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ervotica · 5 months

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please don’t go, i love you so

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: a lil toxic!coriolanus, he’s rough with r, possessive talk, quite tame in this but imma tamp it up soon, a bit of making out and being lovey

note: i do not careee about who likes this character or who doesn’t okay i am writing about him because he is literally one of the hottest men i’ve ever seen, kay? i’m not here for moral dilemmas thank u, enjoy (yes i will follow up w smut and my young!coriolanus snow reqs are OPEN!) please please remember to comment and rb, it helps me so much!

hunger games masterlist

Coriolanus is possessive.

It sickens him to his very core, sends nausea rolling like a wave through his chest; he’s not a child. Yet, the mere sight - thought - of you engaging with any other man, even innocently, is enough to have him seeing red: white-knuckled, muscles drawn taut like a bowstring, ready to eliminate any and all threat standing between him and his girl.

It's the way those boys look at you. As if you're a piece of meat, a toy to play with that they're just begging, aching to sink their teeth into, to leave a permanent mark on. The boys in this district are barbaric- that's what Coryo thinks anyway. It's disgusting, the things that he knows they think about you.

It's been a long day in District Twelve. Coriolanus' grey jumpsuit rubs and itches and his skin crawls with an uneasiness settled at the pit of his stomach. It's a warm day, his skin sticky as he peels the top half of the jumpsuit from his slender arms and ties it neatly around his waist. The grass by the lake is damp with the leftover dew from the morning.

He catches sight of you amongst the trees, weaving and bobbing through the undergrowth as you do, your lithe fingers brushing against leaves. Your head dips and then raises as his tall figure creeps into your peripheral vision. A smile graces your features, real and earnest with all your teeth.

There’s a slight waver in your countenance when you catch Coriolanus’ own expression; his brows are knit, pushing his forehead into a crease, lips pushed together tersely.

You walk straight into his arms, balancing yourself on one leg and pushing your shoulder underneath his armpit. You needle your way in, your forehead rested against his chin, so close you can feel his breath against your face.

“Hi, gorgeous,” you murmur. You reach up to push out the ridge in his brow and your thumb traces the bridge of his nose in a way that couldn’t be perceived as anything other than unbridled affection. “Something wrong?”

His slender fingers settle against your waist. You shiver at the contact when he spins and pushes you back into a tree. The bark digs into your back as you shuffle to meet his eyes— his eyes that have suddenly clouded with something dark and possessive.

“What is it?” you ask again; your voice is becoming more strained the longer he stays quiet, your own hands snaking up his arms like vines and squeezing.

He shakes his head and drops his face to look at you properly.

“Nothing. I have you.”

“Okay.” You click your tongue, tilting your head at him. His face gravitates towards yours, breath hot and mixing with your own. “You gonna kiss me or what, handsome?”

He doesn’t need any encouragement, surging forward to catch your lips between his own; his hands are rough, kneading the soft flesh of your hip. His other makes its way up to your jaw, fingertips pressing so hard you’re sure he’s branding you. You’ve never been kissed like this, with such fervour and passion and need. You gasp into his mouth and your arm wraps around his neck to pull him further into you.

“Coryo,” you pant.

“Shh,” he forces out, his fingers suddenly an iron grip around your neck; the hollow of your throat is bared to him and bobs under his cruel touch.

“Coriolanus, that hurts,” you say, strangled. His eyes are alight with a fire, a blazing inferno roaring in his head as he squeezes your throat and laughs.

You wheeze, clutching at his wrist in an attempt to loosen his grip. He obliges you, running a thumb over the indents he’s left in your soft skin to smooth them away.

“You know I’d never hurt you, right?” he asks. His head drops to the juncture of your neck, arms hooking loosely around your middle as he relaxes into you. “I just wanted to feel you. To know you’re mine.”

The incident is forgotten as soon as it ends. He has a charm in that sort of way; you don’t see his faults even when he shows them to you clear as day. You’ll never see what’s right in front of you even if he wants you to.

“Of course I’m yours, Coryo. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“The way they all look at you here…” He falters. “Like they all want you. Like they want to take you away from me. You’re mine- they have to understand that.”

“No one could take me away from you,” you giggle, your temple resting against the tip of his shoulder so you can duck your head to meet his eyes. “I know where I belong. And that’s right here with you.”

“Good.” He mouths at your neck like a man starved, arms coming right up until they’re hooked just underneath your own. He pulls away heaving for breath.

“Wanna show me just where you belong?”

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow x you #the hunger games x you #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games fic #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfic #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #coryo snow #writing for fun #coriolanus snow smut

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missviviii · 5 months

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a/n: shsusbsihsw i can’t— this idea has been plaguing my mind 😭

“A Duel For Your Hand.”

warning(s): swearing

summary: mizu knew you ever since she was a child. you two were friends, and she grew feelings for you. one day, you had to move. until one day, you saw her again, and complained to her about how your father was marrying you off to some noble.

mizu x fem!childhood crush!reader

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Long ago, when you were just a young lady, you befriended a child just your age. An outcast, but you still talked to her. Your father was a swordsman, and one that has received a blade from Master Eiji. Your father respected Eiji, often times still visiting the old man for memories and to train with him.

You were never really close to your father, but you were close to Eiji. Often times, when your father was away for business, you’d be staying with Eiji and helping alongside him here and there.

One day, you ran all the way to Master Eiji’s place to show him something cool that your father had given you. You opened the door, only to find another child around your age, a little bit shorter, holding large iron tongs while Eiji was doing his thing.

“Master Eiji, guess what my papa got me!—“ You looked over at the other child, who was staring at you very closely and almost surprised. What’s a pretty, young lady like you doing here? You were dressed nice and seemed to be far too delicate to be around sharp blades.

Eiji held up his finger, then motioned for the child to hand him the tongs. “I see you have ran all the way from your home to show me…let me guess, another hair pin?” You eagerly nodded, running over to his side and squealing about the gift your father had given you after he had returned home from whatever business he had.

