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beeansart · 1 year

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random idea

(picture from pintrest)

The cool autom air flows through the empty streets, around the drying leaves on the trees stuck along the sidewalks to make it seem more lively. But when its 3am its not so lively. On the 3rd floor apartment complex, in the 2 bedroom apartment you lay. Lay in your dark room, dimly lit from the streetlamp outside that barley shinned into your room. On the bed facing the ceiling, looking at how the 3 light structure faintly shakes as the fan spins clockwise, focusing on one blade and watching it go round and round. Then with a aggressive sigh leaves you as you turn to your side, glancing at the digital clock, as its numbers shine red go from 3:05 to 3:06, you decide enof is enof. Throwing the blanket off yourself, as though it being on you was part of the problem, you throw yourself off the mattress over to your door, storming into the open kitchen as though on a mission, you open the fridge door, letting the cool air hit your face as you look inside. Your mission clearly coming to a unfuffiling conclusion. Moving containers of left over food, and judges to the side, as if something that will spark any sorta interest is going to just make itself known, as if a good snack is truly all you need. With a huff of air though your mouth you lean back and push the door with the palm of your hand, letting is fly closed. Looking at the cabinets, knowing very well what is behind those door and that nothing behind them will satisfy this irritating pent up energy. Pacing back and forth between the small walkable space of what you call an open kitchen, trying to think and coming with nothing, at this rate you will never get enof sleep before the day begins, so why even bother trying to go to sleep and might aswell ride this sleepless night. And if your going to make that choice, thats gong to require something that is much more powerful then questionable milk, and tap water, this requires energy drinks.

Walking over to the couch, where infront of it on the floor lives your very woar out boots that definitely need a break from being used every single day. Pulling them on, tying them as well as they need to be to stay on your feet for this small journey. One leg of your sweat pants stuffed in the boot, and the other held up by the still effective elastic around your caft. Grabbing your dark green busted up jacket, that always holds your keys and wallet, tossing it onto you as you walk out the door.

Its never comfortable leaving your apartment in the middle of the night, its the middle of the night?! Nothing about that sounds like a good well planned out idea, especially on your own, but as you go down the stairs to the entrance door, it dosn’t seem like there is a single soul awake to be seen, not a sound heard from any other door as you pass them on your way, and noone to be seen as you step past the double glass doors. Yeah this isn’t the greatest idea, so much can go wrong, so much can suddenly happen, but if im fast, whats the worst that can happen, right? Right! Besides, the busy mark down the street is always open, 24/7, just run in and out, get a energy drink and quickly come back. This trip should take 5 minutes, at most! Really quick, in and out no big deal, nothing bad can happen in a 5 minute trip. This is what you tell yourself, as you walk down to the store, repeating it, as glancing around your shoulder, trying to see past your peripheral vision as you walk, you don’t like to think of yourself as a paranoid type, but your also not an ignorant type either.

Before you know it, you have reached the store. Putting your open palm on the glass of the door, as you push it open, the muffled dust mixed with windex cleaner to mask it, is the first smell that hits you. This is just a small hole in the wall type of shop, far more product then the store has room to hold, the florasient lights buzz quietly, as the bell from the door ecos against the walls.The shop is small, you can see all the wya to the back, and seems like nooone is inside, well besides The clerk, who dosn’t greet you, he barley looks up from his magazine as you enter the store, you do not meet his eyes, but you notice the head motion as you go inside.

At first going up and down the allies, as if you are looking for something to spark that interest for you, something to eat, maybe some candys, chips? No, nothing is hitting that spot of interest. Making a familiar turn to the left back wall, where teh soft drinks lived. Seeing the familiar colors and logos looking back at you, browsing through them just to pass the time, as you go to the bottom to the drinks you were more looking twords.

Hand on the door to open it, but before you do, you hear the door besides you suddenly open with a quiet hiss. Turning your head, you look into the door at who is to your right. A women stands there, looking at the drinks with the door open. She is no taller then you, but with short bob of a hair cut, pitch black hair, small gray tank top, black ripped shorts, and a large bomber jacket coverd in patchs of verious styles and damage, she seemes much better put together then you, if not still a bit rough, as she leans into the fridge and takes out teh very same type of energy drink you were searching for, she looks at you, though the glass of the door, as the cool air stars to pool from it, fogging the glass slightly around its edges. Your eyes meet, for what seems like minutes go by, her shinning blue eyes look tired, and tahts when you notice, the dry blood that had come from her nose. She blinks, that blink seemed to break that never ending moment of eye contact you exstanged. And with that she closes teh door, walking past you without a word. Walking past the clerk, not even attempting to pay for the drink she has in her hand, pulling the door open and walking outside.

Your eyes blink, as if its a reset button for your brain to boot back up and actually react, who was that, what happened to them? These questions came into your mind so fast you barley registered them as questions at all, before you walked to the door, compelled to follow this girl, to talk to this girl, to know this girl. But when you pull the door open, and look across the empty street, and down the left, nothing and then down the righ, much of the same, still nothing. The street is as empty as it was when you first went into the store, as you look around to see where could she had gone, was there a car she drove on? The wind seems to pick up that crisp in the air, as it brushes past you, much like she had, leaving a linuring feeling against your skin.

#cool story blue #might delete later #im not a writer #im trying to get better at writing #random idea #short story #1st person pov #first time writing #be nice #constructive critic

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yoonia · 9 months

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About Time | story masterpost

⟶ Summary | Be careful what you wish for, because you may never know how to deal with it once it comes true. What would you do when your wish for a second chance actually came true? But was it really a fulfilled wish? Too many questions lie when it actually happened. Were they real memories? Or perhaps a part of a past life? Was it only a dream all along? Will everything be different this time?

⟶ Character | Jungkook x reader / Jimin x reader (feat. Taehyung)

⟶ Genre | Time Leap!au, Soulmate!au, Reincarnation/regression!au

⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; involving explicit smut/mature scenes, mentions of cancer and characters death, appropriate warnings will be applied on each chapter whenever necessary.

⟶ Story Notes | Written in 1st person POV; in case you’re new to my writing, I don’t use ‘y/n’ coding as all of my lead characters are considered as OCs

⟶ Status/Total word count | ONGOING; latest update: Chapter 20.5 | Taehyung - 278,298 words of n/a words

⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Taglist | Feedback | Ko-fi

➥ ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰

➥ 𝔄𝔩𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔲𝔫𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔢

⇢ Spotless Minds trilogy

➥ 𝔐𝔲𝔰𝔦𝔠 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔬𝔫

⇢ Spotify playlist: About Time

➥ 𝔉𝔦𝔠 𝔭𝔬𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔰𝔱

⇢ (coming soon)

➥ 𝔉𝔞𝔫 𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔱𝔰 & ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰

⇢ Fan Edits | 01 |

➥ 𝔓𝔞𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔬𝔫 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔩𝔰

⇢ Visual moodboard (Pinterest link) ⇢ Excerpt of final chapters

➥ ℭ𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔰 𝔭𝔬𝔰𝔱

⇢ Inkitt | Wattpad | AO3

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writers-potion · 4 months

Note

Do you have any tips for deciding whether to use first or third person and present or past tense??

1st vs. 3rd Person | Present vs. Past Tense

1st Person is Best Used When...

The antagonist is abstract/is a psychological barrier that must be overcome

It's easier to weave backstory/info with experience.

Immediacy and toppling high stakes are important for the reader to keep rooting for your MC (like in the case of many fantasy novels)

You have an unreliable narrator.

You struggle to have a consistent tone/perspective. (third person not executed well will easily get confusing)

For literary fiction

3rd Person is Best Used When...

You have multiple MCs, following them more or less equally throughout.

You have freedom to move from wide, establishing views and closed-in views - this is good for conveying the theme.

You find yourself injecting too much of yourself in your writing and wish to prevent this.

You want the reader to view the MC more objectively, sometimes the narrator even offering commentary.

You wish to make use of dramtic irony (the reader knows more than the MC)

Present Tense is Best For...

The majority of novels are written in the past tense, and would be the easier one to execute if you're a first-time writer. However, present tense is certainly not inferior.

It feels like a movie: it allows you to mimic the action and suspense found in film.

