawn him in. Wayne thinks he lost five years of his life in the seconds between pulling him out and the kid's first coughs filling the air.

“‘s okay, kiddo,” Wayne murmured as he rocked the both of them, tears and lake water drenching his flannel. “‘s okay. I gotcha.”

The ruckus drew Al, of course. He took one look at them and yanked Eddie away by the arm, slapping him hard across the face. 

“Quit howling, it's your own damn fault for going in the water. And you,” his eyes found Wayne's and his face twisted into something ugly. “Who d'ya think you are, his fucking guard dog? Keep your nose outta things that don't concern ya.” 

And maybe it was because Wayne never liked being told what to do, least of all by his drunk, deadbeat brother - but he promised himself something on that day. 

For as long as Eddie would need him, he'd watch over him. 

He'd often think back on that promise over the years. Teaching Eddie to ride a bike. Letting him sob into his shoulder at his mom's funeral, daring Al to say something about being a man one glare at a time. Taking him in when he showed up on his doorstep, bruised and beaten, hair shorn so short his scalp was bleeding in places. 

Wayne never regretted his decision, and he never broke that promise. 

Until the day Eddie almost died the second time. 

*

The beemer parked by the new trailer is a sight he should be used to by now. Still, Wayne can't help but grumble as he makes his way up the porch steps. 

Don't get him wrong, he'll be forever grateful to the Harrington boy for carrying Eddie out of literal hell, but he isn't sure if this new friendship between the two will ever be anything but bizarre to him. 

Maybe it's because the Harringtons don't mingle with the likes of them, or maybe it's because the lad is the exact type of kid Eddie hates with a passion, usually. 

Maybe it's because Wayne has noticed the way Eddie looks at the boy. He's always had a way of getting in too deep, Eddie has. Drawn to pretty flowers and rippling lights that'll slip through his fingers when grasps at them, luring him in until it's too late. 

The first thing he hears when he steps inside is a thud, followed by a wince. He's just taken the first step when Harrington barrels out of the kitchen and into Eddie’s room, completely unaware of Wayne standing in the door. 

“Eddie? What are you doing?” 

“Nothing,” comes Eddie’s reply, and Wayne knows that tone. The just-got-caught-doing-forbidden-shit one. “Just trying to put up this fucking thing.” 

Toeing off his boots, Wayne hovers closer to the half-open door. A look inside reveals Eddie, sitting on the bed with a sheepish grin on his face and that giant banner he made for his band beside him. Harrington, back turned to the door, huffs and picks up the hammer lying on the ground. 

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he scolds, climbing onto the bed and gesturing for Eddie to hand him the banner. A few swift movements and knocks of the hammer later, it’s hanging. “You could’ve opened a wound. Again. What do I need to do to make you stay in bed, tie you up?” 

Eddie grins toothily. “Okay, one: I am in bed, technically. And two: oooh, kinky.” 

Wayne groans soundlessly. Harrington rakes a hand down his face, plopping down cross-legged on the mattress. 

“Eddie.” 

Their knees bump together. Now that he has turned and he can see him in half-profile, Wayne recognizes the concern on Harrington’s face. Eddie’s grin shifts into something softer. 

“I know,” he says, watching his hand fiddle with a loose thread on his pajama pants. “It’s just … It’s annoying, not being able to do anything on my own. Being such a goddamn burden all the time. To Wayne, to the kids. To you.” 

“Hey.” Harrington’s hand settles on top of Eddie’s. “You're not a burden. We're all glad you're here. I'm glad. You know that, right? 

Eddie flips his hand, tangling their fingers together, and Harrington doesn't pull away. 

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs. “I know.” 

Harrington smiles, reaching up to cup Eddie’s face with his free hand. 

“You just wait,” he winks. “You'll be back to walking on tables in no time. And in the meantime …” 

Eddie melts into the touch, lashes brushing the other boy's palm as his eyes flutter shut. 

“In the meantime, you got me.” 

“I gotcha,” Harrington confirms, and leans in. 

Wayne is just about to sneak away when the kettle whistles in the kitchen. The boys turn … and then they all just sort of freeze.

“Hiya, boys,” Wayne rumbles when they're still silently gaping at him a few seconds later. 