“So..who are you?” You curiously asked as you turned around to face the child, who was still looking at you in awe. You noticed her blue eyes, which seemed to be so clear and mesmerizing. They were like the color of the water—so blue and pretty.. Noticing that she was staring, she cleared her throat.

“M-Mizu. Uh, I’m just staying here..” Mizu said as she scratched the back of her neck. Oh god, was she falling for you already? Well, why wouldn’t anyone—you’re so pretty and you look like an angel in her eyes.

Days turned into months. Then months turned into years. Each time that you could go down to Master Eiji’s place, you’d always be a ball of sunshine with something to talk about. Whether if it’s some hair pin your father gave to you, or a new skill you learned, you’d always talk about it to Mizu. That was until you had to move away.

Here you are, mumbling and grumbling in the cold weather while stomping your feet in the snow. Now you were a grown woman, and one that was forced to learn all the arts of being a ‘perfect wife’. You threw the charms in your hair and the hairpins to the ground, frustrated that your father had set you up with a dumb, old nobleman. You had to excuse yourself from the room and immediately ran outside to attempt to calm yourself.

“Damn, angry much?” A voice spoke out from behind you. You turned around, your first instinct was to throw one of your hairpins at the person. But they caught it with two fingers, just inches away from their eyes behind those tinted glasses. The person smirked, pulling down the tinted glasses to reveal their blue eyes. “My god, is this the treatment I get when I finally find you again?”

That voice. It was Mizu! Absolutely delighted, you immediately gasped and ran over to her, immediately tackling her into the snow while hugging her tightly. She chuckled, hand on your back while you wrapped your arms around her waist while wailing. “I missed you so much! Oh my god, you can’t believe the bullshit my father is putting me through!” Mizu only smiled, sitting up against a tree while you sat in front of her, complaining and wailing about how your father’s trying to marry you off to some man! That part made her a tad bit pissed off. A beautiful woman like yourself being married off to someone certainly not worth your time? Fuck no. Is she going to duel this guy to perhaps steal you away instead? Yep.

“Seems like you want out of this, right?” She said after you finally stopped complaining, now just curled up beside her and leaning against her arm. You nodded immediately. You now just noticed she has grown. You used to be taller, but now she’s the taller one! And my god are her hands—wait, are you growing feelings again? “I want to see this man. I’m going to kill him, you’re not marrying some snobby asshole today.”

Much to your annoyance, Mizu had fought her way through your guards and marched on into the estate with ease. You followed after her, trying to get the guards to stand down but they won’t and Mizu ends up knocking a few of them off. More mess for the cleaners to deal with. Until she kicks down the door to the room your father and that suitor was in. “My god, this is the guy? You couldn’t even find a suitable man for your daughter?” Mizu groaned, rubbing her temples in annoyance before she pointed her blade at the guy. “I want to duel you. For her hand, of course. Don’t worry, your loss will be swift and it won’t hurt all that much considering how you have no real talent.”

“You? Some beggar boy against me? Princess, do you have any idea how stupid you are?!” The man yelled, standing up and kicking over the table. Your father glared at you, also yelling at you how unladylike it is so choose white trash over a real man.

Ah, that ticked Mizu off, and you already had a feeling this guy was about to get his ass whooped.

Nothing better than to sit on a rock in your backyard, watching in amusement how your drunk, clearly reeking of alcohol and a snobbish piece of trash of a suitor was holding a sword against Mizu. Mizu stood there, circling the man carefully while her blade was pointed right at him, waiting for him to strike.

One, two, three You counted down, and Mizu strikes just as you hit three. You watched very intently, leaning forward as Mizu absolutely decimated that poor man. “Beat his ass!” You loudly yelled to cheer on Mizu, in which you received a slap on the back of your head by your father, who wasn’t at all happy. Mizu glanced over at you and smirked, determined to win your hand in marriage.

“Got you,” Mizu casually said as she swung her leg out and tripped the man, making him fall face first into the snow while the tip of her blade rests right beside his head. He groaned in pain as his body collided into the snow and grunted, yelling about how Mizu was no man, but a monster from hell.

“You did it! I mean, of course you did!” You loudly shouted as you ran over to her side, pulling her into a big hug while she wrapped one arm around your waist. You looked up at her, finding a small smile on her lips before she kissed your forehead.

“You’re mine now, Princess.”

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a/n: sishwjsibesjhsbs

#writing fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai #fandom #send me asks #i finished it #fun idea #writing for fun #writing #x reader #finally done with this thought!!

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desireve · 4 months

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cinnamon girl ¡ finnick o’dair.

summary : since secrets started you couldn’t get enough of Finnick.

Oh you were is so much danger. That night signed you for the most heart-burning chapter of your life, not that you didn’t like it, but tainting your reputation for Finnick O’dair, you never thought you will fall this low.

But you did, you fell so hard that you find yourself entering a hotel room, disguised in funky glasses and a hat, a far cry from the vibrant soul that normally graced Panem's lavish gatherings. Just with a lot of money.

As you stepped into the room, expecting nothing but a bed and the men you did all of this for. That evening, thought, the room smelled of sugar and cinnamon and the comforting smell smashed all your senses.

Faced to the window, Finnick awaited you, his charming smile lighting up the room. Under the Panem sunset, his smile mirrored the warmth of freshly baked pastries. Yet, it was the pastries arranged on the nightstand that got your attention, making your mouth water involuntarily.

"Hey, darling," Finnick greeted, approaching you and playfully eying the funky accessories. "All this effort to see me? You've really put in some work," he joked, removing the accessories and placing them on the bed. Your response was a smile, accompanied by a gentle sigh as his hand brushed a lock of hair behind your ear. "If it's to see you... and those," you gestured towards the cinnamon pastries, "last night, you mentioned craving them, so..." his words trailed off, Finnick all proud and charming, you playfully tapped his shoulder. "You know how to charm O’dair ."