It intensifies emotions: it gives the feeling of "we're in this together", the reader experiencing things with the MC side to side.

Works well with Deep POV: Deep POV uses third person narrators like 1st person, sticking with one character's mind for closeness.

Best for short-time-frame stories with constant action.

Works well for unreliable narrators: Since the narrative is so close to the action, it is easy to have a narrator that leaves out details.

However...

Readers can feel "claustrophobic, always pressed up against the immediate" (Philip Pullman quote)

Time shifts can be awkward - you're locked in the present more or less; unless you use flashbacks/dreams (which are disruptive)

It's harder to execute because you need to capture the texture of the present while acknowledging that the past and the future still exist.

It mimics film - you cannot just jump characters, speak directly to the reader or do time skips.

Books written in present tense (and are still good!)

The Hunger Games series

Bleak House by Charles Dickens

Rabbit, Run by John Updike

Ulysses by James Joyce

All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Remarque

Fight Club by Chuck Palhniuk

The White Queen by Philippa Gregroy

Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

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miss-oranje-disco-dancer · 26 days

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blue butterflies

pairing: jackson! joel miller x reader

cws/tags: 1st person pov joel, angst, discussions of sex trafficking/sexual assault, death, mild smut, au where nothing bad happens between ellie and joel, author has not played tlou 2 yet (donate to kofi lmao), guns, alcohol consumption, light enemies to lovers, cordyceps works different in this one (more predictable and slower-acting)

summary: joel's letter to reader

a/n: i watched the beginning of tlou (joel playing guitar) and it made me cry so hard. so, this is inspired by that, but also i listened to funeral by arcade fire and for emma, forever ago by bon iver while writing this. neighborhood #4 (7 kettles) by arcade fire makes me cry so hard.

wc: 5.7k

taglist: @gothcsz @harriedandharassed @withonly-sweetheart

thank you to @jennaispunk for beta reading/proofreading !

join my taglist | purchase a commission

divider is from @danowh0re

playlist for fic: required listening!!

I thought therapy was a bunch of bullshit - a scam at worst, a waste of my time at best. But, since you left us, Tommy’s been making me go. He keeps saying, ‘it’s what she would’ve wanted’, and I think it is. But, that doesn’t mean I like it.

My therapist told me if I’m not gonna talk to her about my past, I should at least talk to someone. I told her I’d talk to you, if you were here. She told me it was a good idea, that I should write it out in a letter. She told me I could write to you, or to Sarah, but I figured I’d better write to you ‘cause there’s some things a daughter shouldn’t hear about her dad. Even - especially - the most fun times he’s had. I’ll get to those later.

Did you know I hated you when we first met? I never told you, but I think you knew. I thought you were a self-important, entitled bitch who acted like she’d been through hell when I knew she hadn’t because of how well-adjusted she seemed. I thought you had some sort of unearned valor. I know that’s not the right way to put it. I think the word I’m looking for is ‘respect’. Tommy, Maria, even Ellie were so quick to respect you when I had to earn it.

“The reason people don’t like you is because you’re an asshole,” you told me. “You’re fucking scary when you’re mad, too.”

“What’s that saying? It’s better to be feared than to be loved?”

“That’s what Machiavelli said, but that doesn’t mean he’s right.”

I think he was wrong. I was jealous of how much everyone loved you, and they didn’t love me because they feared me. You were so fucking right, and that was one of the things that I hated most about you.

I used to think about how young you were in comparison to an old man like me, how you were only a little younger than Sarah would’ve been, and how stupid I would’ve felt if Sarah was always outsmarting me. Until I remembered all the times that Sarah did just that, and how much I loved her for it, rather than in spite of it. (Note to self: tell Sarah this in your letter to her).

That’s not to say I loved you, not yet. I did love you, but I realized that a little later. I had to learn to like you first.

Do you remember our first day out on patrol together? I begged Tommy to change my schedule. I would rather have spent my time with anyone else in the community -- Hell, I would’ve asked Tommy to give you a day off if it’d get me out of having to work alongside you.

You overheard me talking to Tommy, and said to me, “You could at least wait until I’m out of earshot to bitch about me, you know?”

“I know,” I said.

And we didn’t talk for almost the whole shift. Well, I didn’t talk, but you kept on talking, almost like you were talking to yourself. You didn’t even care that I was ignoring you.

“It’s okay. I don’t like people either.”

“Who says I don’t like people?”

“Your face, your voice, basically your whole demeanor.”

You were so honest, and you had every right to be. It shut me right back up again. I don’t know if that’s what you wanted. Maybe you thought provoking me would make me talk, but I’m a stubborn, old asshole. I don’t think you need me to tell you that.

“What did I do to piss you off?” You asked, after I gave you what you viewed as the silent treatment, and what I saw as peace and quiet.

“Nothing. I just think you’re a little bit... egotistical.”

“So are you. You think you know everything.”

“No, but I know more than you. You haven’t got half the experience I have, and believe me, kid, you don’t want it.”

“You’re so melodramatic. And for what? Has the brooding bad boy behavior gotten you laid yet?”

For your information, yes, it had absolutely gotten me laid.

But before I could tell you that, you stopped me, looked me dead in the eye, and said, “and by the way, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Tell me, then.”

“Tell you what?”

“About all the horrors you’ve experienced. If I’m so wrong, then prove it.” I challenged you because I thought you wouldn’t be able to come up with anything. I wouldn’t have said that if I’d known what I do now.

You were so angry that you laughed at me. “Fuck you. You don’t deserve to know shit about me.”

A couple weeks later we knew each other’s whole life stories. I told you more than I’ve ever told anyone else, more than I think I ever will tell anyone else. It started when we got lost in the woods together. We were arguing as usual, and we only got ourselves even more lost. The sun was starting to go down, and I could see it in your eyes - you were getting scared. Maybe, for a second, I took some sort of satisfaction in knowing that you were the one who couldn’t handle it, but I’m still human - it feels a little cruel saying that now - so I wasn’t gonna let you suffer.

“It’s not gonna do us any good to keep arguing, so can we agree to drop it?”

“Truce,” you said, holding out your hand, and when I shook it, you added, “but let it be known that you surrendered.”

“Don’t push it. You know if we stay out here long enough that we have to resort to eating each other’s flesh, you’re gonna be my dinner, not the other way around.”

“I hope I taste good.”

You did, baby. You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.

I think we had our first date that night. Sort of. It was late when we got back. Most people were asleep, and the bar was closed, but you had the key.

“Tommy gave you a spare key?”

“Uh-huh. I assumed you had one too, but I guess I’m the favorite.”

“You’re prettier than me. Of course, you are.”

I still can’t believe I said that -- I wasn’t even drinking yet. I can be a real idiot when I’m talking to a beautiful woman.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You looked very pretty when you bothered to wash your hair last week.”

“I wash my hair, okay? Sorry I’m old and don’t wake up looking like a supermodel.”

“Who does?”

“I know you want me to say ‘you’, but I’m not taking the bait.”

“That’s okay. I know you’re thinking it, and that’s what matters.”

I was thinking much more than that, darling.

You walked behind the counter, and asked me, “what do you drink?”, and I think that was the moment I knew I liked you. You could’ve --should’ve -- told me to fuck off. You had other friends (not that we were quite ‘friends’), but you chose me that night. I was a real fixer-upper of a companion, but maybe you liked a challenge.

“Whiskey. Neat.”

You gave me that look -- that fuckin’ look -- that raised eyebrow and a tiny smirk. And it made me feel like a teenager caught staring at his crush.

“Please and thank you," I added.

You got up on the stool behind the bar, grabbed the bottle on the top shelf, and said, “you deserve it.”

“No, I don’t,” I said. “But I’ll take it.”

You sat beside me, and sipped your whiskey. (And you looked pretty hot doing it.) After a good minute of silence you said, “thank you for not killing me and eating me in the woods.”

“I’d get pretty goddamn bored if I didn’t have you yapping in my ear constantly.”

“I thought you hated it.”

“Only sometimes.”

“Then, why don’t you ever talk to me?”

“I’m talking to you right now.”

“Barely.”