“Mr. Munson,” Harrington croaks. “I mean … sir. I mean … hi?” 

“Wayne?” Eddie blurts. “H-how long have you been standing there?” 

Wayne considers that question while both boys continue to stare at him with matching scarlet blushes coloring their cheeks. Their hands are still lying entwined on the mattress between them. 

“Long enough, I reckon,” is what he finally says. “I'll take care of the kettle, Steve. You lads stay put.” 

And with that, he closes the door on their confused faces and makes his way into the kitchen. It's been a long day, and he's looking forward to resting his feet. 

More celebration ficlets

[just-french-me-up]

Pro Tip for Writers

If you want a great spelling check website, all you have to do is hit the "post/publish" button and all your mistakes will become abundantly obvious to you through the magic of absolute mortification

[rheas-chaos-motivation]

Questions to ask beta readers

General:

Were you confused at any point of the story?

What genre would you say this book is?

When did you put the story down?

Is the ending satisfying?

If you had to cut 3 scenes what would they be?

When did you feel like the story really began?

What was the last book you read before this story?

Characters:

Do you get any of the characters names confused?

Which character is your favorite?

If you had to remove a character who would you and why? (you don't have to remove the character, just make sure their role is meaningful)

Which character do you relate to the most?

Which character do you relate to the least?

Do the characters feel real?

Are character relationships believable?

Are the goals clear and influence the plot?

Are the characters distinct (voice, motivations, etc)

Setting:

Which setting was clearest to you?

Which setting was the most memorable?

Am including enough/too much detail?

Plot and conflict:

Are the internal and external conflicts well defined for the main characters?

Are the internal conflicts and the external conflicts organic and believable?

Are there enough stakes?

Are the plot twists believable but still unexpected?

[rapidhighway]

I need people to keep tagging their fanfics with ”[character] centric". I'm so tired of going into my favorite characters' tags and scrolling and scrolling past hundreds of fanfics that they're just a background character in

[bababaka]

Yall need to interact with fanfiction author's more.

So. After the ddos attack on ao3.

I was encouraged to write more comments and make my love known to fanfic writers.

I dont really like commenting. Because im a bit shy and soooo lazy.

Now though. I am writing more comments. And dude. This is so heartwarming. Ya'll need to treat writers better. They are doing the lord's work.

Take for an example, couple of days prior, i was searching for something interesting to read, and found an oneshot quite compelling.

I read it. At the end of it, i was blown away by how good it was. It promised me something and it went beyond my expectations. But then i saw a crime, zero fucking comments!

At that moment, i wasn't feeling up to writing a comment. Because, normally i like to write huge paragraphs. But because im lazy i decided to be brief.

Next day, the author answered that the comment lift their mood for the whole day.

That warmed my heart.

Duuuuuuuude! Write comments! Suport the writers of the fics you like! No need to be something super elaborate. Just give your thoughts. Freak out. Ramble. Ask something. Make theories. Compliment. Make a joke about how you wished to give kudos every chapter but ao3 sucks(not true bby) and won't let you.

Truly. Just. Comment. It can make someone's day. And that is part of the apeal of writing fics. Interacting with people.

Just give love to fanfic writers yall. They deserve this and so much more.

[iridescentmemoria]

[sigillite]

music (fanfiction) writing challenge!!

use your music taste to write a fanfiction or any story in this challenge!

first open your music app of choice and make sure your playlist is on shuffle -- then the first 5 songs that pop up will determine your:

Premise -- What your story is going to be about in the first place. What is going to be the main "selling point" of the story that sets it apart from the rest.

Main character -- Your main character's personality or inner struggle.

Main conflict -- The main conflict that drives your story and becomes an obstacle for your main character.

Vibes -- Is this going to be a light-hearted story? Angsty? Romantic? Whatever matches the vibe of the song.

Ending -- How this story is going to end.

yes, this is very vague, but that is the point! this can give you some ideas of what to write while also leaving plenty of room to be creative. feel free to switch up what songs represent what or even shuffle them a couple more times!

[strawberrywinter4]

The fact people write fics that could very well be award winning novels is insane.

Like—they write this for FREE. FOR FREE.

You beautiful bastards, I love you.