Finnick's gaze dripped with love, sweet as sugar and intense as honey. "You're doing it again," you whispered, shifting to take a pastry in your hand taking a gentle bite off that incredible brioche, still perfectly warm.

"Doing what?" he asked innocently raising an eyebrow and taking a seat beside you on the bed. Finnick, a master of words, charm, and love, knew how to make you flustered. "Admiring you is a crime now?"

"Everything we're doing is," you whispered challengingly, locking eyes with him. He grinned, tracing your cheek with his fingertips, and you met his gaze, the taste of cinnamon lingering on your lips. "But we like a little challenge, don't we?" he whispered, searching your eyes for echoes of love and approval.

Oh, he found them. You admired the blonde curls falling with meticulous grace, the eyes compared to the sea he so often spoke of, and the dimples craved in his cheeks, forming a smile that melted you, very.

"We do," you whispered, gently tracing your fingertips in his hand, that rested on the bed. Your touch traced his knuckles, and as you gazed at each other, the silence hung between you. The sugary feeling of the pastries lingered on your lips, you were ready to be spoke about them, but before you could, his lips met yours.

This time, it was Finnick whose mouth watered. Your dreamy gaze made every secret gathering, every risk taken, worthwhile. He was a madman, and you loved him for it.

The kiss wasn't a mere repetition of the last one. It kindled warmth under your skin, painted your cheeks in shades of red, and unfolded slowly as both of you smiled like fools. Fingers finally interlocked on the bed, hands gently caressing the nape of your neck, eyes closed, and chests dangerously close. It was passion, but in an endearing, almost foolish way.

Under the sun's burn, the beautiful man before you shone, delightful. The kiss ended, but the warmth lingered as your foreheads gently touched. Breaths synced, light heaving, and heartbeats synchronised, marking hearts finally happy to interlock again after nurturing them with so much love.

Finnick looked at you, still searching for your recovered breath, eyes glossy, and cheeks tinted with a delicate pink. He licked his lips gently. "Very sugary, darling." A soft chuckle escaped your lips, and his hand slid from your neck to your waist. "Oh, shut up."

sorry for the ones who don’t like cinnamon 🤭 I love my babies, lana del Rey reference 😩

#finnick x you #the hunger games #agnst #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #fluff #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #the hunger games imagine #thg series #x reader #female reader #thg finnick #soft aesthetic #cinnamon girl #lana del rey #writing for fun #writing for myself #creative writing

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jupiter-iz-cool · 3 months

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Heyyyy, so like I need ideas for some x readers, im specifically looking for ideas for Alastor, Lucifer, and mayhaps Adam as well, I love them to death but I don't have much inspiration at the moment to write. If I particularly like your idea I might even draw it as well </3

My ask box is open please flood it, I will get to each request when I can 😮‍💨

#lucifer #lucifer x reader #hasbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hyperfixation #my beloved #writing for fun #free therapy #adam #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam

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mirrorsmoonlight · 4 months

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☆ ~ you don’t have to fight anymore

pairing: platonic!mizzen x district 5!reader summary: while you’re stuck in the cage you offer to be someones pillow for the night—or which mizzen ditches coral to get some well earned rest, maybe even a friend. but friendships don’t make it that far when it’s all for themselves. warnings: bonding (at first), canon violence, death, some language, uploaded via iphone, this was in my drafts for too long so i uploaded it :0

when he first approached you you’d felt fear, it wasn’t a secret that his district partner was one of the scariest tributes in here and your position didn’t really make you trust others that easily. but when you looked over you could sense he wasn’t planning to harm you, him looking more scared than you as he approached.

you were quiet as he stood infront of you, eyes directed away from his form to hopefully encourage him to spill the reason he came. but only after a few moments you couldn’t stand the awkward silence any longer, “with coral’s tight grip on you i never thought you’d ever make any connections with anyone but her.”

mizzen’s eyes embarrassedly shot down to his feet, your tone letting him know this was already a bad idea, “well i- just wanted to talk to you, it kinda gets boring talking to one person all the time.” at that your eyes softened a little, reminded that the other tributes you’d soon be against we’re around your age - mizzen looking like he were one of the youngest - and were all coping in different ways.

“right, sorry,” you shot him an embarrassed smile before patting the open spot next to you, “here, to make up for the bad first impression i made.”

he shot a sideways smile in thanks, making himself at home on the uncomfortable rock you perched yourself on before nervously turning towards you. “what’s your name,” there was genuine curiosity on his face, making you both confused and appreciative in a way.

“(name),” you smiled for a short moment but then frowned as the awful thoughts of what’s to come poisoned your mind and shot down your elevated attitude from moments before, “what does it matter anyways? in a few days we’ll be fighting to the death, not caring about our opponents name or the life they had before.”

“oh,” hurt blossomed across his face, sitting in silence for a bit as he pondered what to say back, “it matters because our names are the only thing we can keep, the rest of our life stripped away from us as soon as our names were called.”

“i know we’re all gonna die - that much is clear - but i just hoped i could know you all before that,” guilt bubbled back at the back of your throat again, his face scrunched up in a sad frown when you looked back at him.

“shit, m’sorry kid, things have just been overwhelming,” you finally turned towards him, averting your whole attention to the conversation, gesturing towards him as you muttered your next words, “and that doesn’t excuse my behavior, since you’re obviously handling it somewhat better than i am.”

you paused for a moment, “it just that, knowing eachother will only make it harder when one of us have to die,” a tinge of sadness in your gaze as you looked at the young boy.

“that’s true,” mizzen looks down at his hands, a tear slipping down his cheek as he tries his best to get it together, upset at how emotional getting reaped made him and not wanting others to find him as an easy target because of his open vulnerability, “ it’s just, maybe we don’t have to be enemies.”

his innocence made your heart hurt, “maybe not out here but in the arena you have much better chances with coral, so sometime along the way we’ll be on opposite sides.” not sparing any time after to change the subject.