So, I turned to you, put my elbow on the counter, laid my head in my hand, and gave you the same face you were giving me. I tried to pretend I was mocking you, but I think you knew I was trying to practice being more likable, being more like you.

“Tell me something,” you said.

“What do you want me to tell you?”

“Tell me about you.”

“My name is Joel Miller-”

“We’re not at AA.”

“You’re goddamn right we’re not. This would be the shittiest AA meeting ever.”

“Okay, okay. How about you tell me when your birthday is?”

“September 26th, 1981.”

“So, you’re a Libra.”

“Oh c’mon, tell me you’re not into that shit. I was finally starting to tolerate you.”

“I’m a Cancer.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Cancer like the crab, not like the disease!”

“Mm-hmm. I’m sure you’re familiar with crabs as well.”

I got a laugh and a smack on the arm in return, and the laugh was worth the smack.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know you can’t help being an asshole, so at least you’re making me laugh.”

I didn’t realize your hand was still on my arm until you asked me, “What’d you do before this? You’ve got nice arm muscles.”

“I worked in construction, I was a contractor.”

“Like a carpenter?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s what Jesus was. I bet he had good arm muscles.”

“I don’t think that’s his most notable feature, but sure, why not?”

Despite the fact that we were talking all things Jesus, you were feeling me up. And you weren’t subtle about it at all.

“Do you wanna play darts?” you asked, breaking the tension.

“Okay.”

You walked up to the dartboard all confident, and I expected an instant bullseye. You’d only had one drink and you were focusing so hard, practicing the swing of your arm like a golfer would. The first shot missed the board entirely.

And that’s when I learned you were awful at darts.

“You’re terrible at this.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Then, why’d you ask me to play?”

“For fun. Plus, how else am I gonna get better?”

You weren’t even close to the bullseye. You weren’t even hitting the board at all half the time. Over the next couple of years, you got better, not a lot better -- I still won every game we ever played -- but you got closer. But, close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, as they say. It probably counts in terms of people too -- I like to think our closeness counted for something, even if it couldn't last forever.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty," I said.

“You’re lucky you’re good at darts," you fired back.

“Is that an insult? Because I’m holding a sharp object and I’ve got good aim.” And with that, I threw the final dart, hit the bullseye, and won. “What do I get?”

“For what?”

“Winning.”

“You get to keep your pride.”

I was happy with that, but you turned back to me, stepped closer and whispered, “and this,” before you kissed me.

I don’t know which one of us was more nervous. All I knew was that I liked you a lot more when you were quiet. All I heard from you was a little gasp when I lifted you onto the counter so I could keep kissing you without having to lean down and hurt my back ‘cause I’m an old man. I really thought my brooding bad boy look was gonna get me laid again that night, but you stopped me before I could get your top off.

“Uh-uh,” you said. “You’re gonna have to do more than beat me at darts if you want more than a kiss.”

“Fair enough. What’s your price?”

“I’m not a hooker.”

I didn’t understand why you looked so upset until that day by the water when you told me. I’m sorry I said that, I really am.

“Sorry. What I should’ve said is, ‘Can I take you to dinner on Friday?’”

You gave me a nonchalant ‘sure’, and I assumed you’d keep it hush-hush, but you bragged about getting asked out. Why would you brag about me? That's something I still don't understand.

The next day, I went and asked Tommy for advice because I hadn’t dated in a long time, and he’s more of the romantic type. I thought our dinner date would be news to him, but you’d already told him.

“Yeah, I know. She came in here asking for advice too actually.”

He’s got a bigger mouth than you do. That’s why you two got along so well -- you were like those little old ladies gossiping at the hair salon.

“What’d she say?”

“I’m sworn to secrecy.”

But Tommy always had a certain loyalty to you. He keeps your secrets to this day -- some of ‘em.

“Give me some advice, please.”

“You were married once. You won a woman’s heart. Just do what you did back then.”

“I think you’re forgetting the fact that my marriage ended in divorce.”

“Just be yourself.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Yeah, it is. How about smiling for once?”

I tried, but I’d almost forgotten how to over the years.

Tommy feigned disgust and said, “I take it back. Keep your usual pissed-off look.”

You taught me how to smile again. I don’t know that you meant to do it, but you did. Tommy says he knows when I’m thinking about you because of the way I smile.

When I came over to pick you up for dinner, you opened the door wearing a bathrobe with your hair in curlers. I guess I was looking at you funny because you made sure to tell me, “Don’t worry, I’m not wearing this out. Go sit in the living room.”

“I’m not worried. You look beautiful already.”

“I do not. I look like my grandmother.”

“I imagine she must’ve been a hot commodity then.”

“She was actually -- or at least, that’s the story she used to tell us. She was Prom Queen and all that jazz.”

You could talk for hours, about anything. I could say one word and you could give me a tangentially related 20 minute long monologue. You were a good storyteller. I don’t think I ever told you this, but I used to think about how you’d be great at making up stories for our kids one day -- if we ever had them. I know I told you I didn’t want to have any, but that’s one of the few lies I told you. I was too scared to imagine that kind of a future with you.

I had you in the present, and that’s what I cared about. I don’t remember what you wore that night because I spent most of our date looking at your face, trying to memorize every dimple, freckle or scar I could see. All the details.

I’m sure your dress fit perfectly, but what I cared about was how your hand felt when I took it in mine as we walked to the restaurant -- it felt right, more so with our fingers intertwined on the way home.

It was one of the longest dinner dates in my not-so-long history of dating as it took you quite a while to finish your meal because you don’t talk with your mouth full (usually). I think our waitress was mad that we were there for so long. They were cleaning up by the time you were done eating.

I don’t remember all the things you said. Even if I did, I don’t have enough paper to write it all down. But I do remember when you asked me, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure.”

“This is my first date.”

I would’ve been less surprised if you’d told me you’d killed someone.

“Mine too,” I said.

“Liar! Tommy said you were married... before all of this.”

“Does Tommy tell you everything about me?”

“No. He wouldn’t tell me when your birthday was. That’s why I asked you.”

“That’s ‘cause he forgot it.”

Really, I wanted to know if he told you about Sarah, or if I’d have to do it myself. Both. As it turned out, he told you before we ever really met. I told you by the river, but that came later.

When I walked you home, we lingered by your door, and when I leaned in to kiss you goodnight, you turned your head, and I should’ve realized how special you were to me ‘cause I felt my heart sink. But, you asked me to come inside. You were always shy about kissing in public, but not on your living room couch.

When we were inside, you let me take off your dress, but only after I agreed to take off my shirt.

“Jesus,” you said when you watched me undress.

“We talked enough about Jesus last time. It’s about you and me now, baby.”

I learned to be a gentleman growing up in Texas, that wining and dining a lady includes putting her first in the bedroom too. But you called the shots -- that night and all of the others we had together. You got down on your knees and gave me the most irresistible face. It was embarrassing how quickly I came. It’s still embarrassing, and you’re not even here to tease me about it anymore. I thought I’d get the chance to prove myself to you that night, but you stopped me. I remembered what you said, ‘this is my first date’, and I assumed you were a virgin.

It was about a week later when I was trying to teach you how to skip rocks in the river that I asked you if you were one.

“It’s not a big deal if you are -- not to me, I mean. I just figured maybe because you said that was your first date.”

“It’s kind of a long story, so take a seat if you want the answer.”

I don’t know what I expected you to say, but I already felt like I’d fucked up by asking. I didn’t want to make this mess I’d gotten myself into worse than it already was, so I sat next to you and waited for you to speak.

“It’s not actually a long story, I guess. Just a sad one.”

It was the first sad story you told me, and you told me more stories than I’d ever been told by anyone else at this point. It was impressive how many happy ones you held onto, especially after everything that you told me that day.

You didn’t look at me while you spoke. You mumbled and picked at the grass beneath you. Like a child.

“I’m not a virgin, but I wasn’t lying when I said that was my first date. There’s just some stuff that you don’t know about me... ‘cause I didn’t want you to know these things about me. But it’s not like I was ever gonna get away with not telling you. It’s better that it happens now anyway.”

You started to cry, so I put my hand on your shoulder, but you shrugged it off. I was so used to the one doing the pushing away that being pushed away was jarring.