“well I’m actually kinda glad you came,” you offered a smile, “it’s nice knowing that they’re people who care enough to ask those types of things regardless of the circumstances we’re in.” mizzen smiled in return - the drying tear tracks staining his cheeks - although halfway through it, it broke into a yawn.

“you should go rest with coral,” you gestured where she was, not hiding the fact she was watching our interaction, “don’t want her coming for my head before we even get into the arena by keeping you here.”

mizzen looked back at her before shrugging, “i don’t think i mean that much to her, she’s probably just watching to make sure i don’t betray her in the arena.”

that caused the words to die in your throat, not knowing how to respond, having to have him to continue the conversation, “could i just stay here for the night? I don’t want to go back.”

you nodded in response as a sense of protectiveness washing over you, “you can rest on my shoulder too if you want, i know that there isn’t much in here that’s comfier.” mizzen looked at you for a second, contemplating your offer before gently resting his head on you, muttering a little ‘thank you’ before he closed his eyes.

it didn’t have to end like this, it shouldn’t have ended like this. the guilt bubbling in his throat mixing with the bile that he had to force himself to hold back as he watched your body fall from the beam before landing with the harsh smack on the arena floor.

what’s worse was that he was apart of this.

although he knew coral was planning to kill you, did he have to be apart of the joint effort? couldn’t he have distracted her a bit or maybe messed up so you could get away? couldn’t have coral asked tanner or treech to do it with her instead?

his momentary shock was dissipated as coral called for him and the others, readying up to hunt lucy gray after catching her emptying the water bottles they had gathered prior to killing you.

he carefully climbed down from the beam before crouching at your body - making sure the others weren’t watching before continuing - to mutter the last message to you that’ll come from his lips, “rest, it’s your turn to dream now.” he paused for a moment before his shaking fingers gently shut your eyes closed.

before making his way to the others, he shot a sorrowful look over his shoulder one last time, knowing that soon he’ll either join you or he’ll have to live with the guilt of what he’d done.

a/n: uploading a treech fic soon! and completely disregard the fact that this wasn’t posted on saturday :0

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springintoastory · 29 days

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April 1st is around the corner, and with it the launch of the Spring Into A Story Challenge! 🤩🤩

Whether you're looking for tips to prepare, or want to use this challenge as your starting point, here are ways to spring into a writing habit. 🌺✒️

Set up a ritual - Do a little something that serves as a switch in your brain to signal it's writing time. Your ritual could be lighting a candle, using a very specific mug to drink from, heading to the library, or settling down at a cafe (my favorite!).

Be consistent - For some of you, that might be putting time on the calendar. Every Thursday from 6-9 is writing time! For others, it might mean you open your document for 30 minutes every night between dinner and bed. Or that you dedicate your time on the train to typing on your phone's keyboard. Set up a time, daily, weekly or monthly, and keep it.

Bring a friend - Accountability can be a huge help in setting up a habit. Just like having a friend in your yoga class gets you there, having a writing buddy during your consistent write time will help you show up. Or hey! Follow the #SpringIntoAStory tag and make friends there.

Set reasonable goals - If the writing you want to do is daunting and looming over your shoulder, you might ignore it by never showing up at the keyboard. Instead, break things down. Have your goal be 10 min of writing. Or 500 words. Or half a page. Something you know won't scare you off.

Track your writing - Put writing on your to-do list app. Color a square in your bullet journal, or give yourself a little sticker on the calendar. Tracking your writing gives you a serotonin boost when you can make that mark, but also visualizes your habit. When I can see on my chart I've not written for three days, I'm more likely to write on the fourth.

Make it fun! - If you don't like it, you won't do it. So make sure you're having fun - be it sharing your work on Ao3, chatting with friends as take a writing break, or wearing a silly hat. You do you.

For those of who you already have a writing habit, how did you build it?

#springintoastory #spring into a story #writing advice #writing tips #writing #writing community #writing events #writeblr #writing for fun #writblr #creative writing #writing things #writing life #writing habits #author habits

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maaikeatthefullmoon · 5 months

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I have started writing my first ever fanfic, and I’m obsessed.

I’m literally writing every spare minute I get. I think about ideas to distract my brain when it wakes me from trauma dreams caused by my current EMDR therapy. It is genuinely keeping me going through an absolutely hellish time.

It’s probably not very good, but I’m keeping going with it.

I’ve got ideas for other fics, even a whole novel (obviously a unique idea, not someone else’s). And I’m just going to roll with it.

This is an encouragement to anyone who wants to do something creative but are worried they might be shit at it: just do it.

Just. Fucking. Do. It.

Do it for yourself. Not for anyone else. If it’s crap, but you’re enjoying it, then that’s great. Keep going. If it helps to distract you while you/your brain is going through hell - FUCKING AMAZING.

Keep going. And be kind to yourself.

#fanfic #fanfiction #writing for therapy #writing for fun #mental health #mental heath awareness #good omens fanfiction #good omens #look after yourself #look after your mental health #trauma

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jackiequick · 1 year

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Operation Baby Rescue / Fast & Furious Fic 🏁 (Part 1)

Pairing: Deckard Shaw x Valentina Toretto

Fast and Furious fanfic

Setting: The Fate Of The Furious

Continuing to this fic 🏁

To say this wasn’t how she planned her week to go like this, was a understatement. One minute she’s doing a mission with her crew when suddenly her own brother turns to table, going completely rogue on them. How lovely—not! What made it even more or less weirder was that called to retrieve her playful Brit a week later, but before that she visited him, firsthand at the prison center for men like him. He walked in and sat in front of her, even in that jumpsuit he still looked amazing in her eyes.

She sat down picking up the phone on the wall, placing up to her ear, “How’ve you been, Deck?”

“Could be better. Hey, I’m sorry about what I did, you didn’t deserve that to happen. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” Deckard said with his ear up to the phone letting out a sigh, and give a side smile with made her return the gestures.

“We talked about it. It’s the past Deck, we can’t change anything that happened. We gotta move from it, honestly we should’ve been honest with each other.”