“Before I came to Jackson, I used to do things for money. Those sorts of things. It’s not like I wanted to, ‘cause I’m not like that, you know.”

You explained how you’d lost both your parents by the time you were 16 and didn’t have any siblings, so you ended up with whatever friends you could find. Some of the few good people that were left.

“There was a group of men who killed my friends just to loot their pockets, but they realized that it’d be more profitable to keep me alive.”

“So they forced you to...”

“Have sex for supplies, yeah. One of them was my first time, I guess. They did that stuff for a while, but once I’d been with a decent amount of men, they decided I was too ‘used up’ or something to be worth having sex with. I can’t decide if that made me feel better or worse. On the one hand, I didn’t have to have sex with them anymore, but I was also too gross to be wanted.”

“’Used up’ is bullshit. Back when the world was a little more civilized, those bastards could’ve gone to jail.”

“They’re dead.”

“Did you kill ‘em?”

“No, but I thought about it all the time. I remember thinking about strangling a man once. He was alone, so no one would’ve seen me do it, and the guys could’ve taken all of his shit too. They probably would’ve been happy if I had. I think that’s why I didn’t.”

“If you didn’t kill them, then how did they die?”

It probably wasn’t appropriate for me to pry, but the sadistic part of me needed to know that they got what was coming for them. I needed to know there was some justice left in this world.

“They wanted food from some guy who’d gone hunting and they tried to sell me to him, but he said ‘no’. He looked so offended that I thought I was pissed off ‘cause they’d given him a bad deal... but he shot the one standing in front of him. Then, he yelled at me to turn around and I was sure I was gonna die, but I heard him walk into the other room, another shot, and when the third walked in from outside, another shot. He walked over to me, and I started crying and begging him not to kill me. He told me he wasn’t going to, but he made me close my eyes while he led me out of the house.”

“’Cause he didn’t want you to see the bodies.”

“Yeah... and I still thought he was going to kill me, even when he took me with him on his horse, and said he was taking me back to some place called ‘Jackson’.”

I don’t know if I would say you got a happy ending, at least, not the one you deserved, but I saw a hint of a smile when you mentioned Jackson. And you didn’t have to tell me who the man was -- I know him well.

“Tommy,” I said, confident in my guess.

“Yeah.”

After I dropped you off at home, I went by his place and thanked him. And then I went home and cried. For the first time in a decade.

“You know it doesn’t change how I feel about you, right?”

“How do you feel about me?”

“I like you… most of the time.”

What I meant was, I love you. I just didn’t know it yet.

“I guess I owe you a story too, then.”

“You don’t owe me anything... but you can tell me whatever you want.”

I think part of me wanted to tell you, or at least, part of me wanted you to know. “I had a daughter.”

“I know.”

I should’ve known, considering how close you and Tommy were.

“Tommy told you, didn’t he?”

“To be fair to him, he told me he had a niece.”

“Yeah, he did. She’d be a little older than you. It’s crazy to think that she’d be in her 30s when the last time I saw her she was 13.”

“I know saying ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t really do anything, but I’m still sorry”

“In a way, I’m glad she doesn’t have to see all these things. All the infected. She died before we ever had to go to a QZ.”

When you told me about the first QZ you lived in as a kid, it confirmed that for me. It pained me to hear about you watching your dad get bitten and leaving him behind, saying goodbye without knowing he was dying -- in one way or another.

You told me later about how the only person you’d ever killed was your own mother, how she used to sell herself like you did, how you missed the first shot and you saw how scared she was to die. I think you had it worse than I did.

“I think she was mostly scared because she knew I couldn’t do shit with a gun, and that I’d end up surviving the way that she did... and she was right.”

“Neither of you deserved it, and I bet she’d be proud of you now.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I’m proud of you.”

You cried, but you finally let me hold you. You cried so long that I thought you’d never stop.

Do you remember your last day? I told you I wanted to be with you until the end, but you reminded me about your mother. You told me that even if a shot to the head had to be the way you went out, I wasn’t going to be there to give it to you. We had two choices: either wait until that day came or let you go before then. I said I wanted to go with you. I wanted to ask Tommy to give me the same cocktail he was gonna cook up for you. You said no. It was your last wish that I stayed.

“I don’t wanna live without you.”

“I don’t wanna die, but I don’t get to choose. If I could live longer, I would. But just because I’m dying doesn’t mean you get to leave everyone else behind.”

Yeah, you brought Ellie into it. I wanted to tell you not to bring her up. I’m glad you did because as much as it hurt to think about her watching me die the way that I watched you die, it made me stay. I’m glad I stayed. Things are okay, but our last day is still my favorite day.

We got up early and watched the sunrise, and I told you I loved you for the first time.

“I know,” you said with a smile on your face.

“How?”

You just lifted your coffee cup. When you moved in -- something I didn’t realize was happening ‘till it had already happened -- I started making coffee every morning before you woke up, and I started buying that French Vanilla bullshit creamer. I hated it. It was so sweet it made me nauseous. I could’ve gone and bought my own, but I’m still stubborn, I’m still a cheapskate, I’m still me -- even without you (which is something I thought I’d never be able to say). But that wasn’t why I started taking my coffee the same way you took yours.

It was one day when you’d already left for work but my shift didn’t start until later. I hadn’t slept at all the night before -- and not for any good reason, not for more time with you -- so I was tired when I woke up. I made myself some coffee, but I wasn’t even thinking straight, so I hadn’t noticed that I had put that creamer in my mug until I tasted it. But I wasn’t disgusted. I thought maybe you’d left yours behind and I’d absent-mindedly picked the wrong one up off the counter -- I very well could’ve gotten caught up in putting the toaster on the right settings (that’s something we could never agree on) -- but when I looked down, it was my mug. Yours was dirty in the sink. You were gone for the day. I was stupid to think otherwise. I was fantasizing. That was new.

So, just as I am right now, I take my morning coffee like you took yours. It tastes like you, like you kissing me.

I waited anxiously for you to say you loved me too.

“Are you not gonna say it back? Do you not-- do you feel the same?”

“What do you think?”

“I hope so.”

You gestured for me to come closer so you could whisper in my ear and I thought maybe you’d give me a wet willy. But you said, “Joel Miller, I have loved you for a long time.”

I didn’t say anything. I don’t think I’ve ever been very good with words -- talking was your thing. I grabbed your hand and squeezed. We went out onto the porch and sat in silence. I wonder what you were thinking about.

“Will you sing me something?”

You know I don’t take requests, and you know I don’t like an audience, no matter how small that audience is.

No one would refuse the wish of a dying woman, but I couldn’t refuse you even if I knew you’d be there tomorrow and every day after. I only protest because you look cute when you beg. Not in that way -- you look hot when you beg like that.

“What song do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

I sang Peaceful Easy Feeling because, as much as a part of me felt a sense of urgency, knowing our time was running out, most of me was just thinking about you, and I love you. Simple as that.

You gave me a standing ovation just to see me blush.

We all planned something special for your last dinner. I know you like simple things, so I tried to make it as simple as I could while still making it special for you. Maybe it was selfish to make it a night to remember when I’m the one who gets to remember it.

Tommy and Maria were chef and sous-chef (you can guess who was who in that scenario), and Ellie was the waitress.

“What are your specials tonight?” you asked.

“We have either the steak and baked potato or the steak without the baked potato.”

“In that case, I’d like it with the baked potato.”

We probably lit a hundred candles to fill the room with enough light to see each other -- we had time while you were getting ready, since you’re a bit of a slowpoke. We picked flowers from the garden and put them in an empty wine bottle because we couldn’t find a vase, and conjured up a decent tablecloth. We had ice cream sundaes for dessert -- or at least, you did. You know what I had for dessert.

“How about you, sir, would you like anything for dessert?” Ellie asked.

“No, I think I’ll be having dessert when we get home.” I tried to subtly wink at you.

“Ew! That’s disgusting. I don’t wanna hear about your sex life.”

“You’re the one assuming I was talking about sex. How do you know I don’t have a tub of ice cream waiting for me in the freezer at home?”

There was ice cream in the freezer, but the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted was between your legs. The moment we got home I picked you up bridal style and carried you up to our bedroom.