“We made it a rule when we first started seeing each other at the vacation homes, to not mention too much or stay in the past, be in the moment. We’ve should’ve known better and talk about it.”

“You’re being too forward, do you know something I don’t? I swear to god Deck if you plan on—”

“Relax! Val, I know better than to break out of here to see you. I’m not mad at you and Owen is alive god knows where.”

“Good…I miss you.”

“I miss you too…say we share a bit, as soon as once I get out of here?”

“I’ll be sooner than you think.”

Sooner happened rather quickly, as Mr. Nobody waited outside the prison center that he had Valentina hijack into about a exact week later. The sounds of shouting, alarms ringing, things breaking and running could be heard from the other side of the wall. Val put a timer on the clock as Mr.Nobody smirked watching the scene take place on his handheld tablet. It was priceless, 4 minutes and 27 seconds later Deckard Shaw and Luke Hobbs came rolling in a fighting standoff ready to pounce at one another. “Not bad, gentlemen.” Said Mr. Nobody with a grin and satisfying nod explaining his job for both men while Val was biting her lips smiling at the sight.

At the facility where everyone met, Valentina stayed behind for a moment, stepping into the room where Deckard was fixing his clothes. She stood outside the doorway with a grin as she said, “Nice view. You look good.”

He turned around with a matching grin and he walked over to the girl. “You’ve haven’t seen me in a while, that’s why your eyes are staring onto my face.” He said in pride in his voice knowing it was true and he was staring into at his girl the whole time here.

“You really miss me?”

“You have no idea.”

“Then kiss me.”

“Is that request or a demand?”

“You choice whichever one you believe it is. I like to think it—”

Valentina wasn’t given a chance to finish her sentence as Deckard laced his fingers crossed the back of her neck as his lips crashed gently but quickly onto her. A surprise gasp escape from her before she kissed him back and wrapped her hand onto the small of his back. A deep breath was taken away from the pair and smiles were laced on their faces. Val pulled away chuckling, “That was-i didn’t expect to you do it.”

Deck laughed with his hands still rested on her cheekbones, “Would you have expected anything else from me? I am determined.”

“Oh i know how determined you can get. Remember our first date in Italy? You asked me out right on the spot that afternoon.”

“I’m a man who knows what he wants, love. And in this case, it’s you. I made you feel happy, didn’t i?”

“Yeah you did, you still do.”

“But no more, funny business from you or i might have to make you mine.”

“Make me you’re what?”

“My wife.”

Before Valentina had a chance to give good comeback, Mr. Nobody called them out. Or should i say, Little Nobody called them out to see the team. Val went first and meet up with her gang, her friends—her family. They all talked about the idea of Dom going rogue and how they can get him back, especially with Cipher being the target with Dom. Just then Deckard Shaw made his appearance as Roman, Luke Hobbs and Tej stood up ready to pounce at the man. Letty rolled her eyes grumbling in annoyance and Ramey stayed quiet in her chair with a slight glare. Little Nobody and Mr. Nobody explained onto why Deckard was here and how he can help them find Dom. Soon enough they all got to work.

—

Ramey, Tej and Deckard used their brains and witty to track down Cipher and Dom’s current location which lead to their facility that was blown up by their bounty. Dom and Cipher came in exploring as he blow up the walls, threatening the group, even kissing in front of Letty who glared in disbelief as she yelled out her husband’s name. Val was in shock and glare at the pair, shaking in her head in disgust and disbelief. Soon enough they all left having the group ears ringing and glaring at the job at the hand involving Dom. Val stood up next to Roman and Tej while Ramey tried again to find their nearest next location, Val smirked figuring out the placement before they said the word. New York City.

And they were off to New York City undercover in a stinky mess of a fish truck, it took them a few hours to get there but they did. Mr. Nobody had a surprise up his sleeves, a warehouse filled with cars, gears and weapons to be used once Dom was found. Roman kept asking for the pretty bright orange car but after some negotiations he settled for a white one instead. Little did they all know, Domenic had plans out his own for the gang, needing two of the players to do a underground job for him. Deckard and Val. He needed them to rescue his son, a small package but a loving adorable one that needed to be delivered to his safe house safely, at least until the job was done.

Dom appeared in New York with his connections from his past undercover to deliver the message to Val and Deck when ready. Santos and Deckard’s mother Magdalene "Queenie" Shaw. Mr.Nobody called them out to the streets with Little Nobody coming with them in his own car. Val was set in her velvet vehicle driving off with the team behind Letty and Roman, Hobbs in his own truck, Ramey and Teri paired up together in a comfortable spot with it their car and Deckard driving next to the center cars when he received a message on his phone from mother and Dom Toretto, not knowing about all of the job set in stone yet.

Soon enough they were off! All of them against Dom for a suitcase with expressed interest inside for Mr. Nobody. To say they failed was a understatement to say the least, as Letty ran out of her car towards Dom and the assistant for Cipher to followed Dom around. It was a sad argument between the husband and wife, Val heard it from her walkie talkie as she noticed Deckard and Hobbs running as well. She followed. Val slides over and under crowds, ending up in street nearby an alleyway when she saw it. Dom yelling as he shot Deckard in the side causing the man to fall onto the pavement. Deckard was faced down on the ground not moving as Val let out a whimper from her lips, tears held back with a anger washed over all of it.

Dom glares towards Deckard soften as he noticed her standing there, giving his baby sister a certain type of look. It was a certain look at Val knew very well in fact, her big brother Dom had a plan set in stone. The man always had a plan in mind. He wasn’t the bad guy here, he never was and he was just being manipulated into doing the dirty work for Cipher for a reason. She’s holding something against him, to make Dom work for her but he couldn’t say it to the team. Val face soften as she noticed his body language shift as he looked into his sister soul with a slightly bruised, stone cold face. It was like a bruised shoulder of a a look that gave Val the signal to wait for it as Dom ran off. Before Val can say a word and race after her brother, Hobb swooped her into his arms and carried from the horrific scene.

Hours past, the place was silent as the crew looked around in frustration, concern and confusion at what just happened. Hobbs watched Letty and Val with a careful eye knowing what Dom did must’ve sting. Roman wanted to rub Letty’s shoulder for comfort but didn’t know what exactly would happen if he did to that. Val left a note for Mr. Nobody and Hobbs saying she doesn’t know if she’ll return for a while, needing some fresh air. Val walked out of the facility, stomping onto the pavement noticing a truck across the street and hummed in confusion but curiously.

Walking up to the truck, a light smirk placed on her lips. Val noticed it was Santos at the wheel grinning at the girl.

“Linda! Girl where you’ve been?” He said calling her ‘pretty’ in Spanish, holding up a small note for her, “Here.”

“Of course you were recruited!” She replied chuckling while taking the note from his hands and reading it, “Holy shit..”

Thank you for reading it. That was part one. Remember like, comment and share if you enjoyed it! 🤞🏼

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @t-nd-rfoot @mandylove1000 @blueboirick @sherlkore @meirafireshield @hanlueluver @rooster-84 @blackheart-beauty and etc

#the fast and the furious #fast and furious au #Val x Deck #jenna dewan #deckard shaw #fate of the furious #fanfic #f&f #fanfiction writer #writing for the soul #writing for the sake of writing #writing for fun

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calaisreno · 1 year

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Point of View in Fiction: Some Observations

I did a poll on point of view in fanfiction a while ago. The results didn't surprise me; I knew that some people just don't read 1st person stories, and most people don’t care about POV. I was more interested in the reasons people gave for their preference.

It's a personal thing, how someone tells you a story, and if you don't like the narrative voice, you will associate it with other things. Readers don’t often think about voice, but it is one of the most important ways a story draws you in, or sends you to the back button. I suspect it's narrative voice that is affecting some readers more than POV.

I’ve never hit the back button on any fic because of the POV. I have hit that button because of format, paragraphing, and a few other issues. I’m an English teacher who taught creative writing for many of those years. Now I don’t read things that feel like student writing-- simply because I can’t enjoy reading something if it feels like I should be grading it. If there are spelling errors or common grammar mistakes that I see over and over in student work, I don’t read it. It might be a good story, but I can't put myself in the right headspace to appreciate it because it feels like work.

Judging from the replies to the poll, some people associate first person POV with bad writing, but there are many other things that flag a story as badly written. And a badly written story isn’t necessarily a bad story. (Barbara Woodhouse assured us that there are no bad dogs; this may be true for stories as well, but choice is an individual matter. There are some breeds I would not choose as a companion.)

I was given the task of teaching creative writing because the admin in charge of the schedule at my school needed another English elective and I had a hole in my schedule. I was an avid reader and had written a lot of original fiction at that point, and thought having students write poems and stories might be a nice change from essays and book reports. My feelings about it were not relevant. Nobody cared whether I was qualified; it was either Creative Writing or Study Hall (i.e. Purgatory) for me. I did not hesitate.

The reality: I loved it and hated it.

Many of my young writers were reluctant, having been placed in my class to fill a hole in their schedules; they did not enjoy writing in the least. A hundred words was an accomplishment for some of them; if they could break this barrier, they got smiley faces and exclamation points. Others were wildly enthusiastic, producing pages of badly spelled and punctuated narrative, a chaotic jumble of scene and dialogue with random flashes of brilliance.

Grading a story is not like grading an essay. The fledgling writers who are serious need to know that spelling, punctuation, and grammar matter: it’s the suit you put on for the interview so you get the job. The ones who dislike writing need encouragement to see that it doesn't have to be punishment. It can be play.

A few observations from my years working with student writers:

Inexperienced fiction writers tend to use POV 1st person more often. Most of these writers are also enthusiastic readers. First person POV helps them find the camera eye focus they realize fiction needs. However fantastic, the story they write is their story, intimate and personal, and 1st person feels most comfortable to them. They need encouragement and a few friendly suggestions, not a paper bloodied by my red pen. In writing process, first drafts are allowed to be horrible.

The non-readers in my class were the most reluctant writers; they often failed to understand POV and wrote from an outsider third-person POV which ended up being more of a summary than a story. My job was to show them how to pull scenes out of the summary. People talking, doing things.

We all start somewhere.

Publishers note that first submissions are often written in first person. It is not that they reject these stories because of that; the stories have other amateur flaws and the POV is just a flag for other issues. First person is not bad, it’s just harder for new writers to pull off well.

Several novels I’ve recently read use first person narrator to good effect: Piranesi comes to mind, The Rule of Four, and Moriarty. The Left Hand of Darkness is a story I can’t even imagine in third person-- and it has two narrators! The original Sherlock Holmes stories (all but a couple) are written in first person, with Doctor Watson narrating.

There are choices even within a first person narrative. The main character doesn’t have to narrate. Watson isn’t the main character in ACD’s stories, Holmes is. Watson is an involved/interested observer (a common use of first person); he stands in for the reader, seeing the mystery unfold, not understanding what all the clues mean until— surprise!— Holmes reveals the solution. I have read mysteries where the first person narrator turns out to be the murderer; the shock value of this fades if you use it every time, but it’s effective on some stories. First person is not bad, if chosen for a good reason.

And third person has its own set of problems. The multiple “he” and “his” that need clarification. The accidental wandering out of limited point of view into semi-omniscience. Even a close, third-person limited narrative provides some distance from the viewpoint character.

Second person is rare and considered gimmicky. I wrote a story in second POV once; the only comment from my most admiring reader: NO. Just, NO. Since that horror, I’ve used first person with second person address in a couple stories (Blessings and The Story of Us, if you’re curious). It’s not a choice I’d often make, but sometimes it’s the right one.

Several of my favourite fanfics use the first person brilliantly. (Pointing to ivyblossom’s The Progress of Sherlock Holmes and The Quiet Man.) When reading, I generally don’t notice point of view unless I think about it; if the narrative flows, the choice obviously works. I don't read much in other fandoms, but think that the Sherlock fandom has a lot of really talented and experienced writers, better than many published stories I’ve read.