“Baby, I know how long you spent getting ready, and I’m sorry to do this to you, but this needs to come off,” I said before I yanked down the zipper of your dress. You laughed as I ripped off your clothes.

You gently undid my tie and when I watched you fumble with the buttons on my shirt, I said, “Just rip it, baby.”

“I don’t wanna ruin your clothes.”

“I don’t want you to worry about me or my clothes tonight. I want you to have me however you want me.”

“You’ll do whatever I want?”

“Within reason.”

“How do you feel about roleplay?”

“I suppose it depends -- what are the roles?”

“Husband and wife.”

“As long as I can be the husband.”

And then you kissed me -- with your typical tenderness but a new level of dedication. Slow and passionate, showing me what our lives could’ve been like.

“I’m an impatient husband, and I want my beautiful wife to lie down because I think I’m gonna lose my mind if I don’t get to taste her.”

My mouth is useless when it comes to talking, but we both know I have other uses for it. I tried to go slowly, but I couldn't help myself. I swear your pussy was so perfect it made me reconsider my views on God. Though, I don’t think I am a man deserving of an angel. I think I just got lucky.

That night I couldn’t care less about how loud you were. “Joel- fuck- you’re gonna have to slow down, or, or, put your hand over my mouth ‘cause - oh!”

“’Cause you don’t want anyone to hear? What’s the problem with them hearing, darlin’? Married couples make love all the time, it’s what we’re supposed to do.”

Without a condom, too. We weren’t worried about you getting pregnant, so we went out with the best bang of ‘em all. I think the last time I’d done it like that was when Sarah was conceived, and based on how easy that was, I was always cautious.

Husband and wife roleplay wasn’t very different from the sex we typically had. I guess we were really only a piece of paper and wedding bands away from being those ‘characters’.

Earlier that day, I was worried I wouldn’t sleep that night. I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted to savor every moment with you but when you curled up in my arms I fell asleep before I could even consider staying awake.

Waking up next to you was my last clear image, even our goodbye kiss was a little blurry ‘cause I was already a little teary-eyed.

But before that, over breakfast, you mentioned something that I’ve thought about every day since.

“You know how sometimes people see a bird or something and they’re like ‘oh, that’s my dead relative’?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll come back as a butterfly. One of the blue ones. You don’t see those too often. I don’t want to be something too common, like a bird, then you’ll probably mistake someone else for me.”

I don’t think I had seen a blue butterfly in Jackson until after you’d left us, but there’s one outside my window right now.

In case it’s you, I’ll read this all aloud.

Forever yours,

Joel

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #joel miller angst

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cambion-companion · 9 months

Text

"Hold Monster"

Based on this amazing post and artwork. I couldn't help but write something for our beloved INT 8 Tav from 1st POV since that's what I feel most comfortable writing.

Raphael x reader!Tav | Tav thinks the hold monster spell works in a very different way

You certainly hadn't intended to trip and fall into the portal, landing face-first on the polished marble floor of Raphael's entryway.

Your presence had been noticed immediately by Raphael who, upon recognizing you, wore a rather aggrieved expression. He set down his quill carefully and rose to full towering height, a slight twist of bemusement curling his lips. "Here I assumed you could go an hour without indulging in foolishness." He strode toward you and gripped you by the scruff like a wayward kitten. "You just caused me to lose a bet with Korilla."

"I really don't know how this happened!" You protested against his grasp as he dragged you back towards the portal. "I would've knocked if you had a door!"

Raphael released you with a slight push, his wings flexing as he glowered down at you. "Innocent or not, a trespass will be received as such."

"Ah! Raphael, it was an accident!" You began to panic as his eyes glowed a bright gold and flames began to dance upon the tips of his fingers. "Oh, not again." You groaned, wracking your brains for something to counter his retribution."

You withdrew a small amount of silver from your pocket and shrieked. "I cast hold monster!!" Then charged at the cambion head-on.

So surprised was he by your yell and sudden movement, Raphael couldn't react in time before you leapt upon him. You wrapped your arms and legs around his torso and hips, clinging to him like a rabid spider monkey.

The force with which you jumped him caught both of you off guard and Raphael toppled to the floor, his wings failing to catch his weight in time. You felt his grip pierce your sides as he stared up at you in utter shock for a moment. The spell had worked, it seemed.

You panted. "I don't want my bottom singed again like last time. That wasn't very nice."

Raphael grimaced, his face sharpening again as his surprise subsided. Emotions warred across his features. "You are a most confounding creature. If I believed you at all capable of rational thought, you'd be a pile of ash this very moment. Now...get off."

"Sorry, I can't." You shook your head sorrowfully. "The spell lasts a minute."

Raphael growled low in his throat, his wings stretching as he slowly got to his feet. You still clung to him, holding him tightly as you could.

With great care and powerful restraint, Raphael removed you from his person limb by limb.

"Wow, you're strong." You said with awe, panting a little from the exertion. Seeing the look on his face you backed slowly towards the portal. "Okay, I can see you're busy. I'll be going now."

"I should think so." Sparks of hellfire danced between Raphael's fingertips as he looked at you, his expression much like one who is considering how best to skin a deer.

Once you'd disappeared back to the material plane, Raphael grunted and looked around his immaculate manor. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the infernal air. "For the crown."

#raphael bg3 #fic #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #raphael the cambion #raphael baldur's gate 3 #int 8 tav #drabble #raphael fanfic

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asimpwithfreetime · 2 years

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Yandere!Tonowari would honestly be so clingy and he would use his massive size as a weapon. You wanna leave the bed in the morning? He’s laying on top of you. You’re paying attention to something else and he wants affection? He’s physically picking you up and walking away

I read the idea and fell in love with it. Yandere! Clingy! Tonowari is my new religion. So, what if I turn this into a fanfic? This is going to be fluff with smut because I am in class and I need to write something like this 😈😈😈

Oh, you are not going anywhere anytime soon~ (Yandere! Clingy! Tonowari x fem! Reader)

Content warnings: hasn’t been proofread yet and won’t in a looooong time (feel free to correct any mistakes I make), English isn’t my first language.

General warnings for the fluff stuff: yandere behavior, obsession with you, instead of being violent he is jealous and clingy, ticklish reader

General warnings for the smut stuff: SMUTTTTT, grinding, jealous Tonowari, reader being a teaser, just fingering and cum eating

[ 1st Person POV ]

I groaned when I tried to get off of our hammock but Tonowari’s strong arms forbid me to. “Wariii~” I whined at my husband “let me gooo~”.

I could only get a muffled grunt in response as he forced me back into our bed. “No” sleepiness dragging on his voice. “C’mon babyyy~ snuggle up with me~” he kept saying, cuddling on my back. “Okay” I sighed, my chores would be forgotten for a while. His deep chuckles can be heard once he feels me relaxed. “That’s right baby!” He laughs.

I could snuggle with him all day, but I was supposed to do some chores and help some fishers. “Wari, my love, I have to do my chores” . He growled. “I am the Olo’eyktan and I declare that you stay here with me” he pulled me even closer.

“Also, why do you wanna go with those fishermen, when you can stay with me?” He says close to my ear. “I am way better, that’s why you mated me” he licked my neck playfully.

“Who’s you mate, me or them?” He asked. I was dumbfounded, was he really asking me this? As I took time responding, he started acting.

He started tickling my sides with his huge hands, making me laugh and squirm around the hammock trying to get away. “Respond to me” he softly laughed while continuously attacking my sides. “You! You! You are my mate!” I screamed between tears. I couldn’t stop laughing.

Once he stopped we cuddled some more as I knew there was no way to escape his huge and strong arms.

[ NSFW under the cut ]

While laughing, his hands rested on my thighs, I was down on his chest, looking at his face with a sweet smile. “Wari~ we really need to get going” I whispered. He pretended not to hear me, tracing patterns into the skin of my thighs without much focus.

“It is gonna be so lateee” I sighed, he suddenly looked at me. “What are you gonna be late for?” He questioned with s sour look in his fake innocent smile. “I need to do my chores and so do you, Olo’eyktan”. At the mention of his title, I could feel something getting hard bellow me. I smiled mischievously, moving down to straddle his lap.

Moving my hips back and forth I began playing a little bit with him, noticing him harden with just our loincloths separating us.

He softly groaned looking at me. “Oh? The mighty Olo’eyktan is liking this?” I said, teasing him. He just groaned in response, his huge hands grasping my hips and moving me at his pace. “Wow, wow, I am in charge now” I tried to say playfully but the look he gave me had me petrified. All I could see, written all over his face, was lust. Pure lust. “Now the mighty Olo’eyktan might have to show you how to behave, won’t I?” He laughed low in his throat before pushing me down so now I was under him.

His fingers traced from the beginning of my neck down towards my loincloth. His touch made goosebumps run up my spine. He stopped just before my loincloth, tearing it away in just a swift motion. “Now this is what I was talking about” he said to himself before passing this index finger through all of my slit. When he pulled away his finger glistened. “You are so wet for me, baby” he smiled softly before sucking his finger and bending down to kiss me.

“I will make you feel good” he said, he started teasing my entrance, his thumb lazily rubbing my clit in a circular motion. I began moaning softly as I looked at him. “Wari~” I whined.

He began pumping his fingers into my wet cunt, the sloppy and sticky sounds could be heard all over the marui. I prayed to Eywa that no one could hear us from outside. He began pumping and curving his fingers, hitting a soft spot that had beginning to create a feeling similar to a coil.

Once his other hand began teasing my clit, I lost it. My legs began quivering as my toes curled and I moaned harder. He stopped just before my orgasm to pull out and slap my dripping cunt. After that, he began pumping again, the same coil-like feeling making me shiver. Once the coil broke y held to his arm as I cried out loud and came all over his fingers. Once I came down from my high, he got off the hammock and started licking up all of my juices. “Hon, what are you doing!” I tried to laugh but shivered mid-sentence as I began feeling overstimulated. “Cleaning my girl up, of course!” He laughed.

After that, we went on with our days, two hours later than usual.

Avatar Taglist: @amerieee @simp-erformarvelwomen

Yandere Avatar Taglist <3: @jkeluv @penquinsqge

#avatar james cameron #avatar x reader #avatar #avatar 2 #yandere avatar (james cameron)#yandere avatar #avatar ( james cameron )#avatar smut #tonowari x reader #avatar tonowari #yandere avatar tonowari #tonowari #tonowari smut

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luciferscowgirl · 5 months

Text

Okay, let’s make this a ✨masterlist✨

My most recent/ongoing work:

Never to Return - Catholic virgin fem OC x Cardinal Copia (let’s call it a slowburn maybe?) // most recent chapter here 🔞

(If you want to be included in a tag list concerning this ongoing series, hmu!)

My most recent one shot: here

Dom Cardinal Copia:

In the name of Distraction - 1st person fem POV x Cardinal Copia (he is a brat tamer in this.)

La piccola morte - 1st person fem POV x Cardinal Copia (he helps you deal with a bad dream in his own ways.)

You and Me and the Devil makes Three - 2nd person fem POV x fem oc x Cardinal Copia (he likes to watch you watch him. A threesome.)

“This might’ve been a little bit too much” - 2nd person fem POV x Cardinal Copia (Copia is not amused and he’s going to punish you for it.)

“Mangiamo!” - 2nd person fem POV x Cardinal Copia (he’s a bit switchy in this, but that’s your fault.)

One Morning with Cardinal Copia - 2nd person fem POV x Cardinal Copia (he’s a soft dom in this, and he woke up horny.)

Lay all your Love on me - 1st person fem POV x Cardinal Copia (flash fic. He’s a soft dom and makes sure to kiss you properly before he goes all the way)

Morning Indulgence - 2nd person fem POV x Cardinal Copia (a lovely somno fic. You wake up needy for the Cardinal. Soon, the two of you are busy waking each other up.)

Showtime - 2nd person fem POV x Papa/Cardinal Copia (established relationship. Copia is a lil jealous and wants to show you who you belong to. He also likes boxing, as it seems.)

One out of Three - 2nd person fem POV x Cardinal Copia x Special Ghoul (established relationship with Cardinal Copia. You two are getting a little freaky with a Ghoul. Copia takes the reins in this little adventure of yours. It’s also very gay in a way.)

Your Infernal Majesty - 3rd person fem x Cardinal Copia/Dracopia (CW/TW: NonCon stuff! | Year 1350. A young, untouched woman follows the mysterious Cardinal back to his mansion out of sheer curiosity, and what happens is something she is not going to remember.)

The Wedding - 2nd person fem x Cardinal Copia (TW/CW: mentions of alcohol consumption. | Basically the two of you attend a wedding and get freaky in public. Established relationship. Copia talks dirty. He teases. He edges. He’s a sexy asshole in this one.)

Little Miss Innocent - 1st person fem pov x Cardinal Copia (oc is super bratty. Kind of a rage fuck. Copia is upset and makes her pay for it.)

Play The Way You Feel It - 2nd person fem pov x Cardinal Copia (CW/TW: dubious consent! | Copia is plagued by some dreams he’s been having. His fleshlight isn’t enough to mend the yearning…)

Sub Cardinal Copia:

An ice-capped Fire - 2nd person fem POV x Cardinal Copia (Copia is a whiny, pleading little whore in this short one shot.)

Divine you feel my Thrust - 2nd person fem POV x Cardinal Copia (he’s whiny again. And also, you indulge in some nice butt stuff.)

In return, you gave them Hell - Copia‘s POV x 3rd person female OC (power struggle. It contains some pole dancing. And restraints.)

Papa Emeritus IV:

For a Minute - 2nd Person female POV x Papa Emeritus IV (let’s find out what happens on that couch during Miasma, huh? Disclaimer: possible ghovie spoiler)

Ficlets:

Letters from Copia - Cardinal Copia POV x 2nd person gen. (Copia writes you a letter while he’s away on tour. Please be so kind and open it, he’s yearning and needs you to read it.) M-Rated.

Fics with more than one chapter:

If I could turn back the Time… - 2nd person fem POV x Cardinal Copia (my first fic ever. Never intended to write more than one part. I add to them whenever I see fit. // Reader basically meets her old flame after ten years of not having been able to see him.)

Until you’re Mine - 2nd person fem POV x Dracopia ! (Reader goes on an adventure to meet the Cun-, the Count and it’s oddly Bram Stoker’s Dracula coded.)

Never to Return - 3rd person catholic virgin OC POV x Cardinal Copia (Alice is a catholic woman who lives a pious life, well, does she really? Because one errant night, she meets a mysterious, satanic man who’s gonna help her with exploring new shores…)

The Wedding - 2nd person female POV x Cardinal Copia (The Cardinal and you are invited to your cousin’s wedding. Copia didn’t want to go, but after a little negotiation you managed to bring him with you. You didn’t think he’d actually do what he wanted to do, though…)

My Wattpad account:

I’m slowly but surely transferring all my fics from Wattpad to AO3 so there might still me some which I haven’t uploaded on AO3 yet, like this one for example.

Copia is quite the violent dom in there.

Thank you all for reading my silly little stories! 💓💓💓

Here’s a photo of the man I am definitely not obsessed with 🤥:

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em-dash-press · 2 years

Text

Tips for Writing a Scene

Whether you’ve been writing for a long time or want to start, everyone begins in the same place—with a scene.

Not an entire chapter.

A scene.

Here’s how you can make it happen on the page.

Step 1: Have Characters In Mind

Scenes can’t happen without characters. Sometimes you might have a place in mind for a scene, but no characters. Sometimes, it’s the opposite.

Pick at least two characters if you’ll have external conflict (more on that in step 4). One character can carry a scene with internal conflict, but things still have to happen around them to influence their thoughts/emotions.

Step 2: Give Them Goals

Short stories combine mini scenes into one plot with a beginning/middle/end. Longform manuscripts combine chapters to do the same thing, but with more detail and subplots.

You don’t need to know which form you’re writing to get started.

All you need are goals.

What should your scene do? What does your character(s) want? It will either use the moment to advance the plot or present a problem that the character solves in the same scene/short story.