I use first person in some of my stories, usually because I’ve found a narrative voice I like. I’ve also rewritten stories after the first draft, changing POV (first to third, or third to first) because I thought it would work better. My feeling is that neither is better in general; in a specific story it should be a deliberate choice, not an accidental one. It’s one of many things to think about when writing a narrative. Voice is one of the most important.

My conclusions:

Reading for pleasure means that the best story is the one you love. It’s a personal choice, not a debate.

Writing well develops over time, as a product of many things. If you’re writing for pleasure, not pay, you should write what you love. Do not change your story because of what a poll says.

If you’re unsure or unhappy about what you’ve written, find a beta reader. Ask them questions. Pay them in adoration. Return the favour; it’s a great way to learn.

Polls are useful only for provoking thought. My thanks to all who participated!

#writing fiction #writing advice #fanfiction #writing for fun #point of view

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lackadaisycal-art · 2 years

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Who'd ever choose to be the Chosen One?

Meet Erin Parr, a non-practicing witch. She's 39 years old with three kids and a husband, and she hasn't had a paid job in her whole life. And it doesn't look like anyone is going to pay her for her new job either: saving the world.

When she first hears about the Prophecy, no one believes in her less than herself (though there's some pretty stiff competition), but someone needs to roll up their sleeves and get the job done, and it's usually her.

The year is 1961 and Erin must go on an epic roadtrip in a rundown Morris Minor with a cranky community nurse, a professor with more bravado than sense and two university students with a lot to prove and more to hide.

#wip #oc #original character #fantasy #writing #creative writing #writeblr #writing for fun #illustration #art #character art #1960s #60s #1961

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ervotica · 5 months

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smut 18+, marking, oral (f receiving), p in v

Mike Schmidt is the king of being pussy drunk. He'd spend hours with his face between your legs if you'd let him, slaking his thirst on your sweet nectar, rolling and pinching and nibbling at your clit in that way only he knows how until you're mewling, quivering, locking your thighs around his head and cumming with a weak cry; Mike thinks if there's any way to die, this would be how he wants to go.

Mike who works himself into a such a frenzy that by the time he gets around to fucking you, he's incoherent. He pushes in and his eyes cross and roll back in his head, he moans and whines and curses as your cunt involuntarily tightens and clenches around him and he can barely hold himself up, brain mush and bones liquefied. He swears your pussy is magic.

Mike who litters your soft skin with marks and bruises to show everyone just who he belongs to, to show everyone that you're his and he's yours. Teeth grazing your neck and your tits and your lower stomach until you're covered.

Mike who insists that you walk around the house dressed only in an oversized tee that you've stolen from his closet at one point or another, legs bare, marked a myriad of colours where his teeth and lips and tongue touched you the night before.

And, well, what an unfortunate awakening that must be for that nosy cop, Vanessa, when you answer his front door just like that one morning...

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missviviii · 5 months

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Hi!! Can I ask for a Mizu x female reader who is also a samurai but mostly uses a bow? Tytyty💗💗

a/n: of course!! your wish is my command 🫶

“Always in the Shadows”

warning(s): Swearing

summary: there’s someone in the shadows behind her, protecting her back and saving her at the very last moment. you took it upon yourself to save mizu’s ass and watch over her just in case anything goes wrong.

——————————————————————————

You’ve grown fond of the samurai, watching her back just in case anything happens when she’s not aware. Mizu knows you are there, she can sense it and you never leave without leaving her a little something. Maybe it’s a charm that you tied around her sword, or some money to buy food, but you’ve got her interested.

So why is it that you don’t show your face, but help out either way? You were a samurai, just like her. You’ve watched her long enough to understand that her path is one not to be messed with, and you rather not have dangerous cutthroats being thrown your way by a certain white man because Mizu always has a backup—which was you. Besides, it much more amusing to watch the amused look on her face when she wakes up to find herself bandaged up and left with money or a charm by you after nearly dying. She’d always regain her consciousness to find an arrow beside whatever gift you left her.

Mizu was running through the snowy woods of Japan, grunting as she tightly held her blade beside her. The sound of loud, heavy footsteps were behind her, and the sound of men yelling to find this blue-eyed samurai grew louder. You followed after her in the trees, hopping branch to branch to watch the entire thing.

“You know, this would be a great fucking time to give up, you samurai! Give it up, you’re going to bleed yourself out!” One of the men loudly yelled, to which you shot an arrow at and it hit his neck. He shrieked out, blood rushing out of his neck and covering the white snow in red. Mizu smirked as she looked up at the trees, only to see an outline of your figure among the snowy branches.

You kept a watchful eye, not revealing your location or letting any of the men out of your gaze. You could’ve just swooped in and just took them all out, but where’s the fun in that?

The sound of blades clinking against each other, swooshing through the air, and the sound of the men yelling as Mizu killed them off filled the empty woods. Impressive You thought. Even injured, she’s still fighting like a pro. You thought she was in the clear until she grunted, falling down onto her knees as the large gash on her side began to pour at blood.

And just to her luck, not of all of them were dead.

Immediately, you picked up your bow and aimed at each one of them, taking out them one by one and using their cluelessness to where the arrows were coming from to your advantage. “Finally,” you murmured as you hopped down the tree branch and rushed over to Mizu’s side.

Mizu, who was only closing her eyes in hopes she can catch a glimpse of you distracted, was bleeding out. “Well fucking hell, I’m going to have to get you somewhere so I can clean up your wounds," you say to yourself as you lifted her up onto your back and looked around for a brief moment for an abandoned temple that you can stay at. While you were carrying her, Mizu opened one eye just to see your hair. Pretty. Then she closed her eyes.

With the fire crackling in the background, you patched Mizu up and took care of her. You hadn’t suspected that she saw a part of you. You brewed medicine, fed her, tucked her into bed—made sure she was safe and well.