Step 3: Include the Senses

If you’re recounting an experience to someone, you don’t say, “I had the worst day. My shoes got wet and I couldn’t get home for 10 hours.”

You’d probably say, “I had the worst day. I stepped in a puddle so my shoes got soaked, which made my socks and feet wet all day. Then I had to wait 10 hours to get home. It was miserable! And now my feet smell terrible.”

Okay, you might not use all of those descriptors, but you get the picture. The story is much more engaging if you’re talking about the feeling of wet socks, soaked shoes, and the smell of stinky feet. The other person in your conversation would probably go ugh, that’s horrible!

Your scene should accomplish the same thing. Use the five senses to make the moment real for the reader.

As a reminder, those senses are: touch, taste, smell, sight, and hearing.

You don’t need to use all of them at once, but include at least two of them to make your stories shine. You also don’t have to constantly use environmental or sensory descriptors. Once you establish the scene for your reader, they’ll place your characters and want to keep the plot moving.

Step 4: Identify the Conflict

Speaking of plot, scenes and stories can’t move forward without conflict. There are two types:

Internal conflict: happens within a single character (may or may not affect their decisions at any given time; it can also be the reasoning for their goals and dreams)

External conflict: happens outside of a character or between two characters (may or may not have to do with their internal conflict or personal goals; it always advances their character growth, relationship development, or plot development)

A scene could touch on either of these types of conflict or both! It depends on your story/plot/what you want your scene to accomplish.

Step 5: Pick a Point of View (POV)

Sometimes you’ll know you want to write a specific POV because you’ll have a character/plot in mind that requires it. Other times, you might not know.

It’s often easier to pick a POV after thinking through the previous steps. You’ll better understand how much time you want to spend in a character’s head (1st Person) or if you want to touch on multiple characters’ minds through 3rd Person.

Example of Setting a Scene

Step 1, Have Characters in Mind: Two sisters arrive back home from their first fall semester in different colleges.

Step 2, Give Them Goals: Sister A wants to ask for dating advice, but the sisters have never been that close. Sister B knows that Sister A wants a deeper conversation, but is doing anything to avoid it.

Step 3, Include the Senses: They’re in a living room with shag navy carpet and the worn leather couches have butt-shaped shadows on the cushions. The house smells of vanilla bean, the only scent their dads can agree on. Christmas lights hang on a fake tree that sheds plastic fir leaves on the floor. Their family cat purrs from within the metal branches.

Step 4, Identify the Conflict: Sister B will do anything to avoid talking about feelings. That includes trying to get the cat out of the tree (shaking the branches and reaching into them doesn’t work), checking to make sure the windows are closed against the winter air, and faking an obviously unreal phone call. This makes Sister A go from passively hoping for advice to chasing her through the house.

Step 5, Pick a POV: 3rd Person, so internal thoughts and feelings from both sisters are obvious to the reader and emphasize the scene’s comedy.

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These are also useful ways to rethink a scene you’ve already written. If something about it doesn’t seem to be working, consider if it’s missing one or more of these points. You don’t need to include all of them all the time, but weaving more sensory details or conflict into a short story/chapter could solve your problem.

Best of luck with your writing, as always 💛

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wordsaresimple-imnot · 5 months

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Green Dress - Bill Guarnere x F!Reader

Summary: Easy Company hits the town for a much needed night of fun and relaxation in Paris. Reader, who's always in regular military wear and very tomboy, decides to dress up for the night and receives varying reactions from the boys.

Warnings: 18+ content, cursing, oral (f receiving), 1st person female POV (no use of y/n), I think that's it.

A/N: I have the biggest respect for the real life heroes of WWII (and all other wars, past & current), this work & all other works is based on the actor(s) and character(s) portrayed in the Band of Brothers series.

A/N pt2: This is my first time writing any type of explicit sexual scene, let me know what y'all think. As usual likes, comments, and reblogs give me love. Enjoy!!

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I look at myself in the mirror and can't decide if I like what I see or should call the whole night off and stay in bed. I've styled my hair in a simple design, flowy but still away from my face. Light make-up highlights my eyes, cheeks and lips; just enough to make everything pop without being over the top. My hands run down my dress, picking away invisible lint. It's a deep, gorgeous green that almost shimmers in the light, falling just above my knee in a way that would cause outrage back home but is just this side of acceptable in Paris.

Ah, screw it. Let's have some fun. With a final twirl, I flash myself a smile and excite my hotel room to meet the guys downstairs. I stop briefly at the top of the stairs and look at the group waiting for me. We've been through a lot together; Toccoa, Sobel, jumping (literally) into Normandy, countless battles won and lost, losing fellow brother's, etc. Never once did they make me feel alienated or less than, each providing different facets of friendship and overall making a family.

In a weird way I was nervous to have them see me so feminine and semi dolled up. I've never wore anything other than the standard OD uniforms and was always down for "boy activities" in the down times. I was constantly referred to as "one of the boys" and never really cared until this moment. I was worried my effort would be turned into a joke. Just once I'd like them to see me as an actual woman. Well, at least one of them to anyways.

Just as I started my decent towards them, Luz catches sight of me and gives a loud whistle before beginning to clap. This catches the others attention and pretty soon the lobby is filled with whistles and claps until I reach the bottom of the stairs. I give them all an embarrassed smile, fully aware that my face is burning a deep red and I'm fighting the urge to run back upstairs and hide.

"Lookin' good kid!" Toye comes up and gives me a small kiss on my cheek, smiling as he motions for me to twirl around. I do a small spin, setting off the whistles and claps again.

"Oh, stop you hound dogs." I laugh lightly, waving my hands at them to quiet down.

"You knew a lady was underneath all those clothes and dirt." Luz shoots me a cheeky smile, grabbing my hand and giving it a kiss. I flip him off once he releases my hand, making him laugh. "There she is!"

"Alright let's get out of here, I'm dying for a drink." I start to make my way through the group to the exit. This causes a small, playful scuffle to erupt as some of the guys move towards me to grab my hand and be my escort. In the end Liebgott wins, shooting everyone a smile and me a wink. As we all spill out into the streets in search of the bar, my eyes briefly connect with Bill and I'm left wondering what's caused the frown on his face.

Two hours later, I'm on my fourth beer and loving the buzz I'm feeling. I've just finished another turn around the dance floor, being passed between Tab, Luz, Bull, and even Martin joined for a few beats. Needing to catch my breathe, I settle on a barstool and wait for my water to arrive. Before my water can get there, a few shadows come up to my side. Expecting it to be some of my group, I spin around with a wide smile and am met with three strangers faces.

"Oh, sorry. I thought you were part of my Company." I give a small laugh, slightly embarrassed. The one closest to me just smiles and shakes his head slightly.

"No need to apologize ma'dam, if you'll have us we'd like to keep you company though." His English was nearly perfect, made sweeter by his French accent. What's the harm in a little flirting?

With a soft smile, I extend my hand out to them and give my name. They each take turns telling me theirs and giving my hand a kiss afterwards. While definitely being more flirty than I imagined they'd be, they were pleasant enough to talk to and even made me laugh a few times. When a new song started to play Pierre, the first one to speak to me, asks if I'd like to dance and I agree.

We are halfway through the song, having a really good time, when someone taps Pierre's shoulder. To my shock and confusion, there was Bill. He looks like he is holding himself back from killing Pierre, for what reason I have no clue.

"Mind if I cut in." It was a statement, flat out. No room for but's or giving a raincheck. I see Pierre is ready to go toe to toe with Bill, but that is a fight he'd never win and I don't want the night to turn sour.

I pat Pierre's shoulder and tell him it was alright and I've had a lovely time. He looks skeptical at Bill, but gave me a perfect smile mirroring my sentiments and gave my hand a final kiss as he walks back to his friends. Without wasting anytime, Bill grabs the hand that was just kissed and tugs me flush against him.

It takes a few seconds to get into a comfortable rhythm after that awkward start, whatever the hell that was, but we manage and are soon swaying between the other dancing partners. I was torn between reveling in the feeling of the heat of his hand on my waist and the skin to skin contact of our hands, and how confused and frustrated I am with how he acted.