Per usual, you took out a pouch of money and dropped it beside the bed roll. Just as you were about to leave, an arm reached out and pulled your arm. It was Mizu. “You..are the archer that has been following me, huh?” She whispered, her hand still holding onto your hand while she sat up. You turned around, surprised that she was already awake. Usually she was knocked out for a good hour or two, but she’s up early.

“You’re awake early.” You sat down beside Mizu while she scooted over to make room for you. Mizu’s silent, her blue eyes staring at your face intently, then to your bow, then to the arrows you carried with you. She said nothing, only tackling you down with a hug. She’s in love already.

“Thank you,” she murmured, face buried in the crook of your neck.

#ask answered #ask and answer #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #finished #request #asks open #ask and you shall receive #writing for fun #requests open #x reader #fluff

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desireve · 4 months

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freezing hunger ¡ coriolanus snow drabble

coriolanus snow is the type of boyfriend who refused to release his grasp. In the Capitol, you are unique beauty, eccentricity, and vibrant allure. Your image outshone even the brilliance of your kindness. Yet, the hunger of the Capitol couldn't be satiated by your pretty face alone. They craved more, and Snow was there to purposely keep them starving.

In every corner, in every party, within the academia, and through the districts, your radiant presence was always followed with the icy shadow. Where you went, Coriolanus was there, fiercely protective, asserting his claim, wielding his gun, and manipulating his own image. He didn't just breathe for you; he lived, survived, and killed for you. And he'd do it repeatedly, shamelessly displaying that he wasn't just solely about you but was the one craving you the most.

"no hands this time; my dress is way too shiny.." you hummed, facing the mirror in a dress as vibrant as lichfield angels. Snow stood behind you, eyes locked on the reflection, fingers already tracing your waist. The mirror bore witness to his intense gaze, ‘’can’t promise my darling''.

okay maybe i see the potential, going to write a whole fic...

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indiaalphawhiskey · 6 months

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Hi, India!!

I’m writing my first fic for a fest and I was so excited about it. But I reread what I wrote so far and it’s just soooo bad 😭 I can’t think of anyone reading it, specially because english is not my first language and I fear my writing is not natural or fluid enough.

Do you have any advice on how can I take my mind out of this though and just write for pleasure as I used to? 🥲

Hey, love 💕

I’m sorry this took me awhile to answer. (I’m also not the most eloquent right now, I’m sorry.) Honestly, it’s a little funny that you chose to ask me this question, because I’m notorious for being very, very in my head about my writing and being consistent about quality.

To be fair to that, and to you, I’m going to try and give you a handful of answers, from different perspectives. They can be taken together or separately or not at all, whatever suits.

First, most importantly, and most pragmatically:

1. Get a beta you trust.

I know the face of this fandom has changed, I know content creation has dwindled and that less and less people are able to support writers this way, but honestly, for me, this is more important than almost anything about the writing process, and especially so if you’re writing in your second, third, fourth language. There are just too many nuances to language and verbiage, and it helps so much for someone to say “I know what you meant here, but it doesn’t read like that.”

(I don’t believe in ever letting my work go unbeta-ed, no matter how confident I feel in the raw work or the language, because of course I know what I meant to say — I’m the writer. I need some to firmly (but kindly) check that the audience understands it as well.)

Betas also help in terms of managing self-criticism, because being hard on yourself is just not always something you can change, especially if you care about the story and skill-building. A good beta will help by either saying “it’s not bad, you’ve just read it too often, put it down” or “why do you think it’s bad exactly” and help you improve it.

Second, on the concept of writing for pleasure:

2. Just because something is hard doesn’t mean it’s not fun.

People often mistake “fun” for “easy”; I don’t think it’s the same. I think when you enjoy something and are passionate about it, it’s going to cost you and force you to push yourself. There’s no such thing as “low-stakes passion”, that’s just incongruous. (Marathon runners don’t keep running races that are easy for them. They progress because they like it — process, challenges, rewards, everything.)

Similarly, you clearly write because you love it. But if you’re getting to the point where you’re cognizant enough to be self-critical, that means you’re improving. It means there are things you want to convey that your skill doesn’t allow you to yet.

Hold on to that, because that’s motivation. It means that you love something enough that you’re consumed with doing it justice. That tension is not a bad thing; that’s where a hobby turns into a passion and the solution is not about regressing back to something low-stakes — it’s about finding out how to bridge the gap between your skill and your ambition.

And third, focused on the output:

3. Focus on how much you want your story to exist.

Most of the time, writing is a long game. It’s about consistency and effort and focus and discipline, and all of those things are tiring as fuck.

It’s so much easier to bang out a drabble and get the validation, and move onto the next “fun” idea. And that’s totally fine, except for when you want this particular story to exist this particular way.

I’ve found that’s the only thing that pushes me to stay motivated and devoted to writing — the thought that I just want this story to exist and I don’t want to live in a world where it doesn’t.

My boss always says this thing: “let the content lead”, and I think that’s true of writing. If you’re focused on weaving this idea into something tangible, if that’s mainly what drives you, the relationship stays between you and the story (not the story and it’s external reception) and that can alleviate the pressure a lot, because you shift into writing to fulfill an internal goal, and as long as that story exists, you’ve achieved that.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I think all of your concerns are valid. You have a very practical issue: the language barrier, that needs a very practical solution: a beta. But you’re also hitting a moment of growth in terms of your writing, and I don’t want you to look at that hurdle and assume it means you need to turn around. Things can be hard and also fun, and I wouldn’t want the fandom to miss out on this version of this story that can only be written by you just because you’ve outgrown your current skill set.

Lastly, and I think this is really important: remember that this is never going to be your last fic. So if it’s not perfect — if it’s not exactly the way you want it to be at the end — write another one that’s better, and another, and another. There’s room in this fandom for every version of you as a writer, and your chances to improve and represent yourself better are infinite. Write what you can write now, and then write something better later. 🩷

#iaw ask #iaw anonymous #writing thoughts #writing for fun

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