"I don't know why you did that. Pierre was a nice guy." I speak low enough so the words stay just between us and can't float out to the Easy boys that seem to be watching us with barely concealed interest. They must have witnessed the exchange too.

Bill scoffs and his hand squeezes my waist for a half second. "Pierre. What kinda name is that for a man. Fucking French." I shoot him a small glare.

"Don't be rude. He was a gentleman." Bill rolls his eyes at me then spins me out then back in.

"Gentleman my ass. He was only interested in getting to know you because you're looking like a lady."

His words turn my body into stone and I frown up at him. "Looking like... Fuck you." I rip my hand out his and push him slightly, it doesn't do more than make him shuffle his feet but it's definitely got his attention.

"What the hell is your problem?" His jaw is set and his eyes are burning daggers at me.

"My problem? I don't have a problem. What's your problem? I'm not some dumb little girl that doesn't know what men are like. I know he was flirting with me, hoping for me to go off with him. He wasn't going to get anything, but guess what...I liked the attention! I liked having someone notice that I'm a woman and reminding me that I can be desirable. I'm not just looking like a lady, I am a damn lady you asshole." With a final shove, I turn on my heel and leave the bar before him or anyone else can try and stop me.

I'm halfway down the street, heading to the hotel, when I hear someone jogging behind me. I decide to ignore them and pray it's someone wanting to get someplace fast and not actually coming to talk to me or convince me to come back. Sadly, my prayers are not answered as a hand grabs hold of my elbow spins me around. I'm once again face to face with Bill.

"I don't want to talk to you anymore." I growl out, trying to yank my arm back to no avail.

"You don't gotta talk, just listen. I need to set some things straight." He's using his stern, Sergeant voice, and normally that'd have me blushing but I'm too angry for it to have it's usual effect on me right now.

"No thanks, I've heard enough for the evening." I make another attempt to pull my arm out, but he just pulls me closer and wraps his arms around me arms and waist, pining me against him. All I can do is glare.

Bill scans the sidewalk and road quickly, slightly nodding to himself as he makes some internal decision and lifts me off the ground, walking us a little ways into an alley to our right. We are far enough in that no one can stumble upon us easily but we can still get some of the street light so it's not pitch black.

"What the hell Bill? Have you become a psycho killer?" I push a little away from him, but that only presses me against the alley wall. He uses this to his advantage by taking a step forward, caging me between him and the wall. My brain short circuits a little at being so close to him.

"You're wrong." When he doesn't immediately continue, I raise an eyebrow hoping to encourage him to elaborate. After a few more seconds he continues. "We know you're a lady. The whole damn battalion knows you're a lady. Wearing OD's doesn't hide the shape of your ass when you bend over to help with the car engines or the outline of your breasts when you take your jacket off to cool down. All you have to do is glance around and you'll see the boys drooling all over themselves staring at you." His hand lands on my hip and squeezes. Hard.

I have to take a few deep breathes to steady myself before formulating a response. "If that's true, then what was the big deal about those guys flirting with me tonight?"

"Because they don't know what everyone in the battalion knows. You're my girl. It's one thing to have the boys dance with you or give you compliments, they'd never cross that line or I'd kill 'em. Those French twats wanted to cross that line." I barely registered anything after his declaration: my girl. His girl.

"You're girl?" My words come out in a whisper. Bill's face finally starts to soften and an easy smile starts to spread across his face.

"You really are oblivious. It's the worst kept secret in Easy Company. You drive me fucking crazy, sweetheart. Gorgeous, funny, sweet, and just the right mixture of feminine and tomboy. Everything I've ever dreamed of. And you're wrapped up like a damn present in this dress and I've been dying to get it open all night." By the time he's done speaking his mouth is a hairs breathe away from mine, eyes searching mine for any sign of rejection.

All words have left me so I decide to respond with action and close the distance between us. What starts out as gentle and timid, quickly transforms to rough and frenzied. Bill gives my bottom lip a bite, causing me to gasp and allowing him access into my mouth. I don't bother putting up a fight, I'm putty in his arms and give him full dominance. The hand not squeezing my hip so hard I know there will be some type of bruise, grasps the back of my neck and angles my head to the side to give him better access.

My hands have made their way up his chest, to his shoulders, and finally still with one in his hair and the other at the back of his neck. When the need for air becomes to much for me, I turn my head slightly to the side and break the kiss. Bill's breathing just as heavily as I am, but doesn't stop his assault. He moves my head again and starts trailing kisses up and down my neck, alternating between nips and licks based on my reactions. When he hits a particular sweet spot, I can feel him grin before biting there again hard enough to leave a mark.

"Fuck." I moan out, scratching the back of his neck. "That's gonna be hard to hide." With a final kiss on the new mark, Bill lifts his head to meet my eyes. His eyes are dark with lust and he can't stop smiling.

"That's the point, sweetheart." I roll my eyes at him, but smile back.

"If you get to mark me, I think it's only fair I get to mark you."

"Baby, you can do whatever you want to me. I'm yours." His voice is so deep, it makes my legs shake and I'm instantly happy I have that wall to hold me.

"I think you owe me an apology for what you said to me at the bar before I decide what I wanna do you with you." I mean more as a joke, but he seems to really be thinking about. Before I can reassure him that I'm not upset anymore, he gives me a kiss that has me seeing stars.

Before it leads to another make-out session, Bill breaks away from my mouth, trails kisses down the other side of my neck and then suddenly drops to his knees in front of me.

"What are you doing?" The situation wasn't bad enough to do this.

"I'm apologizing." Bill's eyes are so dark they could pass for solid black and his voice is deep and sensual. My response is cut short as I feel his hands run up my legs, going under my dress and grasp my thighs. With a smirk, he slowly finishes his trek to my underwear and starts pulling them down.

"Bill." I don't know if I say his name to make him stop or because I'm praising him. Either way, I have nothing to follow it up with. He keeps his eyes on me as I shift my feet helping him get my underwear completely off, noticing that he stuffs them in his pocket.

"Just lean back and enjoy baby. Be a good girl and hold this for me." He pushes my dress up to my waist, waiting for me to take hold of it. Good girl, Jesus.

"Sir, yes, sir." I take note of the tightening of his jaw and how his eyes somehow become even darker. There's something to explore later.

Bill grabs hold of my thigh and drapes it over his shoulder, trailing soft kisses on the inside. As he gets closer to my center, he bites and sucks a mark just for us to know about. A small moan escapes and my unoccupied hand lands in his hair. Before the sting has completely faded from his bite, I'm taken over by the sensation of his tongue gliding through my folds.

The only sounds to be heard is our combined groans, my heavy breathing, and his tongue working me like a man starved. His hand not holding my thigh in a death grip, maneuvers around to spread me more open for him and I nearly pass out when he sucks on my clit. I yank on his hair which only seems to spur him on as he starts starts alternating between licking and sucking.

The only words I seem to be able to say is his name and fuck. As my approach to my orgasm comes closer, I'm able to mumble out that I'm close. Bill tabs my thigh to make me look down at him and I nearly cum at the sight.

"Let go, sweetheart. That's an order. Cum. Now." His words, combined with the determined look on his face and a final hard suck on my clit has me falling over the edge chanting his name over and over again.

Bill doesn't let up as my orgasm washes over me, licking and drinking up my release until I start to whimper at the overstimulation. Slowly he places my thigh back on the ground, gently stroking my legs, and tugs my dress back down to cover me again. My hands grip his shoulders as he stands back up and I take in the sight of him. Hair completely wrecked from my fingers, face red from his efforts, breathing heavy and looking like he might drop to knee's to do it all over again.

I grab his jacket and pull him flush against me, kissing him with all the strength I have. He returns the kiss with as much force and pulls my thigh up around his hip, making our hips meet. I moan into the kiss at the feeling of his erection so close to my center and roll my hips to grind against him.

"If you don't stop that, we won't make it back to the hotel." Bill growls between kisses.

"Then you better get us there quickly." I give his lip a quick bite, before a laugh slips out at how fast he starts pulling by the hand back to the sidewalk and towards the hotel.

I think I'll wear this dress more often.

#bill guarnere #bill guarnere x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #hbo war #hbo band of brothers #band of brothers x reader

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